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euaphoric · 7 months

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🕸️ KINKTOBER - DAY 1. 🕸️

Show You What Devotion Is . . .

[PAIRING] jungkook x f!reader

[GENRE] bf/gf, established relationship, pwp [WARNINGS] fluff, smut, small mentions of insecurities, body worship, devotion kink, face-sitting, biting, spit kink (sorta, kinda?)

summary: you don’t think you’re good enough for your boyfriend but he proves those thoughts wrong by showing just how much undying love he truly has for you.

wc -> 2.0k

A/N: first post of the month, 30 more to go woohoo~ so excited to do this and hopefully this’ll help me get a better idea of what i like/don’t like writing in the future. **fyi oc is told that she tastes like candy but obvi in the real world if ur hoo-ha tastes like candy that’s not normal .. o_O buttt this is fiction so just pretend they can sjdjfjsjjs.

kinktober m.list

this day simply couldn’t get any worse. you missed the bus back home just by a fraction of a minute, all because you wanted to speak with your professor at his office hours but now in hindsight, you wished you never did. it was practically a waste of time anyway, he wasn’t giving much worthy feedback on your presentation and the anxiety about your final grade grew rampant as the semester progressed. ‘fuck, guess’ll wait for the next one in 15’ you mumble to yourself, annoyed and exhausted from earlier’s events. one side of you just wants to call jungkook to come pick you up but your other subconscious is telling you that’s selfish— don’t make him drive all the way here when you can just wait a measly 15 more minutes.

sigh~

it won’t kill you to wait, it’s not like you were in a rush to see him right now. it was actually quite the opposite, you weren’t prepared to tell him how you completely bombed your presentation. well, you wouldn’t say completely but it definitely wasn’t up to your impossibly high standards. public speaking was the only class you struggled with the most, you could articulate your words precisely in writing but saying it out loud? that was a totally different story. you have to outgrow this “fear” over speaking in front of an audience if you want to practice law one day. no one’s going to take you seriously if you can’t even read a single paragraph without tripping over syllables. all you could do was replay those embarrassing moments and internally cringe, almost missing the bus again from being so deep in thought— what a nightmare.

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“baaabyyyy!” the sweet sound of jungkook’s voice instantly made everything better, at least for now. his peachy soft lips went straight to your face almost immediately, smothering you with dozens of kisses while caging his beautiful, toned arms around your willowed frame. “you came home so late, was expectin’ you half an hour agooo.” he whines immaturely, holding you so tight he’s nearly squeezing you at this point. he must’ve really missed you. “i missed the bus… i wanted to talk with my professor about my presentation and thought i could make it but i guess not..” you pause, thinking if you should share what’s really crossing your mind, “…i was gonna call you to pick me up but didn’t think it was worth all that hassle.” now hearing yourself say that out loud makes it seem like he isn’t a reliable boyfriend, he very much is, it’s just the over-thinker in you. it’ll mark your 2 years of dating next week yet somehow you still felt like you were burdening him at times.

if the embodiment of ‘???’ was a person, that would be jungkook right about now; he couldn’t fathom you thinking such unlawful things. “hassle? what’re you talking about love, nothing is a hassle for me when it comes to you, absolutely nothing. next time you need me don’t hesitate to call babe,” he reassures sincerely. loosening his embrace momentarily to turn you around, he brings your chests together while his hands wrap your pretty waist, feeling his rapid heartbeat against yours. “i’m serious, you better call me next time.” the sternness of his voice alarming you that he’ll probably lecture you for this. he texts you hourly just to check in and make sure you’re okay, a simple drive to pick you up is the bare minimum to him. “well besides that.. how’d your presentation go?” jungkook’s doe-like eyes widen as he interrogates with questions. “i don’t wanna talk about it.” you silently mutter, already dreading what the final grades were going to be. “that bad, huh?” he proceeds with even more questions, “did you remember like we practiced last night?” you nod, lowering your head to stare at the floor, confidence dwindling by the second.

it truly hurts him to see you upset over something you’ve worked so passionately on, all just for it to feel ruined in the end. he hates that you’re not your usual bubbly and cute self, it makes him do everything he can to cheer you up. “it’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it now, i get it. you probably did well though, i bet you messed up like one time and no one even noticed ‘cause you’re so pretty!” he teases, inked, slender digits trail up to find solace on your chin, lifting your head up to face each other again. “stop stressing over dumb little imperfections, it never ends well.” “oh, you’re one to talk!” you whine into his chest, unable to deal with his hypocrisy. not jungkook of all people giving you this speech when he is literally the #1 perfectionist king. “and i’m not even that pretty..” you quietly mumble, hoping he wouldn’t catch that. “wait, what did you just say?!” his voice raised an octave of confusion, you would think someone had just told him the most horrific story, but no, here he is on the verge of a mental breakdown over his girlfriend feeling insecure. “i said i’m not that—” “no no, i heard you the first time. my brain just isn’t registering the fact that you don’t think you’re anything less than a walking goddess of this earth.” he was flabbergasted to hear you talk with such low confidence, “sometimes, i feel like you can do so much better..” that’s what fully broke his heart as you spoke, it pained him to know you harbored all these feelings deep down inside.

the only answer in solving this dilemma is by being a better boyfriend to you, showering you with even more compliments than he already does daily, and most importantly, proving that he is 100% devoted to you and you only.

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eyes half-lidded in lust, limbs spasming and going numb from the continuous stimulation, you can’t do much but moan out jungkook’s name on an endless loop. the first hour, jungkook took his heavenly time with your delicate, angelic body. everything about you is divine to him, he wants to appreciate every single inch of you, even the parts you despise. he dedicated his lips to kissing and pleasuring your whole body, leaving no surface of you untouched. he’d rave in between kisses about how beautiful you are, how lucky he is and how he’s willing to do anything to make you happy. if being love-drunk was a disease, he’d rather fall into a coma and never wake up than find the cure. he’s living his best life as he cherishes your innate beauty, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs as he reaches them, taking ample time to caress and praise your dreamy body. he’s always had a thing for your cute plush thighs, the way they’d bounce and jiggle when he plays with them makes him all giddy inside. he can never get enough of them or you, leaving numerous bite marks and coating them with his spit, “you’re a work of art princess, a masterpiece. don’t think any different.” jungkook murmured against you, voice laced with pure seduction and infatuation.

body buzzing in anticipation as he kept working his way up, leaving a chaste peck to your left and right hip bone, firmly gripping your thighs as he drags his lips to your center. the urge to make out with your cunt was insatiable for him, he needed his face buried between your legs, there was no place he’d rather be. “after this you’re gonna use my face as your throne and m’gonna give you the most mind blowing orgasm, capeesh?” jungkook props his head up for a second before kissing below your belly button. “c-capeeshh.” you hazily reply, mind still fuzzy from just his kisses and touch alone. you know you’re in for a wild ride whenever you sit on your boyfriend’s face, he always eats you like a starved man and makes sure you cum multiple times, he takes such pride in himself for having you be a twitching and moaning mess by the end of it all. his only goal and mission for the night was to make you feel so good that you reach your climax hard enough to see memories of your life flash before your eyes. as he made his way up to your waist, you melt into his warmth, craving him more and more as time goes on. you thought you felt your soul leave your body when he unsuspectingly attaches his mouth to your nipple, babbling nothing coherent as you rut your hips into nothing.

