#/ i thought i reblogged these here and guess i never did???

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: we're here to boo Andrew.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“So, you’re coming?” Jacob’s voice quavers with excitement. You can’t imagine how he’d sound if you said no. You hate letting people down, it seems to be all you've ever done.

“Uh, yeah,” you say as you steer around the track; opting for some MarioKart over Minecraft that night, “boss says it’s no problem to get the days off. Just have to make it up after. Is... Is everything still good on your end?” 

“Oh yeah, sure thing,” he assures buoyantly, “I can’t wait. Did you still wanna split the airBnB?” 

“Actually, I got a place to stay for the night then I’ll take the early bus back,” you explain as Princess Peach knocks you off the track, “argh!” 

“Right, that’s good,” he says, “good to know you won’t be stranded out there.” 

“Mhm,” you use your boost to catch up to Peach and get your revenge. You don’t mention that Kara will be with you at the con. You just want to be sure this isn’t something wonky. “It’ll be nice to get out of town. My grandma will probably be happy to have the place to herself.” 

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “what’s her problem anyway?” 

“Just the way she is. She likes her space,” you shrug, “I don’t know, I don’t think she expected to be raising her granddaughter...” 

“Ah, yeah, I guess that would be stressful,” he says, “still, seems like you’re not too bad to be around. Got a job, go to school, all that. Think my dad would love it if I put in half as much effort.” 

“Yeah? You make him sound like a hard ass.” 

“Can be. Lawyer, so kinda his schtick,” he chuckles. 

“Oo, fancy,” you snort. Maybe if either of your parents had been lawyers, you wouldn’t be living off your grandma’s resent.  

“I guess. Never really see him that much...” he grumbles. 

“Hm, well, no winning, is there?” You mutter. 

“Not really,” he sighs and hisses, “ugh, Toad!” 

You chuckle and cross the finish line. A respectable second. You wait for him to finish and stifle a yawn. 

“Tired?” He asks. 

“Little.” 

“Me too, long day,” he groans, “neck’s killing me.” 

“Oh, what’d you do--” 

“You know, I’m-- an idiot. Was messing around on my bike.” 

“Of course,” you snicker, “well, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna sign off. I don’t wanna keep my grandma up and my head’s starting to go.” 

“Sure, I gotta get up early anyway,” he sounds less than enthused. “Good night.” 

“You too.” 

“Tomorrow?” 

“Can’t, work. Day after?” 

“Okay, I’ll make it work,” he confirms, “I’m excited about meeting up. Aren’t you?” 

“Yep,” you try not to show your doubt. You’re still not really sure about everything. 

“Can’t wait,” he rasps and the silt in his tone makes you shiver. 

“Yeah, er, bye then,” you hit end session and take off your headset, your ears tender and a bit sweaty. Even if it is awkward, at least you’ll get to hang with Kara for a bit. You haven’t seen her since grad. 

🎮

You’re already exhausted and you’re not even inside yet. The line for the convention is bustling and your excitement keeps you going as you and Kara gab away and move with the slow crawl. The sun beams down and has you sweating, though you could easily blame that on your nerves too. 

“So, this Jacob... is he cute?” She winks. 

“Kara,” you roll your eyes, “it’s not like that. Really. We just game.” 

“Oh yeah. But do you want it to be more?” She teases. 

“You know I’m not really into all that. I don’t have room for a boyfriend in my life.” 

“So boring. Never change, girlie,” she nudges you playfully. “But really, that’s smart. Calvin is too much. I’m thinking of cutting him loose.” 

“Again?” You squint. 

“Not my fault he keeps coming back,” she giggles. 

You peer around, searching out a familiar face amid the ocean of strangers. You haven’t seen Jacob yet. You’re almost hoping he doesn’t show up. Then again, why wouldn’t he? He paid for you to be here. The reminder of the fact strikes guilt in your chest. 

You pause as your eyes catch another pair, further back in the queue. An older man with a beard. He stands out among the crowd. He wears a tidy button-up where most wear graphic tees or cosplay attire. He stares for a moment before he turns away and looks down, probably at whatever kid dragged him there. 

“Well, what are you going to do if he sees you and falls in love?” Kara asks. 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. 

“If he’s a nerd like you, how could he not?” 

“Hey,” you frown. 

“What? You’re like the sexy gamer girl type. Isn’t that what dudes want?” She shrugs. “Let me see his pic again. He’s a skinny little thing. He’d definitely be into you.” 

“Urgh, stop,” you cross your arms. 

“Sorry, I’m only playing. You just seem so nervous, I’m trying to loosen you up.” 

“I know,” you puff, “it’s just... I should’ve just said no. This is stupid. I don’t know why I even agreed.” 

“To get out of that shithole,” she snips. “Why do you think I hauled ass the minute I popped by grad cap on?” 

“Mm, yeah, I just hope... do you think he really wants that? Maybe I gave him the wrong idea. Oh, Kar, I really didn’t mean to lead him on.” 

“No, no, I’m sure it’s nothing you did if he does. I mean, he’s probably a virgin so...” 

“That’s mean,” you pout. 

“What, so are you,” she laughs. 

“Exactly,” you shake your head and drop your arms, a buzz jittering your skirt pocket.  

You look down at yourself as you slide your phone free. That was probably a bold choice but it’s so damn hot out. Besides, your Pikachu tee is loose enough to counteract the denim sheath. You turn the screen up, shading it with your hand as you read. 

‘Sorry, not going to make it. Something came up. 🙁' 

You frown and reread the message. Really? You came all the way here, took time off of work, and he’s flaking? 

“What’s up?” Kara asks as she clicks her manicured nails impatiently and stands on her toes, trying to see past the bodies ahead. 

“He just cancelled,” you mutter and type in your reply. 

‘Oh no. Hope it’s nothing bad. Maybe another time.’ 

You hit send and drop your shoulders. You’re surprised how disappointed you are. More so about the wasted effort than anything. Even if you are a bit relieved, it’s shitty. 

“Ah, bullshit!” Kara sneers, “what the hell? What did he say?” She reaches for your phone and you hold it out of her grasp. “That fucker.” 

“It’s probably not his fault. Shit happens.” 

“Babe, you’re gonna settle for a lot of nonsense if you keep that attitude. I’d be friggin pissed if I was you. He brings you all the way here and now he’s too good for you. I bet he saw some cute girl in line and she smiled at him once so now he’s ditching,” she scowls, “I hate boys.” 

“I’m sure... it’s nothing,” you say glumly as your phone vibes again. 

‘I’m real sorry. I hope you still have a good time. Take lots of pictures.’ 

You don’t respond. You lock your phone and put it back in your pocket. It never feels good to be stood up. Even then. 

“You know what, screw him,” Kara snarls, “let’s go in there and buy you the cutest plushie you can find. Hell, maybe you can find an even cuter guy.” 

“Kar,” you warn her. 

“Fine, just the plushie. Maybe two,” she trills, “forget that loser.” 

🎮

The chaos of the convention wipes away the dark cloud over you. You’re almost thankful that Jacob gave you the opportunity to catch up with Kara. You didn’t realise how much you missed her. It’s perfect day where you can forget about your grandmother and your lame job and everything else. 

You rush around from booth to booth. You look at fanart, handmade figures, and stuffies. You’re mindful of your wallet and how empty it really is. You’ll get one thing and a snack. That’s all you can afford.  

As the hours roll by, your early morning bus ride and time spent standing out in the hot sun catch up to you. You feel your muscles starting to ache and your eyelids turning fuzzy. You yawn as you shuffle behind Kara as she waits in line to get a signature from the one D-list celeb she’s heard of. You’d get one too but it’s way too expensive. 

“Hey,” you rub your cheek, “mind if I sit and wait? I wanna grab a soft pretzel anyway.” 

“Sure,” she agrees easily, “looks like it’s gonna be a while.” 

“Want me to bring you a drink or something?” You offer. 

“Nah, just text me where you are so I can find you,” she says. 

You leave her reluctantly. You’d rather not be wandering alone through the hordes but your feet are killing you and your stomach’s been roaring for the last hour. You stand in line for the pretzel stall and get yours with cinnamon sugar and syrup. Messy but delicious. 

You find a table in the corner and settle in. You put your phone beside the napkin and tear apart the doughy goodness. Your phone lights up with a notification from the merge game you like to play and you see several other icons; missed messages. 

You focus on your snack, savouring each bite, as your eyes drift around the crowded centre. You can barely see some of the booths as hordes cluster around. Some cosplayers bat at each other with toy swords as children fight over the arcade machines. You’re overwhelmed by the sheer amount of activity all around. 

You put your head down trying to block out the lights and noise. You feel yourself getting overstimulated. It’s like when you’re in the lecture hall and suddenly you can hear every sniff, sneeze, and keystroke. You close your eyes as you wipe your fingertips on the edge of the napkin, only half-finished your pretzel. 

“Looks good,” a deep voice cuts through the blaring din. 

As you recognise the timbre, your heart squeezes and the world pinpoints at the centre of your skull. You open your eyes and slowly raise your head. You blink dumbly at the unfamiliar man stood in front of you. You think you’ve seen him before, or at least he sticks out from the typical convention attendee. 

It isn’t that he’s too old, there’s lots of older geeks hanging around but they have neckbeards and greasy combovers. His hair is tidy and his beard trimmed close. His clothing also lacks the typical Dorito dust or anime character. You remember, he was outside in the line. 

“Uh, hello?” You utter. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he says as he pulls out the chair across from you. He sits as your insides plunge. You know his voice. 

“Jacob?” You murmur in shock. How? Why? This isn’t the stringy teenager you met online. 

He nods, his jaw tensing, and he crosses an arm over the table, pointing to your half-eaten pretzel, “what’d you get on yours? I can’t decide between sweet or savoury.” 

“Who... are you?” You croak, head spinning as your eyes prick. You knew something was weird. You knew you weren’t talking to Jacob or whoever that boy was in the pictures. 

He takes a breath and lets it out slowly. As his chest deflates, you do too. He’s older than you, bigger than you, and by the looks of him, a lot better off. Why the hell would he be chatting with you? Why would he lie to you? 

“You’re right. I’m not Jacob,” he confesses, the colour draining from his face. He steeples his fingers and considers his next words carefully. You sit back and hug yourself defensively. This is fucked. “My name is Andy, Jacob is my son.” 

“Your son?” You eke out, “why-- why would you lie?” 

He cringes and takes another breath, “he was my son,” he corrects himself, “he... passed.” 

You feel like you’ve been struck. Your mouth falls open, stunned. Not only did he hide behind his son’s photos, but his dead son’s. Oh, god. You feel sick. No, you feel stupid. 

“Look, please, just hear me out. I just—it wasn’t meant to go on this long. When I first lied to you, it was supposed to be that one time. I was... I was lost. I just lost Jacob and I was going through his things. I started playing because I missed him. I wanted to feel like he was still there--” 

“No, no, you got on discord and you started talking to me. As him!” Your voice shakes and your eyes tinge. “That’s not just missing him.” 

“I know, you’re right. I lied but... I got lonely playing by myself so yes, I went onto that discord. You were nice. You didn’t call me a noob or whatever. And... and after work, looking forward to hearing your voice, it got me through a lot of pain. Being alone in that house after so long, I couldn’t cope--” 

“So you lied to me?” You stand and snatch your phone, nauseous to the core, “you manipulated me. How do you know—if you had just been you that I would’ve been any different? If you just wanted to play games, to be friends--” 

“I was scared--” 

“I don’t care if you were scared,” you hiss as you stomp forward. “You’re an adult.” 

He stands and blocks your path. You recoil, put off by his height. He’s a lot bigger on his feet. 

“Please, move or... I’ll scream,” you breathe. 

“You don’t have to do that. Just hear me out,” he pleads. 

“I don’t want to hear anything else from you, Jacob. Or Andy. Or whoever you really are,” you sneer, “move.” 

He shudders and hangs his head. He makes himself seem small as his shoulders round and he backs out of your way. You bite down and march past him.  

You need to get to a bathroom. Now. You’re going to spew up your guts. More important, you need to get yourself together before you go find Kara. She can’t know this happened. It’s too embarrassing. 

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #defending jacob #end game

[adora-but-ginger]

Femininomenon

pairing: emily prentiss x gender neutral reader

synopsis: two undercover agents with old flames still burning, reunited once again

warnings: undercover talk, swearing, references to sex so mdni, french words, alcoholic settings (though none is consumed)

main masterlist

the rise and fall of a midwestern princess masterlist

word count: ~2.3k

a/n: OH MAN am i excited for this series!! this is my first time writing for emily, and i am really proud of this one! the order of this series won't necessairly follow the album order, but the beginning to both will be femininomenon. i would love to hear your thoughts, and let me know if you'd like to be tagged! also side note i saw chappell live and it changed something in me.

do not steal or repost my work. reblogs, however, are greatly appreciated!

not proofread whoopsie daises

credit to gif owner!

"Dude, can you play a song with a fucking beat?"

The music was loud, obnoxious, and not even good. Your mind was still racked with the events of the past 72 hours, and you never went to places like this before. A "welcome back/so long" party they said. You did not agree to this, but out of leaving on civil terms, you begrudgingly said you'd attend. It was for you after all.

That being said, the DJ they hired was not that good. You were irritated, it was hot and stuffy here, and you just wanted some sleep. If they were going to play music here, at least make it good.

"Uh, yeah, sorry. What do you want on the queue?"

You couldn't even think of a song name. You had been so out of touch with the present world these past years that you were completely out of the loop on the world's current music taste. Someone next to you recommended one before patting you on the shoulder, and that movement almost made you snap.

This was stupid. Stupid, useless, and a waste of time and money.

The "you're alive and back!" banner was starting to fall, and your irritation was becoming overwhelming. Since when did they even do this sort of thing? You took a deep breath. You were gone for eight years, longer than most stings. Plus, you were switching departments soon anyway, and you supposed that this was the first celebration the team had had in a while. Let them have it, part of you conceded. Fifteen more minutes, then you could leave, you convinced yourself. Fifteen minutes and then--

"Well if it isn't the guest of honor."

You knew that voice. How did you know that voice?

You were still trying to remember how your friends and colleagues looked and talked--a feat harder than you'd like to admit. Whatever song the person had requested was thrumming through the air now, the beat running through you.

You could hear your name being hummed, and you did a 180 to face them.

Emily Prentiss.

How could you have forgotten that voice? You eyed your drink, suddenly wishing it was much stronger than the sprite you currently carried.

"You look a whole lot different since I saw you last." She glanced over you, noticing the weathered changes that came with eight years undercover.

"I guess I'm still trying to figure out who I am again." An ironic chuckle accompanied your words. "Hey, Emily." You slightly raised your cup of soda in greeting, and she returned the same action. "A little birdie told me you switched from undercover?"

Oh man, this was not good. Thank god you knew how to regulate your expressions because your heart was practically escaping your chest. The last time you two had seen each other, you did much more than talk. It was truly a shame that you were called in immediately that next morning, that you knew she'd wake up to the sheets still warm (she was always a light sleeper), that you had a new case being brought to the table and you wouldn't know how long you'd be gone for. A week? A month? Half a year? A whole one?

You definitely did not expect it to be eight years.

What was she doing now? Was she with someone? Was she married? Did she have kids? Did she--"You're doing that thing again, you know."

Your eyes snapped to hers. "What thing?"

The song changed, and you really did not want to be attending this party right now. Even if Emily was here. "The thing where you ruminate into your own world?" She clocked the look in your eyes and nodded to the front doors.

Maybe it was a little rude to leave the main event without saying goodbye, but you did not want to be there any longer, and you getting really overwhelmed. You nodded in agreement and she started to walk toward the refreshing outside air.

The chill greeted you as you approached the nearby picnic table, Emily sitting down across from you.

An awkward silence infiltrated the air.

"So, uh, long time no see?"

She shot you a look, eyebrows raised in a don't give me that manner.

"How are you doing with the assimilation? Any hiccups?"

Eight years--two-thousand nine hundred and twenty-six days. You'd been back for only three, and you couldn't remember how to live a normal life. You weren't assimilating at all.

"Yeah, it's been pretty good."

You could see pity in her eyes. "I don't know how you got this job. You can't lie for shit."

Speaking to her was making old, long-buried feelings crawl their way through the dirt and past the grave. A tension was forming, though not one of bad, more so the type comparable to that of smelling the rain before a storm.

"I just can't lie to you." You crossed your hands on the picnic table. "Never really could, I guess." You mumbled the second part, taking note of the party's noises and the crickets chirping behind you.

She let you talk, patiently drinking up the mere presence of you. She had practically sprinted from the jet upon hearing of your return, memories of you two flooding the gates she had long since locked away.

You were gone for nearly a decade and your social skills were currently in the toilet. It had to mean something that Emily came tonight, right? Not a lot of people knew of you, much less the importance of your return, and as far as you knew word didn't leave the office of this party.

Yet here she was, dressed in her day clothes, nursing a water as she stared at you as if you were not real.

You wanted to tell her everything, what you did, where you went, who you had dealt with the past almost decade, the way her lips still caressed your mind, how the ghost of a possible future kept you was the lamp that led you through the darkness.

You had so much to say, yet you could only get two words out.

"I'm sorry."

That caught her a little off guard. "What are you sorry for?"

You let the evening breeze wrap around you for a moment before speaking. "For leaving without saying goodbye. For finally making a move just to go off the grid. It was long ago, I know, but I felt--feel so horrible that I left you there that morning without even a quick see you tonight letter by your coffee."

She didn't respond, which made that feeling in your gut go even deeper. The evening breeze ran in between you, speaking words you could only wish to say.

It wasn't until her cup was almost empty that she responded.

"Don't sweat it too much. I got called into a case not too long after, was stuck in that for a while too. Seriously, it happened, and there's no bad blood between the two of us."

People were starting to leave the party in the distance, and a wave of relief washed over you. Now you could leave, go back to the sanctioned hotel room you were assigned to until your belongings were recovered and you could find a place to live. It was a shitty situation, sure, but it was a place to lay your head for right now.

"Well, it's getting late, and I'm really tired," a yawn overcame you, "I better get going. I start the new job in a few days, so I need to catch up on as much sleep as I can after the past week." You reached over the table and lightly squeezed her hand. "It was really nice to see you, Emily. Seriously."

She returned the gesture, her hand fitting as nicely in your own now as it did back then. "Of course. You didn't think I'd miss welcoming you back, did you?"

Your hands didn't separate, instead, she smiled as you shot a glance towards them. "Keep in touch, will you? It'd be really nice to reconnect."

A small smile grew on your face and you swiped your thumb over her knuckles. "I will, don't you worry. I don't have my own phone yet, but if you want to give me your number I'll put it in the moment I get one."

You knew she would tease you the second the offer left your lips. "You want my number, huh? Think I'm cute or something?"

A laugh emitted from you, god you forgot how much you missed her. The anxious side of you made you question whether you should be flirty at all with her-- she probably already had a significant other, and there was a slim shot that even if she didn't, you could relight the kindling that was your--whatever it was you two had going on.

Couldn't hurt to test the waters though.

"I think you're alluring, gorgeous, and undeniably charming." You lowered your tone to a whisper as you spoke, leaning over the table. "Not just cute."

She shot a glance at your lips that did not go unnoticed, and you licked them in response.

"Oh, dearest, you're going to make me blush if you keep on talking like that."

"You? blush? These years really have changed you Em." You had to make sure she was single before you continued any further. "Are you seeing anyone these days?"

Hands still interlocked, she gave another squeeze. "You've had my heart since we walked in together as fresh meat ten years ago. You've plagued my every dream for thousands of days--you are the only one my eyes have landed on and will ever."

Slightly shocked at her confession, your mouth dropped partially agape. "Still as bold as ever-which is a good thing-I see. Since when did you become a romantic?" You nodded toward the car you took to get here, and she nodded in understanding.

"Since I found out you were one: still alive, and two: not undercover anymore." You took a minute to observe her as you stood. Black shirt with a flat neckline, dress pants, and hair slightly curled outwards at the end. Still breathtaking as ever. Age had found her face, as it did you, and it made her even more stunning.

"Want to come to my place? I have an extra room if you want." She thought for a second. "Oh, I do have one man in my life." Shock rushed through you, mixed with a tinge of jealousy, and she laughed at your expression. Laughed. A sound that reminded you of a perfect melody. "His name is Sergio, and he's the sneakiest cat you'll ever meet. I love him to dear pieces."

You were speechless, resulting in even more laughter from the raven-haired woman at your side. "You're something else, you know that?"

"I'm sure he'll love you."

She gave you her address ad you got into your vehicle. With a wink and a slap on the door, she was off to her own.

--

You were going to fucking lose it.

It was five years into this mission, and at this point, you didn't know if it would ever end. The layer of domesticity that formed between you and him was so enforced that you had to remind yourself every night that this was your job, and that once you were able to get his company destroyed, things would smooth out.

And you would be able to quit this line of work.

You loved it, you truly did, at first. You were good at what you did, and it made you the best candidate for this operation. That being said, you did not expect to still be living this case. For one, you didn't date men (or have ever been attracted to them.) Yet here you were, legally married to the guy running the upper half of France. It irked you because he had a really sweet sister who under different circumstances you would've loved to be friends with.

There wasn't much left to do today, and the sun was starting to set. You had sent the cleaning person home early; you always did. They liked you because you actually got to know each them, and you still had them paid for the hour or two they missed. This was one of the only chances you had to take a deep breath and do a little reset, remembering why you were here and what you were doing.

You were an outstanding undercover agent. You were coming back to for Emily.

You had repeated that mantra for the past five years, the sentence serving as a tether when things got rough.

Stupid fresh linens that were never used twice. Stupid giant house with its giant gate and giant halls. Stupid--

"Où es-tu, mon amour?" Where are you, my love?

There he was, and there duty called.

"Je serai là!" I'll be right there!

Once her name had infiltrated your mind, she enveloped it. Does Emily still even remember you? Is she still alive? Does she still care?

You were doing this for her. And if that meant you had to wait a few more years, then so be it. She was your solace, your grounding rock.

"Mon amour?" my love?

"En chemin!" on my way!

Until you were able to hold her in your arms again, you could only hope that things worked out.

Emily rubbed a soothing hand over your back as you softly fell asleep, body entangled with hers. She knew within a second that there was no chance you'd be sleeping in separate beds. Plus, you needed a sense of comfort, a familiar face, and that's what she was. She never had anyone to pick her back up after Doyle, so she would be that person for you.

It was odd, having you back. It was going to take a while to get everything situated and in a groove, but she was willing to walk that path with you.

She always thought it was the same old story with her previous relationships, but then you came along.

And god damn, did she love you.

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss fanfiction #series #the rise and fall of a midwest princess series #criminal minds fanfiction

[sluckythewizard]

SHHH SH HEYYY HEY DONT TELL ANYONE BUT... ive been workin on smth since BITB came out..... itsa lil musical animatic involvin kian and becky.... ITS NO WHERE NEAR DONE YET but loooook look im puttin lil screenshots under the cut. its supposed to go along with Am I In Heaven? by King Gizzard n the Lizard Wizard. infact yknow what cmere come sit with be bc ALOT of songs from the 'IM IN YOUR MIND FUZZ' album makes me think about becky and kian. oh my god. those two make me so damn emotional. like Her and I was the first one to rly resonate with me, and EMPTY was another good one, all just stuff about. yknow LOVE!! doomed by the narrative yet burning SO SO brightly in its last moments, holding hands, playing music, THEY WERE SO IN LOVE WITH YOU THAT THE COPY OF THEM LOVED YOU, AND YOUR COPY LOVES THEM TOO. WHAT A BEAUTIFUL, CRUMBLING, BURNING, HISSING, SQUIRMING, MELTING, CLICKING LOVE STORY..

GET OVER HERE N SCREAM WITH MEEE I LOVE SCREAMING ABOUT THINGS

#THIS IS A DRAFT that i made like. months ago. woopsie. #BUT IM CHIPPING AWAY AT IT AGAIN. IT CANT STAY UNFINISHED FOREVER. ONE DAY YOU WILL ALL SEE! YOULL ALL SSSEEEE!!!!!!! #no reblogs either this stays between US!!!!!!!!!! #and if you guys like it enough i might post an old fuckin wip i have all packaged together on youtube. its a VIDEO it goes w the MUSIC!! #SOUND WITH THE MOVING IMAGE?? IVE ONLY EVER DONE IT ONCE!!! #ill post the Lord of Lightning animatic i made on tumblr when i get the chance. in the meantime i ahve it posted on twitter. GO FETCH #but THIS SECOND ONE is out there.. all synced together.. #but its a wip and its rough and old and scuffed and i HATE IT. my son whom i wish was dead #but you can see it. for the small small price of uh. begging. #also ouuhh my god i love becky and kian so much... they make me so emotional.. SOMETHING ABT DOOMED SHIPS... #even as the boat sinks these two clung together so tightly. they really really did love eachother so much. even after ten years of ROTTING #of sitting and waiting and wondering 'where is she?' is she lost? hurt? did something happen? is she okay? did she even want to be here? #does she hate me? did she leave because she hated me? she never wanted to see me again? where is she? where is she? guess ill write a song #FOR TEN YEARS. when i was just busy. i was distracted. so much came up. things got serious. my dream became clear and i had to chase it #i didnt know you were waiting. im sorry. i should have chased the thought of you more. but i was busy. i was just busy. #i wish that i could apologize with the throat that was my own. i hope this copy will suffice. i hope this copy will suffice. UGH

[unproduciblesmackdown]

one in a million when i watch smthing in the horror genre and don't end up disappointed to/and/or pissed off about it so like "also yeah i liked it. ooo" is like relative to that an off the charts rave review of media of the millennium. also i did think about mh a lot along the way so would recommend its affect/effect if you like mh's horror too

#i didn't realize at first that's the director/creator tim's qrting. thought a rando went ''i love mh'' & he went ''& i love smthing else'' #saw this a few weeks ago while also like writing or drawing or smthing like oh good plot's beside the point? b/c i'm splitting this focus #even checking in w/recaps was both like oh ok i missed that / didn't realize xyz could be a Thread or something but each of the like three #or four recaps i went over Also saw points differently in terms of even like; who was there or said what lmfao. or noting sm detail at all. #i went ''oh worm?'' at some early shot that may or may not have even gone mentioned by any of them. depending lol. doesn't matter #anyways we don't have time for tags media analysis except that i'll count this as: once again horror for children wins. even tho it's... #not rated? well anyways you know. probably generally not advisable for children as a direct audience lmao. however #like yes as per the premise as a child we've all experienced this [the media] anyways. perturbing summons dreams we've all had em #anyhow fr i'd even struggle to think of horror movies i'd say i mostly liked / would or did rewatch but still wasn't like. i disliked major #elements / choices to the point of being pissed off abt it. so many movies i can't be bothered to watch b/c i already know specifics like #i don't like or respect any of you people. or choices or elements or premises or executions or effects. not even interested fr like lord... #but often what has better odds are mediums that Aren't straightforwardly tv / film. like i'd compare mh to a series of several movies and #that's also imo largely a more apt categorization than saying it's an ARG or smthing but anyways like i'd recommend it to someone sure.... #rare to be like yeah a movie was enjoyable. & if you already liked mh then that's a useful reference point here #which like usually i'd use mh as a categorical tag but idk i guess actually it's actively popular nowadays lmfao i really don't know #posting is already exhausting like whew but this one's for whosoever happens to follow me i guess #which is possible? nonzero ppl arrived for mh but unlikely lmfao. but also ppl see it on their own anyways coincidentally. #and you never know who observes the posts like hell yeah for an anon enjoying niche akd theatreposting who is to me ambiently out there #really odd the other day seeing an mh reblog like ''??? huh. i made that eons ago; then'' & people in the tags talking abt some repost like #on the one hand that Original Source post is two layers of deactivated blogs so a repost could be archival. but if they don't say as much #i.e. that it's even from a different source then that's not exactly it then is it. but also that even finding an original document For OP #is like. oh yeah that's me actually. but then knowing & technically saying as much doesn't / didn't actually affect me as that op lol #just kind of archival on both ends then. vs someone else in the tags saying they saw it on fb 9 yrs ago? definitely didn't post it there #my true op experience: keeping it nicheposting & just kind of saying sm shit & maybe some people are out there nodding thoughtfully #oh also in case fyi. that's tim as in actor playing [also tim] in mh. & did some writing for mh & other such behind the scenes efforts also #every time i look at the text in this post i notice a new typo of mine. get it tgoether (organic typo there. so; lol)

[prince-of-calydon]

.

#just venting down here i guess #tw vent #dont reblog #this is about the thebaid musical #filling this up with extra tags just in case you don't wanna see my problems lmao #lately ive been feeling like. all of this was for nothing idk #i know my music isn't the best but my brain hasn't been very nice to me as of late #it's trying to convince me that all my songs sound the same and they're not even rock they're just pop with a rock guitar soundfont urhrjgjf #made even worse by my rejection sensitivity taking constructive criticism from my friends on the lyrics #and turning it into 'it sucks it bad booo we hate it why did you make this' #and i have to do a presentation on it bc it's school funded??? i have to show my music to tens if not hundreds of people??? #idk. it's fucking me up and i'm wondering if im capable of doing anything that ISNT marketable to children. #I've also never been too fond of my singing voice and now this whole project is just demo after demo after demo and sometimes it sounds good #and other times it sounds like I should just trash it #hfbdjfbfhfhrh. head full many thoughts.

[agi-ppangx]

grape soda (lee minho x gn!reader)

it’d been almost two hours since minho left your apartment to supposedly take a walk after you two had an argument. but he hadn’t come back yet.

“minho, stop—” you cried when you noticed him put on his coat and take the keys from the table by the entrance.

“i’m just gonna go for a walk, okay?” minho interrupted you a little bit too harshly. he noticed how your eyes got even more teary at his tone and he sighed, his face softening. “i’ll be back soon, i just need to clear my mind. if we continue this now i’m pretty sure i’ll say something i’ll regret later. i won’t be out for too long, hm? we’ll talk when i come back.” with that he left you, standing with wet cheeks in the middle of your apartment. your eyes wandered nervously around the place and it was only then when you noticed minho forgot his phone from the kitchen counter.

you were sitting in the living room, bouncing your leg nervously as you once again checked the time. it was getting late and your anxiety only grew bigger. you were wondering if minho was okay and if he was even coming back. he got pretty mad at you, but you weren’t even surprised, knowing that you’d hurt him. you felt like you deserved being yelled at and even if it made you sick in your stomach you wouldn’t have been surprised if minho decided to leave you.

around midnight you heard the keys rustling and the door opening. you rushed to greet minho at the entrance, not caring about the argument anymore. your behaviour caught him off guard and he froze when your arms wrapped around his waist, tears spilling from your eyes. you were mumbling something, but his coat muffled every sound you let out.

“yn, what’s- what’s going on?” minho asked softly, bringing his hand to your hair, patting it a few times. you couldn’t stop crying, but you took a step back and sniffed a few times before attempting to speak again.

“i-i thought you left me,” you admitted, wiping your face. minho chuckled at that, amusement painted on his face. he was genuinely taken-aback - why would you even think about something like that?

minho shook his head and only then did you notice that he was holding a bag in his hand. he placed it gently on the floor and took your hand in his.

“i would never leave you, dummy,” he started, bringing his other hand to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “i really needed to cool down so it took me a while, but i’m here now, okay?” you sniffed, nodding weakly. you felt so bad about the whole situation.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered. “are we going to talk now?” you then asked anxiously. you weren’t ready to have that conversation yet, but you knew it was inevitable. minho shook his head again.

“no need for that, it’s okay.” you raised your eyebrows. was he going to let it be? after everything you did?

“but—”

“i’m not mad anymore, yn. i thought that through and it’s okay, i know you didn’t mean it. also-” he let go of your hand to pick up the bag from the floor. “-i got us some instant ramen. you must be starving, love.” you let out a loud sob, hiding your face in the palm of your hands. minho closed the gap between you two and placed a few tiny kisses on your temple.

“don’t worry about it anymore,” he mumbled with a soft smile.

“you’re too good to me, you know?” you chuckled through tears, wiping your cheeks. minho laughed at your words, putting his hand in the bag and taking out a purple can.

“oh, i know. who else would buy you your favourite grape soda after an argument, hm?”

a/n: not proofread at all, wrote it in like 30 minutes i guess...? anyway, please enjoy and remember that feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated🫶🏽

taglist !

@lynlyndoll @iyenbread @flooo71 @skz-streamer @inniescandy-01 @hannahhbahng @prettymiye0n @ggsez31 @laylasbunbunny @like-a-diamondinthesky @axel-skz @kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy @l3visbby

#skz #stray kids #stray kids headcanons #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz au #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #skz angst #stray kids angst #skz lee know #lee know scenarios #lee know imagines #lee know fluff #lee know angst #lee know x reader

[sickslimez]

STILL IN LOVE! #7 — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...after still messing around with your ex husband, you began to wonder if you’re still in love with him after finding out about his new girlfriend…

INFO...ex husband!toji x fem!reader, reader & toji have two kids, megumi is readers bio son, jealousy, smut, angst, arguments, alcohol, drinking problem, family problems, arguing in front of kids, toxic behaviors, crying, mentions of divorce

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

Toji stood in the empty living room, the light illuminating from the television as it played some random show that you were watching before he came. It’s been so long since the last time he was here, at least that’s what it felt like. Nothing really changed for the most part, still the same decor, the layout still the same. He couldn’t help but notice the set of fresh roses that sat on your dining room table, paired with a detailed glass vase. He already had his guesses on who gave them to you.

Toji looked over his shoulder towards the corridor that led to the bedrooms, you were still busy helping Naya wash up. He walked over to the table, fingertips gently touching the delicate petals. There was still regret and jealously that bubbled in Toji’s chest. When it came to you, he was selfish, never thought in a million years he’d lose you once he had you. That was his problem. With each longing look at the roses, it reminded him of when he did have you, the beginning of things. He used to buy you flowers just for the hell of it, buy you small trinkets he knew you’d like, addicted to your smile when he’d handed them to you. But like almost everything in this world, things fall apart.

Those moments turned into him coming home while you were in the kitchen, eating dinner with Naya and Megumi, not even glancing your way. Not a word to you or his kids all because of an argument you had before he left for work that morning. Of course he regrets it all now, when it’s too late for something to be done and said. It’s cliche, but it was true.

His eyes flickered towards the small card by the roses, his jaw clenched as he grabbed it, slowly opening it to read:

Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman — Kento

“Hey.” The sound of your voice snapped Toji out of his thoughts, quickly placing the card down and facing you. “The kids are, uh, asleep.” You nodded.

“Should we talk here or?” Toji cleared his throat, stuffing his hands back into his pockets.

“Bedroom should be fine.” As you walked down the corridor, Toji followed behind you. There was still that picture of you and the kids on the wall, the one that he took when you all went to the water park. It was a bittersweet moment, but he’s glad that you still had it up despite the memory that came with it.

He shut the bedroom door behind him as you stood in the middle of the room. “So, you wanted to talk about the kids and us?”

“Yeah, I just want us to find a level placement where we can co-parent healthily. You know…where we don’t fight and argue every time we talk to each other,” you explained with a slight chuckle. “I just want better communication. Like if you can’t or can take the kids, if you’ll be going to their school events or something.” You fiddled with your hands.

Toji stared at you even while you avoided eye content with him. He took notice you how you played with your hands too, something you always did when you were anxious, thinking about things. He could tell something else was on your mind. Something else was on his mind too.

“What I’m saying is, I just think we should strictly keep communication minimal. Just about our kids. What we do with our personal lives should be kept private unless it involves Naya and Megs somehow.” You inhaled, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth.

Toji’s brows furrowed at your statement. “Isn’t that what we have been doing?” He questioned, leaning against your wall.

“Despite what you might think, no. And to be honest, I know that you know that not what we’ve doing, Toji,” you scoff.

“If this is about what’s been going on the last few months, I apologize,” he spoke.

“It’s,” you sigh, “it’s more than that. Ever since the divorce, we never acted divorced.”

“You mean how we were still sleeping together,” he bluntly said.

You rolled your eyes at how honest he was, but you should know by now that he was no different from when you first met him. “Yes,” you answered.

“We haven’t slept together in months—”

“And about the unresolved feelings that we still hold for each other. That needs to stop. All of it,” You interrupt.

Toji was at a loss for words, staring at you, and finally for the first time in this conversation, you locked eyes with him. “You’re really taking this guy seriously, huh?”

You sigh, plopping down on the edge of your bed. “He’s a good guy, Toji.”

“I never said he wasn’t.” He shrugged, standing up straight.

“Okay, but you’re acting weird about it. Why can’t you accept that I’ve moved on? You should do the same.” You stood upright. “Me and you,” you gestured between you and Toji, “it won’t work out.”

Toji knew in the back of his head that you were right, but to hear those words out loud felt like a knife to the heart. Both of you stood in silence. All kinds of thoughts were running through his head, every single of them screaming at him to say something, to try and get you to change your mind. He doesn’t want to argue or fight, not anymore, so he holds his thoughts and feelings back even if it does hurt.

Say something. Don’t. Say it. Just keep quiet. Tell her.

“I’ve tried to move on just so you know. I’ve really tried, y/n.” And there it goes. There goes the words spilling out of his mouth despite what may come next. He just needs you to hear him just this one last time. He doesn’t care if it doesn’t change a thing between you two, he needs you to know regardless. “Trying to get with different woman, having sex, drinking, pretending to be who I was before I met you. But where did I end up each time? Right back to you, right back in your bed, in your home, holding you, kissing you, regretting everything bad I’ve ever done to you, to our kids.”

“Toji—”

“We were together for 10 years, married for 8 . As soon as you told me you were pregnant with Megs, I knew right then I wanted to make you my wife, to build a bigger family with you, to do right by you and our kids. I can’t just throw all that away, all those memories. Even the bad ones. You changed me, made me want to be better. No other woman has done that but you.” Toji walked closer towards you. It felt like your feet were glued to the floor, incapable of moving.

“Then why did you treat me that way?” Your voice slightly broke as you held back tears. “Like you were beginning to hate me, to hate us.” The thought made you clench your eyes shut as a frown formed on your lips. You hated to remember. Your should began to shake as a sob racked through your body. “You don’t understand how that made me feel,” you whimpered.

Toji looked at you with soft eyes. “I never hated you or the kids, not a fucking second. That thought would never even cross my mind. Hate the woman who brought me the most beautiful thing life can bring you? Hate them? Even though they can be a pain in the ass,” he chuckled. You laughed along with him, nodding in agreement. “Look at me, mama.” Toji lifted your chin, wiping the tears off of your cheeks. “I can never hate you or our kids. Tell me that you understand that.”

“I understand.” You sniffled.

“I know the way I started treating you and our family towards the end is what caused everything to fall apart. I don’t know why I did what I did. Arguing with you over stupid shit, acting like a fucking asshole, not being there when I should’ve. You had every right to leave. It’s my own fault that I didn’t realize what I had before it was gone. I’ll live with that for the rest of my life. You’re an amazing woman, a beautiful person, a wonderful mother. You were everything I could ever ask for. I’m sorry for making you feel like you were any less than that.” He wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly while you cried into his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

For the first time in years, you and Toji had a conversation without it turning into a heated argument. It was like a huge weight lifted off of your shoulders, like you could finally take a deep breath of fresh air. Toji just held you while you cried it out, rubbing your back gently. Though it hurts, he’s glad he was able to tell you, to apologize. “Mama, you deserve to move on and be happy. It’ll hurt like hell for me, but that’s what I deserve for what I did. My karma. I’ll level with you, I’ll do what you want.”

You pulled away from him, teary eyes staring up into his. “You mean it?”

Without hesitation he replied, “of course.” If it wasn’t painfully obvious already, Toji was still in love with you. How could he not be? He’ll miss you, miss the times you spent together. He wishes he could make up for all those bad times, replace those memories with good ones.

“Thank you, Toji.” You softly smiled.

“Dont thank me. It’s the least I could do.” He held onto your hand, his warm touch lingering on your skin before he pulled it away. “I’ll see you around, y/n.” Before he said anything else, he needed to walk away. Opening your bedroom door, he disappeared from your sight down the hall. You bit down on your bottom lip, brows furrowed as you sat there and began to process everything that happened.

Toji sat in his car outside your house. “Fuck,” he sighed. It should be him. You and him. He should be buying you flowers, kissing your soft lips, holding you tight, making love to you, telling you he loves you. His grip tightened on the steering wheel as looked at your front door. In front of him, a familiar car pulled into your driveway. Toji sat and watched closely, noticing it was the man he caught a glimpse of in your house, your new boyfriend, Kento. As he walked up the steps, you opened the door for him before he knocked, wrapping your arms around him and kissing his lips with a smile. His hands were on your waist as he kissed you back, pulling you closer towards him.

Toji tore his eyes away from the sight in front of him, jaw clenched as he started his car. You were his karma and the woman he was in love with.

series masterlist

tag list (comment to be added):

@sweetpo1son @lovebittenbyevans @ryumurin @he4rts444mi @cherrypieyourface @lemonintrovert01 @ladysi0 @avanly @chilichopsticks @tananaxx @akusrider @irlbungee @my-anime-garden @hnm-mika @antiholdinghandsclub @yharnam-prophet @crankyarchives @nnnancyr @kenqki @ebiharachan @dollcest @whoreforjjkmen @yoyio90 @jaegergirl @r0seandth0rns @blankwashed @ittomain1 @3rdmonday @5seos @weird0o0 @1-800-choke-that-ho @s-j320 @viisgrave @mayajadewrites @jhiyoon @fisherman-boat @mochimoee @cheridrwyy @olanii1019 @vi-ola666 @emmaperdoswife @sucrose-fqn @rhyies-pieces @tojislittleprincesss @sashadonat

#☆—sickslimez #anime #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji fushiguro x you #toji x reader angst #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji fushiguro x reader angst #toji fushiguro angst #toji angst #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader angst #jjk angst #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #toji fanfic

[moonchild9350]

Well That Was Fun

Summary: Felix finally gets a much needed day off and plans to build his new PC alone. What he gets is much better instead...you.

Pairing: idol Felix x fem. reader

Genre: fluff, smut- This is a 18+ fic sooo MDNI

Word count: 4081

Warnings: cursing, oral sex male and female receiving, soft dom Felix, dirty talk, p in v penetration, creampie (wrap it up folks). I think thats it...

Note: Felix has been plaguing my mind recently lol. I had to write something about mr. sunshine! I hope you enjoy. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. Let me know what you think!

This is in no way how Felix is in reality. This is solely for fun.

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

Tomorrow is Felix’s day off.  He had been busier than usual lately due to extra photoshoots and events that he had to attend on top of his usual company activities.  But the company finally allowed him a day off and you were ecstatic.  You had requested that day off right away when he told you after coming home late one day, hoping to spend some time with your boyfriend, not sure yet what you guys will do, but that could wait for a little.  However, you didn’t tell him that you were approved to be off that day wanting to surprise him.  

Felix was happy to finally have a day off.  He had been feeling really run down and tired and just needed a day of rest, being home, wearing comfortable clothes, not having to worry about schedules and calls, and of course being able to finally spend some time with you.  He was also excited because he would be able to finally build his new PC that he ordered a while back and never got to build due to work.  Felix had a full day today, with last minute run-throughs of their routines for an upcoming award show.  The boys were taking a much needed 30 minute break.  

Felix walked over to Jeongin who was sitting on the couch with his legs propped up on Seungmin.  “Guess what?” he asked Jeongin.  “Since I have tomorrow off, I’m finally going to be able to build my new PC.” 

Jeongin’s face lit up.  “Really? Finally! That box has been sitting in the common room for ages.! I can’t wait until you finish it.  You’ll have to let me play a session on it when it’s finished.”

Felix nodded and agreed to the maknae’s demands.  Jeongin then asked, “Since you have the day off, will y/n be over?”

Felix considered this and replied, “I don’t think so.  I believe she told me she had to work.  She’s going to come over after work though.”  Felix did tell you about his day off.  He was a little sad you wouldn’t be able to spend the whole day with him, but he understood.  You did have bills to pay after all, even though he has offered to help. 

Jeongin nodded.  “Aww that sucks hyung.  I’m sure she wishes she could be there all day, but at least she’ll be over later.”

“True” Felix replied.  Their conversation then came to a halt as the dance instructor walked back into the room, signaling break time was over and it was time to resume practice.

*************************************************************

The next morning, you awoke bright and early, excited to surprise your boyfriend.  You planned on bringing him his favorite tea and a pastry for a little breakfast in bed.  You got up and went to shower.  After you pulled on some leggings, a t- shirt, and your favorite sweatshirt, put on some light makeup, grabbed your bag and you were out the door.  Stopping at the cafe, you got an iced americano and a bagel for yourself and an iced matcha tea latte and chocolate croissant for Felix.  Sipping your iced americano, you made your way towards the boys dorm.  Once you arrived, you knocked on the door and Minho answered.

“Morning y/n, I’m surprised you’re here so early.  Felix told us he thought you weren’t going to be here until after your shift.”  Minho greeted you at the door, with a toothbrush in his hand.  It seemed like he was getting ready to go to the building.  

“Morning and I got the day off! I thought I would surprise Felix.  Seems like it worked,” you chuckled.  “I brought some breakfast for him too,” you responded excitedly, bouncing on your toes.  Minho giggled at your excitement and moved to let you in.  

“I think he’s still asleep, but you know your way around so I’ll leave you to it.  I have to finish getting ready anyway.” 

You giggled back and said, “Ok! Thanks Minho.  Have a great day at practice,” and made your way to Felix’s room.  

You quietly opened his door and found him sprawled out in his bed buried under the covers.  He was snoring quietly and snuggling his penguin squishy.  You couldn’t help but smile at the peaceful look on his face, happy that he could finally rest.  You tiptoed over to his bed to put the iced matcha tea latte and chocolate croissant on the bedside table.  Carefully you crawled under the covers and wrapped your arms around Felix’s waist.  For a moment, you looked at his sleeping face.  You lightly brushed your fingers over his freckles which you loved.  Felix grumbled slightly at this and peeked his eyes open.  When he realized who it was, he dropped the penguin squishy and wrapped his arms around you to snuggle you into your body.  

“Baby?” Felix mumbled, deep voice heavy with sleep.  He pulled you even closer and dropped his head into your neck.  He placed a wet kiss behind your ear.  You smiled and ran your fingers through his long blond hair and kissed his nose.  

“Good morning baby,” you replied.  You then proceeded to place kisses all over his face, making sure to place extra kisses over his freckles.  Felix laughed and scrunched up his face at your actions. 

“I have a surprise for you Lixie!” 

“What is it babe?” asked Felix.  He loved your little surprises as you would get really excited and you would get this glimmer in your eyes.  Sometimes, like today, he knew what the surprise was but he played along since you were so happy.

“I brought you breakfast, an iced matcha tea latte and a chocolate croissant, your favorite!” 

Felix’s eyes fully opened at your statement, “Really? Ugh you’re the best girlfriend.”  

You both sat up and you grabbed his food and drink and handed it to him.  Felix graciously accepted the food and drink and started eating right away.  “This is amazing, thank you so much baby.” 

“You’re welcome,” you giggled and brushed some crumbs off his face.  After finishing his food, he pulled you in close and wrapped his arm around your waist.  You laid your head on his shoulder and asked what he wanted to do today.  

“I was thinking how about we stay in today?  My new PC came in weeks ago and so I was thinking about building it.  Would you like to help me build it?”

“Of course Lixie!” You would accept any of his ideas as long as you were together.  Felix squeezed your hip, gave you a peck on your head, and got up to go get ready for the day.  You lounged in his bed, snuggling under the warm covers.  You were scrolling on your phone when Felix came out of the bathroom.  

“Ready?” he asked as he pulled the boxes out of his closet. He was able to drag them in his room last night with the help of Minho hyung.

 “Let’s do this!” you said.  

You both sat on the floor as there was more space and started opening boxes, pulling out parts for the computer.  Felix played some Lofi on his speakers.  You both worked diligently.  You updated Felix on the drama that has been happening at work.  One of your coworker’s boyfriend came to work during her shift, begging for her to take him back.  You explained how your coworker denied her exe’s advances and eventually started yelling at the ex.  Afterwards, once the ex boyfriend left, with the help of the manager, she told you he was dick and a cheater and wouldn’t be caught dead with him again.  Felix listened intently and hummed as you talked, agreeing in the end with your coworker’s decision.  Felix updated you about his work and how they were preparing for an award show they would be attending at the end of the month.  

“We’re going to Japan for the show.  It’ll be fun and I’m happy we’re getting an award and getting to perform, but I'll miss you since I’ll be gone for a long time.” 

“Aww baby,” you replied, “I’ll miss you too! We’ll video message every day, don’t worry.”  

Felix hummed in agreement.  He looked at his phone to check the time and realized it was already late in the afternoon.

“Are you getting hungry?” Felix asked.

“Yeah, a little,” you responded.  “Can we get takeout?” 

“Of course, order whatever you want on my phone.  We’ll have it delivered.”

You picked up Felix’s phone, opened the delivery app, and selected a few items.  You both decided on fried chicken and tteokbokki.  As you waited on the food, you and Felix continued to work on the PC.  At this point, it was a little more than halfway done.  Felix was getting excited the closer he was to finishing the PC.  You chuckled at this, he looked so happy, and that made you happy.  

Once the food arrived, you grabbed plates and a few drinks from the refrigerator and walked back to Felix’s room.  You plated the food while Felix was picking out a show for you to watch while you ate.  There was comfortable silence as you ate, enjoying each other’s company and the food.  Once both of you were finished, you cleared the dishes.  When you came back, you sat back down on the floor with Felix to help him finish the PC.  

It didn’t take too much longer to finish the build and once you were done, you both sat back to admire your work.  “It looks great,” you said.

“It does huh? Good work team.” At that Felix turned and lifted his hand up for a high five.  You giggled at his cheesiness and gave him a high five back.  Felix smiled and then took his hand to grasp your face.  He looked into your eyes.  You could feel the love and gratitude radiating from him. 

“How did I get so lucky?” He whispered in his deep voice.  You saw his eyes flick down to your lips.  You couldn’t help yourself and caught yourself looking at his lips also.  Felix learned forward slowly to catch his lips on yours.  His soft lips touched yours and you sighed into the kiss, moving to sit in his lap and wrap your arms around his neck.  At this, Felix placed his hands on your waist to rub gentle circles on your skin. You sat there for a little, gently kissing Felix.  Moments passed and the kiss became urgent as you felt Felix swipe his tongue along your bottom lip seeking entrance. You granted him entrance with a moan.  With each passing second, the kiss got deeper.  You leaned back slightly to catch your breath, a trail of spit connecting you still to Felix’s lips.  You moved to straddle his hips and leaned your head against his and took a shaky breath.  