as much as jungkook wanted to keep the teasing going, he was so down bad to have you sit on his face in this moment, ready to show exactly how much love and obsession he has for you. “need you so bad babe.. need to taste you,” he sighs, shamelessly gawking over you as he maneuvers you on top. “you’re so fuckin’ sexy mama... would love to be in between these pretty thighs for the rest of my life.” you couldn’t help but blush at his dirty talk, feeling flustered as you slide off your damp polka dot panties, watching as he licks his lips, planning to devour you whole. jungkook was so excited, you’re always scared of hurting him whenever you sit on his face but he reassures you often that he’ll be fine, “you’re not gonna kill me babe, trust me. even if you did i think it’d be sick to put ‘died from too much pussy juice’ on my gravestone anyway.” he lightly jokes, never taking anything in the slightest bit serious. you position your lower half, hovering over his face as he stares directly at your wetness. the tent in his boxers only surged, he was so hopelessly attracted to you, he could cum just from giving you head.

“fuuuu- oh my god so good, so good! yess, keep going babyy..” your legs shake violently as you rock your hips back and forth, rendering a steady motion against your boyfriend’s soothing tongue. as you throw your head back in pleasure and delight, jungkook grips onto your thighs for dear life, using every bit of manpower he possessed in making sure you don’t move away. “mmmhh~” he’d hum into your sensitive, eliciting the harmonious moans he loves to hear every night. you clutch onto the floral sheets of the bed, hand full of jet-black hair in the other. “mmm.. taste so sweet for me..” he grunts against your dripping core, “like candy..” a few more sloppy licks then he’s back to aggressively sucking your clit. you were grinding his face with more speed and didn’t care as much about hurting him anymore, if he really was uncomfortable he’d speak up. jungkook would never do that though, you are his goddess and he wants this night to be all about pleasing you. “uhhh, t-think m’gonna cum..” you felt that familiar knot in your tummy, hips subconsciously rutting faster into his mouth as eyes roll to the back of your head. you couldn’t tell much of his condition below you but his stamina never slowed, eating you out with everlasting hunger as his grip refuses to unravel. “cum for me princess, please.” his encouraging words help reach your high, feeling a whole new state of nirvana as your chest heaves, “fuck, jungkook, i love you!” you cry out, clenching around his tongue as he licks every crevice of you clean. the room spun around as you catch your breath, having trouble regaining your balance for a split second.

you droop down onto your heavy panting boyfriend’s chest, lightly sticking to his dewy skin from all the built up sweat. “sooo, how’re you feeling now compared to earlier? did it work? are all your insecurities vanished and gone now?” he’s back to his normal self again, asking his little series of questions. you giggle, “i feel great koo, definitely helped me relax..” flashing a warm smile as he reaches out for you to cuddle, “i must’ve done some life-changing shit in my past lives to deserve someone as good as you.”

#kinktober 2023 #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook x female reader #jungkook x f reader #jungkook fic #bts fics #jungkook imagine #jungkook drabbles

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joelsgreys · 1 year

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to do the right thing l part iii

Post Outbreak!Joel Miller x Pregnant! Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: You go into labor earlier than expected in the QZ; Joel and Tess help you deliver the baby; after giving birth, you and Joel follow through with a heartbreaking decision.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA. ((TW)) PREGNANCY, mentions and references to adoption. mentions of dead bodies, child death (not what you think), descriptions of childbirth. angst. soft, protective Joel.

word count: 7.9k

a/n: Please do not hate me. That is all. (:

June, 2020

Disposing of the infected was a shity job.

But then again, most of the civilian jobs in the Boston QZ were pretty fucking shitty.

Still. This particular one had to be the absolute shittiest of the shitty.

Having to haul dozens upon dozens of dead bodies, the accidental inhale of soot and smoke even through your makeshift mask, not to mention, the nauseating smell of burning human flesh—you’d hated getting assigned to this work detail before, but now that you were only just a few weeks shy of being nine months pregnant, it felt like actual fucking hell on earth. And, to make matters even worse, Joel had been asked by one of the officials to head over to a different site and work a different job at the very last minute. He wasn’t by your side to lend you a hand like he usually did. Before being forced by authorities to leave the site, Joel instructed you to find a familiar face and do whatever you could do to get someone to help you when you needed it.

Luckily, on the other side of the open fire pit, you’d spotted Kevin. A younger man in his early twenties, you knew Kevin was something of an avid pill popper and one of Joel’s secret regulars. In exchange for a couple of oxycodone pills that you produced from the pockets of Joel’s jacket you were wearing, he had agreed to help you haul the heavier bodies and toss them in the fire pit.

“You know, you used to be real strong,” Kevin mused out loud as he took the shoulders of a heftier male body. Through a labored grunt, he continued, “You never needed anybody's help.”

You narrowed your eyes at him as you took the lower half of the body into your arms, taking subtle care not to strain yourself to the point of hurting yourself—or the baby. “Shut up and move, Kevin.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Seriously, Kevin,” You managed to say to him through gritted teeth as you helped him carry the body. “I’ll throw in another fucking pill if you just shut the fuck up, how about that?”

“Never used to be so cranky, either. Jesus, Miller’s really rubbing off on you, isn’t he?”

Ignoring him, you inhaled a deep breath, exhaling it as you two lifted the body and flung it into the pit. As you turned back towards the canopied pickup truck for the next one, your eyes fell on the tiniest little body that you had ever seen and you simply froze, a chill running up the length of your spine.

While it wasn’t the first time that you’d ever had to dump the body of an infected child, this one had to be the smallest—the youngest. Though his head had been covered with a brown, burlap sack just like the rest of the bodies, anyone with two fucking eyes and half of one brain cell could guess that he was, at most, around the age of a toddler.

“Jesus,” You whispered, noticing the dirty, bloodied white bandage around his teeny little arm. That’s where he’d been infected.

Kevin’s voice came from behind you. “Oh come on, this can’t be your first time seeing a kid, right?”

Your mouth had gone as dry as sandpaper. “I—I’ve never seen one this young,” You told him, feeling your heart sink into your stomach. “He couldn’t have been older than three or something.” Unable to fathom what had to come next, you turned to Kevin and shook your head. “I’ll need you to do this one. I just can’t.”

“Sure thing, sweet cheeks.” He raised an eyebrow and looked around before lowering his voice. “Just as long as you go back home tonight and let that guarddog boyfriend of yours know how much I helped you out, you know, since he wasn’t around to do it himself.” He paused, his beady, dark little eyes twinkling in sheer delight. “Maybe a two for the price of one discount during our next business transaction would be an appropriate way for him to show me some gratitude?”

If Joel could see the smirk on Kevin’s face, he’d knock it right off with his fist.

“Greedy motherfucker, aren’t you?” You muttered under your breath, before finally nodding your head in agreement. “Fine. I’ll make sure Joel hooks it up on your next deal.” Fat chance of that happening.

Satisfied, Kevin grinned and pushed past you, picking up the child’s body.