You leaned in once more to connect your lips with Felix’s. “Y/n,” Felix murmured against your lips.  You felt turned on with your little makeout session and felt your arousal leaking into your panties.  At this you squeezed your thighs together slightly to get a little friction.  Felix noticed this in between kisses and took a tighter hold on your hips and rolled them against his growing bulge.  You moaned with the movement as his covered cock caught your clit just right through your leggings.  

“Do that again Lixie,” you whispered on his lips.   You built up a rhythm, rocking your hips over Felix’s dick, gaining that sweet friction you needed on your clit.   Felix’s hands stayed on your waist, helping your movements.  With each rock, he groaned into your mouth, “It feels so good baby.”  Between your lips on his and your frantic movements over his clothed dick, he was getting closer to his release.

“Keep rocking baby,” he whispered on your lips.  “You can do it baby, you’re so close, I can tell.”

You whimpered at his words and sped up your movements.  Between the friction over your clit and Felix whispering praise in your ear, you felt yourself get closer to that sweet release you needed.  The pressure was quickly building up in your belly.

“Yes darling, yes. Be a good girl and cum for me.  Can you do that baby? Go on, let go, I’m right here.”  Those last few words were what you needed to cum.  

You whimpered Felix’s name over and over as your first orgasm of the night spread throughout your body, making your toes curl. You could feel your arousal seeping out in pooling in your panties, some getting on your thighs as you gave a last few thrusts of your hips along Felix’s clothed cock.   

Felix rubbed your back whispering “well done my love.” 

Your head fell down in the crook of Felix’s neck, breathing heavy as you came down from your high.  Felix kissed the top of your head and whispered how much he loved you over and over.  

Once you recovered, you looked into Felix’s eyes and reached down to rub his cock through his sweatpants. Felix groaned out as you continued to rub his bulge.  You reached into his sweatpants to pull his cock out.  It was on the longer side, not as girthy, but still the most beautiful cock you’ve ever seen.  His tip was red and angry looking with drops of pre-cum dripping from the slit.  You wrapped your hand around his shaft and gave a few gentle strokes, gathering the pre-cum that was leaking out to give more lubrication.  

“Fu..fuck baby,” Felix moaned out as you quickend your movements. You scooted down and brought your head down to his cock and gave one long lick up his shaft.  You then started suckling the tip,  licking up the pre-cum that was steadily leaking down his shaft.  You suckled the tip for a while, one hand stroking up and down his shaft, the other fondling his heavy balls. 

Felix’s eyes rolled to the back of his head with your movements. 

“Ohhh shit baby, I love your mouth, taking me so well baby.  Keep sucking, that’s it,”

 He slightly jerked his hips up, head kicked back in pleasure.  He looked down at you.  This was his favorite sight to see; you with his cock in your mouth.  His perfect baby, treating him so well. 

Felix started thrusting his hips, fucking your mouth.  With a particular thrust of his hips, his cock reached the back of your throat, causing you to gag.  You loosened your jaw and breathed through your nose to further take him.  

You loved when Felix would use your mouth like this, causing spit to dribble down your chin and tears to leak from your eyes.  You continued to suck his cock and seeing Felix’s legs tense up, you knew he was close.  

Felix couldn’t hold back anymore.  He grabbed your hair and pushed your head down as he came down your throat, loudly moaning your name.  You took it like the good girl you were, swallowing his cum once he was done.  He lifted your head up and wiped at the smudges of tears that were left on your face.  

“You’re absolutely perfect, my perfect girl,” Felix said as he gave you a kiss.  You hummed against his lips at his praise.   

“Let’s get a little more comfortable.  Let me take you to bed baby, ok?” Felix said.

You nodded your head ok and let Felix scoop you up from his lap.  He brought you to his bed and carefully laid you down.  Felix then took off his shirt and tossed it on the floor.  He climbed onto the bed to hover over you, pressing his lips to yours for a heated kiss.  

“Can I take this off of you baby?” Felix asked tugging on your sweatshirt.  You nodded yes and sat up slightly so Felix could pull your sweatshirt over your head.  He tossed the article of clothing onto the floor. You shivered slightly from the sudden exposure, but quickly warmed up as Felix leaned into you again to capture your lips with his. 

Felix took his hand and placed it on your breast, giving it a light squeeze.  You gasped at the sensation, your breasts being really sensitive.  He let go of your lips and placed wet kisses down your jaw, traveling to your neck.  He stopped to suckle and bite your skin where your neck meets your shoulder.  The pleasure you were feeling from Felix had you gasping and moaning as he continued to squeeze and roll your nipple with his fingers.  You then felt him bite down on your neck.  You gasped out at the sensation, feeling both pain and pleasure.  

Felix continued kissing his way down your body, stopping at your breasts.  Taking a nipple into his mouth, he began to suck, rolling the sensitive bud with his tongue.  He took his other hand and pinched your other nipple causing you to arch your back and release a loud moan.

“Lixie, please…Li..Lixie, I need you,” you whimpered as he continued to give attention to your breasts.  

He released your nipple with a pop and looked up at you.  “Where do you need me sweetheart?” 

You looked down at his face, smeared with his spit from sucking on your breast, and whimpered, “I need…I need your tongue Lixie.” 

“My baby needs my tongue,” he said, “Where do you want my tongue baby?”

You covered your face with your hands, not wanting to outright say it.  “No, no sweetheart,” Felix said as he pulled your hands down.  “Let me see your face as you tell me where you want my tongue.”

I…I want your tongue on my pussy Lixie.  Please? I’ve been a good girl,” you whimpered, giving Felix a pout.

Felix considered this and then chuckled saying,  “My baby has been good so I’ll let you have my tongue baby.”  

Felix reached down to remove your leggings and panties.  He then kissed the valley between your breasts, making his way down your body, kissing your tummy, your thighs, everywhere but where you wanted him most.  You squiremed under his touch as he was close to your core.  You could feel his breath as he kissed your thighs .  

Felix looked up at you one last time before licking a long strip from your entrance up to your clit.  You groaned loudly at the sensation, happy to have Felix where you wanted him.  He gave another lick before attaching his mouth to your clit and sucking the bud.  Your hands made their way to grip his blond hair as you began to rock your hips into his face.  Felix grasped your thighs to hold them closer to his face as he continued to lick, nip, and suck at your clit, licking up the arousal that was dribbling out of your pussy.  

All that was heard was your loud moans, and whimpers of Felix’s name and the occasional groan from Felix.  All too soon, you felt that pressure build up yet again, threatening to give way to your second orgasm of the night.  

“I’m, I’m close. I’m go-gonna cum. Oh my god I’m gonna cum. Don’t stop Lix,” you moaned out.  Felix did just that, he dug his face further into your pussy, smothering his face with your arousal.  You frantically rode Felix’s face and without warning, you felt the band in your belly contract as your release gushed out of you onto Felix’s face.  Felix continued his ministrations as you rode out your high, never slowing down.  Once you came down from your high, it became a little too much so you pushed at Felix’s head to get him to stop.  Felix let go of your thighs and lifted his head.  

“Hmmmm you taste so good sweetheart.”  Felix was licking all of your arousal off of lips.  

“Do you want a taste baby?”  You nodded your head and Felix leaned down to kiss you, tasting yourself on his lips. 

When Felix broke away from the kiss, he scooted closer to you to spread your legs wider for him to have better access.  You gripped your legs behind your knees to keep them open.

“Are you ready sweetheart?” He dragged his cock through your folds collecting your arousal.  You nodded your head, “Yes Lixie, please give me your cock.  I wanna be full of you.”

Felix grinned saying, “my baby gets what my baby wants.”  He pushed the tip in slowly, and then pulled it back out.  He repeated that motion again and again, fucking you with just the tip.  You felt good, but you needed more.  

“More, more, please give me your cock baby,” you whined.  Felix pushed the tip in once more, pulled out and then slid all the way in to the hilt.  You moaned with the stretch, more than ready to accommodate his cock in your aching pussy. More arousal pooled out of you, dripping down your cunt and down your ass.  Felix pushed in again, this time with more force.  He set a steady motion, his strokes fluid and deep, hitting those spots he knew you loved.  The sound of his balls slapping your ass with each thrust, your wet pussy, and loud moans were the only thing to be heard in the room.  You were drowning in pleasure as his cock filled you up, stretched you out just how you like it.  

Felix could feel you clenching around his cock, he knew you were close.  He pushed your legs further up your chest and threw them up around his shoulders, the new angle reaching deeper to help get you there.  

“Is my baby about to cum hmm? Are you gonna cum on my cock baby?”

You were barely able to make a coherent sentence lost in the bliss of Felix’s cock pounding into you.  Eventually you were able to mumble out ‘yes please.”  Felix grinned at your mumbling.  

“Whose cock is making you feel like this baby? Whose?” he asked.

“Yours, your cock baby, Lix’s cock.  Please let me cum, please, please, please!” You were so close and with Felix pounding deep into you, you knew it would be a matter of time before you would cum.  

“Such a good girl for me, hmm.  Letting me ruin this pussy.” Felix brought his finger down to your clit and rubbed it in circles.  “Will you cum with me sweetheart? Let me fill you up?”

“Yes please fill me up baby, I’m, I’m close.” A few thrusts later, you felt the band in your tummy release one last time.  It spread throughout your body, your vision going white from the pleasure, and legs spasming.  You screamed out Felix’s name, moaning through the aftershocks. 

Felix felt you cunt spasm around his cock. He felt his release building, building, and with a hard, deep thrust, he came, moaning out “yes, yes, yes, my baby, filling you up just like I said.”  Ropes of thick, hot, cum shot out painting the walls of your white.  Felix rocked his hips into yours a few more times before collapsing on top of you.  You cradled his head into your chest, both of you coming down from your highs.  

Felix lifted his head up and gave you a kiss, savoring the taste of you.  “I love you baby.”

“I love you too,” you replied. Stroking his hair with a smile on your face.

Felix then slowly pulled out, both of you hissing from overstimulation.  He watched the mix of your arousal and his cum seep out of your pussy onto the bed sheets.  He had never seen a more pretty sight.  

“Let me get a towel baby, I’ll be right back.”  Felix slipped on his boxers and sweatpants and then made his way to the bathroom where he got a wet towel to wipe you down.  He came back and began wiping you down, softly and gently.  Once he was done, he found an extra shirt of his and gave it to you to put on.  You thanked him for the shirt, put it on, and laid back in bed.  Felix joined you, wrapping you in his arms.  

“Well that was fun.” He said.  You looked up at your boyfriend with an incredulous look.  “Did you really just say that?” You asked, laughing.  He laughed,  squeezed you tighter, and with a wink said, “ Well it was fun.  I’d say it was much more fun than building that PC.”  

You couldn’t agree more. 

#stray kids x reader #felix x reader #stray kids smut #felix smut #skz x reader #lee felix x reader #lee felix smut #stray kids x y/n #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fluff #felix #lee felix #skz smut #skz felix #stray kids x reader smut #felix fanfic

[bloatedandalone04]

It Can’t Be That Bad - Part 2

➪the one where bradley fixes his mistake.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, smut, unprotected sex, hair pulling, once again a pain kink, arguments, fighting, descriptions of injuries, jake and bradley brawl for quick a minute, bradley being whipped for you, age gap, oral (f receiving), body worship, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 9.6k | Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

The Bronco was barely in park before Bradley was pulling out the keys and swinging the door open. He stuffs them into his pocket, along with his phone and wallet, as he enters the Hard Deck, his free hand fumbling to take off his aviators. His eyes scan the busy bar, looking for any glimpse of you.

After a full sweep of the room, he spots you over by the bar, phone in hand and a smile on your face that was so clearly forced, Bradley felt his heart clench at the sight of it. He stopped short of reaching you when he clued in to the person next to you, the man being the same one who introduced you to him in the first place. “Fucking Hangman,” he muttered under his breath when he saw the way Jake inched closer to you.

You were sitting on a stool while Jake loomed over you, both of you holding a beer in your hands. From Bradley’s point of view, you and Jake looked like a couple who were having a hard time trying not to jump each other’s bones right here and now, and an ugly feeling began creeping up his throat. 

Bradley supposed that was what you and he looked like when you ventured out to the bar together, back before he fucked up and stupidly let you go. 

That was the nice way of putting it. 

He rejected you. You gave him your heart and he threw it back at you without a second thought. He pushed you away without thinking about how it would make you feel, despite him feeling the exact same way, perhaps even stronger. 

Just the sight of you had all the air leaving his lungs. You are so beautiful and so caring and genuine to those around you. How could he ever let you believe you weren’t good enough for him? 

The last six weeks were ones he never wanted to experience ever again. He hated having no one to come home to, and he hated how it could’ve easily been you waiting on that dock for him, had he returned your feelings. The next time he was deployed, he desperately wanted you to be there for him when he got back. He wanted to come home to you. 

Without really having a plan in mind, Bradley made his way over to the bar, the crowded space making it a bit tough. He was a big guy, though, and used it to his advantage on the rare occasions when he felt he needed to. Like right now. 

He pushed past Bob, who had moved to greet him, but Bradley just gave him a quick pat on the back as he passed him. When he was a few feet away, he met Jake’s eyes and watched as he leaned down towards you.

Before Jake could give you the warning that he was right behind you, Bradley closed the distance and moved to stand on the other side of you. “Y/n,” he said, nearly breathless at being near you again after six weeks without you. 

You stiffen and glance over at him before turning to Jake and glaring at him. “Thanks for the warning,” you mutter and Jake just held his hands up in defense, making no move to walk away and give you some alone time with Bradley, like he so desperately wanted. 

“Hey, I tried,” he defended himself, reaching over and grabbing his bottle of beer. “Rooster’s fast when he needs to be, I guess.”

“Y/n,” Bradley said again and ignored Jake as he brought your attention back to him, refraining from placing his hand on the small of your back like he always did when you were beside him at the bar. “Can we talk, please?”

You looked up at him with a near-blank expression before sighing, running the tip of your index finger around the rim of the bottle in front of you. “I don’t think we need to, Bradley,” you answered and he furrowed his brows.

“Why not?” He asked, shaking his head slightly when you began to stand up. “You said we’d-”

“I didn’t,” you cut him off as you stepped backwards and towards Jake, who just placed his hand on your hip, surely knowing it would make Bradley see red. “I said I’d see you tonight, not that I would talk to you. I didn’t come here with you, Bradley, so there’s no reason I need to talk to you.”

Your words felt like a punch directly to his heart, and he just stared at you when Jake guided you away from the bar and towards the pool tables. He stayed still, his eyes burning a hole in the back of Jake’s head as the man showed off just how good he was at the game.

“Hey, Rooster,” Penny’s kind voice said from beside him. “Want your usual?”

But Bradley just shook his head, never tearing his eyes away from the scene in front of him. Fucking. Hangman. “Not tonight,” he answered as Jake pulled you into his side, mirroring the way Bradley did just six weeks prior. “Give me something stronger.”

Six shots and two beers later, and Bradley was just now starting to feel the effects of the alcohol in his system. He wasn’t planning on drinking much tonight, not when he was so sure he’d actually get the chance to explain himself. But you had been glued to Jake all night, similar to the way you used to be before he introduced you to Bradley and you then became attached to his hip, instead. 

And Bradley just watched. He felt like just another guy at the bar who was jealous of someone else’s relationship. Is this how the other men who frequented the Hard Deck felt when they saw you and Bradley all over each other? 

Was he seriously just another guy?

That’s exactly what he felt like as he sipped on his beer, glaring at the way Jake’s hand slowly but surely inched further down your back. He bit back a disapproving grunt, knowing Jake had to be doing this just to rile him up.

He introduced you as his friend, and now that you weren’t associated with Bradley anymore, Jake was suddenly all over you? 

He felt a sick feeling creeping up his throat as he thought about all the times Jake had taken you to the Hard Deck and acted like how he currently is now with you while Bradley was deployed. 

He assumed it had been more than once at this point, because no one seemed too fazed by the pair of you and seemed to have forgotten that it had been Bradley with you for nearly six months straight. 

He knew he didn’t have the right to be jealous, but he was. 

He hated the fact that you could’ve so easily been with him right now since you had made it clear that you were willing to wait for him because you were falling for him.

God, he had never felt this pathetic in all his years of life. He was a mere few weeks away from turning thirty five and he had shut down the one girl he could actually picture himself settling down with, and now he was drinking alone at a bar, staring at said girl as if he didn’t already have his chance with her. 

Nat had shown up at some point and tried to get him to talk to her, but he just gave her short answers and didn’t hold any conversations. She grew even more frustrated with him and ended up leaving her spot next to him so she could throw darts with Fanboy. 

Bradley had just finished off his third beer when he saw Jake lean down to press his lips to the spot behind your ear, making you laugh quietly as you as you playfully pushed him away.

Yeah, he’s seen enough. 

Bradley threw a few twenties on the bar before standing up from the stool, his body swaying at the sudden movement. He stumbled his way over to you, ignoring the flash of dread that covered your face as he wrapped his fingers around your wrist. “We need to talk,” he said sternly, keeping his eyes on you and pulling you away from Jake. 

“Why? Are you looking for another night of just fun?” You asked as you pulled your arm from his grip once you were standing on the deck outside. “That’s all it was, right?”

“That’s not all it was,” he muttered, the cool air not doing much to calm him down like he hoped it would.  

You narrow your eyes at him. “But you said-”

“I know what I said!” He cut you off, instantly regretting his inability to keep calm during a moment like this when he saw the way you flinched back slightly. He breathed out heavily, gently taking your hand in his as he continued, “I know, okay? Trust me, it’s all I’ve been thinking about for the last six weeks.”

He thought since you hadn’t pulled your hand away from his yet, that maybe you were actually willing to give him a chance to explain himself, but your next words proved him wrong, “Wow, really? Me too,” you said sarcastically. “Do you know how humiliating it was for me to explain to Jake that I had told you how I felt, just to have you throw it back at me as if you didn’t care at all? It was mortifying, Bradley, to tell you that I was falling for you and have you act as if it was the worst thing you had ever heard.”

You pulled your hand away from him and he swayed slightly at the fast movement. “I never wanted you to feel that way, Y/n/n,” he tried, but you just placed your hand flat against his chest.

“And you’re drunk,” you give him a firm push, successfully putting a decent amount of space between the two of you. “You won’t even remember this tomorrow, so why do I even bother?”

“Please, Y/n,” he begged, trying to step towards you but you just shook your head. “I missed you so much. I really, really want to talk things through with you.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” was all you muttered as you walked towards the stairs. “If Jake asks where I am, tell him I went home. I don’t need him worrying about me more than he already is.”

Bradley wanted to spit something out in spite, but held back as he watched your retreating form head off in the direction of your car. With a heavy sigh and another urge to down the first drink he saw, he headed back into the bar. 

As he made his way towards Nat, Jake stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “Rooster,” he said over the music. “Where did Y/n go? Don’t tell me she’s outside waiting for you after believing whatever bullshit story you told her.”

Bradley muttered something under his breath as he turned to face the man. “She went home,” he replied, shoving Jake’s hand off his shoulder with more force than he needed to. 

“Hey, man, don’t get mad at me,” Jake said with an eye roll. “I’m the one who looked after her while you were away. I’m the one who made her smile again when she came back from dropping you off in tears.”

Bradley felt his skin heating up, not wanting to talk to the man anymore, and especially not about you. “Jake,” he warned. “Don’t.”

But Jake only laughed. “Don’t what, Rooster? What?” He asked with a certain hostility to his voice. “Do you know how it makes me feel to know I practically pushed her into your arms and had to watch as she got her heart broken? You might not be her friend, Bradshaw, but I am. And you’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here tonight and asking to speak with her.”

Taking another deep breath, Bradley tried to ignore all the eyes that were beginning to stare at him as the two aviators glared at each other. “I’m serious, Hangman, lay off,” 

You were right, he was drunk and not in the right state of mind to think rationally at this point. He needed to leave now before he did something he regretted. Before he did something that would further fuel your distaste for him.

“I don’t think I will,” Jake continued to push him. “See, you can be an dick to me all you want, but being a dick to Y/n is where I have a problem. She might want to forget it ever happened, but I won’t let you forget just how nice of a girl you let slip away. Truthfully, you never deserved her, and I’m mad at myself for introducing her to you, seeing how it worked out so well.”

“Enough,” Bradley nearly yelled, noticing that someone had stopped the music and that most of the patrons had gathered around at this point, including Nat, who gave him a look of warning. “Back off, Seresin, I mean it.”

He went to turn away, but Jake had other plans. “Or what? You gonna publicly humiliate me, too? Or is that just something you like to do to Y/n-” Bradley didn’t hear the rest as he quickly turned back around and punched Jake square in the nose. 

Jake stumbled back while Nat rushed forward to pull on Bradley’s arm. “Jesus, Bradley, are you crazy?!” She asked as she turned him to face her, but as soon as he took his eyes off Jake, the blond swung back and knocked him back a few feet.

Nat’s grip on Bradley loosened as he stumbled back, his hand reaching up to grip the side of his face as his head began to spin. 

Fanboy and Coyote held Jake back while Nat grabbed Bradley again. Penny rushed in and stood between the men with angry eyes and a bite to her tone. “Both of you, out. Now,” she said in a voice that left no room for arguments. 

Jake just glared at Bradley as he left the Hard Deck, Fanboy following quickly after him. 

Nat wrapped her arm around her best friend’s middle as she guided him out to the parking lot. “You’re wasted, Bradley,” she scolded as she led him over to her car. 

He narrowed his eyes, still holding his face with one hand while his other gripped her shoulder. “Where are we going? I didn’t park over here,” he mumbled and heard her scoff in response. 

“You didn’t think I was going to let you drive home after all this, did you?”

Bradley stopped, making her stop as well as he turned to give her an annoyed look. “I am not leaving my Bronco here overnight,” he stated and she rolled her eyes, holding out her free hand. 

“Fine,” she grunted. “Give me your keys. I’ll drive you home.”

Bradley did as he was told, placing the keys in her hand as he asked, “What about your car?”

“I’ll just crash at your place tonight and you can drive me home in the morning before work so I can change. I’ll pick up my car later,” she mumbled, pulling the passenger door open for him but leaving him to get himself in the car as she made her way to the driver’s side. 

After he hoisted himself into the car, Bradley rested his head against the window, the cool glass soothing the burn he felt on the right side of his face.

As Nat started the Bronco and set off in the direction of his house, she let the tense atmosphere grow thicker and thicker until she couldn’t hold herself back anymore. “What were you thinking? Going off on Hangman like that? You know how protective he is over her, there was no way you were winning that one,”

Bradley just shrugged, his eyes feeling heavy as he stared out the dark window. “I miss her, Nat,” he murmured. “I’m in love with her.”

Nat looked over at him in surprise. She knew he felt strongly about you, and it was obvious to anyone with eyes that he loved you, but to witness him finally admit it to himself was a bit shocking. “Have you told her that?” She asked, lowering her voice as she realized he was letting himself be vulnerable with her. 

“I wanted to, as soon as I got there,” he lifted his head and sat up a bit straighter, despite his body begging him to let it rest. “I was going to, but she was with Jake. She looked happy. She didn’t want to talk to me.”

Nat sighed heavily. “So make her talk to you,”

“I tried,” he rasped, his throat dry and his face sore. He made a mental note to never take the first swing at Jake Seresin ever again. “I tried to explain myself, but she just wanted to leave at that point.”

“Well, obviously,” Nat muttered, pulling onto his street. “You got drunk and couldn’t keep your eyes off her all night. She probably thought you just wanted to sleep with her again.”

When she pulled into his driveway, she turned off the car and moved so she was facing him. He looked back at her with tired eyes and a red cheek. “I want to be with her, Nat. I want us to be together,”

Her eyes stared into his for a few seconds before she sighed and pulled out the keys. “So tell her that. Sober, this time. Tell her everything, and don’t let her leave without her knowing how you really feel. I bet she still feels the same way,”

Bradley scoffed as he blindly reached for the handle. “Right,” he mumbled as he got out of the car. “I’m sure she’s still in love with the guy who walked away after she gave him her heart, and then that same guy gave her every mixed signal in return.”

Nat rolled her eyes as she got out of the car as well and helped him into the house. She led him down the hall to his room, where she pushed him down onto his covers and lifted his legs so he was laying down. “You need to tell her, Bradley,” she said quietly as she pulled his boots off and dropped them to the floor. “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, alright? Everyone has. If you could just admit your feelings to one another, you could be great together.”

Bradley looked at his best friend with hooded eyes, completely vulnerable as he wore his heart on his sleeve. “What if she doesn’t want me back?” He asked in defeat, not wanting to think about the possibility that he had truly blown his one shot with you. “What if she doesn’t want me anymore?”

Nat stared down at him as she sat next to him, trying to think of what to say that would make him feel even a little bit better. “Then at least you’ll know,” she offered, watching the way his shoulders dropped in dread. “And I’ll be right here, scolding you for letting her get away, but also applauding you for not going down without a fight.”

She leaned forward and kissed the mark on his face from Jake’s fist. 

“Literally,”

Bradley huffed out a laugh as he watched her stand up and turn off the lights before disappearing down the hall towards the guest room. 

She was right, like always. 

He needed to tell you how he felt, he needed to tell you what he should’ve told you that day on the dock.

But most of all, he just needed you. 

-

Bradley was met with a bruised cheek when he was finally able to pull himself out of bed the next morning. His head was pounding and his throat was dry, making him think back to his college days where he would drink into the early hours of the morning and wake up with countless hangovers. 

He felt awful, similar to how he felt back when he was a twenty year old frat boy who had no idea what to do with his life. 

Waking up in his own bed without you felt foreign. He had gotten so used to falling asleep with you in his arms and waking up with you, he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

For what felt like the millionth time, Bradley wished his parents were here. He wanted to be able to confide in his mom, and be chewed out by his dad, then watch his mom chew out his dad for chewing him out. 

He knew that if they were still here, he wouldn’t be in this situation because both his mom and his dad would’ve called him out for stringing you along like he did, way before he even realized his true feelings for you.

Since he had fallen asleep on top of the covers, he didn’t need to worry about making the bed. He left it the way you had neatly made it up the day you drove him to the carrier ship, numbly pulling on his work clothing before grabbing his phone. Nat had thankfully put it on charge, so he had a full battery to go into work with. 

When he made his way to the kitchen, he found his best friend sitting at the island, a coffee mug in one hand and a piece of toast in the other. She gave him a quick wave as she slowly slid the second coffee mug across the counter. “Drink up, Roozie,” she said as she finished her toast, gathering up all the crumbs in her palm before brushing them off in the sink. 

Bradley grunted as he sipped on the coffee, his head still pounding. “Think I’m going to need more than one of these to get me through today,” he muttered, eyeing Nat as she wandered around his house in the clothing she wore last night. “I have some clothes you could wear, if you want.”

She shook her head. “No, thanks. Save that offer for when you win Y/n back and she raids your closet again,” she winked, making him groan quietly at the image of you wearing his clothes. “I’m not trying to rub salt in the wound, here, but when she wore your shirt at the Hard Deck the day before your deployment? I can’t believe you didn’t make things official right then and there.”

Bradley finished his coffee, setting the mug down in the crumb-littered sink as he turned to face her. “Don’t remind me,” 

She held her hands up. “Right, sorry,” she said before grabbing her phone from off the counter. “Anyway, we should get going. The sooner you’re done with work, the sooner you can work on getting your girlfriend back.”

She was testing him, but he just shook his head, not bothering to correct her as he grabbed his keys from where she threw them onto the table beside the door last night. 

At work, Bradley laid low for a while, only talking to those who talked to him, and avoiding Jake like the plague. He was doing a pretty decent job, until he ran into him in the cafeteria. 

Jake was sporting a bruised nose, and Bradley wished he could find joy in the fact that he did that, but he knew that when you saw it, you’d be even more pissed with him than you already are. 

Bradley also knew he looked worse, but that was only because he had thrown the first punch. Just another thing that was entirely his fault. 

He didn’t say anything to Jake as he walked past him and ended up leaving the cafeteria altogether, pulling his phone out on his way to the tarmac. He clicked on your contact and brought the phone up to his ear before he could talk himself out of it. 

Really, he was embarrassed about how he acted last night, but he also wanted to forget about it all and get you back. If that meant owning up to his dumb actions from the previous evening, then so be it. 

He braced himself against the side of the building by placing his palm flat against the wall, his grip on his phone tightening the longer he was met with the obnoxious ringing sound.

Just as he was about to hang up and call again, you answered with a sharp, “What?” 

Though your voice wasn’t super friendly at the moment, Bradley couldn’t help but let a feeling of hope wash over him because you had actually picked up. Sure, you took your sweet time doing it, but you still answered his call. “Hey, Y/n/n,” he said in a much softer tone than he used last night. “I can’t talk for long because I’m at work, but I just needed to say something.”

You waited a heartbeat or two before replying with a cautious, “Okay? What?” 

He huffed out a breath he didn’t know he was holding before he opened his mouth in an apology, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I was an asshole last night, and I don’t blame you for not wanting to talk to me. You were right, I was drunk and had no business trying to get you to talk with me when I was like that,” he said in one go, stumbling over a few of his words, but continuing nonetheless, “And I’m sorry for what I said to you back on the dock. I didn’t realize it then, but you told me everything I wanted to hear, I just didn’t know how to deal with it.”

It was silent on your end for a bit, and he could picture you chewing on your bottom lip as you tried to think of what to say to him. A few more seconds pass before you finally break the silence. “Well, thanks for apologizing,” your voice was much quieter than before, and you sounded much more willing to actually talk to him. 

And he wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to keep you talking to him. “Like I said, I’m at work…but I really want to see you later, explain why I said what I did and how much of a fucking idiot I’ve been, if you’ll let me,” he nearly whispered the last part. “Come over later? Please? I promise, it’s not just me wanting to have fun with you, because that was never all it was for me. I can’t believe I even said that.”

You sighed and he prepared himself for the rejection he knew he deserved, but you surprised him as you asked, “Six, right? That’s when you’re off?”

Bradley pushed himself off the wall and looked around at the empty tarmac before answering, “Yeah, yes,” he quickly spoke. “Six.”

“Okay,” you murmured, your next words making a grin break out on his face. “I’ll be there for seven, maybe seven thirty if I begin to have second thoughts.”

And then you hung up, and Bradley was left standing by himself, smiling like he had just won the lottery, when in reality, he had just won something so much better. 

-

After quickly dropping Nat off at the Hard Deck so she could get her car, Bradley was speeding home in a way that was similar to when he floored it when you informed him you’d see him there yesterday. 

He quickly unlocked the door and stripped on his way to his bathroom for a shower, not wanting the way he had started to sweat after you confirmed that you’d come over later be the first thing you were met with when you arrived. 

He switched his shirt probably around four times before settling on a simple black tee and dark jeans. He paced the length of his living room for nearly twenty minutes before stopping abruptly and pulling out his phone to check the time. 

It was nearing seventy thirty, and Bradley began to think you really were having second thoughts, but he wasn’t able to dwell on it for long before he heard the sounds of knocking coming from his front door. 

He pocketed his phone and made his way to the door within three strides, pulling it open to reveal you in a cute oversized tee that was tucked into your jean shorts. It was similar to the way you looked when he took you to the Hard Deck, and while he knew you thought it was just a casual outfit, Bradley thought you never looked better. 

But then again, he found you hot in any kind of clothing, so he was a bit biased. 

“Hi,” he said when he opened the door, trying not to let his eyes wander too much. 

“Hi,” you said back, hesitantly meeting his eye with a forced smile that faltered when you caught sight of the bruise on his cheek. If you wanted to say anything about it, you held back and he could appreciate your ability to bite your tongue when you needed to. “Sorry, I really didn’t know if I was coming tonight.” You add when he stepped aside and allowed you to enter his house. 

He closed the door behind you, following you into the living room as he shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m glad you’re here,”

You slowly sat down on the couch, awkwardly gazing up at him as if you had no business being there. As if he hadn’t fucked you into the very cushions you were sat on more times than he could count on one hand. As if he hadn’t blown off plans with his friends so he could hold you on this couch while you watched movie after movie instead. 

You bit your lip as you thought of what to say, and Bradley had to look away quickly before you really began to think he just wanted you here so you could get him off. “So….how was your day?”

Had things really become that bad? To the point where that was the only thing you could think of asking him?

“It was fine,” he answered as he moved to sit down next to you, leaving a few inches of space between your thigh and his. You didn’t look uncomfortable yet, so he safely assumed you had no problem with him slightly invading your personal space. “How was yours?”

Oh, yeah. This was bad.

“It was fine,” you repeated his answer, and you quickly realized that as you added, “Yeah, it was good.”

“Good,” someone kill him now. This was not how he wanted to start this night off with you. 

Before he could mentally call himself out on how dumb he was acting, you asked him, “Can I ask what happened to your face?” Your tone held a sliver of humor, a teasing smile on your lips that quickly had the awkward tension begin to dissolve. 

He laughed and scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, it happened last night,”

You nodded, raising a brow when he didn’t continue. “What, did you run face first into a door or something?”

“No, Jake punched me,” he said and watched the way your small grin dropped and how your eyes widened. You open your mouth in concern, but he quickly added, “After I punched him.” 

Your concerned expression drops even quicker as you break eye contact with him and run your tongue along the underside of your teeth. “Uh,” you refrain from completely losing your cool before you heard what exactly went down. “Why, exactly, did you punch him?”

When you didn’t turn to look at him again, Bradley shrugged. “Because you came with him and not me,” 

That had you turning to look over at him. “What?” You asked in disbelief. “Seriously? You were jealous?”

He sat up a bit straighter as he began to feel like he was being interrogated. “Yeah, I was,” he answered, cutting you off before you could even say anything, “He kept making very valid points to me about how I fucked things up and how I never deserved you in the first place, and he was making too much sense so I punched him.” 

You squinted at him but then suddenly laughed when you realized he was being serious. “Oh, my God, Bradley,” you scolded. “You can’t just go around punching people because they were making too much sense, especially Jake.”

“I was drunk,” he weakly defended himself, but sighed right alongside you when you gave him an unimpressed look. “I know that’s not an excuse.” 

“You’re right,” you agreed, fighting back a dumb grin at the fact that you had actually managed to make him jealous without even trying to. “It’s not.”

Bradley shook his head as he, too, fought off an embarrassed smile. “I was just so unbelievably jealous when I walked in and saw you under his arm, because I knew that could’ve been me had I not turned you down,”

You look away quickly as the memory of that day comes spiraling back. “So…why did you?” You asked quietly as you placed with the silver ring you wore on your right index finger. “Turn me down? Was it really because I’m too young for you? Because I read too much into things?”

“No,” he quickly answered, turning his body towards yours. “God, no, that wasn’t it at all. I was just…an idiot, to put it simply. I was too afraid to give in and admit to myself that I felt the exact same way that you did.”

“But why?” You asked and lifted your gaze to meet his. “Why were you afraid? It’s just me.”

“I know,” he held back on referring to you with one of the many pet names he had given you during the last six months. “And it wasn’t you, I promise. This is all on me and my stupid trust issues and my inability to realize just how good I had it until it was gone…until you were gone.”

You press your lips into a thin line as you process his words. “You could’ve just told me that, instead of making me feel like I was just one big mistake to you,” 

Bradley felt his heart crack at that, a heat pooling in his bones as he realized just how much his words truly affected you. “You are not a mistake,” he said, sounding more serious than he had ever sounded before. “You are one of the best things that has ever happened to me, and Jake was right, I never deserved to have you in the way I did.”

“Bradley-”

“No, it’s true. We were so fucking good together, and it felt so right with you, and all it took for me to fuck it up was you admiting what we both already knew; that it was so much more than just us hooking up,” he was surprised how easy it was for him to open up to you, seeing as the only other person he could be vulnerable with was Nat, but he knew you wouldn’t make him feel bad for showing you this side of him. “There was something there between us, and there still is for me, and I’m so sorry I let you believe that there wasn’t.”

Your eyes flickered all over his face and you thought back to how differently he looked at you six weeks ago. Back then he looked so cold and came off as arrogant, but now he looked genuine, like he truly meant every word he told you. Maybe that was why you felt yourself beginning to break down the walls you had put up the second he had broken your heart. “So, what do you feel between us now? How do you feel about me?”

When Bradley met your eyes, he saw that same vulnerability you had when you confessed your feelings for him. You were giving him the second chance he had wanted for weeks now, and he would not let you get away again. 

He took your hand in his as his knee brushed yours. “I feel that, given the chance to prove myself to you, we could be just as good together as we were before. No, we could be even better,” he emphasized the last word and watched as the last bit of reluctance faded from your eyes. “And as for how I feel about you? I don’t think I’m falling for you.”

When he felt your grip on his hand loosen, and saw the way your eyes pricked with unshed tears, he quickly moved closer to you. 

“I know I’m in love with you,” he added, “And I have been for half a year now.”

A second or two passes before a big grin spreads across your face, and you reach up with your free hand to grip the side of his face, letting your thumb brush against his scars. “You’re in love with me?” You asked, desperate to know he wasn’t just messing with you in hopes to get you back to how things were before. “You’re really in love with me?”

Bradley just nodded, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand as he said the thing he should’ve a month and a half ago, “I love you,” 

You smile again and refrain from jumping on him right then and there. 

“And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way,” he adds, looking down at your joined hands and missing the way your brows furrowed in disbelief. “I can wait, I just needed to tell you that-”

You cut him off by leaning forward and pressing your lips to his in a kiss that leaves you both feeling dizzy. “Are you kidding me?” You against his mouth, removing your hand from his in order to grip the back of his neck. “Of course I love you. I have for months.”

Bradley was barely able to grin back at you before your mouth was covering his once again, and his hands were gripping your waist and pulling you onto his lap. “I missed you so much,” he murmured in between kisses. “I regretted what I said the second I saw you crying and I was too far away to do anything about it. It felt like I had left my heart back on that dock with you.”

You push him so he’s sitting back against the couch, your knees pressing into the cushions on either side of him as you straddle his lap. “So,” you pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth, laughing afterwards when he quickly guided you into another one as you pulled away. “You don’t think I’m too young and immature for you?” 

Bradley closed his eyes when he felt your lips latch onto his neck, groaning as you began to suck a mark onto his skin. “Fuck no,” he answered, slipping his hands into the back pockets of your shorts and pulling your hips forward to create the smallest bit of friction. “You’re more mature than most of the people I work with.”

You hum in approval, running your tongue over the fresh mark he would proudly wear at work tomorrow. “And you’re okay with us being in two different places in our lives?”

“I don’t care where we are,” he confirmed, guiding your lips back to his in a bruising kiss. “Just as long as I’m with you.”

“Good answer,” you kiss him again as your fingers begin to work on the zipper of his jeans. 

“Wait,” he reluctantly pulls away from your mouth, his hold on your hips making you halt your mission on his zipper. 

“What’s wrong?” You quickly ask, worried you’d overstepped a boundary without realizing it.

But Bradley just playfully scoffed at you, lifting you up and turning so you were laying against the couch and he was hovering over you. He unbuttoned your shorts and pulled them down your legs, a deep groan leaving the back of his throat when he caught sight of the black lace that covered your core from him. “You just told me you love me and gave me a second chance,” he stated as he pressed an open mouth kiss to your inner thigh. “Nothing could be wrong after that.”

You stifle a quiet laugh, a moan slipping out instead when he placed a kiss to your clothed clit.

His fingers pulled down the lace and dropped the fabric to the floor next to your shorts as he muttered, “It’s been way too long since I tasted you,” before he began to devour you like a starved man. 

He supposed he was as he missed the sweet taste that only belonged to you so much. 

Your head leaned back against the decorative pillow on the armrest of the couch, your hand instinctively going straight to his hair. Bradley groaned against you at the subtle tug he received, growing harder in his jeans as he pulled your legs so they’re resting over his shoulders. 

The vibration had you clenching around nothing, a low whine escaping your parted lips. “Bradley,” you gasped quietly when he nudged your folds apart with his nose before licking a flat strip up the center of you. 

“Say my name again,” he softly demanded, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you even closer to his awaiting tongue. “Who’s making you feel good right now?”

“You,” it came out as a breath when he wrapped his lips around your clit, and you clenched tightly around nothing. “It’s you, Bradley. Fuck.”

“That’s right, baby,” he praised and the name had your eyes squeezing shut. “You’re so good for me, taste so fucking good.” 

Butterflies erupted in your body at his sweet but absolutely filthy words. “Bradley,” you nearly whispered, tugging a bit harder on his hair as you knew it would drive him crazy. “I missed you.”

Like you expected he would, a deep growl once again sent vibrations up your body and once again had you clenching around nothing. “I missed you, too, sweet girl, fuck, did I ever,” he muttered against your throbbing clit, the soft graze of his teeth making your breath hitch in your throat. “I missed you for six weeks straight, missed you when I got home and saw that you had taken out all your things you had in here. I want you to put it all back and never take them out again.”

You whimpered at his words and the possessiveness that laced them. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were asking me to move in with you,” you tried to make your voice sound teasing, but you were completely at his mercy right now and not even close to being in control.   

“Good idea,” he replied and your heart skipped a beat at what he was insinuating. You didn’t have time to dwell on what he meant by that before he was continuing, “Move in with me, please?”

Bradley knew he was moving too fast, but he felt as if he had already wasted so much time being away from you the last six weeks, he didn’t want to waste anymore. He needed you in his life, wanted to pick up on your habits and come home to a house full of yours and his things. 

He wanted to share his life with you in all the ways he didn’t before. He wouldn’t fuck this up again, and he wanted you to know just how serious he is about you and how serious he is about starting an official relationship with you.

You could hardly focus on what he was asking you to do. His tongue had slid back down your folds and penetrated you just slightly, your wetness coating the muscle as he lapped at you. 

He knew it wasn’t fair to ask you that while he was currently tongue fucking you, but in all fairness, you were the one who technically brought it up. “Please,” he begged against your heat. “Say you’ll move in with me, spend every night with me in our own bed, in our own house.”

His offer only sounded better and better, almost as good as his mouth felt against your throbbing clit. “Bradley,” 

“We’d be together everyday,” he rasped and you practically came from just his promises. When his mouth was back on you a second later, he grinned at the extra wetness he felt and took pride in the way he got you off at the idea of moving in together. He licked you clean before moving back up your body and hovering over you. “It could be like this every night.”

You moan quietly when he presses a soft kiss to your mouth. 

He ended it all too quickly as he slowly licked his lips that still tasted like you before asking, “So, what do you say?”

“Yes,” you were finally able to properly answer him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him closer to you. “Yes, I’ll move in with you.”

You share a couple more heated kisses before you pull away and gaze up at him with an unreadable emotion swimming in your eyes. Bradley caught on to the sudden change, and he reached his hand up to caress the side of your face. “What’s wrong?”

Shaking your head, you huff quietly and gently bump your nose against his. “Nothing,” you answer. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just…This is all I’ve ever wanted for months. It’s hard to believe it’s actually happening.”

Bradley physically felt his heart skip a beat as he thought about all the pain he had put you through, and not even as recent as six weeks ago. He had unknowingly strung you along, played with your heart and allowed you to think this whole thing was purely sexual. 

He needed to assure you that this is real, that his feelings for you are real and genuine. “Baby,” he murmured, capturing your lips in a deep kiss as he slowly ground his hips against yours, the cool metal of his zipper rubbing against your pulsing core making you see stars behind your closed eyelids. “It’s happening. You and me, us. I love you and I’m so sorry for fucking things up so badly between us.”

You tug at the fabric of his shirt and give him a small smile, brushing your lips against his. “It’s okay,” you whisper. “We have each other now, right?”

“Right,” he confirmed and that was all you needed to hear before your shaking hands were pulling the black fabric off his upper body. 

The sight of his toned chest and abs on full display had you holding back a moan, your lip getting caught between your teeth as your eyes raked over his damn near flawless body. 

Bradley’s hand that was on your face moved so his thumb was slipping past your lips, and he watched with a slack jaw as you sucked it in deeper, your tongue running along the underside of it. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” he really didn’t understand how a guy like him ended up with a girl like you, but he was done questioning it as you clearly felt the exact same way about him. You love him, and that’s all he needed to know.

“I think you’re talking about yourself,” you say as you press your lips to the skin of his neck. “You’re so attractive, Bradley, you could get me off with just a look.” Then you were sucking his skin, similar to the way you were sucking his thumb just a few seconds earlier. 

He grunted at the stinging sensation of the hickey you left on his neck, right next to the other one from earlier in the night. “That’s it, sweet girl,” he praised as he lifted your shirt over your head, your bra being pulled from your body quickly after. “Mark me up, show everyone that I belong to you.”

You gasp out in need, pulling his mouth back to yours as your hands frantically push down his jeans and boxer briefs. “Mine,” you whimper against his lips, feeling him hum in confirmation. 

“Yours, baby,” he replied, wrapping your legs around his waist as he teased your soaking entrance. “All yours.”

Then he was pushing into you. Your walls stretched around him and took him in perfectly, making his head fall against your shoulder as he got used to the feeling of you around him again after so long. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling out only halfway before burying himself deep within you once again. “God, baby, you feel so good.”

His words release more butterflies all over your body and you clench around him, your greedy walls sucking him in even deeper. “Go slow,” you request in a quiet voice, making him lift his head to meet your eyes. 

Really, he was fine with fucking you into the cushion with enough force to break the springs, and he was also fine with loving your body with his own. “You want me to go slow?” He asked as he pulled out all the way then sunk right back in. “Fuck you nice and slow, like this?”

When he repeated the movement a couple times, you nod quickly and reach your hands up so they’re in his hair. “Yeah,” you breathe out, connecting your lips in a barely-there kiss before saying, “Just like that. I want to feel every inch of you in me.”

Bradley’s hips stuttered at that, breaking the slow pace for a quick second as he placed his forearm against the cushion next to your head. “Fuck, baby, you can’t say things like that and expect me to not fuck you hard into this couch.” 

You laughed quietly, and the sound only spurred him on as he set the slow pace once again. “You need to gain some self control, Bradley,” you purred into his ear and he was once again refraining from absolutely destroying your core. 

“I can’t,” he said as he began to place kisses all over your collarbones and shoulders. “Not when I have you wrapped around me, not when you’re taking me so well. Fuck, look at you.”

You give him a teasing smile that fades quickly when he sucks the skin of your throat. After half a year with him, you’ve noticed he seems to have a favorite spot on your neck where he likes to kiss you and leave physical proof of his mouth being there. 

The last time you felt his lips on that spot was when he got you off so good before taking you to the Hard Deck, where you showed off the hickey he left on you. 

“I can’t believe you’re mine,” he muttered, mostly to himself as he gazed down at your saliva coated skin. “After everything, after I fucked things up, you’re still mine.”

You hum, wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing him closer to you, making him reach even deeper within you. “I always was yours,” you confessed and felt the way his grip tightened on you. 

“But,” he grunted as his hips rocked into yours in a slow rhythm, that sick feeling of jealousy creeping back into him, despite him being very aware of his current position of being buried within you. “You were with Jake last night-”

“But my heart was always with you,” you cut him off and noticed the way he seemed to relax at your words. “My heart was still yours, even after you broke it.” You give him a teasing grin in hopes he wouldn’t take it too hard, but this was Bradley, and he was a pretty emotional guy when it came down to certain things.

While you had given him all the reassurance he needed, he was still feeling so awful for how he treated you, and he wanted to make it up to you. He wanted you to forget about it, forget that dumb side of him who didn’t understand what he was saying. 

“I’m not going to do that ever again,” he promised, jerking his hips a bit roughly but not picking up the pace. “I’m going to treat you so well, be so good to you all the time. You’re going to grow so fucking sick of me, I swear.”

You would’ve laughed, but the sharp snaps of his thrusts had you getting lost in the feeling of him. “‘S all I’ve wanted,” you whimpered when he reached one hand down to rub circles on your still sensitive clit. 

It throbbed against the pad of his middle finger in time with the way your walls pulsed around him. He was driving into you so slowly, you felt every single inch of him as he invaded your warm and inviting core. 

You were so used to the rough, fast paced sex with him in the past, but this was different. Back then, he was just trying to get you off in the ways he knew you liked, and desperately tried to ignore the unspoken words between the two of you.

He tried to fuck away his true feelings for you, hoping that the way his heart would flip at your sweet sounds and how his whole body fit so perfectly against your own was just him getting caught up in the moment. 

He was so glad he was wrong and finally allowed himself to face reality. 

“You’re all I want, too,” he struggled to say as you clenched tightly around him. “I don’t know why I even bothered trying to deny it…fuck, you’re so tight.”

You smirk to yourself at his struggle to keep control of the slow drag of his hips. “Only for you,” you fed into his possessiveness over you, and raked your nails down his back.

“Fuck,” he hissed at the sting, the light scratches on his skin feeling better than he ever thought was possible. “Thank you for giving me a second chance, sweet girl. I won’t fuck this up again.”

You press your lips to his as you feel the coil in your abdomen begin to unravel. “‘M gonna come again,” you informed him against his mouth, fueling him to pick the pace up just slightly as he continued with his sharp thrusts. 

“I want you to so badly,” a deep grunt left his lip as he felt the beginning of your orgasm start to coat him. “Just like that, baby. Come for me, I want to feel it all over me. I want it to be messy.”

Your mouth breaks away from his in order for you to be able to let out a loud moan, followed by a call of his name as your release surged through you. With a gentle hand pressed to his face, your thumb brushing against the bruise he received last night, you came hard around him.

“Fuck yeah, baby,” he rasped next to your ear, using your willing core to get himself there, as well. “You look so fucking hot when you come for me.”

Whimpering at the sensitivity, you push him closer with your heel against his back. “Wanna feel you, too,” you mumbled, helplessly taking each thrust he gave as you wouldn’t be fully satisfied until he, too, got off. “I want it in me.”

Bradley’s jaw locked at that, his neck straining as he gave two more quick thrusts before stilling. You were rewarded with a deep, throaty groan as he spilled his seed into you, and you took every single drop.

Your walls, seemingly desperate to feel him breed them once again, gripped him tightly when he lazily started to rock his hips into yours again. The both of you were far too sensitive to go for round two right now, so he was just riding your highs for as long as he could. 

You gently massaged his scalp, his head undoubtedly sore from your relentless tugs on his hair. Bradley was actually excited to deal with the brief headache that would come from it. He was even more excited to see the scratches on his back tomorrow morning, and he was excited to take you to the Hard Deck on Friday night and officially make it known to everyone there that you are his and he is yours. 

Granted, most of the people there already assumed that, but it would still feel great to finally go public with you. 

Bradley wrapped you up in his arms and got into a more comfortable position with you on the couch. He placed a few kisses to the top of your head as you basked in the afterglow, finally feeling truly happy for the first time in over a month. “I love you,” he had somehow managed to win you back, and he would make damn sure he keeps his promise of never breaking your heart again. “Every single part of you.”