Unable to bring yourself to watch him toss it into the roaring flames, you hurriedly walked around to the side of the pickup truck, yanking down the red bandana you used as a mask down from over your nose and mouth. Placing a hand on the side of the truck, you hunched over and closed your eyes for a brief second. “Jesus Christ,” You groaned in a whisper to yourself. “I think I’m going to be fucking sick.”

You half expected to toss your afternoon crackers right there onto the pavement in front of you. However, instead, just a split second later, you felt a sudden cramp in the middle of your pelvis—subtle, but still enough to make you wince. It was immediately followed by a feeling of intense pressure between your legs. Before your mind could even wrap itself around what was happening, there was a gush between your thighs, and warm liquid started trickling down the sides of your legs.

Shit.

Terrified, you glanced down.

Though they were dirty, you could distinctly see the wet patches on your faded, dark blue jeans. “No, no, no. This can’t be happening. It’s too fucking early—”

“Hey! What the hell are you doing over here? Who the fuck said you could stop and take a break?” One of the FEDRA officials who had been assigned to stand guard at the work site came up behind you, his weapon gripped tightly in his hands. When you whirled around to face him, his eyes fell and instantly noticed your soaked jeans. A look of disgust crossed his face. “Jesus. Did you just fucking piss yourself?”

“No—” You stopped yourself, realizing this could be your ticket out of there. “Yeah,” You replied, nodding your head, causing him to let out a repulsed noise. “Sorry. I just saw a little kid, must have made me—”

He held up one of his hands, stopping you. “Save it. I don’t give two shits,” he told you with a shake of his head. “Get your ass home right now and change your clothes, then come back. Make it quick. There’s still a lot of work to be done around here. Understood?”

You nodded again. The muscles in your pelvic area tightened and the feeling drew the tiniest of sharp breaths from you—your contractions were starting. “Yeah,” You managed to say to the official, keeping a straight face. “I’ll be back as fast as I can.”

He dismissively waved you away with his weapon and then stalked off back over to his post.

Letting out a small sigh of relief, you turned on your heel and started to make your way back to the apartment as quickly as possible.

Although the building was about a mile and a half up the road, it felt like you were trekking your way across the fucking country. You felt two more contractions along the way, and while their intensity was still pretty low in such an early stage of your labor, they still hurt like hell. They started around your lower back and gradually moved around to the front of your pelvis. You tried to push past the discomfort in order to get home as quick as possible, but every now and again, you found yourself having to stop in the middle of the sidewalk for just a brief second or two, only long enough to recollect and remind yourself that you needed to get a goddamn grip before someone noticed your strange behavior. Once the building finally came into your view, all you could do was silently pray that by some fucking miracle, Joel would be up there in that apartment, home from work detail.

Your prayer went unanswered.

When you opened the door to your quarters and walked inside, you’d found Tess home by herself. She was sitting at the table, sipping on a glass of whiskey and mindlessly flipping through a decades old newspaper.

“Tess,” You said her name, causing her to look up. “Where’s Joel?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“It’s fucking happening.”

Tess stared at you, her eyes widening slightly. “Wait, what?”

“The baby’s coming,” You informed her, pointing down to your damp jeans. Though you were panicking on the inside, you tried your best to remain as calm as humanly possible. “Where the fuck is Joel?”

Tess tossed aside her newspaper and stood up from the table. “I told you, I don’t know. I know he was reassigned but I’m not sure where—he sure as hell wasn’t with me.” She walked over to you, taking you by the elbow. She pulled you over towards the couch and helped you sit down. “I thought you said it would be at least a few more weeks before the baby came.”

You couldn’t help but shoot her an annoyed look. “Well, he’s coming now, Tess. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

“How long ago did it start?”

“About half an hour ago, maybe. I was at the pits and my water broke after I saw—” You trailed off, deciding the details of what you had seen back at the work site weren’t necessary to disclose to her. “I’ve had a couple of contractions, but they’re pretty far apart.”

“It could be several hours before the baby comes, but there’s still no fucking way that we’ll be able to get you over to Bill and Frank’s in time.” Tess chewed anxiously on her bottom lip as she wracked her brain for any other possible options—it took her mere seconds to realize that there weren’t any other options. “You’re going to have to give birth here.”

“Fantastic,” You deadpanned, leaning back into the couch.

“Okay, here’s the deal. You stay put and I’m going to go out and find Joel. I know there’s a couple of places where he might have been assigned and if I’m right, I can be back with him quickly.” Tess pulled off her watch from her wrist. It was old and cracked, but otherwise, it still worked fine. “I need you to time your contractions. Try and be as accurate as possible.” She then reached into the back pocket of her jeans, producing a red handkerchief. She handed it to you along with the watch. “Listen. I know it’s going to hurt like hell, but you need to be as quiet as possible. Last thing we need is for someone to hear you and come running in here, especially while I’m gone. If you need to, you bite down on this to keep quiet, alright?”

You swallowed harshly, taking both of the items with nearly trembling fingers. “Alright.”

“Don’t worry. I’m going to find Joel and we’ll be back,” she promised you. “You stay right here, okay?”

“Because I’m such a fucking flight risk right now?”

“Even during labor, you’re still a fucking smartass, huh?” Tess rolled her eyes and reached for her jacket.

You watched her as she readied herself to take off. “Tess?”

“Yeah?”

“Hurry. Please.”

“Fuck,” You hissed, both of your hands planted on your lower back as you paced back and forth in the kitchen, trying your best to breathe your way through another contraction.

It had been over an hour and a half and Tess still hadn’t returned with Joel.

Your labor was progressing a lot quicker than you’d anticipated and while it could still be at least a couple more hours before the baby was born, you were still terrified at the mere thought of having to deliver him alone. You needed Joel—you didn’t want to have to do this without him.

“Jesus, fuck,” You cursed through clenched teeth. The waves of pain that were coming at you were almost enough to physically knock you off of your feet and right onto your ass. Tess had been smart to give you her handkerchief. During one particularly painful contraction, you’d shoved it into your mouth, muffling your cries of agony.

Another hour had passed and you were genuinely starting to believe that you were indeed going to have to give birth to the baby all alone in that apartment. “Where the fuck are you guys?” You mumbled to yourself. Perhaps something had happened to them—Joel and Tess had spent ample amounts of time in FEDRA lockup for the stunts that they pulled and it wouldn’t surprise you if they had gone and done something stupid, putting themselves behind bars for the night.

In an attempt to keep your mind from continuously wandering to worst case scenarios, you walked over to the kitchen sink and quickly filled up a large, chipped porcelain bowl with water. You rummaged around for the cleanest washcloth that you could find and then picked up the bowl in your hands, taking care not to spill as you hastily made your way around the single wall that divided the kitchen from the bedroom. You placed the bowl of water on top of the old, cherrywood dresser that separated yours and Joel’s bed from Tess’s bed and immediately started peeling off your dirty clothes. Wanting to hurry before another contraction came along, you dipped the cloth into the water and started running it all over your body, wiping away any soot and dirt that you’d brought home from the work site.