You lean up and press a kiss to the mark on his cheek, making a mental note to give Jake a hard time about using his fists instead of walking away. You were still grateful that he was so protective over you, though, so you wouldn’t be too serious about it. “I love you, too, Bradley,” you say back. “I always have.”

-

@everythingmarveltopgun

@shara-ne

@iheqrtaustin

@amiets2

@magical-spit

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradsaw x reader #top gun rooster #rooster top gun #top gun au #top gun maverick #miles teller #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw x reader

[torasplanet]

being bruce wayne's controversially young gf is probably such a handful. with all the paparazzi, and new reporters and don't even get me started on that whole batman thing...you'll never forget the time you discovered the batcave in the middle of the night and neither will bruce. you were just sitting at the computers next to Barbara in your silky rope with a frown on your face just ready to yell at him for not telling you.

but that's not what we're here to talk about. we're here to talk about that little munchkin damian.

see at first, he didn't really like you. you were there before him but he still didn't like you very much in all honesty. the other batkids took a liking to you, some quicker than others (dickie) but they still liked you and told damian that you were cool and everything but damian found it disgusting how his father would date someone as young as you.

you were only in your twenties but considering bruce's age being early forties... he thought it was weird. damian was one of many who thought it was horrible until he didn't. you don't exactly know what made him switch but you weren't complaining well...sometimes you were because of his clinginess but you loved him too! damian was attached at your side the moment he started to like you and it was hard to get him away.

you always defended damian especially when he would go back and forth with bruce, which by the way he hated, but it didn't matter the topic because you'd still back him up. "father, school is a waste of time. training is far more important." "yeah! dami is too smart for that."

but don't get him wrong, he still found the age gap horrifying but it was more toward bruce than you now. as time went on, he stopped caring about it but he acted as though he did. damian is just a hater tbh.

anyways, back to him being the clingiest son ever! during galas, you are never seen without the middle schooler at your side either silent or talking to you about something he is passionate about. bruce thinks its cute and plus it makes the public not hate this relationship more but when damian actually needs to do things at the galas, it's pretty annoying for him...

"todd insisted that i play uno with him and the rest of the former robins and it was quite interesting. especially when todd jumped at grayson for cheating." damian ranted in your ear while standing at your side as you sipped at your wine glass carefully listening to him unaware of your boyfriend approaching.

damian noticed before you did and his silence made you confused "damian, you cannot stand next to her all night." bruce said with a sigh and his son only narrowed his eyes at him "why not? i don't find talking to these other wealthy families any sort of intriguing." damian argued while you only smiled brightly at the fact that he found you interesting!

"that doesn't matter, you still have duties."

"well ummi–[y/n]..." damian stuttered clearing his throat in embarrassment as the conversation seemed to go silent. bruce looked at you and you were close to dropping the wine glass because of how happy you seemed so he swiped it from your palm quickly. "...she doesn't seem to mind at all." the boy continued before looking up at you.

you barely registered him looking at you. you were just too happy about him referring to you as his mom!! even if it was just a slip-up. "oh yeah! i don't mind at all and you can call me whatever you want dami! i don't mind that either." you shrugged while rocking back and forth on your heels and damian seemed to be relieved with that but he quickly cleared his throat again and looked at his father with a careless expression.

"well, we'll be going now. grayson is better company than you anyway." damian said grabbing the glass from bruce's hand and grabbing yours with his other before beginning to walk away. you looked back at bruce and silently screamed to show your excitement. i guess he can let it slide this one time...because he was just as happy.

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

#torasplanet.ᐟ #marls-drabbles.ᐟ #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batfam x reader #batmom #damian wayne x reader platonic #platonic #◛⑅·˚bruceee #◛⑅·˚batfam

[kaleldobrev]

Please Don't Leave

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dean's lucky to have you in his life and honestly doesn't know what he would ever do without you

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Cursing (3x), Fluff, Vulnerable/Angry Dean

Authors Note: The gif makes me sad | This might seem a little non canon but at the same time I honestly feel like Dean would react this way (fight me if you want, but I said what I said) | I just love this man so fucking much | Dream/Flashbacks are in italics | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Dean didn’t have a lot of consistencies in his life, but you were one of them. Out of everyone he had known in his life, you were one of the only people that had remained with him through all the heartbreak, all of the death, all of the blood, sweat, and tears that this life had. You had been through it all with him: Sam going to Stanford and leaving him behind, his fathers death, him selling his soul, the year that Sam went to Hell, the year the two of you were in Purgatory, the few months he was a demon, his bloodlust fueled by the Mark, him being possessed by Michael. He had an endless list of things that the two of you had been through together, things that would cause any normal or rational person to throw in the towel; but not you. “You can’t get rid of me Dean Winchester, not even if you kill me yourself.” You had joked. And that was something that he had almost done – and on several occasions too. And yet, you never left him. “I guess I’m just stupid.” You said. “Or maybe the sex me and you have is just that good.”

The sex he had with you, now that was something. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced; and he has had quite a lot of sex during his lifetime (not that he bragged about it of course). When the two of you initially met, it was only supposed to be a working relationship, a friends with benefits sort of deal. But eventually it turned into more. He wasn’t sure where him or you had gotten your wires crossed but they did; and it turned into you and him always finding each other at the end of the night regardless of the different men and women that had hit on both of you at the bar you two were at.

The sex used to be quick, usually done in either a drunken haze or after a tough hunt. But it eventually turned into something that either one of you would initiate through soft touches: a kiss on the forehead, a simple hand hold, or cuddling into each other. Once, in the middle of sex, he wasn’t sure why he had said it but he did. He kind of just blurted it out. “I love you.” Now that was something he never thought he’d ever say during sex before. But here you were beneath him, staring up at him with those doe eyes of yours that you frequently had during sex and said, “I love you too.” It was something he didn’t expect.

Dean didn’t know what he could or would possibly do if you weren’t in his life; and that was something he didn’t want to think about. But it was something that has been an unavoidable thought as of late. Waking up to you was one of the worst but best things after a nightmare of losing you. He would wake up in a panic, his heart racing, sweating; afraid that you were gone for good this time. But without fail, every single time you would be right there next to him. Either sound asleep or awake enough to tell him, “It’s okay, I’m right here.” He would always reply the same way. “Just…please don’t leave.” It was a simple yet complicated sentence. “I’m not going to. I’d never leave you.” Those words that you always uttered back should have been comforting to him, but it was just an empty promise – even though he knows that’s how you never intended it to sound. In your heart you loved him deeply, and he knew that. He knew that you’d never leave him; the two of you have been through everything together. But when it came to this life, it was hard to make and keep promises like that.

“Dean, I just can’t do this anymore I’m sorry.” Your words had cut into him like a knife. Like he’d been shot hundreds of times. The torture he received from Hell combined with the loss of his mother was child’s play compared to what he was currently feeling. He just started blankly at the two duffel bags at your feet as you stood in the doorway of the room the two of you shared. Well, formally shared that is. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” You asked, your question snapping him out of whatever trance he was in.

“There’s nothing to say.” Of course there were hundreds, no thousands of things that he had wanted to say to you, but he knew that he couldn’t say any of it. As much as he wanted to beg for you to stay, he wasn’t going to make you stay. Once you made up your mind that was it; there was no convincing you.

You looked at him with a confused expression. “You don’t even want to know why I’m leaving?” You asked, and Dean simply shook his head. “Why not?”

“It doesn’t really matter.” He tried to keep his voice even, to make you believe that he was okay. But he could tell that you knew he wasn’t (you knew him long enough to know when he was or wasn’t okay).

“Dean.” You said, your voice sounding more heartbroken than his.

“It’s alright. You don’t…you don’t have to explain yourself.” He said, taking a seat on the bed you two once shared.

“I feel like you deserve an explanation. We were together for almost twenty years Dean.” You sat down next to him on the bed. He had just wanted to push you away or wrap you in his arms. Two completely differently reactions, but that’s the way he felt. “Dean.” You touched his shoulder and he flinched, you quickly removed your hand. “I love you, and I know you know that but –”

“Please just…stop talking. I really don’t want to hear what you have to say.” His voice was more hurt now, and he could feel himself trying not to say or do anything that he was going to regret. He wanted to cry, but he didn’t want you to have to see that, despite seeing him do it so many times before. “Just, leave if you’re going to leave.” You didn’t move, simply just staring at him. “Go!” He snapped, and that’s when you got up.

You walked over to your bags, slinging one over your shoulder and holding the other one in your hands. “Goodbye Dean.” You said, before walking out of the room. For a while he heard the sound of your boots down the hall, but they suddenly became faint, almost inaudible. The Bunker door opened and closed again. You were gone. Gone for good this time.

“You said you’d never fucking leave.” He whispered to himself. “Said you’d never fucking leave me.” He pounded the bed with his fist. “You fucking lied!” He got up from the bed and he felt himself start to lose control; no longer in control of the emotions that had been building up when he had started watching you pack up your bags.

Dean woke up abruptly, sitting up. He was panicked, his heart racing. His breaths were heavy, his chest moving up and down. He rubbed his face, trying to fully wake himself up. There was no way he would be getting back to sleep for a while; not after that nightmare. “Y/N -” he began to say as he looked over to his right side; your side of the bed. You were gone. “Sweetheart?” He asked, his hand reached out and touched the emptiness next to him: it was cold.

He looked up at the door to the bedroom which was slightly ajar. The only light in the room came seeping in from the hallway. He didn’t remember having the door open, the door was always shut whenever the two of you slept. Despite how safe the Bunker was, sleeping with the door closed added an extra layer of safety, not just for him, but for you as well.

A shadow appeared, blocking some of the light. He reached over and opened the drawer of his nightstand, slightly gripping his gun that he always kept there. Before he could fully wrap his hand around the weapon you squeaked inside the room and shut the door again quietly. A huge amount of relief washed over him in that moment as he let go of the gun and closed the drawer. “Dean?” You questioned, upon hearing the drawer close. “Baby are you okay?” You asked, walking to sit on his side of the bed. He looked at you as you placed a hand on his cheek. Your eyes full of worry.

“You were…” his eyes flickered to your side of the bed that had been empty when he woke up before looking back at you again. “You were gone. When I woke up you…”

“It’s okay. I’m here.” You reassured him, your voice calm.

“Where did you go?” He asked tiredly.

“The bathroom. I really, really needed to pee.” You said, Dean chuckled a little at your comment. “You know I wouldn’t willingly leave you right?” You reassured him again. You felt him nod in your hand.

“I know.” His voice sounding just a hint sad. “I uh, I feel stupid for freaking out.” The sentence was a whisper.

“There’s nothing to feel stupid about Dean.” Another reassurance. Dean had every right to react the way he did; he had lost so much, even before you had met him. You had been with him through everything. Witnessed so much loss and endured just as much. “Was it a nightmare?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It was the…the one where you break up with me.” You hated that one just as much as he did.

“I’m never going to break up with you. I love you too damn much.” You said, giving him a smile. You crawled into bed next to him getting underneath the covers. “Come here.” You held out your arms for him, and without hesitation he went into them. He wrapped his arms around your torso and rested his head on your chest; your arms wrapping around the back of his neck. Your fingers started playing with his hair, gently massaging his head.

The two of you sat there in silence, both of you with your eyes closed. You weren’t sleeping, but you were unsure if he was. Even if he wasn’t, his breathing was starting to get more even, he was starting to calm down. Hearing the sound of your heartbeat always calmed him down. “Y/N?” Dean asked.

“Yes my love?” You asked, opening your eyes.

He looked up at you briefly, tiredly. “I know I don’t tell you enough but…I’m really lucky to have you in my life. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.” He kissed your neck, as that was one of the only spots he could currently reach.

“I’m lucky to have you in my life too.” You responded, giving him a kiss on the top of his head.

“And Sweetheart?” He asked again.

“Yeah?” You asked.

“Thank you…thank you for not leaving me.” His voice sounding a little pained. The sound of this sentence had broken your heart a bit. Leaving Dean was never an option for you, no matter what had happened between the two of you. Being with him wasn’t easy, but you couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. He was your person, the love of your life, your soulmate. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You kissed him on the top of the head again, and you could feel his smile.

That night, Dean didn’t have another nightmare, but he did dream. He had one of his favorite dreams; one that always gave him a sense of calmness and normalcy. The two of you would be just lying in bed together watching some random horror movie on tv. It was something that the two of you have done hundreds, no, thousands of times, so there would be no reason why it would be his so called favorite dream. What made it his favorite though was purely based on one small detail, a detail that made it known to him that it was in fact a dream: wedding rings would be on both of your fingers.

Someday maybe, he thought.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @jackles010378 If you'd like to be on a tag list, just message me!

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #spn #supernatural #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn one shot #supernatural one shot #reader insert #female reader #Dean x you #dean x reader

[suashii]

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝒮𝐸𝒳𝐼𝒩𝒢 𝒮𝐸𝒯𝒯𝐸𝑅𝒮 — the setters and their top kinks

info ⭑ includes: miya atsumu, oikawa toru, akaashi keiji, sugawara koushi, semi eita ﾉ f!reader, nsfw (minors do not interact) ﾉ degradation ﾉ impact play ﾉ daddy kink ﾉ dumbification ﾉ edging ﾉ body worship ﾉ praise kink ﾉ dacryphilia ﾉ virgin kink ﾉ corruption kink ﾉ all characters written 18+.  

₊˚ପ⊹ ATSUMU + DEGRADATION & IMPACT PLAY

he’d never call you such lewd, dirty names outside the bedroom, but he can’t ignore how each one goes straight to your pussy. his personal favorites are “whore” and “toy”. he never thought he’d find so much pleasure in bullying, humiliating, you. and he’ll never get over the way you tighten and flutter around his cock when his hand makes contact with your clit or ass. your surprised squeals are like music to his ears and the marks he leaves behind are always a pretty reminder of the night’s activities the next day.

“listen to you, whimpering like a whore when i slap your ass. i’m starting to think you like getting spanked. mm, maybe i should give you another one.”

₊˚ପ⊹ OIKAWA + DADDY KINK & DUMBIFICATION

he gets some sort of rush from hearing you call him daddy. maybe it’s the way you peer up at him through your lashes as you do so. or maybe it’s the blatant embarrassment that you try and fail to hide by biting your lip. can you blame him for wanting to see you completely fucked out? you’re just so pretty when your eyes are staring off at nothing, tongue lolling from between those soft lips. he can’t help the sense of pride that swells in his chest when you’re reduced to such a mess, and all because of him.

“you stopped talking, princess. did daddy really fuck you that hard? can’t even think straight while you’re taking this cock, huh?”

₊˚ପ⊹ AKAASHI + EDGING & BODY WORSHIP

his hands wander about your figure as his mouth travels down every inch of your skin, only ever stopping to tell you how gorgeous you are. you deserve the world and he’s set on giving it to you, even if his method seems slightly cruel. by now, he’s an expert at continuously getting you nearly to your climax and pulling you back just before you can reach it. he’s a patient man and is more than willing to spend all night in the bedroom if that means giving you the most earth shattering orgasm you could imagine.

“god, you look so beautiful like this. you want to come? don’t worry, you only have to wait a little longer, angel. i promise it’ll feel good.”

₊˚ପ⊹ SUGAWARA + PRAISE & DACRYPHILIA

you’re such a sweet thing for suga, always doing what you’re told and making the prettiest noises for him. why shouldn’t he let you know how much he adores you—how proud he is of you? the smile that graces your face and the sparkles in your irises at his approval are really all he could ask for. but a little part of him can’t help but get excited whenever he sees tears of pleasure pooling in your eyes, threatening to spill over your lash line. maybe he’s greedy; or maybe he just wants a reward of his own.

“you did so well for me, my good girl. and you look so pretty with tears streaming down your cheeks. should i clean them up for you?”

₊˚ପ⊹ SEMI + VIRGIN KINK & CORRUPTION

he has this unexplainable desire to take you—someone that was once pure and untouched—and make you his own, to ruin you as he pleases. of course, he’d never tell you so; where’s the fun in that? he’s fixed on watching the authentic experience of your first time. he wants to see how your face scrunches up in pain before it turns to pleasure. he wants to hear your breath catch in your throat before you’re moaning in ecstasy as your orgasm hits. he needs to be the one who gives you a taste of what you’ve been missing out on.

“is it everything you thought it would be? yeah? i never pegged you as the type who liked being used. guess i got lucky with you.”

hihi~ manz here :3 ! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

#₊˚ପ��� signed: haikyuu #atsumu x reader #oikawa x reader #akaashi x reader #sugawara x reader #semi x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu smut #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #𐙚 after hours

[lightfeltmemories]

dungeon meshi | delicious in dungeon; reactions to reader having a crush on them / having a crush on reader

dungeon meshi various x gender neutral reader

note: hey everyone, please be mindful that this is the very first time writing for these characters, i have watched every available episode but i am still reading the manga (though i do have a general idea about the setting and the characters backstories and personalities) so if any characters are ooc to you my apologies, don't be harsh im new here lol. sorry some of them are shorter than others i kind of ran out of ideas when it came to certain characters :p let me know in the comments or reblogs or more preferably in my ask box if you want me to do any other character.

characters: laois, falin, chilchuck, marcille, senshi, namari, shuro, izutsumi (i'm adding her here because feels weird leaving her out when i've added former members of the party, also this is purely sfw so nothing weird will be aimed towards her.)

trigger warnings: nothing out of the ordinary but just read the manga or watch the anime before reading this.

if you like this and my other fanfics, please be considerate to reblog my work, it not only helps reach a broader audience but it also motivates me to make more content like this!

laois touden

reader's crush: when laois finds out that you have a crush on him, his reaction is.. well, how do we put it this way? is he flattered? yes and no, he doesn't see himself as ugly but also doesn't look at himself as the most handsome guy in the world, but someone straight up having a crush on him is kind of new, he doesn't really care much for relationships at the very moment but has thought about settling down with someone he likes, will it be you?

laois' crush: when it comes to having a crush, he tries to be his normal self around you, but sometimes can't help but be a little nervous especially when the two of you are alone, sooner or later he comes to the conclusion of realizing the he indeed, likes you, but confessing is the hard part, he's never thought much about rejection, it is a normal part of life after all, but when it comes to you? it's an entirely different ball game.

falin touden

reader's crush: falin already has someone chasing after her; shuro, theres a 50/50 chance of her reaction to reader's crush being the same as shuro's, but could there be a different reaction this time?

falin's reaction: surprisingly less shy than her brother, when she comes to this conclusion she'll build up the right time to actually confess, not wanting to rush things, just watch out for shuro i guess.

chilchuck tims

reader's crush: chilchuck learning about reader's crush is a bit sad, though he's no stranger to romance as he not only had a wife but also three whole kids, he's not really good with emotions so he's kind of scared you'll leave him just like his wife did, so, if reader confesses, there's gonna be a high chance that you'll be rejected, just give it some time.

chilchuck's crush: this weird feeling in his chest whenever he see's you will confuse him at first.. there's no way he has a crush on you?? after his wife leaving him he didn't really have any interest in romance, he might as well just focus on his work at the moment, one of these days he'll bring up the courage to confess, just not right now.

marcille donato

reader's crush: she can't really decide on whether she'll return the feelings or not, definitely flattered is what i'll say.

marcille's crush: she's similar to falin, she'll build up a better relationship with you for the right time to confess, she tries to make it seem as if she's not into you but it's quite obvious to the other party members.

senshi of izganda

reader's crush: out of everyone, he'll definitely be the most flattered, someone having a crush on him wasn't something he put much thought into, not to mention romance kind of isn't his thing, nor does he think he have the time for a significant other.

senshi's crush: i don't think this is the very first time he's ever had feelings for someone, but it's definitely a special feeling, he's not nervous of confessing his feelings at all actually, and he's not that sensitive to rejection.

namari

reader's crush: namari wouldn't really know how to react, honestly, she's never given the idea of someone having a crush on her much thought, she won't care much about rejecting the reader, at least she's honest.

namari's crush: her crush will be a bit hard to spot but when it comes to you, there will be a notable soft spot, she treats you like everyone else and isn't afraid to scold you if you do something wrong.

shuro | toshiro nakamoto

reader's crush: in an au where he still has feelings for falin, he immediately rejects you, telling you boldly that his heart is for falin and falin alone, but lets go to an au where he either loses interest in her or doesn't like her at all; definitely flattered, someone liking him (back) isn't unheard of but it is... nice?

shuro's crush: just look at what he does with falin, he will propose to you at some point, of course when time goes by and he starts to fall for you harder and harder, until he just can't contain it anymore.

izutsumi

reader's crush: very, very strange, someone having a crush on her is.. almost unheard of, or she doesn't pay much attention, anywho, she doesn't know... how to react? she knows what to do if she doesn't return the feelings but... someone liking her is just weird lmao.

izutsumi's crush: she won't make it obvious.... or try to at least, she accepts affection from you much more than she does from the others and sticks by your side more.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #laois touden #falin touden #marcille donato #chilchuk tims #senshi of izganda #namari of kahka brud #shuro dungeon meshi #izutsumi #dungeon meshi x reader #laois touden x reader #falin touden x reader #marcille donato x reader #chilchuck tims x reader #senshi x reader #namari x reader #shuro x reader #izutsumi x reader

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: another week...

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

When Bucky leaves, you feel less than relief. It’s easier to breathe without him around but your heart continues to race. You don’t move until you see him drive away. You steel yourself with the manufactured lie before you go back inside. 

As you do, you’re surprised to find Roxie beside your mom, both of them close to the front window. You sigh. Were they watching? You guess you can be thankful Bucky hadn’t done more than talk. 

Your mom faces you with a sheepish grin, “so... did you get it?” 

You look between her and your sister. Roxie has her phone in hand and an arch in her eyebrow, “I’d die for a boss like that.” 

“I...” you glance the screen before she can hide it. Oh. She had a picture of him pulled up on Google. So, they both know exactly who he is. 

“He must be really hands on if he came all the way down here to offer you a job,” Roxie tilts her head. 

“That’s the sign of a good boss,” your mom insists.  

“Really, I think his eyes were the kicker. So blue.” 

“Rox,” your mom nudges her. “A man like him, he’s got line ups, I’m sure. Besides, she’s too young for him.” 

“Well, I’m older,” Roxie smirks, “maybe she can get me a job too.” 

“Er, uh,” you wring your hands, “I should start dinner.” 

“You didn’t say if you go the job,” Roxie challenges. 

“Yeah,” you utter softly, “I got a job. Just cleaning.” 

“Hey, it’s better than nothing,” you mom assures as she comes to you. She puts her hands on your shoulders, “I’m so proud of you.” 

“Mom,” you try not to look pained as you return her smile, “it’s nothing. Really. A cleaner.” 

“We all gotta start somewhere.” 

“Yeah,” Roxie scoffs, “most of us a lot sooner.” 

“Oh, don’t be such a downer,” your mom lets you go to spin on your sister, “don’t rain on her parade.” 

“Whatever. I’d rather hand out flyers than clean toilets,” she rolls her eyes. 

You purse your lips and shy away. You feel worse that they believe you so easily and why wouldn’t they? No one would think that someone like you would merit such a preposterous offer from a man like Bucky. You still can’t really believe it. 

Maybe it’s just some twisted hallucination. You could wake up tomorrow and be just like you were before. You never thought you would long for that but now, being alone, being the loser, that feels safe. Being noticed, being someone, that’s terrifying. 

🃏

You take your time making dinner, a brief escape from reality. The distraction keeps you busy enough that your chest stops thrumming, yet your nerves are still spastic. You’re not very hungry once it’s done but you make yourself eat. 

Roxie heads off for work shortly after you gather up the dirty dishes and your mom goes to change into her pajamas. She startles you as you scour the pan you used to bake the chicken. You splash yourself and hiss. 

“Sorry, hon, I was just coming to check on you,” she leans against the counter, “you’re nervous, aren’t you?” 

You shrug, to fraught to answer. 

“You get restless, I can tell. You do everything just to keep from fidgeting,” she says, “it’s going to be okay. You’ll be just fine and you’ll see, it’ll be nice to have your own money.” 

“I know, mom,” you murmur, turning your face down to the sink, “it’s not that I don’t want to work, I just... I guess it’s the change that freaks me out.” 

“Change is good, even if it’s scary,” she says. “You’ll see.” 

“Mm,” you hum and try not to shatter, “I just want to help out.” 

“Hon, you worry about yourself. Please--” 

“No, I owe you.” 

“Owe me? I’m your mother. I just wish I could give you more,” she smiles and squeezes your arm. “If you’re not some busy working girl, we’ll celebrate on my day off.” 

“Sure,” you accept grimly. 

She leaves you and you’re silent as you finish up the dishes. You put them away and wipe the counters. When you finish, you shut off the lights. You say good night from the doorway and retreat into your room. Tomorrow. That’s all he said. That’s the only detail you go before he strolled off. 

You grab your phone and fall back on your bed. All you want is to lose yourself in a fic or a discussion board or even just scrolling mindlessly. You can’t. It’s like he’s taking over everything. There it is, that little icon you rarely see, a new message.  

You pull down the menu and stare at the preview. Two hours ago. You’re surprised he didn’t show up to check why you hadn’t answered. Again. You will at least need to send something before the night is over. 

‘Hey doll. I’ll send a car tomorrow morning at nine. Just bring yourself.’ 

You shudder and stare at the blue bubble around the text. Oof. Nine? That’s early for you. You suppose it’s about time you break that bad habit. 