After you had finished cleaning yourself off as best as you possibly could under the circumstances, you searched through the drawers and grabbed one of Joel’s cleaner t-shirts, tugging it over your head. Even with the size of your swollen midsection, his shirt still fit you loosely enough, the hem of it falling to the top of your thighs. You’d finished just in time—another contraction starting coming on and you dropped down onto the bed, gripping the edge of the mattress as you hunched over in a world of hurt. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

As it subsided, the sound of the front door opening caused your head to snap up and your heart to skip a beat. Had you been too loud? Or perhaps a neighbor had walked by and heard you?

“Baby?” Joel’s deep voice filled the small apartment. When he appeared around the wall and saw you, a look of utter relief crossed his face and he rushed over to you, Tess following behind him. He crouched down in front of you, both of his hands flying up to the sides of your face. “M’sorry darlin’, I got here as fast I could—”

Though you could have nearly cried from happiness that he was right there in front of you, you found yourself snapping at him, “What took you so fucking long? It’s been fucking hours!”

Tess jumped to Joel’s defense. “I’m sorry, it’s on me! It’s my fault. It took me forever just to fucking find his ass and then we had to find a way to sneak him away from the work site without anyone noticing,” she explained, holding her hands up. “Not to mention, he was on the other end of the fucking QZ. We got here as fast as we could—how far apart are they coming?”

You winced. The truth was, you’d been so busy trying to get through the contractions that you hadn’t been timing them at all. “About that.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I gave you one fucking job—”

“Look, they’re still decently far apart by a few minutes.” You placed a hand on your stomach, suddenly admitting, “But I do feel the urge to push already.”

Joel’s hands slowly dropped from your face and he glanced over his shoulder and up at Tess, looking confused. “Think it’s time?”

She shook her head. “I know it’s going to feel like you need to push as you get closer, but don’t,” she warned you, firmly. “Not yet. They need to come closer together, about a minute to thirty seconds apart. If you start to push too early, you could hurt the baby. Or tear yourself apart.” Tess took off her jacket, tossing it on a nearby chair. “Joel, keep her as comfortable as you can. I’m going to start gathering some supplies. She may not be ready to push now, but I’m thinking within the hour, it’ll be time.”

“Within the hour?” You nearly squeaked.

Joel turned back to you and cupped your face again. The familiarity of his rough, calloused hands on your skin brought some calmness, not enough to completely take your fears away, but just enough that you were able to stay somewhat level headed, even through every single emotion that you were feeling. “Baby, I know you're scared,” he said, his thumb grazing against your cheek. “But I promise you, everythin’ is gonna be just fine, alright? Look at me, right here, look at me,” he urged as he held your face firmly in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’re gonna be fine. I won’t let anythin’ happen to you.”

“Joel, it’s childbirth,” You reminded him, smiling wearily. “Don’t make a promise you don’t know if you can actually keep.”

Though he knew deep down inside that you had a point, he repeated himself. “I won’t let anythin’ happen to you. Okay?”

You offered him a small, meek nod. “Okay.”

Joel lifted himself, pressing his lips gently to yours. He pulled away, murmuring against your lips, “That’s my girl.”

The hour that followed had been nothing short of horrific—the pain had become almost unbearable by this point. There wasn’t a single inch of your entire body that wasn’t drenched, soaked in perspiration. Your hair was an absolute mess, plastered to your forehead and to the sides of your face. Tess sat on her bed, waiting on standby for when it was time to deliver. Meanwhile, Joel, could only hold your hand in his and watch helplessly as you tried not to cry out too loudly.

“Joel,” You nearly pleaded his name, as if pleading for him to take his gun and put you out of your misery.

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmured soothingly, squeezing your hand in both of his. “I know it hurts.”

“What if I can’t do this?”

“Sorry, sweet darlin’ but you don’t have much of a choice,” he reminded you. He looked and sounded so fucking tired, so fucking exhausted—and he was. He was exhausted from having to sit there and witness you hurt while there wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do about it.

Once the contractions started coming in at less than a minute apart, Tess checked you. “I can feel the head. It’s time to start pushing,” she announced. Rolling up the sleeves of her shirt up to her elbows, she started giving you instructions. “You’re going to bear all the way down into your bottom as hard as you can. We’ll do ten second counts with short, quick rests in between each push until he comes out. Alright?”

You just about panicked. “Joel—”

“M’right here,” he quickly assured you. “Not goin’ anywhere.”

During the process, Joel had decided to sit behind you, his long legs on either side of you as he held you up at just a couple degrees shy of a ninety degree angle. Tess kneeled on the mattress between your legs, holding your knees apart as she counted through each push out loud for you.

You sank your front teeth hard into your bottom lip, the coppery taste of blood filling your mouth as you tried your hardest from screaming out.

“One, two, three, four—” Tess counted the numbers aloud until she reached the number ten. She watched you as you released a breath, and tapped your knee gently. “Come on, we’re almost there. He’s right there, you’re so fucking close. The harder you push, the quicker this will all be over. So give me one more big, strong push, alright?”

Joel squeezed your shoulders, his lips at your ear as he whispered to you over and over again, “C’mon baby, we’re almost there. It’s almost over.”

You were completely spent, exhausted both physically and mentally beyond what mere words could even explain. Close or not, you simply didn’t have it in you to keep going.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” You moaned, shaking your head as you slumped back against his chest, your head falling into his shoulder. Your body felt like it was just moments away from giving out on you. “I can’t do it, Joel. I just can’t fucking do this—”

“You can and you fucking will,” Tess all but snapped at you, forcing your knees further apart. “Come on, all I need is one more push. Just one fucking more.”

“But—”

“Baby, please,” Joel begged into your neck. “You have to do this.”

You whimpered. They were right—you didn’t have a choice.

“Okay. One more.” You gave a small, weak nod of your head.

Joel helped you sit back up into the previous position, using his body to help support yours. He kissed the back of your head, his hands on your shoulders again. “Good girl,” he praised, bracing himself to help you through the tail end of the delivery.

“Alright, let’s do this.” Tess positioned herself, her hands ready to receive the baby once he was born. “On the count of three. One, two, three—and push. Come on, that’s it. Come on.” Squeezing your eyes shut, you followed her encouraging words, bearing down as hard as you could muster while Joel counted you through that last strenuous push. “Baby’s out!” Tess nearly cried, and you quickly opened your eyes to see her holding the baby in her arms.

“Is he okay?” You panted, your chest heaving as you fought to catch your breath. Only mere seconds had passed, but already you found yourself in a state of anxiety over the fact that the baby hadn’t made a single sound yet. “He hasn’t cried—why hasn’t he cried?”

“She,” Tess corrected you, her eyes fixed on the newborn as she worked to clean her off with a damp washcloth. She rubbed her chest in quick, firm circles in an attempt to get her to take her first breath.

Your heart skipped a beat—you’d had a girl?

Behind you, Joel inhaled sharply, his body stiffening.

You watched in concern, your lips parted slightly at the sight before you. Not having the proper tools to clear the child’s airway, Tess tried everything and anything that she could think of to help the baby breathe. As the seconds turned into a minute, and then into two, your heart had all but climbed its way up your throat—never had you heard a silence so deafening.

“Tess,” Joel said her name, his tone dangerously low.

“Fuck Joel, I’m trying here!” Tess snapped at him. She let out a small, frustrated sigh and then turned the baby over onto her forearm. She started patting the infant’s back with her opposite hand. “Come on, sweetheart. Come on, you’re alright. Please breathe. Please—”

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the baby sputtered and let out a wet cough before a small, quick cry filled the entire apartment.

“Fuck,” You breathed out in complete and utter relief. You sagged back against Joel, who’d also released the breath he’d been holding.

“Shh,” Tess soothed her, flipping the baby back over and bouncing her in her arms in an attempt to quiet her.

Joel carefully climbed out from behind you, helping you to lean back, up against the wall. “You alright?”

“Better now that I know she’s okay.”

“She’s small, definitely at least a couple of weeks premature, but she looks healthy,” Tess observed. She single handedly clamped the cord, cutting it with a pair of sharp shears before she finished cleaning her off. She reached for the flannel throw blanket next to her, however upon picking it up, she had realized it wasn’t a blanket at all. It was Joel’s flannel jacket, the very same one that you’d worn for most of your pregnancy. But it had been washed the day before and it would do for the time being. Tess wrapped the baby in the jacket before easing her into your arms. Knowing that you’d never held a baby before, Tess reached out and maneuvered your arms, making sure that you were holding her properly, supporting her head and neck. “That’s it. There you go.”

Your heart swelled to twice its normal size inside of your chest and an inexplicable warmth radiated throughout every fiber of your being the moment you laid your eyes on her sweet, tiny little face. “Hi, there,” You cooed gently to her. “Welcome to the shitshow.”

Tess chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest. “Son of a bitch. We fucking did it.”

“What the hell do you mean we?” You rolled your eyes in a joking manner. The truth of the matter was that you would forever be in her debt for all that she had done to help you, not just through childbirth—through everything.

You then glanced over at Joel, who stood silently behind her, hands planted on his hips.

He said nothing, but his dark brown eyes were glued to the newborn.

Tess cleared her throat lightly, breaking the momentary silence that had suddenly fallen over the three of you. “I’ll give you a minute to take a breather while I go clean myself up. I’ll be back to show you how to feed her.”

She excused herself, heading off towards the kitchen.

Joel shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot. “You—uh, you sure you’re alright?”

“Mhm,” You replied with a nod, unable to contain the small smile that crossed your lips as you drank in the sight of the beautiful baby girl in your arms. She had been born with a head full of dark hair—instantly, she reminded you of Joel. “She’s so little.”

Joel said nothing.

Looking up, you noticed the way his eyes took her in—the same way yours did.

Part of you almost wanted to ask him if he wanted to hold her.

But you knew better.

“We’ll radio Bill and Frank tomorrow in the morning to let them know she’s here ,” Tess said, coming back into the room. She used a damp cloth to wipe away the blood and other fluids from her forearms. “As soon as you’re able to move, you’ll have to get her over to them.”

Your face fell slightly. “Wait, how soon are we talking?”

“Thinking maybe in a couple days—soon as you can walk.”

Your heart sank deeply into your chest.

Just a couple of days?

That’s all you would get with her?

Noticing the crestfallen expression on your face, Joel nodded. “Tess is right,” he agreed. “We can’t hide a cryin’ baby in this apartment for too long without someone catchin’ on. The sooner we get her over to Bill and Frank’s, the better.”

You somehow managed to swallow the lump of emotion that had risen in your throat as you looked back down at her tiny face—your daughter’s tiny face.

“Think of a name for her yet?” Tess asked you, tossing her dirty cloth aside.

Joel quickly stepped in and answered for you. “Best you don’t.”

“What?” You stared at him in disbelief. Although neither of you had discussed it, you’d thought that at the very least Joel would allow you to name your child—his child.

“The less attached you are to her, the better.” His tone was short, almost curt. “Less harder it’ll be.”

Even Tess was taken by surprise. “Joel, come on. Are you fucking seri—?”

He held up a hand to stop her. Whirling around on the hell of his boot, Joel said over his shoulder as he left the room, “I’ll be outside. Need some air.”

Your lips pressed together in a thin, tight line. “I guess he’s right.”

The mattress squeaked, shifting slightly as Tess took a seat right next to you on the bed. “You know it’s going to hurt him too,” she told you, quietly. “He’ll never admit it. But when the time comes, it’ll hurt him too.”

“I know,” You whispered, grazing the baby’s cheek lightly with the tip of your index finger.

“Joel loves you, you know.”

Tess’s words caught you by surprise. “Tess—don’t. You don’t need to do this.”

She laughed in spite of herself. “You know, I never thought that man could be capable of loving anyone else ever again, not in this life. Hell, I tried for fucking years just to get him to feel a fraction of what I felt for him and nothing.” Her voice became thick with the emotions that she’d undoubtedly been suppressing for the last few years. “I don’t know what is about you, what drew him to you. But he does love you. More than fucking anything.”

“He’ll probably never admit that either.”

Tess smiled sadly. “I know.”

The five hour trip on foot from the Boston QZ to Lincoln was one that you had gotten used to over the last couple of years, but this trip had been something of a struggle for you, to say the very least.

Between being only a couple of days postpartum, having to make frequent stops to feed the baby, and having her strapped tightly to your chest in a makeshift baby carrier—which in reality was actually just a bedsheet that wrapped around your upper body—you felt quite worn out by the time you and Joel finally made it to Bill and Frank’s.

“Come in, come in,” Frank placed a hand gently on your back as he ushered you inside of the house. “How are you doing? Are you okay?” He tossed a little glare over his shoulder at Joel. “Shame on you for making her walk three days after giving birth! Surely you could have waited at least a few more days before making the trip?”

Joel let out a small, impatient huff and rolled his eyes in response.

“We didn’t wanna risk being caught with her,” You quickly explained as he led you both into the living room. “Our walls are paper thin and she cries real loud. We didn’t wanna risk having the neighbors reporting us to FEDRA.”

“She’s a crier?” Bill, who kept his distance, scoffed. “Great.”

“Oh, stop it, Bill. I’m sure she’ll be a very good baby,” Frank waved his hand dismissively at him.

“Can you guys help me unwrap?” You asked, lightly tugging at the sheet. “This thing is so uncomfortable.”

Both Joel and Frank helped untie and remove it from around your body.

“Oh my word.” Frank’s hand flew to his mouth and tears instantly welled in his eyes as soon as saw her. “I never thought I’d see—” He trailed off, but you knew what he meant. He never thought he’d see another child ever again, much less a newborn baby. Frank knew better than to overstep or to push you too quickly, and despite his immediate urge to ask you if he could hold her already, he simply settled for lightly touching his fingertips to her tufts of soft, dark hair. “Oh, she’s so beautiful! Isn’t she beautiful, Bill?”

“Looks like an ordinary baby to me,” he grumbled, though as he eyed the child, there was a strange little glint in his eye. Bill, like Frank, also never thought that he’d ever see something like her again.

Frank sniffed, dabbing his tears away with the back of his hand. “Oh! I have some onesies from the boutique, let me grab one for you,” he stated, realizing that the baby was naked, with the exception of the improvised diaper you had her in. “She’s kind of small, even for a newborn. Do you think she came early?” He asked over his shoulder as he walked over to the other side of the room towards a pile of cardboard boxes. “I know it’s hard to tell what week you reached gestation.”