‘Sorry. I was making dinner. Nine is good. Thank you.’ 

You hit send and put your phone down. You slide your laptop across the bed and open it up. You’ll watch something. That old BBC drama you found on the free streaming service has been pretty interesting, but you think you only have one episode left. That’s good, you can’t be up all night. 

Your phone buzzes. Shoot. Alright. You can do this. You have to get to it. You swipe up your phone again, surprised to find it’s still shaking.

Oh no. He’s calling! 

You panic and nearly hit decline before you manage to drag your thumb the other way. You put the phone to your ear, unable to muster even a squeak. What do you say? 

“Hey, doll,” Bucky’s voice drawls from the speaker, “hope I didn’t interrupt dinner.” 

“No, er, we’re done.” 

“Ah, and are you alone?” 

You frown, “yes?” 

“Good, good. Isn’t that sweet of you, cooking dinner for your family. That’s what I like about you. You take care of those you love.” 

You gulp. You don’t know what to say. 

“What was for dinner?” He asks as you hear a soft rustle. 

“Um, chicken and potatoes,” you answer bluntly. It’s an easy question. 

“You’re not busy or something?” He wonders. 

“Uh uh,” you shake your head even though he can’t see, “I’m just... in bed.” 

“Early night, huh?” He asks. 

“I guess, I was going to watch a show.” 

“Right, right,” he clicks his tongue as something taps followed by other indiscernible movements, “you in your pajamas? Bet those are cute?” 

“Not... yet,” you croak. 

“Mmm,” he purrs, “I just got out of the shower.” 

“You... did?” 

“Getting ready for tomorrow,” he explains, “gotta admit, I’m a bit impatient. You’ll see that about me, doll. When I want something, it’s hard to wait.” 

“Uh, oh...” you stutter out. 

“For you, I can,” he vows, “doll, do me a favour.” 

“A favour?” You echo thinly. 

“Mmm, yeah, I want you to get in your pajamas and send me a picture. Just to tide me over,” he coaxes. 

“A picture?” You open your eyes wide and gape at the wall. 

“Sure, just a taste. I wanna know what I should imagine next to me when I lay down.” 

“What?” You squeak, shocked by his insinuation. Imagining you?! 

“I can’t help myself. It’s lonely here.” 

“I...” you pick at your lower lip, “one sec. I... I gotta...” 

You put the phone on the bed and push yourself off the mattress. You trip on your own feet and hope he can’t hear you stumbling around. Your pajamas are kind of silly. You don’t really have any sexy ones. Maybe if he sees them, he’ll change his mind. 

The only matching pair you have have snoopy on the top and a large check bottom on the pants. You fish them out and change. It’s okay. He can’t see you at that moment. Still, it feels like he is watching you. Just as his presence has lurked around you all day. 

You go back to your phone and fumble around, “sorry, I... just... figuring out the camera.” 

You hear his timbre but can’t make out his words from the small speaker. You open the camera app and flip the camera. You move around, trying to take the pic, and lean the phone on the top of your dress. You angle it and mutter to yourself as you struggle to set the timer. 

You take several pictures before you’re not entirely discontent. You look awkward in all of them. The pants, like all your pants, are too long and gather around your feet. You don’t know how to pose either. Quite frankly, you look frightened in every single one. 

“Alright, I think...” you babble and find your way into the conversation and choose the least egregious frame. You hesitate and close your eyes as you push your thumb down on the arrow. 

You bring the phone back to your ear, “are you still there?” 

“Always, doll,” he assures and once more, the phone shifts around noisily. “Mm, Snoopy? I like it. More of a Woodstock myself but... Mm mm mm, you look good.” He pauses as you wriggle and your cheeks burn hotly. “Sexy.” 

“No,” you burst out without thinking. 

“No? You don’t think I’m telling the truth?” 

“I didn’t... say so, it’s... just pajamas,” you sniff, “sorry, I didn’t mean to argue.” 

“Doll, relax. Thing about you, you don’t even have to try.” 

You don’t reply. You have no idea what to say or even if you should believe him. You saw the picture, you look in the mirror every day, you know what you are. It still feels like some weird game. 

“Here, gimme a sec,” he says from his end. 

More rustling and the noise of a digital shutter. Your phone vibes shortly and you pull it away from your cheek. You squint at the screen as it lights up and an image buffers in the conversation. 

“Huh, uh, it’s not loading. My phone is--” you nearly swallow your tongue and gasp. 

Oh gosh. It’s a picture of him in almost nothing. Just a towel. His long hair is damp and pushed back and his dark beard contrasts his bright blue eyes as he aims the lens of his phone at himself in the mirror. His stomach is ridged with muscle, his chest trimmed with hair that trails down, and the towel hangs low, giving a generous hint of his pelvis. The vee above the fabric feels overly salacious. 

“Doll?” You hear the low tone of his voice and make yourself look away. You raise the phone again to your ear. “Everything okay? You got really quiet.” 

“I...” 

“You like what you see?” He asks coyly. 

You put your hand to your forehead, your flesh is fiery. It’s so much so fast. Just that morning, you’d convinced yourself you would never see or talk to him again. And now he’s sending you pictures like that and... flirting with you? 

“Yes,” you eke out then cover your mouth. He snickers and you clear your throat before you peel your hand away, “sorry, I mean... you’re... you... you must work out.” 

“Doll, you’re too adorable,” he says. 

You don’t say a word. You’re mortified. He knew you saw that. He knows you’ve seen him like that. He sent it! 

It’s all too much. You’re lightheaded. You rub your chin and shiver. 

“I should... sleep.” 

“Mm, me too,” he says, “hopefully I dream of you.” 

You giggle nervously, “really?” 

“Sure, doll. All I can do is dream. Until tomorrow,” he sighs, “and what about you? You gonna dream about me?” 

You squeak and stammer, “I... I... I...” 

He laughs again, “you really are so cute in those pajamas.” 

“Please,” you blurt out, “delete it.” 

“Now, why would I do that?” He challenges. 

“I don’t... know.” 

“I love it,” he insists, “you’re not deleting mine, are you?” 

“N-no, no, I’ll keep it.” 

“Hm, good,” he intones, “it’s all for you so don’t you go showing me off to all your friends.” 

It’s your turn to laugh. “Promise, I won’t.” If only he knew you don’t have any friends to show. 

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #series #au #casino au #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #all in #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers #winter soldier

[hwaightme]

Impressionism

(masterlist) (taglist)

🩸 pairing: vampire!gallerist/collector!seonghwa x art historian!gn!reader 🩸 genre: fluff, noir, soulmates, supernatural, strangers(?) to lovers, art nerding 🩸 summary: a post-graduate student specialising in impressionism, you were a regular visitor to the many art galleries in the city. who knew that among the paintings you would encounter your favourite, timeless work of art? 🩸 wordcount: 12.3k 🩸 warnings/tags: questionable editing, mention of blood, fangs, wounds, suggestive, many pet names (love, darling etc), art theory/history ponderings, time skips, mention of rituals, philosophy, hwa is centuries-old, yearning hwa 🩸 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 🩸 a/n: happy birthday to @starrysvn!! lheo, ilysm, and i hope you enjoy this little rambling <3 hugs to everyone, all reblogs, notes and comments appreciated! 🩸 playlist: nfwmb - hozier, who is she? - i monster, keep on loving you - cas, la vie en rose - edith piaf, a l'ombre de nous - pierre barouh, les feuilles mortes / sous le ciel de paris - yves montand, moon over bourbon street / until - sting

‘Love and Pain’ - an enigmatic masterpiece that was painted by Edvard Munch, the famous Norwegian artist, in 1895. In vibrant oil paints a dramatic scene interpreted by millions as something more sensual, darker, revealing was immortalised. Perhaps quite literally. You leaned back on one hand, feeling the coolness of the bench located in the middle of the gallery hall, careful to not let the notebook in your hands slip from your lap. ‘Vampire’ - first, it was a label for the woman with the alluring, long red locks that was leaning over her supposed lover, then it turned into a second name for the work. It was comical how Munch himself had initially stated the piece depicted nothing more than a woman kissing the neck of a man, and yet, the tale had told itself. What followed were six versions of this same subject, with a woodcut titled “Vampyr II”, followed by paintings titled ‘Vampire’ and ‘Vampire in the Forest’, and then through common acceptance that this indeed was the ‘submission of a man to the bite of a vampire’, if you were to paraphrase a critic who had been in an astoundingly similar position as you, except without the decades upon decades of other material to refer to. They had been the firstcomers, the initial perceivers to set the tone for society’s consumption of the artwork, the louder of the many voices in the artwork who often had the final say. In some senses, they were your long lost colleagues - they were there to create history, and you were there to study it.

While it was not exactly a part of the movement you had decided to specialise in, you nonetheless would never reject the opportunity to learn more about the stunning world of visual arts, trying to guess how the artist had felt in the moment, what did they see beyond what they presented to the world, how did they translate the heart into brushstrokes. You were taken by all forms of art since you were little - having grown up surrounded by items that were far removed from what you called your air, you were intrigued by anything that was external to your version of ordinary. In your case, it just so happened to be the little private gallery that you had spent almost all of your monthly allowance to visit when you were a school kid - you had been so dedicated, in fact, that the elderly guard who had often also acted as a guide to the visitors had become your first friend in the art world, something of a grandparent figure, and on multiple occasions - when the lack of eyes would allow, simply let you through with a grin and glance out of the entrance doors.

And so here you were, many years later, many hard decisions and conversations behind you, regarding artworks with an unprecedented soulful closeness that you had initially thought was unattainable. Had you believed all those who remained outside of the walls of your personal paradise, you would have been immersed in the same cycle that had been drilled into the majority of your family members, except maybe a handful who you had never met for the exact reason that they had chosen something for themselves. But you regarded your dream as the thorned path - undoubtedly more challenging, not immediately fruitful, but in the long run leading to the heaven of your design. What more could you ask for?

It was enjoyable to be alone with the paintings surrounding you, portals to new realms that any visitor could have the pleasure of exploring. And what was even more inspiring, was that in the eye of every beholder was a different universe, and no matter who one would speak to, their version of the painting would be different, even if just slightly. You huffed, amused. When was the last time you had visited a gallery with anyone else? You could not quite recall - it was likely that you had never seeked company from another because you were more than satisfied with the company of the legendary works that were regarding you from the many walls. It was possible to compose oneself, spend limitless time on every piece, study the details, and drift into one’s own musings when there was no one to ground them. This was when you dared to say you got your best work done. Even though you, of course, conducted research within university and ventured out to galleries, museums, collectors or auctions only within professional bounds, the bulk of the thinking process was carried out in times such as this. When it was just you, your notebook and pen, and a new point of focus. However, this time, you could not say you were fully attentive to the painting that you had decided to focus on, as a certain someone was appearing to share your level of interest in ‘Love and Pain’ too. 

A gentleman who could not be much older or younger than you, at most a couple of years, stood off to the right of the bench, unmoving, gaze fixated on the painting. Dressed in a pinstripe navy suit, light blue dress shirt, lacquered dress shoes and a matching navy tie, he was nothing short of being a moving work of art. Hints of a glimmer from his thin framed, elegant silver spectacles gave the man a scholarly aura, while the slicked back dark hair - evidently a lot longer than the styling would suggest, added notes of business, entrepreneurship, perhaps leadership. Nothing was out of place, not a crease, not an exposed thread in sight. Needless to say, your curiosity had been sparked.

Much like you found joy in exploring creations in the realm of the visual arts, you were fond of crafting stories about the people who were strangers in passing. You could not help it; perhaps this affinity for creative internal ramblings had come as a package with studying the degree you had selected, or perhaps this was a naturally occurring guilty pleasure that you simply had not had the chance to entertain before you cut yourself off from expectations and predetermined patterns of thought. But now, you had the full pleasure of wondering, letting your mind travel to lands far away as you took the real life masterpiece in, and pondered why the man could be here, what he could be thinking as he studied Munch’s work, and what resonated with him, and only him. 

There was a melancholia with the weight of centuries resting upon his shoulders, that much you could decipher in the stranger’s stance. Even then, there was a gentle burning flame within his heart judging by just how dedicated he was to inspecting the artwork. Like he was seeing an old friend for the first time in years, and was attempting to memorise them anew and recognise each change, bit by bit. You suppressed a chuckle, entertaining the possibility of this man finding a kinship with the painting, but chose to set the idea aside for the time being, instead focusing on sketching his emotional landscape. Was the stranger remorseful? Lonely? Perplexed? You could not quite pinpoint the answer, at least not before you noticed the man’s head starting to turn, and soon enough, his eyes were peering into your own.

They were two pools of deep chocolate, an all-consuming shade that, due to the ever so slightly dimmer lights than in the general halls of the gallery, appeared to be approaching a captivating onyx. The gaze that originated from behind the glasses, and glided across the room that was suddenly too small for two struck you, and you could feel heat starting to rise on your face, blush threatening to reveal the effect of the man’s spontaneous act of confidence. Lowering your head, you gave the stranger a sheepish grin, and pretended to make a random note, pen erratically scribbling over a filled page. He continued to regard you with that same unwavering expression, and only when you looked up again did he seem to catch himself and give you a closed-mouth smile, equally as bashful as yours, and crossed his arms. One step, another, and he was right by the painting, though careful to not obstruct your view - instead, he took his time to read the brief paragraph on the information plaque that had been stuck to the wall off to the side of ‘Love and Pain’. With the same familiarity that is common among those grieving, or in a state of existential sorrow. A bittersweetness prevailed in his aura, one that reminded you of autumn - the falling leaves in red and gold, twirling to join a magnificent carpet, but nonetheless, making a departure, albeit a nearly unnoticeable one. Had he seen many fallen leaves? Was he himself approaching the season? You gasped, but even though the sound was barely audible, you caught the stranger making a minuscule turn in response. 

His footsteps were louder than your thoughts, his departure an irrevocably impactful act that left you breathless. You did not know him, and yet you felt as though you had gotten a glimpse at multiple lifetimes, and were part of a moment that was greater than yourself. In the wordless exchange, question after question had found its root, and something told you that you should not dare attempt to craft him a backstory, and choosing to believe in anything but what would be declared by him would be a gross misinterpretation, much like one that was carried out by those who did not wish to reflect on art and look beyond a first impression. For the first time since you had made your initial discovery of the arts, you felt like you were not alone in the gallery, the other visitor’s presence remained so intense that he could be sat right next to you, scrutinising the same painting, entertaining the same thought. Was the woman with the bright tresses indeed what she had been declared to be over the many years she had been introduced to many venues, many variations of public, and finally finding a home on this wall? Did she settle with her lover, or perhaps a carefully selected victim? Would the man have an answer?

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ . It was unlike you to retrace your steps a mere few days after a visit and return to the same gallery, amble down the same halls, and seek for a new source of investigative inspiration among the same selection. This obviously did not mean that you would never return, definitely not, that would be almost criminal of you to possess such intentions, but you tended to try to cleanse your palate with alternative movements, contemporary takes and avant garde interpretations between searches which were more directly related to your studies. And yet, for the first time in a while, nothing was stopping you from your return. It felt only natural, and so right. Moreover, you felt no unease when you headed straight towards the section that housed the impressionists. An individual with an unspoken, mysterious mission, you were on the hunt for the creative streak, something that would help you ponder the next section of your hefty dissertation, and you could sense that it had to be somewhere here. And, like always, you were right.

‘Bazille’s Studio’, one of the most famous works painted by the so-called ‘tragic artist’ of the impressionists, Frédéric Bazille in 1870. In fact, it had been a collaboration between him and Édouard Manet, another gifted artist, though more renowned as a figure leading modernism, and depicted a scene of discussion and creative collaboration in the studio that Bazille had shared for a certain period of time with other spectacular figures of the visual arts, Claude Monet, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, who could also be found in this painting. On the walls were works rejected by the Salon, which at the time had been the one of the most influential, famous art exhibitions in the Western World, administered by the Académie des Beaux-Arts in Paris. Interestingly, above the piano on the right hung a painting which Bazille had purchased from Monet, potentially hinting at the material ties between them, and the importance the young artist had because of his familial wealth. In a sense, Bazille expressed his support, as well as showed an intimate, platonic scene of the art world where there was a moment of calm, of mutual appreciation, despite the financial troubles and tensions due to character that had been experienced in those walls.

You stepped closer to the painting, trying to detect the transition from Bazille’s to Manet’s hand, the latter of whom painted in the former to take ‘centre stage’, palette in hand. Truly seamless work, though what else could it be? This painting had been a new addition to the permanent collection, and after strenuous, detailed restoration work to give the oil paints their original vibrancy and for impeccable strokes to forget the burden of time, you had the pleasure of seeing it in person. You were an arm’s length away from yet another work essential to history, culture and the arts as a societal colossus.

While it was easy enough to appreciate the technical detail, you found yourself halting to remember the names of all those depicted in the painting, failing to finalise the list in your head. Starting from Bazille, you had determined for yourself the presence of Monet and Manet in his vicinity quickly enough, however where Renoir was, or what were the names of the two other gentlemen in the scene, slipped your mind. You rocked to the side to lean closer to the plaque that was meant to provide you with the information, however you only found the name of the painting, the artist and the medium, much to your misfortune. Clicking your tongue, you returned to studying the faces of each individual, and furrowed your brows in agitated concentration. It was simple to take out your phone and search for the answer, though you knew that just as neutral that action would be, so would be your reaction unless you were to remember, or somebody were to-

A presence to your side caught you off-guard, and you felt a shiver run up your spine. One glance was enough to determine that it was the same man from yesterday, only the outfit revealing a change. Other than that, he had the same impeccable posture and stance, as well as a thoughtful look towards the painting in front of you both. His arms were crossed, though not in a defensive manner; instead they offered an interpretation of philosophy, as though this man was carrying centuries of wisdom with him, history having pummelled down on him and yet needing to support it like Atlas; the titan carrying the world.

Today, he was dressed in a mahogany coloured suit, with a white top underneath and some black boots with thick white rubber soles - quite the transition from last time, when he had been a manifestation of a sleek and pristine office gentleman. Hair, now let down and wavy, neatly framed his face, accentuating the regalness of his features. It was astounding how you were still sure that it would be more likely to find a man of this fashion in a painting, rather than standing beside you. You kept quiet, not wanting to interfere with his musings. Perhaps it was just a silly coincidence that the two of you were at the same place and at the same time again - how else? You did not know him, and you hoped that he did not know you. Though, you truly did not mind his company, and maybe it could serve as your motivation to figure out the rest of the characters in the painting. Once again, your attention returned to the task at hand, but before you could even begin to list off prominent figures of the art world during the era of Impressionism, a deep, honey-like whisper halted you and made you hold your breath. 

“Auguste Renoir is the one seated, Emile Zola, the writer, is on the stairs, Monet, Manet and Bazille are, as you likely know in the centre, and that,” he paused to raise his hand, gesturing in the general direction of the far right of the piece, “is Edmond Maitre. Pianist, art collector, and Bazille’s closest friend.”

“I- uh- thank you. How did you know I was trying to recall? Pardon me, I must look so clueless-” you trailed off, eyes finding the floor, an action which seemed to be your automatic response to being under inspection of the man, though this time, he captured your gaze quickly by stepping closer towards you. Looking up, you found concern and apology in his eyes.

“No! Not at all, I… sorry if I misunderstood and I am sorry for forcing you into such erroneous conclusions,” he gave you an ever so slightly crooked smile, charming, very disarming and so suiting this beautiful stranger, that you were instantly prompted by your instincts to return it, dismissing doubt. 

“You saved me,” you joked, though the phrase contained within itself an unlikely compassion. Two people, alone in the same gallery, sharing a precious dialogue was something to cherish, and with all your might you wanted to make it last.

“Just as you made me regard the painting in a new light, for which I thank you, greatly,” he bowed his head, the smile not leaving his face for a moment. There was a recognition in his gaze, as well as an inexplicable admiration. What did he discover?

“I guess it might be true that no matter how many times you see a painting, every viewing brings something new,”

“Well said. Are you an artist? A critic, perhaps?” He inquired, moving closer to stand level with you, head turned slightly in your direction to spare the occasional glance. You shook your head slowly, wondering if in a retelling of your destiny you could have pursued either of the careers he had mentioned.

“I am in the arts, though rather than looking at the present I remain in the past. Art historian, well, a postgraduate. Nothing too fancy.”

“Oh? But that is marvellous, and what are you focusing on?”

“I like to call it the painting in plenair during the turn of the century. I focus mainly on impressionism, though do sometimes stray into its interplay with post-impressionism, modernism and expressionism.”

“Ah, no wonder I have been seeing you here often. Enjoying the new collection?” he asked, eager to hear your opinion. There was excitement in his voice as though you were a renowned expert and were about to bestow upon him a priceless evaluation. And this was without considering the technicality of you having only half-met. Just crossing paths twice in one week.

"Yes, of course… The collection is unlike any other I have seen. I keep wanting to return and stay here for ages." You explained, glancing at the stranger while he nodded along.

"Incredibly happy to hear it. I swear I have seen you around quite often during the past month that the exhibition has been open? Am I correct?" evidently, your rapid blinking was interpreted rather quickly as perplexion, for the man gasped ever so lightly, as if to catch his own speeding thoughts.

“I- how do you know? I do believe this is our… second time meeting?” you uttered, one eyebrow raised in suspicion, which, to your disbelief, revealed something akin to fear in the beautiful stranger’s features. Nervously, he adjusted a strand of hair that was threatening to cover his right eye.

“Not quite… you were present at the opening event, right?” he quizzed.

“Indeed, my depar- wait. But how? Respectfully, I am starting to think you know me.” you enunciated with newfound caution, while the man pursed his lips. One second, another passed in near total silence, until a chuckle escaped him and he shook his head. It appeared as though he was mentally scolding himself - his eyes held no malice, instead glinting with hope, that melancholic wisdom, and something unidentifiable, ethereal, supernatural.

“I think it is high time I introduce myself before this gets out of hand. See, in some sense I work here, and most of my days are spent in the gallery or labouring for it-”

“Ah, I see-”

“Park Seonghwa, a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” with one arm folded behind his back and the other on his chest, he bowed to you like how you imagined princes in the numerous portraits you had studied would bow. And the most enthralling part was how the gesture flowed, and was so befitting. Quickly, you bowed in return, but while raising your head, you froze. It hit you why he would know. And know a lot. And would remember you, and likely anyone and everyone who visited. In a low whisper, you asked:

“Am I… correct in assuming that you are ‘the’ Park Seonghwa?” quickly enough, you realised that it was a mistake to find his eyes again - clearly, you were not ready for the intensity, nor for the intrigue that was contained within them, nor for the fact that he moved another step closer to you, the rubber of his boots dampening any sound produced.

“I never knew that there was a ‘the’ attached to my name. I simply love art.”

“Well that love translated into the creation of what is possibly the greatest gallery in the nation, if not worldwide,”

“Oh you flatter me too much, ah, your name-”

“L/N Y/N, and I, too, love art.”

“Elated to hear it,” he gleamed, and you swore the room exploded with the illumination of a thousand stars.

Stunning, awe-inspiring, ever so elegant. He was a walking dream. In that smile was concealed a certain something that had been taboo, a well-kept secret until a couple of decades ago, when those like Seonghwa had started to be fully integrated into society, and no longer had to hide, changing identity from one century to another. With that came Seonghwa’s success - you had read in an article that advertised the permanent exhibition a short blurb of his story, and how for many turbulent decades, the man single-handedly collected masterpieces, crafted a meticulous network and introduced genius artists to the world, and the world to the artists. The gallery was a magnum opus for Seonghwa - a presentation of what he had achieved as a collector, as a patron of the arts, and a celebration of his personal culture. 

You could not help but hone in on the fangs, and recall the original reason why it was even possible for Seonghwa to obtain such legendary works and have as much influence as he presently did. It was not spontaneous; submerged in turmoil, he had personally approached artists who, previously abandoned by critics and other prospective buyers, had never considered a future beyond a mysterious tomorrow. Hiding his own true nature, he crafted the tale of a ‘Park’ dynasty, and rose again and again to continue his work. Perhaps, now, some might argue that once he had revealed himself as a vampire the velocity of Seonghwa’s developments had fallen, but you would passionately argue the opposite. It was challenging to believe that any move by this stunning artistic mastermind was not strategic - the announcement had given the gallery more partnerships, more donations, and in turn, an even greater prominence in the community both among professionals and enjoyers. 

“Thank you,” the phrase spilled from your lips inadvertently. It seemed to be the only thing that was reasonable to say in that given moment. You pondered the pains that must have been suffered to make the world that you were consumed by come together, and the painting in front of you, aside from what was contained within the frame,now shined in a new light externally too, possessing its own story, resembling a search for a kindred spirit, a true home. 

Seonghwa remained quiet, the words of gratitude echoing in his heart. It was endearing, encouraging to hear such warmth from you. So, you did know him, at least the parts he had shown to the public - as was expected from someone so deeply ingrained in visual arts and history, but he could not help but identify it as something much greater than mere awareness. The openness with which you had welcomed conversation with him, the kind charm that radiated from you as you engaged in the careful verbal waltz reminded the vampire of times long, long ago when all that existed for him was drive, enamourment and art. Oh, how your eyes glimmered. His heart clenched into near unbearable agony as he read your expressions, and wondered how much you have seen, what have you yet to see, who you were in this temporary life. If only he could ask fate to tell him how much you remembered of who you had been before. 