“We think so,” You said, carefully taking a seat on the couch. “She’s small, but she’s healthy. She eats well, she mostly sleeps through the night unless she wakes up hungry or needing to be changed.”

“Here.” Frank walked back over to you and handed you a cream colored onesie printed with yellow sunflowers. He also handed you a matching cloth diaper. “They’re preemie size, but I have a box of newborn sizes too if they’re too snug on her. You let me know what you think is best, alright?”

It didn’t take you very long to realize that Frank was allowing you just a taste of what it was like to properly and normally care for your baby, just like any mother would in a pre-outbreak world.

Part of you wished that he wouldn’t bother, but you still appreciated his kindness nonetheless.

Frank laid a soft, pink blanket on the couch for you to lay her on.

As you changed her, you felt Joel watching almost intently.

Since she’d been born, he still hadn’t held her. You didn’t take offense to it, nor did it hurt your feelings that he refused to touch her, because you knew how he was feeling—what he was feeling. You would often catch him stealing long, lingering glances at her whenever he’d think you weren’t paying attention. Deep down in your heart, you knew he ached to interact with her, that he wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and give into his paternal instincts. But he was simply trying to make this process as painless for himself as possible. Joel didn’t want to risk developing any kind of attachment to her.

“Does she have a name?” Frank asked, holding his hands behind his back as he watched you button up the onesie. At this point, he was itching to hold her for the first time, but he wanted to respect what little time you had left to interact with her.

Sure, you would be able to see her every now and again, but Joel was adamant of keeping visits to a minimum.

“She doesn’t,” You replied in a soft voice. “We didn’t name her.”

Joel, who had taken a seat in the rocking chair next to the couch, raked a hand through his hair as Frank shot him glare, as if he knew whose idea it had been to not give her a name. “S’only right for you two to choose a name. We ain’t got no business givin’ her a name.”

“He’s right,” You said, before Frank could protest. “It’s best we leave that to you and Bill.”

Frank touched your shoulder. The sympathy in his eyes nearly made you burst into tears on the spot. Wanting to allow for a brief change of subject, he offered, “How about we all have a bite to eat? Hmm? Surely you must be starving after that long walk.”

You forced a small smile. Food was the last thing on your mind. “That would be nice,” you fibbed.

For the rest of the afternoon, you refused to put the baby down.

Your arms ached from holding her for so long—but you couldn’t care less. It was one ache that you would happily deal with for the rest of your natural born life if it meant never having to let her go.

Frank had been completely understanding of your desire to keep her with you for as long as you possibly could. Being the incredibly sweet, kind soul that he was, he showed you nothing but patience and didn’t question you, nor did he push you or grill you on whether or not you had changed your mind about leaving her in their care. Bill, being Bill, had muttered a few, passive aggressive incoherencies towards you under his breath over lunch—something about how for someone who claimed they wouldn’t have a problem giving up their baby, you sure as hell seemed to have a hard time letting her out of your grasp.

However, once the late afternoon finally rolled around, you knew that the time for you to say goodbye was on the horizon. As much as you fucking wished you could, there was no changing your mind, not if you wanted your daughter to live safely, happily.

“Bill? Frank? Do you think we can have a minute with her, just the two of us?” You asked them. You had all moved back into the living room after lunch. Knowing time was running out, you hoped that you and Joel could have one last moment alone with her before it was time to leave.

“Of course.” Frank nodded and tugged on Bill’s arm. “We’ll be out in the front yard—the plants need some watering.”

You shot him a tiny, grateful smile. As they disappeared, you leaned back into the couch and made yourself comfortable with the baby.

Joel, who sat over in the rocking chair as he had earlier, pursed his lips. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he said, shaking his head at you. “We really should just hand her over and go home.”

“It’s going to be hard no matter what, Joel. May as well enjoy her for a while longer.” You glanced down at her just as she started fussing herself awake. She looked up at you with her dark eyes. “Hello, sweet girl,” You greeted her in a soothing voice as she cooed.

Joel watched with a heaviness in his heart as you kissed the infant’s cheek delicately. How he wished you would just fucking listen to him.

“You’re going to be safe here,” You told her, lifting your hand to her hair; the ends were beginning to curl slightly. “I know you might grow up and have questions one day, and who knows, maybe when you’re all grown up, you’ll know the truth about everything and you’ll understand why we did what we did.” You paused. “This is the right thing to do, sweet girl. It's the best thing for you. Frank is going to make a great dad, and Bill—well, Bill is Bill. But I know you’ll have him wrapped around your little finger in no time. I promise there’s a softie underneath that grumpy exterior, just have to bring it out of him, is all.” Despite it all, you couldn’t help but laugh a little.

Joel craned his neck ever so slightly to get a better look at her. “She’s so alert,” he observed. “Y’know, for bein’ a couple days old and all.”

You glanced up at him. Somehow, you mustered up the courage to ask, “Joel? Do you want to hold her?”

Joel hesitated. But you were shocked he didn’t immediately decline.

That meant that he did.

You carefully stood up from the couch and slowly walked over to him. Giving her another kiss on the cheek, you held her out towards him.

Joel looked at her reluctantly, but then gave in and took her into his arms. He leaned his weight back into the chair and started rocking, knowing the movement would be soothing for the baby. “She’s got your nose,” he murmured, watching as the motion started luring her into another slumber.

“That head of hair is all you, though,” You told him with a tiny, sad smile. “I’m going to go get a glass of water from the kitchen. I’ll be right back.”

Moments later, when you’d returned, you stopped in your tracks out in the hallway when you heard Joel speaking. Furrowing your brows, you leaned your back against the wall and listened in to what he was saying.

“Hi babygirl,” he started, his voice low but gentle. “Everythin’ your mama just told you, well, she’s right. We’re doin’ this to keep you safe. We wanna give you a chance at a decent life. She doesn’t wanna give you up. Neither do I,” he confessed. “But we can’t—I can’t keep you safe. I can barely keep your mama safe most of the time, y’know.”

You hung your head, willing yourself to hold back the tears.

“I didn’t want you, at least not at first,” Joel continued to say, an ever so slight tremble to his voice. “Thought you were the biggest mistake we ever could’ve made. But now that you’re here and I’m holdin’ you in my arms, I realize I was wrong. I’m glad you’re here, babygirl. This world is ugly, but you remind me that there’s still beauty in it. Not a whole lot, but just enough to shine a little light in the darkness.”

Joel paused and as you peeked around into the living room, you saw him press his lips carefully to her cheek, right where you’d kissed her too. “You won’t be ours after today, but that doesn’t really matter. At the end of the day, you’re always gonna hold a place in my heart. Right next to your big sister. Alright?”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away with the back of your free hand. As soon as you were certain that he’d said all he had needed to say, you walked into the living room and offered him a sip of your water, behaving as if you hadn’t just heard him pour his heart out to his baby daughter. Joel moved over onto the couch with you and for the next couple of hours, the two of you took turns holding her. By the time early evening arrived, you realized that you and Joel were really pushing it. And knowing Bill, you were absolutely overstaying your welcome.

“So, we just wanted to check in with you two,” Frank said tentatively, nervously wringing his hands together as walked into the room with a very unhappy Bill trailing behind him. “It’ll be getting dark soon.”

You and Joel stood from the couch; he handed the baby over to you.

Your heart lodged in your throat, you walked over to Frank and eased her into his arms. “Here you are.”

Taking a step backwards, you watched as he looked down at her, his face beaming.

“Fatherhood looks good on you,” You couldn’t help but tell him. And you meant it.

Frank was going to make the most incredible, loving father.

“Does it?” Although he was smiling, he sounded nervous.

“You’re going to be a natural,” You touched his arm lightly. “We know she’s going to be in the best possible care.” Dropping your hand back down to your side, you glanced over at Joel, who stood there silently, his jaw clenched. “We’d better be going.”

“You know you’re more than welcome to come and see her whenever you’d like,” Frank offered. “We really wouldn’t mind that.”

“Don’t take that too literally,” Bill gruffed behind him. “The less visits, the better.”

You nodded, your voice cracking slightly as you said, “We know.”

“Let’s get a move on.” Joel nudged you lightly with his elbow. Did you just hear his voice break a little too?

After one final goodbye, about five minutes later, you and Joel found yourselves on the other side of the fence.

Joel noticed the expression on your face. He could see you crumbling right in front of his very own eyes like a pastry. He didn’t know what to say or do to make it better—hell, he knew nothing was going to make it better. He wanted so badly to reach out and put his arms around you, but he was afraid that one touch would cause you to come undone. “C’mon, we need to get movin’ before it gets too late or we’ll freeze our asses off,” he reminded you quietly. He started leading the way, but turned around when he realized you weren’t following behind him. “Baby��”

And just like that, the sob you’d been fighting finally escaped you.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” You quickly shook your head, trying desperately to stop the tears, but it was too late.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s alright—”

Before Joel could reach out for you, you sank down to your knees on the gravel. You placed your hands over your mouth, trying to muffle the sound of your cries. You knew it would be hard, but nothing could have prepared you for the god awful feeling of leaving Bill and Frank’s empty handed, without your baby daughter in your arms.

Joel sighed softly and crouched down beside you, pulling you into his arms. “Shh, baby. I know,” he tried soothing you, one hand around your shoulders and the other gingerly stroking your hair. “I know.”

Though nightfall was fast approaching, he didn’t push you. He simply held you until you eventually ran out of tears and little hiccups were all that was left. “I’m so sorry.”

“Stop fuckin’ sayin’ you’re sorry,” Joel said, squeezing your body against his to keep you warm against the chilly, evening breeze. “You have nothin’ to be sorry for, alright?”

“It hurts. I know we did the right thing, but it hurts so fucking bad.”

Joel pulled away and looked down at you. The sadness was evident in his gaze. “We did do the right thing. She’s going to be safer here than she could ever be with us in the QZ,” he reminded you, as if you didn’t already know that. “At least here, she’ll be well fed. She’ll have running water. She’ll get to enjoy fresh, clean air. She’ll get to run around the front yard and play in the grass. She won’t have to walk home from fuckin’ FEDRA school past a fire pit full of burnin’ bodies every goddamn day.”

“Maybe it’s just me being selfish, but that doesn’t make it hurt any fucking less, Joel,” You confessed, the guilt causing a fresh batch of tears to brim your eyes. “I know we’ll still get the chance to see her every now and again, but it’s not enough. It won’t ever be enough for me.”

He leaned down, leaning his forehead against yours. “I know. Won’t ever be enough for me either.”

You closed your eyes, another tear finding its way down your cheek. “How the fuck are you supposed to go on when you feel like a part of your heart is missing?”

“You just do,” Joel whispered. “You just move on. Try to, anyway.” He rose to his feet and pulled you up with him. “When I lost Sarah, I had nothing. Nobody. Tommy wasn’t someone I could count on, he was too busy thinkin’ he could save the fuckin’ world.” He chuckled bitterly. “So I carried that grief with me for years, all on my own. Like the weight of a thousand bricks strapped to my fuckin’ back.”

“Joel…” You opened your eyes, your gazes meeting together.

He lightly brushed his lips against forehead. “You ain’t alone, darlin’. You have me and I ain’t gonna let you carry this pain alone. You understand me? Never.”

“I know that,” You choked out.

Joel pulled you against him once again, his arms wrapping themselves around you.

“I love you.”

It was just above a whisper, barely audible but you’d heard him.

Clutching fistfuls of his jacket, you buried your face into his chest, uttering, “I love you too.”

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tw pregnancy #fic: tdtrt

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ladymarycrawley · 1 year

Text

A bit too real - Trent Alexander-Arnold

Request: Can you write a fic where the reader and taa are having sex and his BEREAL notification goes off? (as requested by @princessbetsy123-blog)

Warning: a bit smut at the beginning but just that

Tag list: @masonxomount @chelsealover

“Oh Trent” You moaned as he was busy kissing your thighs. While his eyes were fixed on you, his fingers moved your mint green slip to the side to savour your wetness.

His skilled lips against your most sensistive spot was what you needed to unwind, after a long and stressful week. To have him all for you, his body and mind. You tilted your head back in pleasure as he would use his hand to keep your thighs open for him to have a better angle to taste you.

An even louder moan filled the room.

Your heels pressing against his back, his tongue trying to reach for the spot that would make you see stars.

No one could spoil that perfect, blissful time...except for his phone that started buzzing with the notification tone, calling his attention.

“Oh my god Trent, really?” You asked quite annoyed with him leaving what he was doing to go and check his phone.

“Shit” He hissed looking at the screen.

“What’s wrong?”

Trent giggled and showed you the BeReal notification that was asking him to post a picture of what he was doing in that moment.

“You won’t” You sounded quite threatening in the attempt to warn him.

“Why not? It’s private after all…”

You widened your eyes in shock and blushed violently: was he really thinking about posting a picture of you two having sex?? Seriously??

“No Trent, you won’t post this”

He smirked, giving you a tender kiss on the tip of your nose. He loved seeing you getting all shy and flustered from embarrassment, that was you being your truest self and he loved it.

“I’m serious”

He ignored your protest and snapped a photo of you, in your knickers only, your hair covering your breast together with a selfie of him pulling a funny face.

“Look”

Your boyfriend couldn’t stop laughing while you weren’t amused by all of that in the slightest.

“Delete that thing now”

Of course Trent didn’t have the faintest idea of exposing you two like that, given also the fact that he had always been rather private about your relationship, so he just took it to tease you, he wanted to delete it and put the phone away but he didn’t realise he pressed the wrong button…

“Where were we?” He smirked, taking his position back between your thighs.

Damn, he was irresistible.

You smirked back at him and tried to relax under his touch, guiding his head back against your aching core.

Later that night, after having taken a hot shower, as Trent was busy cooking dinner for the two of you , you decided to relax a little scrolling through your phone but it turned out to be the least relaxing thing you could have done as an unknown number of notifications, alluding to an x-rated photo of you, appeared on your screen.

What were they referring to? Trent didn’t post that pic, he just took it and then deleted it…did some paparazzi hack your phone??