“No, thank you, for giving this,” he gestured to the gallery around him, graceful hand unfurling as though revealing a delicate flower, “meaning, and reason to exist.”

“I highly doubt I am of much significance, Mister Park,” you responded, a soft smile on your face.

“Would anything hold the same meaning if there was no one to behold it?” he responded. You chose not to answer, catching onto the rhetoricism, “and please, call me Seonghwa. I’d like to say we are to be good friends.”

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

Sitting across from Seonghwa in the cafe that was located on the top floor, above the main halls of the gallery made you feel strangely serene. Today he had foregone the straighter hair styles that you had begun to get used to, surprising you with a head of tousled, almost curled locks that embodied the world’s softness, though remained to be quite the contrast to the more formal and highly fashionable attire that adorned his stature. A suit, tastefully oversized with a buttoned double breasted jacket that was simultaneously serving as a shirt, the plunging v-shaped neckline revealing perfectly smooth skin, and what you noted to be a solitary freckle right in the centre of his collarbone. The trousers, at least from the glimpse that you had allowed yourself when you had met at the entrance to the cafe were of a loose fit, defining his waist at the top and falling to form an almost skirt-like silhouette should he stand how he usually stood: the echoes of what would be called the ‘third position’ in ballet, more relaxed, but still retaining an elegance that only he could carry. The biggest shock to you, however, was Seonghwa’s choice of shoes - a refreshing point to the visual, he had selected to contrast the formalwear with a pair of limited edition, geometrically intriguing Converses. You could catch a glimpse of one of them from over the edge of the table whenever his slightly shaking leg, positioned over the other, would rock forwards just that tiny bit stronger. 

While the setting was meant to be casual, the circumstances in which you found yourself were nothing short of miraculous. Never in a million years would you have imagined for it to be possible to be sat across the table from, quite possibly, one of the most legendary contributors to art restoration, collection and exhibition. On top of that, Seonghwa was a figure who actively bridged the gap between disparate communities, finding a common language, and using the arts as a salvation. You were in awe, and could not hold back on regarding the handsome vampire as he quietly reported your and his orders to the waiter who had floated to your table.

“Are you sure you do not want anything else?”

“Yes, I am sure. I do not wish to exploit your kindness-”

“-Not at all. I hope you do not mind that I… must make a rather unconventional order,” he smiled sheepishly, clearing his throat so as to attempt to hide his doubts, though you were uncertain as to how much of such emotions could possibly be left after what had to have been centuries. 

“An unconventional order is pouring a sugary energy drink into a triple shot espresso and calling it dinner,” you answered, eyes travelling from Seonghwa’s face to the mural on the wall a few tables away that wrapped behind him and to your left, disrupted only by the occasional floor length window that provided city vistas - rather gloomy, compared to the optimistic illumination of the restaurant. Perhaps out of pity, or out of genuine entertainment, Seonghwa chuckled.

“That does sound like an acquired taste, indeed. Thank you,”

“No need. Thank you for inviting me,” you turned back, nodding a polite bow as he softly waved your gesture off.

A silence settled across the table as you waited for your respective drinks. Your hand, had you not consciously restrained yourself, would have probably reached for the phone that you stored in your purse, but now was fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt, finding the buttons to stress test the threads that had them sewn tight to the fabric. You were not bored, in fact, far from it. You needed a barrier. The grandeur of this man’s presence was almost overwhelming. He was not a mere individual in a room, he consumed it. Had you just walked in, you were certain that your gaze would still settle on his form. Just like the concrete outside was grey, and the pause retained a divine ambiguity, Seonghwa was unforgettable. In an attempt to calm your clouded thoughts, you studied the mural once more.

“May I inquire into your thoughts on the decor?”

“The choice of ‘A Sunday on La Grande Jatte’ is wise. I am guessing you were the one to make the decision?” you heard an exhale, and once more your attention was captured.

“Alas, I cannot take full accolades for this. This stemmed from a discussion that a good friend of mine and I had one late night. Seurat just so happened to make an appearance amidst the chatter, and so… this was born,” he gestured at the surroundings. Clearly, the interior was picked carefully to fit the theme of the legendary painting. 

From the colours to the textures and the greenery that had been intricately set up across the restaurant, every detail had a meaning and a place, and did not take away from the spaciousness of the hall. It was breathable, while still giving the illusion that you were stepping into a whimsical impressionist paradise. Perhaps that was another reason why you could not quite contain your disbelief firstly in your encounter, secondly in its progression, and thirdly in your interlocutor’s warmth. 

“Spectacular, truly. I have heard you have an eye for detail, however this surpasses all expectations.”

“Oh? There is more you have heard?” he interjected, leaning closer to you and placing an elbow on the table, simply to rest his head on his hand. While this could potentially be seen as slightly unceremonious, it hinted at well-kept confidence, ownership, control. A healthy undercurrent of motivation that came with indirect praise.

“I-oh y-yeah of course,” you did not mean to stutter, but some part of you was grateful you did, for the smirk that had threatened to burst on Seonghwa’s lips was enough for you to feel ignited to elaborate, “if my memory is not failing me, you were the one to distinguish a reproduction of a piece some time ago, no?”

“Ah- yes. That was a Degas reproduction. I must say, the attempt was sincere, however when I saw the-, hm, you will not be startled, will you?”

“Please,” you urged him to continue, intrigued by the story. 

“When I saw the original, as it was being made and when it had been finalised, it would be shameful of me to not spot a fake,” he fell back into his chair, just in time for the drinks to be served. 

A coffee for you, and a non-descript beverage concealed by a semi-opaque, tall glass for him. Though, you did not need to be a detective to guess what it was that Seonghwa was bringing to his lips, and what he took a tentative sip of. The only mystery that was remaining for you was what ‘type’ he had picked - was it O+? B-? Whatever else? You joined him in the tasting, lifting the mug and indulging in the wonderful aroma of your americano. It did not strike you as necessary to opt for something fancier and lie to yourself - so you settled for your regular order, much to your joy. Familiar taste and the reliability of the caffeine hitting your system painted the scene in more comforting colours, and gradually, you found yourself easing into the dialogue more and more, until life stories, musings and a surprisingly large common ground came pouring. 

You discovered that Seonghwa possessed a unique sensitivity and attunement to those around him. Focused on the emotional experiences, he felt through time and could recount emotions like the memory was from a mere few days, rather than decades ago. He was well-spoken, eloquent, intelligent, polite in every right as he navigated through the linguistic landscape and guided you like a partner in a dance. You were spiralling oh so quickly, intrigue catching up to you and prompting you to sacrifice all of your senses to the man and the pleasantly intoxicating atmosphere he captured you in. He was enchanting, and it was far too easy to give in. 

“May I reveal something?” in a hushed tone, he inquired, a finger absent-mindedly tracing the rim of his glass. 

“Oh, a little secret?” you raised your eyebrows in jest, lightening the initial seriousness with which Seonghwa uttered the question.

“Perhaps, perhaps not. Depends on how you take it. A confession might be more accurate,” he waited for you to take the final sip of your coffee before continuing, unphased by your unwavering focus, “if I were to be honest, I have been meaning to approach you.”

“Pardon?”

“As you know we have a… common awareness of each other thanks to what is housed under this roof, but ever since we first unknowingly crossed paths… I wanted to speak to you.”

Confused, you did not speak, though the words contained an unparalleled affection within them. What could he possibly mean? You chose to refrain from commenting, your hesitation prompting the vampire to continue.

“Do you remember the most recent opening night? Of the exhibition? I believe you were with someone…” he trailed off, hoping you would continue for him.

“Ah, yes, a friend of mine from university. So?”

“This might sound strange but, I distinctly remember you mentioning a name. An artist from the same era, dubbed as L/N Y/N?”

“Goodness, you overheard that? I am so sorry, it is just that said artist has intrigued me for some time, and I was half-hoping to encounter their work. Maybe it is because our names are the same but still….”

“Elusive, aren’t they?”

“To put it softly, yes. I only vaguely recall seeing… maybe one piece in my lifetime, when I was little, and then… nothing. And there is barely any information on the artist online, let alone libraries and archives.”

“Hm, indeed. I guess that makes two of us…”

“Two of us who are searching?”

“That’s right. It brought me happiness to know that I am not alone in this endeavour.”

“Then we can keep searching together.”

While you were positive that you could not conceal your interest, Seonghwa’s did not go unnoticed either. It was of course possible that he was simply well-versed in political correctness, but the burning depth of his pupils told you otherwise. Enthrallment, the discovery of a kindred spirit, recognition, the rekindling of a bond that had existed at some point long ago - all fantasies that played out in your mind as you returned that look with subtle fervour. You wondered how many people he graced with those charms. How many had succumbed to his influence, becoming a marker on his infinite life path, a fleeting second? How many had his lips known, how many had turned into a decadent treat for a genius man with natural peculiarities? While the researcher part of you was perplexed and aching for answers, the you that was caught in the moment simply let it go on, and the feeling of Seonghwa’s leg brushing against yours, and the pride blooming in your chest as he praised the few articles and papers you had published upon having claimed that he ‘knew some things about you too’ preoccupied you in the most magnificent way.

Naturally, you agreed to meet Seonghwa again. On your journey home, in the privacy of the anonymous metro, immersed in the cacophony of deafening rails and the millions travelling to anywhere, you pressed your phone to your racing heart as the vampire, the man, the beguiling Park Seonghwa sent you a message confirming so. Who knew a simple selection of words could be so captivating?

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

Under the comforting thrum of raindrops on the large umbrella, you walked down the streets of the grey-coloured city, your hand lightly holding onto Seonghwa’s arm while he ensured that both of you were protected from the elements. Despite the dull light and bitterness of the cooling season, Seonghwa appeared radiant, truly timeless with every gesture and stride. The elegant angles of his face that you could tirelessly study stood out against the monotone buildings and overcast skies. His voice drowned out the sound of droplets racing one another to the ground. A miraculous gentleman who appeared in your life much like a portrait, or a landscape - a masterpiece you wanted to explore in every spare moment, and better yet, this masterpiece was equally as open to you as you were to him. 

“...essentially, yes. It is like another nationality. A marker of species isn’t too far isn’t it? Just another line on a stack of documents. Nothing more,” Seonghwa concluded his explanation, pursing his lips for a moment before letting an exhale turned dragon’s breath escape into the afternoon.

“Makes sense. So would that mean there are separate medical papers and treatment too?”

“Well… when regeneration fails us or when a given case is severe enough… yes. Though it is handled by private clinics run by other vampires.”

“There are private clinics?”

“Of course. Often they are connected to donation points too, and that is how we remain on the right side of the law and stay alive,” he nodded to himself, giving you a bittersweet smile when he noticed confusion overtake your gaze. “Blood,” he stated as-a-matter-of-factly, “I mean blood.”

In a nervous stupor, you cleared your throat and focused on a droplet that was hanging onto the edge of the umbrella, right in front of you, all the way until the gentle motion of Seonghwa’s amble provoked its abrupt descent onto the stone under your feet. 

“Ah, yes, I see-”

“If you find this disturbing, we can forget the conversation ever-”

“-I want to know you better, Seonghwa, truly-”

“Careful-”

“Sorry wha-” 

With an extraordinary swiftness, you were tugged abruptly by the arm. Not registering your surroundings, you merely went with the inertia, caught off-guard by the proximity of your face to the vampire’s as he held you against him with the arm that you had previously been resting your own on. A hand that you raised on instinct went limp and landed on Seonghwa’s chest, feeling the thick felted wool of his coat. The ringing of a bell, going farther away from you by the second, incessant but at least waking you up from the blur, was enough for you to put two and two together - a cyclist who thought they owned every part of the street, like always. You sighed.

“Reckless… my apologies I did not mean to-” Seonghwa tried to detangle himself, refusing to remain in your personal space for longer than necessary no matter how much he did want to, but his efforts were reduced to nothing when your hand moved to a hold on his upper arm - reassuring, comfortable, accepting.

“Thank you,” you interrupted, “that bike would have definitely run into me…”

“It’s nothing,” a low chuckle echoed in your ears as Seonghwa peered into your pupils, confidence that had previously wavered out of habitual caution now restored, growing into a pride as you continued to hold onto him, “the man was slow enough for there to be no risk of harm. I hope you are not too startled though.”

“Oh? You have super powers too? Do elaborate,” you jested, resuming your walk.

“I would call it more like… being a finely tuned machine. Can’t say I have bad reaction speed. Though I must say, it was a little challenging pulling you out of the way,” there was an evident intent behind the words. However, you were too curious to pay it any mind, instead preferring to find out their meaning live.

“How so?”

“I think this,” dropping his arm, Seonghwa’s hand reached for yours, and without a moment of hesitation, his fingers were intertwining with yours, his palm pressed against yours, “would be better. You know, for safety.” As if you could ever reject him. This was a fact you had established for yourself with an unprecedented certainty. His gallant disposition, attentiveness all confirmed a care for you that was impossible to ignore. 

There was something picturesque about the present after meeting this wonderful, infinite pool of art and humanity. You found yourself leafing through articles, art books and biographies with a more wistful and sentimental perspective, imagining what it would be like if it were you who was immortalised in the thousands of brushstrokes, or if you were on the other side of the canvas, how would you go about depicting the scenes unfolding before your very eyes. Timelessness - a quality shared between the art you so adored, and the man you had encountered and over the weeks, let your intrigue be transformed into a shy flame of infatuation. Perhaps it was the underlying reason why you did not reject his advances, nor cower in fear of his true nature with which he was upfront. The other, of course, was the search for the mysterious artist, an adventure that fuelled many of your dialogues, and prompted you to spend more time in the library and the archives of your university than you had ever done before - to the point where Seonghwa himself had encouraged you to take a break from your intellectual expeditions and step into the world as a casual observer. So, you let yourself drift; it finally hit you, what scenes your once again tranquil stroll reminded you of, and you smiled to yourself as you recalled the intricacies of the not quite commonly discussed representation of the Impressionist movement. 

‘Rue de Paris, temps de pluie’, painted by Gustave Caillebotte; his most famous work. Not quite as widely discussed, despite still technically being created in the Impressionist era, perhaps due to the meandering through form, realism and reliance on stronger lines rather than broad brushstrokes and the study of light. You did find it fascinating how Caillebotte’s passion for photography had seeped into this piece, however. Much like how, in recent days, you could easily find a way to mention Seonghwa in conversation, be it related to the arts or not. From the subjects in the foreground being slightly out of focus while the middle ground was crystal clear, to how the shapes of some passersby were cropped were all characteristic of photos, rather than paintings, making this particular work all the more dear to you. It was a reflection of life, of behaviour and of what had been daily back in the late nineteenth century.

Was it any different from now, aside from those grand, global topics that historians dedicated their lives to studying? If one were to whittle down to the intricacies, the miniatures that ornamented the span of a human existence, was it so terribly far away from what you were born into, and Seonghwa saw develop and had adopted? How people shielded themselves from the rain with umbrellas, and then used them as a tool to isolate themselves from other urbanites who were in a rush to take a day-long route out of their homes… and back again. The latest silhouettes of dress and accessory; the same rush to be with the times as now.

You felt your companion’s arm move, prompting you to let go and leave your hand hovering as though you were awaiting some kind of change. You bit back an unprecedented sliver of disappointment, only to be caught by surprise once again as you felt the hand settle on the small of your back. Cautious, like you were going to melt from any more pressure than the brush of a feather. A quick glance was enough to determine that you were being studied intently for any sign of discomfort - Seonghwa was ready to pull away at any moment, any sigh, and most definitely at any word. A meek smile settled on your lips, and you shyly used an oncoming stranger as an opportunity to affirm the gesture, stepping towards the vampire, and sensing the confidence of his protective measure be solidified. With glee he followed your every tilt and turn, angling away from the passing form that neither of you could focus on. The touch was electric, somehow monumental despite being so common and barely present. Your mind was on fire, pondering what it would be like to put your head on the elegant man’s shoulder, and let yourself be carried away into a terrific fairy tale.

“This really is a rainy day,”

“Seems quite sunny to me,” you respond with sarcasm, realising only after the fact that your phrase still did retain an element of truth within it. 

Sunshine did not have to be literal. It was easy to see, you just needed to return Seonghwa’s gaze, and watch as another spring flower blossomed in the soul of one you had initially assumed to be so cold, so distant. In the darkest winter was a safe haven that you could not help but lean into, and regardless of what you had initially thought, with him, you felt more human, more safe and alive than ever. He listened without fail to your ramblings, and could easily pick up the ball and balance it with his own musings that you could listen to for many lifetimes.

Lifetimes; immortality, the one concept you couldn’t quite wrap your head around. Well, the latter was technically not true, as Seonghwa had elaborated some few days ago: vampires did age, albeit at such a slow pace that to the run of the mill human being, it was impossible to notice, and if they did, it would be someone very close, and only over a matter of decades. Maybe it was this exact inability that made you want to stay and learn all there could be about the gallerist - you thought that would make you feel like you have been living forever. His wisdom was beautiful. The kindness with which he treated you, akin to that of how a spouse treats their long-time sweetheart with a mellow and comfortable affection, was not something you asked for nor expected, but something which he introduced himself with through every action, progressively more amiable when you allowed him to advance.

“Mm, no wonder I can’t quite look at you,” he mused out loud, dramatically looking off into the distance. You raised an eyebrow, curious about what was going to come after his theatrical pause, “your brightness is unparalleled,” Seonghwa chuckled, satisfied with your sigh and the way in which you pretended to be annoyed, only to dissolve in a mute giggle. “So, I do suggest we get out of the rain for a moment and stop by that book shop over there, shall we?”

Following his hand, you spotted an antique bookshop a few doors down, marked by an iron sign and ornate shop window decorations that glistened with each hit of the dancing droplets. A warm golden light emanated from the inside, the hue comparable to a summer’s day. An odd feeling of deja vu washed over you, as though you had been in this store before, even though this was quite the distance away from your home, not on any of your usual commutes and in a part of town you barely visited aside from the occasional brisk walk. It had been established over a century ago, sporting a historical plaque and detailing original to the era the date on the sign suggested. Suppressing your internal monologue, you simply nodded, fond of Seonghwa’s excitement as he pushed lightly against your back and walked on ahead. If you were any more of a romantic, you would have assumed that the shop was a representation of his heart, but you couldn’t allow yourself to think that way, at least not when you felt heat rise to your cheeks as he whispered your name, openly planning what you could look for amidst the rare editions together. You and him turned into a ‘we’ so naturally, you barely had time to blink. A new brushstroke on a canvas, brave, bold and bright. Impressionist.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

The hypnotising improvisation on a semi-acoustic guitar, followed by a launch back into the theme of a well-known jazz song had you tapping on the counter, unknowingly following every drum beat. The bar turned cosy music venue that Seonghwa had invited you out to was proving to be every bit a wonder of the world, and paradise inside of the otherwise gloomy city which had been plagued with miserable weather and lack of daylight for atrociously long. The classy establishment was a well known favourite among the vampires residing in the city, especially those aligned with a more bohemian and art-focused lifestyle. Critics, painters, collectors, musicians, poets alike all gathered to share ideas and energy, and reminisce days long gone, while the band - one that had not changed since the bar’s establishment, revived legendary pieces one after another. 

With ease, Seonghwa had ordered your favourite drink, having memorised it after your many outings that had smoothly transitioned into dates and shared nights. He remembered every detail about you, holding each one tenderness. Your lover gazed at you as he ended a conversation with a fellow collector who had recently come to town for a few days, stretching out his hand until it just touched yours, guiding it to lie flat on the counter. Seonghwa’s palm, still retaining a pleasant coolness despite him having had a couple of drinks of his own, was another reassurance that in the buzz of the venue, you still had your person by your side. Feeling his digits tap and then proceed to brush the back of your hand, you hummed in contentment, and let your eyes travel over the beautiful vampire, who leaned back, tempting you just for fun, knowing full well that you were wholly his, and even when you turned to look elsewhere, it was his face you saw in the crowd, it was his voice that rang in your ears, it was his touch that ghosted over your skin. 

The bustier from Alexander McQueen, the gorgeous flowy shirt with ruffles and cuts so tastefully sewn and executed, the statement necklace that was worthy of being displayed at a gallery and must be the envy of many, the high heeled boots that were concealed by elegant trousers - Seonghwa was your favourite work of art, and you could never deny it. Each one of his gestures was worthy of marvel, and the care with which he approached everything - even the tending to the items which he painstakingly selected and matched for tonight made your heart skip a beat. It was boggling how each garment and accessory was either an original, or a one of a kind piece. But at the same time, you did not expect anything less of Seonghwa.

He must be impossible to depict in paintings, you concluded, shamelessly staring at your lover’s face, from the shape of his nose, to the plushness of his lips, to the waviness of his night-like inky locks. You bet many had tried, but judging by the lacking evidence in the art world, they must have failed, miserably, to create something more immortal and invincible than the model and muse. You understood them, and Seonghwa gave no signs of being perturbed. 

“So, was that the intent behind our spontaneous trip to this bar tonight?” you gestured at your surroundings, taking another sip from your ornate glass. A sharp exhale accompanied a contrasting soft answer:

“Not at all,I had the business sorted a couple of days ago, and tonight was a lucky crossing of paths to secure the deal,” cryptic as ever, Seonghwa only alluded to the matter at hand.

The matter, or how he had referred to it as ‘business’ was a particular artwork that he had been hunting, by the elusive artist you had been investigating, first in your lonesome, and then joining forces with Seonghwa. Apparently, one of the pieces, by some stroke of unimaginable luck, had been kept safe in the private collection of a ‘Mister Kim’, at least that was how he had been initially introduced to you. Until you put two and two together, and when the very well dressed and styled character had entered the bar and made a beeline towards your partner in artistic musings and romance, recognised the man as a world-famous designer and fashion icon, Kim Hongjoong. And of course, another vampire and kind soul in one. 

Their conversation had happened outside of your earshot; whether it was on purpose or just so happened to unfold that way was for your ruminations to determine, but you did overhear enough to figure out that this was a portrait, a never seen work, and was completed by the artist who as it had turned out had been closer with Seonghwa than you had initially thought. 

“Seems to be very important, and not just in a ‘collector’ sense…” you trailed off, watching as the ice in your drink cracked, “is this why you were interested, you know, back then?”

“If I were to be honest, darling, I was, and still am, a lot more interested in you. The artist was something of an excuse to get a conversation going. And I do hope,” Seonghwa turned and sauntered towards you, “this conversation does not end.” 

Even though you were sitting on one of the bar stools, the heels and stance still left him some room to look downwards, and his sultry expression, orbs glinting at you through dark lashes left you transfixed. In moments such as this, you hated to be mortal. There were so many things that you could not possibly know, and no matter how hard you would try to comprehend the vastness of the angelic man’s mind, you would always remain theoretical, and accept the grand majority of intricacies as axiom.

“I hope so too,” your voice barely rose above a whisper as his gloved hand landed on your neck, gliding upwards to caress your jawline.

“I’m so glad I found you,” his thoughts were elsewhere, you were sure of it, and yet, his gaze remained unwavering, “my eternal love”. Lips stained with bittersweet worship, the words stumbled from them to strike you repeatedly in the heart, forcing it to lose its rhythm. He was regarding you like he had stumbled upon a priceless treasure, a divinity, a paradise. Something far from you and from this planet, but by Seonghwa’s careful selection, etched in your features.

Were you the embodiment of something greater for him? You would not consider yourself to be a model example of a human being, neither were you a pretty statue to display in an exhibition. You were you, but Seonghwa kept on convincing you that it was exactly this that had captivated him and showed him a new beginning. Did you wish to believe that? Of course. But a vampire who was hundreds of years old could keep a grand variety of secrets beyond your understanding, even if he were to exclaim them right in front of you and sketch them out. His eternal love - your version of eternity, or his? A life the duration of a butterfly’s abstract dance to the heavens.

“Love?” he called out to you, eyebrows knitted in concern due to your prolonged silence. You had set your drink down, and were staring at the shine of the glossy chrome silver and pearl on Seonghwa’s necklace. “Talk to me, say anything.”

“I- hm. I think I am just tired. Yeah, that must be it. Tired so I am overthinking, no worries. I’ll just be right here and-”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you tilted your head, noting how Seonghwa immediately straightened out, and instead of attempting to tower over you stepped over to the side to set a protective hand over yours.

“This is a majority vampire bar, full of unfamiliar individuals, this whole deal with the artwork is up in the air and-”

“First of all, I don’t care. Second, you are here with me. And third, I want to trust in the fact that you would not do anything foolish nor harmful. Am I right in my evaluation?” you uttered, still not quite able to look into Seonghwa’s infinite pools of brilliant sienna and dark brown.

“I- I am honoured, but that still does not detract from the fact that we can go get some air and come back. Shall we?”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to. Hell, need to. Let us have a quick wander?”

“...I’d like that.”

In no time, the winter air hit your cheeks and you were wrapping yourself as tightly as you could in your oversized coat. In your ears the pleasant sound of the vampire’s heels rang out, echoed by the stunning road onto which you were spat out by the heavy black front door of the bar. Warm-toned streetlights liberally decorated the sidewalks and painted the night in honey, gold and copper accents. Reflections of an artificial summer in the puddles and winter chill. Downright magical. Seonghwa seeked out your hand, holding it tight and guiding it into the pocket of his own coat, smirking when you raised an eyebrow. 

“What?”

“Nothing at all.”

You were certain that you were walking through a landscape painting, every element captured by your vision falling into its rightful place, harmonising with the rest. The mumbling and music was long gone, only to be replaced by conversation of other late city explorers and the occasional rumbling of a car lazily rolling past. 

“Pissarro.”

“Hm?” Seonghwa kept looking ahead, but squeezed your hand to ask for you to continue.

“Boulevard Montmartre at Night. Painted in 1897, no?” you pointed at the surroundings with a tilt of the chin.

“Ah, indeed! Your perceptiveness never ceases to amaze me.”

“Well, thanks to you I got to see the original, so how could I not make the visual analogy?” you nudged his shoulder, earning a chuckle.

The painting was the only example of a landscape at night from the artist Camille Pissarro, making it all the more special despite it being part of a series of 14 views of the same location. Snow, rain, fog, morning, varying seasons, but only one glimmering night. It was one of the works that Seonghwa had managed to provide for your studies, resulting in a more than impressive academic outcome. Like Pissarro kept on painting the vista, your lover kept on giving, never asking for anything more than for you to share your hours with him, something you did not need to be prompted to do anyways.

“...I’m sorry I cannot reveal more than I do, at least not just yet,” he apologised, as though what he was committing was the greatest crime known to humanity and the supernatural.

As you looked up at the starry night sky, you swore you had heard these words before, uttered by the same voice, the same fingers interlocked with yours. A stabbing sensation in your cranium made you gasp, but you regained your composure quickly enough to not make it a priority for either of you. At the same time, Seonghwa’s expression altered to a semblance of… hope? Longing? You could not pinpoint it, but one of the many glowing dots above you clearly landed in his shining orbs, and he eagerly waited.

Waited for longer than you could realise in your present state.

On their own accord, your lips moved, forcing out a subconscious acknowledgement, previously suppressed. You swore the phrase belonged to another being, but it was as refreshing as the breeze tousling Seonghwa’s locks.

“I know. I can wait too.”

“Soon, my love.”

“I-I know.”

“I miss you.”

“I-” vision growing hazy, you reached to the vampire for support, which he readily provided, “I- too.”

One blink - oil paints decorated your hands, and those alluring eyes were staring back at you from a canvas. Another blink - Seonghwa was repeating your name, pressing his cheek against yours as he shielded you from falling into darkness with his strong arms.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

Your office was inviting and offered a secure haven: a collection of neutral and wooden tones, with dashes of greenery to relax the eyes. From a potted ivy plant settled on the top of a large wall-length shelving unit to an indoor palm tree enjoying the rays in its designated corner, the room was a miniature paradise. You ran your hands over the thick birch desk, cautiously avoiding the stack of documents you had arranged for yourself to go through this day. Artwork restoration reports, contracts, exhibition plans for years to come… everything you thought you would never see, and yet it was right here in your palms.

Time moved slower, or at least that was how you began to perceive it now that it was in abundance. A fountain that did not cease to bestow gifts upon you - again, something you would have never imagined prior to the curious series of events that were your previous life unfolding the way they did. One fateful meeting, and you were a changed person, staring into the horizon and labelling it as a continuation rather than as a termination of all you could achieve. The world was your oyster, and loving dedication was the price. But when the price was so sweet, and so easy, who were you to say no? If you had to pick a concern, it would be the bandages and binding on your right arm; friction from the sleeve of the turtleneck and blazer you had worn today applying uncomfortable pressure to the delicate wound concealed within. 

You stood up from the leatherbound office chair, adjusting your clothes and stepping to the window behind you to look out at the garden belonging to the gallery - a recent expansion. Grand, regal, and as the papers had emphasised, now returned to its rightful owner. You wondered just how much of the city had belonged to vampires at least for a portion of time, and you had no doubt that you would be making more discoveries soon, but for the time being, you were happy with the re-acquisition, or as Seonghwa had called it: your ‘turning’ gift. A particularly strong shift of the arm made you wince, and your other hand shot to nurse your sore arm.

“I’m so sorry darling, does it still hurt?” Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa had slipped into the office, and immediately rushed towards you, concern painting his beautiful face through furrowed brows and a tiny scowl.

“N-no, barely. The sweater is silly-”

“Let’s not disregard ailments, shall we?” your partner gingerly lifted your arm, and after gaining permission through a few lethargic nods, pushed the sleeve upwards to reveal the bandages, “I- really, we need to apply the ointment again, that must be it-”

“Seonghwa-”

“Work can wait, I just need to-”

“My love-” Seonghwa paused his ramblings to stare back at you, puzzled, “it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Literally just a bite, isn’t it?” you smiled, the action instantly being mirrored, albeit with a tinge of remaining worry.

“Mm, perhaps I am overreacting, I can’t help it,” your thoughts were numbed by the silken touch of his lips on the back of your hand, wool against cotton as he pulled you into an embrace, “it should heal well once you get used to your new form, I am sure of it,” his tresses tickled your nose, but you ignored it, instead letting your head fall against him.

You stood almost completely still aside from the rocking side to side that was habitual for you both. A lulling motion, one that either of you revealed only to each other. A secret reserved for intimate, loving moments such as this. You shook your head in amusement and buried your nose in Seonghwa’s sweater, inhaling the aroma of his sweet perfume, recalling ‘Love and Pain’ - the painting that had marked the tightening of the invisible string tying you together. Or was it? Coincidentally, on the wall behind your lover was the real inception of your union, one that you had forgotten from one lifetime to the next. A portrait. The one that Seonghwa had been chasing, and what had been his decades-long mission came to an end.

Signed with your own hand, were initials of your name and the year of completion of the painting. None other than the beloved collector and muse, Park Seonghwa, who had posed for you, or rather a version of you, and ever since then, you were the only one on his mind. You had been the master both of the arts and of his fate.

“Please, I am embarrassed…” your partner mumbled, settling for futile attempts to position you in such a way that you would be looking out at the garden, but to no avail. Poking him playfully at the side, you induce a halt, and question him:

“What is there to be embarrassed about? That’s you. Painted by me.”

“Exactly. And you have it in your office, of all places.”

“Well I can’t exactly have you, in the flesh, on display all the time and I would like a work of art around here-”

“Shh-”

“Don’t shush me, Park. Be grateful I don’t keep the sketches out too.”

In all honesty, He would not mind if you did. You could do anything, and the vampire would adore and honour it. Whether it was in your blood or in his nature, he had never regretted almost losing himself in your favour. In your last life, he had gone against all rules set up by vampires, playing against what he swore was the devil in order to have the sliver of a chance to start again and, this time not lose you. Had his plan not succeeded, it was highly probable that he would have been erased from this planet too. But he would rather call himself a masochist than be law-abiding when it came to you.

“Next, you’ll be threatening me with a showcase of just my face-”

“What if I do?” you quipped, pulling back to boop his nose with yours, “I think it would look very pretty. Besides, now that I remember my apparent mastery of the visual arts, can’t I be a tiny bit proud, hm?”

“I would be terribly disappointed if you weren’t. Now, may I put that ointment on you?”

As if you could refuse those sparkling eyes. Promptly following him to the loveseat, which unfortunately for Seonghwa was situated right under the portrait, you sat down and waited. Your partner rushed to the medical cupboard - another new addition installed exclusively to support you as you were getting used to the vampiric nuances in your day to day. With well-practised motions, the required kit was in his hands, and in a blink, set down on the plush cushioning of the miniature sofa. You held back a chuckle as you saw the pout you so loved appear as he focused on unwinding the bandage with utmost care. Before you could feel any hurt, Seonghwa would already let go, or alter the angle at which he was tugging on the material. As soon as the plaster was peeled, you were met with the reason for your eternity and reawakening.

Two deep punctures, still a little irritated, not quite healed, but nevertheless a marking of your future and something you regarded with fondness. Wounds did not hurt when they were merely physical, especially not when you had someone who had bound their immortality to yours to tend to them. Seonghwa bit his lower lip, discontented with the ache as though he could feel it too, and took numerous pauses while cleaning up the wound to glance at you. 

“I’ll be applying the ointment now, tell me if it stings, okay?”

“Okay,” you knew it wouldn’t. You had never heard a man be so adamant on checking ingredients at an apothecary before following Seonghwa after your first appointment as a vampire. But just to appease him, you followed this small spoken routine. 

“You know… I was scared,” his voice was barely audible, and he could not look at you.

“What were you scared of?”

“Losing you again.”

“Well, I am here, aren’t I?”

Even before you were aware of Seonghwa, let alone the truth behind the portrait, all the roads still led to the same resolution. The arts, art history. Virtually synonymous, for without creation, there would not be the past, and without the study of the past, there would not be the celebration and respect of creation. Finally, you understood the beauty of evolution that Seonghwa had undergone all while remaining the same vulnerable yet legendary figure, dedicated to his vision of the arts, having recollected your own. 

“So many things could have gone wrong,” Seonghwa’s mind was reeling from the sheer terror of possibility. He had taken advantage of his high social standing as an aristocrat and pulled rank to avoid waiting for any ritual guides to step in - it was not the first time, but still only the second. And both cases were related to you. 

The first time might have been a foolish decision in retrospect, but considering the dire circumstances the extreme solution was the only one. With one foot crossing to the afterlife he was combatting the reapers, and was not going to let go of you even if it meant being pulled in. This time, when you had approached him a number of nights ago with your final agreement to his tentative proposal and kissed his ruminations away, he was ready. Years of study were not going to waste, after all. And yet when he studied the same irises as those from a time long gone, when he held the same hands, his blood ran even colder. What a gambling man he had been back then. The procedure to regift life to you had been risky, and Seonghwa, having never practised those elements of the dark arts bestowed upon his kind, had been taking shot after shot in the dark. How dare he play with your being like that? How dare he hold your existence on a sinful scale?

“But they didn’t.”

No they did not. Your confidence in him had aided considerably, he had to admit. The positioning of his fangs was perfect, and he had memorised all incantations down to the inflections. Second time a charm, but much more anxiety-inducing. Turning was not the same as revival, either. He could not stop himself from imagining the many scenarios of where he would have gone wrong, and cemented your identity only as a name on manuscripts, dissertation, paintings and reports. 

“Even the ritual, what if you did not remember-”

“I would love you just the same. Whether I had all my memories or not. That much I can assure you of. That is why I trusted you in the first place, Seonghwa.”

You did not need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking. All you could do was suggest a brighter palette, and be by his side no matter what colour scheme he were to decide on. It was an artist’s duty to know when to set the tools aside and consider a painting finished. The luxury of a collector was to live through many paintings, unify the souls contained in each and sustain a chronology of expression. The keepers, the scholars, made to observe change rather than induce it directly. This was why you were all the more grateful for Seonghwa daring to change your mortal fate not once but twice, risking himself and his image in your favour.

When your partner was satisfied with his medical care, he hummed to notify you and began to clear up, at least until you placed a weak hand on his leather-clad thigh to gain his full attention. He searched for a hint in your features, eyes darting across your face at lightning speed. Relief came when you grinned brightly, whispering sincere gratitude.

Impressionism - the movement and path made by legends. A rejection of traditional practice, a new vision and interpretation of the outside world in the hues of the soul. Light, reality, immediate action. A breath that reset the arts, magnificent and radical for the time, and now, much adored. From its conception to its establishment, you were there to witness and fall in love, and now could look back at the beauty that had bloomed. His irises, your favourite colour. The speckles of various shades, your favourite details. You stared into Seonghwa’s eyes and did not dare blink. Your favourite impression.

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[sugarcoated-lame]

Pretend To Be My Boyfriend? | Rhett Abbott x Reader

all of my works are 18+ only, minors DNI!

Synopsis: When a guy won't leave you alone, you ask the pretty cowboy at the bar to pretend to be your boyfriend.

WC: 2900

Warnings: not much? this is mostly just fluff :) fake dating, mentions of harassment/guys being creepy, mentions of alcohol and drinking, flirting? like one mention of sex, i feel like that gif of rhett should be a warning

a/n: I've had this idea in my head for a while and finally decided to write it (: kinda feel like it's a bit shit but please enjoy, comments, reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! ♥

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“Hey, honey!” Rhett hears a sweet voice call out through the dimly lit, noisy bar. He senses a figure approaching to the left of the barstool he’s sat on, hand freezing halfway to his mouth as he goes to take a sip from his bottle of beer.

It takes him a moment to realize that you’re speaking to him, his confused expression meeting your hopeful, smiling one. He checks behind him for somebody else, but nope, there’s no one there — you’re definitely talking to him.

“Uh…hi? Do I- do we… know each other?” Rhett places his beer down on the bar, wincing as he asks the question; it wouldn’t be the first time he’d forgotten a woman that he’d met in this very bar and drunkenly hooked up with. And that situation never usually ends well for him.

You’re very pretty — beautiful, actually — and Rhett decides right then that he definitely doesn’t know you. There’s no way he’d ever be able to forget a face like that.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as you step a little closer to him, and though you’re still smiling, within the newfound proximity Rhett can now see a frazzled, almost pleading look in your bright eyes as you go to speak again.

“Can you pretend to be my boyfriend?” You ask, your voice lowered to a level that only he can hear.

“Uh…” Rhett’s confusion is written all over his face, from his brows that furrow adorably to his gaping mouth.

Your own expression turns sheepish as you realize how silly the question sounds, and you’re quick to intercept and elaborate for him.

“There’s a guy over there,” you turn away from Rhett slightly and nod your head subtly to your left and catch a glimpse of the drunken stranger who wouldn’t leave you alone. “He’s been trying to hit on me for the last thirty minutes. Can’t seem to get the hint that I’m not interested.”

Rhett follows your gaze and sees a man sipping a beer and staring at the two of you from the other side of the bar.

“So… I told him that I was waiting for my boyfriend.”

When he meets your eyes again, he can tell that you’re trying to play it cool, but Rhett can sense that little hint of fear in your eyes and the worry in voice. And, though he doesn’t know you, he feels his protective instincts kick in.

You can see the change in his demeanor almost immediately, shoulders squared as he sends the other man across the room an intimidating glare that you don’t think you’d ever want to be on the receiving end of.

But, when Rhett’s gaze returns to you, his blue eyes soften and his lips turn up just a bit. He gestures to the empty stool next to his and you take the seat with a sigh of relief and a grateful smile.

“If I’m gonna be your boyfriend, then I guess you should know my name. I’m Rhett.”

Your own shoulders deflate in relief that this kind stranger — Rhett — has agreed to help you, a genuine smile now forming on your lips as you introduce yourself as well.

You’re not entirely sure what made you choose him, but for some reason you found yourself drawn to the pretty cowboy sitting alone at the bar and drinking a beer. And, you’re glad you did.

He’s even prettier up close — little curls peeking out beneath his Stetson hat, adorable button nose, and his eyes captivating pools of blue, intense in their gaze that’s now focused on you. His voice deep and rich, and oh-so soothing.

“You new to town? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here.” He’d definitely remember if he had.

You nod your head in confirmation. “Very new, I just moved here two days ago for work.”

“Well, welcome to Wabang. I promise not all us guys here are creeps like that asshole.” Rhett promises, once again glancing toward the man who had been harassing you earlier.

That draws a light chuckle out of you, but before you can respond, Rhett narrows his eyes and goes to speak again.

“Speaking of which, he’s still staring over here. I’m gonna put my arm around you… if you’re okay with that.”

Your head nods in agreement without really thinking much about it. Admittedly, you find yourself a little bit lost in the quiet, gravely tone of Rhett’s voice, that deep southern accent, and you’re fairly certain he could get you to agree to anything if he keeps talking to you like that.

Before you can register what’s happening, you’re enveloped by warmth and a pleasant musk that’s a spicy mix of vanilla and tobacco as Rhett leans in and drapes a protective arm over your shoulders.

“Can I get you a drink, sweetheart?” Rhett emphasizes the last word sarcastically; if he’s going to pretend to be your boyfriend, he’s going to have fun with it.

You take a second too long to answer, too busy trying to inhale Rhett’s scent again as discreetly as possible, hoping he doesn’t notice — he definitely notices.

When you look back up into his eyes, there’s a playful mirth to them, and a smirk overtaking his lips at how flustered you are by the close proximity and the use of the pet name.

“Y-yeah…yes.” You shake your head as though to clear it. “I’ll have a beer.”

As you inwardly cringe at yourself for stumbling through your answer, Rhett simply smirks and raises his hand to flag down the bartender and order your drink, all the while keeping you close to his side underneath his arm.

Only when the bartender places the bottle down in front of you does Rhett remove his arm from around your shoulders, and you find yourself already missing the warmth of the denim of his jacket on your bare skin.

“So, you moved here for work. What do you do?”

You tell him all about your new job and how excited you are for this fresh start in a new place, and Rhett listens intently, chiming in when necessary, loving how passionate you are about your work and content to just listen to the melodic sound of your voice.

“Alright, enough about me. What do you do, Rhett?” It’s the first time you’ve said his name tonight and Rhett feels his cheeks heat, deciding right then that he loves the way it sounds on your lips and that he needs to hear it more.

“I help out on my family’s ranch,” Rhett tells you. “…But I’m also a bull rider.” A small grin grows on his lips that tells you just how much he loves it.

“A bull rider?!” You’re beaming at him, eyes widened in surprise. “No way, that’s so cool! Way cooler than my job.”

Rhett lets out a deep chuckle and shakes his head in an attempt to protest. Bashful and blushing even harder now, he tries to brush it off – unable to take a compliment, but you’re having none of it.

“Come on, it’s very impressive! Maybe I’ll come cheer you on in the stands sometime.”

“Yeah?” The two of you share light-hearted grins and you give Rhett an affirmative nod. Yeah, he would definitely like that.

The two of you sit at the bar and talk for a while longer, Rhett buying you a couple more beers. You discuss anything and everything that comes to mind and share a good few laughs, the alcohol leaving you on just the right side of tipsy, feeling open and content – light.

Rhett only nurses the one beer that he’s been drinking since you approached him earlier in the evening. He finds himself already feeling a bit protective of you, liking the responsibility of keeping an eye on you and making sure you’re having a good time. Besides, he just really enjoys talking to you and doesn’t feel the need to get drunk tonight.

Rhett continues to also keep an eye on the guy who was bothering you earlier – though he’s fairly certain he wouldn’t try to approach you again since you’ve been at Rhett’s side for a while now, his arm once again finding itself wrapped securely around your side.

However, Rhett’s noticed throughout the night that he’s not the only man in the bar he’s caught looking at you – yes, you’re new in town, but he knows they’re also looking – staring really – because of how beautiful you are. And he maybe finds himself feeling a bit jealous.

“Seems you’ve caught the attention of just about every guy in here tonight.” Rhett informs you with a teasing lilt to his voice to make light of the situation, smirking into his beer bottle as he takes the final sip.

“Not that I want it.” You roll your eyes dramatically. A playful smirk then takes over your lips — you’ve got an idea. The corner of Rhett’s lips quirk up a bit too as his brow raises in question.

“Just trust me.” Your face is leaning in closer towards him and before Rhett can process what’s happening, you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

The fact that you’re tipsy has definitely provided you some liquid courage, that much is for sure when you pull back and shift to whisper into Rhett’s ear.

“Gotta let them know that I’m all yours.” Your tone is playful, sarcastically seductive, the warmth of your breath against the skin of Rhett’s earlobe sending a shiver down his spine and he has to fight to hold back a groan. God, does he wish that statement were true.

You can’t stop the little fit of giggles that escapes you as you pull back, and Rhett can’t help but chuckle along with you. Admiring the way your eyes crinkle up when you laugh, the adorable way that your nose wrinkles too. The skin of his cheek is still burning where your plush lips had kissed him.

Now it’s Rhett who has an idea, you can almost see the light bulb flicker behind his crystal blue eyes when they peer into yours again.

“Do you have a ride home?” He asks and your brows furrow adorably, curious as to where he’s going with this. You let him know that you were just going to call an Uber.

“I can drive you home… if you’d like.” Rhett’s nowhere near drunk from the one beer he’s had all evening.

“And there is a way you could show everyone you’re mine.” He proposes, that playful smirk returning to his lips and a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Oh?” You narrow your eyes at Rhett, but you can’t help but grin along with him, still wondering what he could possibly be suggesting.

Rhett goes to remove the cowboy hat from his head, repeating your own words from only a few moments ago. “Just trust me.”

He moves to place the hat atop your head, a silly grin still on his face as he adjusts it over your hair. You meet his look with a puzzled smile of your own, unsure of what he meant, but something within you tells you that you can – trust him, that is.  

Rhett flags down the bartender and closes his tab before lightly knocking his fists on the wooden bar top.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” Rhett chuckles like he knows something you don’t, and you can only roll your eyes in jest as you wait to be let in on the joke.

Rhett watches as you shrug on your jacket, stealing a long glance at you wearing his Stetson – feeling a sense of pride swell in his chest and enjoying the way it looks on your head – before he gently ushers you toward the exit of the bar.

Near the door, he sends a self-assured smirk to the asshole who had been bothering you earlier in the evening, who just watches along from a nearby booth with his buddies, a sour look on his face as you walk out into the night with Rhett’s arm draped over your shoulder.

Only when you’re secured into the passenger side of his truck does Rhett divulge the nature of his plan.

“So, uh — the hat,” Rhett nods towards his hat that you’re wearing and your fingers reach up to touch the worn fabric. “If you wear someone’s cowboy hat, you’re supposed to uh…ride the cowboy…”

He trails off, admittedly a bit nervous now – he doesn’t want to come off as a creep – as he explains the ‘cowboy hat rule’ as he called it, to you. His way of making the whole ‘fake boyfriend’ thing seem a bit more real to any prying eyes, showing everyone in the bar that you’re ‘his’.

You stare at him in bewilderment for a long moment, mouth agape. Your expression sends Rhett into a boisterous fit of laughter, unable to refrain, and earns him a playful smack on the arm.

You close your eyes and cover your face with your palms. “Oh my god…”

“Oh, come on. It’s kinda funny.” Rhett contends through his laughter and you send him what you hope to be a scornful pout. But there’s no real malice behind it, a smile fighting to break through as you find it hard to be annoyed with him.

“And it’s not like I’m gonna hold you to it.” He promises with a wink that might make you swoon if you weren’t already sitting down.

Before you know it, you’re joining in on the laughs, unable to hold back any longer and relishing in the humor or the situation.

Once you’ve rattled off your address to Rhett, the ride to your home is filled with quiet music pouring from the truck’s radio – though it merely serves as background noise as you and Rhett spend the entire 20-minute drive talking. Sharing little details about yourselves and making plenty more jokes. His Stetson still sitting pretty atop your head.

Despite having spent hours talking with him in the bar, you still find yourself wanting to know more about him, not wanting the conversation – or this night –  to end.

The truck reaches your little house all too soon, and Rhett finds himself not wanting the night to end either. Pretending to be your boyfriend was the highlight of his evening and he wants nothing more than to see you again.

When he stops the truck at the end of the little path leading to your front door, Rhett clears his throat before moving to speak.

“So, I — uh, I was wondering, c-could I… maybe get your phone number?” Rhett asks quietly, a pink flush taking over his pale cheeks as he internally curses himself for sounding so nervous.

You don’t mind it, though — this seemingly tough cowboy growing all flustered and stumbling over his words for you? You couldn’t find it more endearing.  

Rhett holds his breath as your pretty eyes — slightly glassy still from the alcohol you’d consumed earlier in the evening, look straight into his blue ones, and you grace him with a coy smile.

“Of course. Who else am I going to call when guys are harassing me and I need a fake boyfriend?”

Rhett releases the breath he was holding and bites back a smile, his shoulders dropping in relief. “Great.”

Once you’ve exchanged numbers, you gingerly remove Rhett’s hat from your head, smoothing down your hair.

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you scoot closer toward him in the bench seat, reaching up to carefully place it back on top of his head  — your eyes gazing into Rhett’s blue ones as they peer back into yours, the two of you sharing bashful smiles.

With the cowboy hat secured on the head of its rightful owner, you move to pull away. However, you pause before you get too far, deciding to lean in and place one last kiss to Rhett’s cheek before climbing out of his truck.

Rhett’s in such a daze – cheeks flushing that bright pink once again as warmth radiates from where your lips had kissed him, and a dopey grin on his lips – that he almost doesn’t notice as you walk around to the driver’s side of his truck, leaning a bit into the open window. Your face close to his, lit up all pretty in the moonlight.

“Thank you for turning my shitty night around, Rhett.” You bite back a grin. “I had a lot of fun.”

Before Rhett can respond – still flustered from the kiss to his cheek and now from hearing you say his name again, you back away from his window, making your way towards the path. Walking backwards, still facing the truck and grinning at him all the while.

“Oh, and you’re a really great fake boyfriend!” You call out.

Breaking off into a giggle that carries in the night’s slight breeze and Rhett can only chuckle back, shaking his head as he watches you with a fond smile.  

With that, you turn around and walk off to your house with a spring in your step. Rhett stays sat there in his truck until he sees you make it through your front door safely, and he’s absolutely beaming.

Rhett's going to call you first thing tomorrow. He hopes that he can turn this ‘fake’ boyfriend situation into something real.

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Thank you for reading! x

taglist: @wkndwlff @sebsxphia @chaoticassidy @dempy @ohgodnotagainn @shanimallina87 @mavrellover91  @memoriesat30  @that-bitch-bri @classyunknownlover @hisredheadedgoddess28 ♥

also tagging a few people that I think may enjoy/liked my last rhett fic ♥ : @roleycoleyreccenter @sunlightmurdock @rhettabbotts @mothdruid @lewmagoo @foreverrandomwritings @pillow-titties @sobshoney

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#rhett abbott #outer range #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott x female reader #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott imagine #lewis pullman #rhett abbott fluff #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott one shot #my writing