Trent seemed so calm at the stove, carelessly humming. You walked towards him as you needed to ask him what was happening.

“Trent…why are they all talking about some pictures of us?”

“It must be something caught by the paps” He answered absentmindedly while stirring what was boiling in the pot. “Where did you see it?”

“On my phone. I have like dozens of notifications asking or making jokes about this alleged photos but I don’t know what they’re talking about…it can’t be the BeReal one since you didn’t post it”

Those words triggered something in the Liverpool player’s head: he widened his eyes in shock and left what he was doing in a hurry to go and check his own phone. He was soon welcomed with the same unknown number of notifications, all about this supposed picture.

The only thing he could do was open the app, hoping his suspects were wrong but when he found that pic of the two of you in bed he snapped as a joke posted on his profile, he couldn’t do anything but curse himself.

Apart from all the comments, there were also some screenshots that had been taken…how could he be so clueless to have pressed the wrong button and posted it instead of deleting it?

“Erm…Y/N I -”

“TRENT ALEXANDER-ARNOLD YOU POSTED THAT PIC!!” You screamed, looking at his phone screen in disbelief.

“I’m so sorry!! I didn’t mean to, I just -” He was trying to delete it while you were reporting it as sensitive content. “Did you just report it??”

“Yes, what did you expect me to do?? Oh god” You facepalmed yourself as you were already pondering the idea of not leaving the house ever again.

“Calm down baby. I’m so sorry, I should have ignored that stupid notification"

Needless to say you were panicking, the images of people talking about you on the web and those hideous titles on the tabloids vivid in your mind…it was too much to take. You felt like throwing up.

"Y/N? Are you okay?"

"Not really…"

Trent huffed, mentally cursing himself, as he sat next to you, his arm slung around your shoulders.

"Look, I'm so sorry, I've been an idiot, a complete idiot, but nothing bad will happen. I give you my word"

The unmistakable sincerity of his words made you raise your gaze to look him straight in the eyes.

You would've gone through fire for him as he always made sure to have your back so you should have trusted him that time too, he would have done everything in his power to protect you.

You nodded, laying your head on his shoulder.

"I love you"

"I love you too, drama queen" He giggled, pressing his lips against your forehead.

"I wouldn't have been a drama queen if you had paid attention to what you posted" You rolled your eyes, clearly annoyed.

"You're always a drama queen, don't blame it on me now"

Far be it from you to bring any more drama in that situation but your nose started smelling something burning.

"What's this burning smell?"

"What - OH FUCK" The meal Trent was preparing was long forgotten on the stove as the BeReal thing was your priority at the moment, so you had now another thing to worry about: your burnt dinner.

He jogged over to the kitchen as he was found with that unpleasant surprise.

You loved him so much you swore he looked like the most adorable puppy ever, with his big brown eyes now misty with disappointment and his lower lip stretched out in a pout. A smile spontaneously formed on your lips, as you hugged him from behind. Your head was resting against his back before you lifted it to place a loving kiss behind his neck.

"No dinner tonight I guess"

“Come on, I’m waiting for some joke about me being the worst boyfriend ever or something like that” He muttered, alluding to the snarky remarks you would usually make.

“You’re the worst boyfriend ever but at least you took a pic where I had my latest lingerie set on” Your joke made him giggle as he lovingly squeezed your hands wrapped around his middle.

Burnt food and a sexy scandal, what else could you have asked for for a perfect night in?

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sgiandubh · 4 months

Note

This what I mean 👇🏻

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/3518505943900484/

Dear (returning) Bitchy Anon,

I wrote this answer yesterday, but I am posting it today, because I did not want to give you any satisfaction. Your coming back in here proves there is not an ounce of humanity left in you: just a #silly obsession for an actress who does not even know or care you exist. I promise you she doesn't. Confidently so.

But then, onwards to your 'evidence'.

You thought you would give me the creeps on Christmas Day with a controversial picture allegedly taken at the Weinstein (yes, that Weinstein!) and Netflix Golden Globes afterparty, on January 8, 2017?

No, seriously now: you actually did?

Crikey. As we say in Romanian (and yes, it is very rude, but also dementedly funny): mi se umple fundul de lacrimi/my arse is in tears. Perhaps the equivalent of I don't give a flying fuck, btw.

If you did read me before posting your laughable shite, and I think you did, you should know by now how I usually work, at least for those things I choose to make public (the rest is none of your business, I am afraid). You found this pic on Pinterest, originating from a Tumblr blog: @clairebeauchampfan. Since this person started blogging one year later than the moment this picture was taken, she probably found it chez Contemplating Outlander. You know, that pseudo-social scientist-cum-shrink, who thinks people are machines and adds a shitload of footnotes to her rantings, because she truly believes it makes her biased crap more credible (it doesn't, and this comes from an academic researcher: it is legit pathetic). So Claire Beauchamp Fan shared it and forgive me, but I did not bother finding her post, I just looked for her source (*urv's fetish):

This took me to CO's really nasty blog and you could have spared me that ordeal, Anon: it's literally akin to severe constipation. And then, onwards to Instagram:

A further search revealed she was wearing a Romanian designer (Maria Lucia Hohan) dress and Amrapali earrings. And then, I read the comments on that Insta post. Maybe you'd read them too, they are enlightening - for someone who's 'been around since 2015', people are rather confused about his real status in her life, don't you think?

But Internet is really forever, no matter how you try to hide your trash, Anon. Here is a copy of O'Callaghan's post which was, indeed, deleted: maybe *urv was too insistent? It wouldn't surprise me:

She should have won the Golden Globe in 2017, that's true. And it was S, not McIdiot, the one who told the Internet she should have won all those prizes, if memory serves. How odd McIdiot is never mentioned in that particular post (y'all would have paraded it for YEARS, if it were so) - but household staff, no matter how promoted, never really is. And before you screech, tell all the damn truth Anon, and put this pic in its right context:

How odd the 'successful music producer and entrepreneur' (he is not successful, nor a music producer and much less an entrepreneur) was not tagged, by someone who is active in the industry, who clearly knows C and who attended that Golden Globes gala!

Just a last word on that pic. C was obviously smiling and talking animatedly with O'Callaghan and then McIdiot (who looks malnourished - but hey, humble beginnings, eh?) got dragged in the middle, for the convenient pic. I sometimes wonder what kind of social life you people have and sadly, I have to say - next to 0, for some of you. I never fuck the dozens of men with whom I do have similar 'just because' pics, interrupting my conversation in the middle of an event.

Also, check this very warm & fuzzy pic with one prominent member of her own, personal and very, very gay Circle of Trust. Because I am sorry, but what straight man wears lipstick, as McIdiot clearly does (and no, it's not because they were smooching in the lavatories, what are you, 14?):

She looks happy, doesn't she?

I mean: really, honey. Get a Real Life and stop trying to persuade me with ye olde Pinterest pics you clearly are completely clueless about, ok?

And before you open your mouth to vomit CO's trash again, please carefully do your homework about McIdiot. But as carefully as I did. Then you can talk, share your interesting findings. Merry Christmas and....

#anon #fandom #shitshow

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bitimdrake · 1 year

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so the real post: It's the AU where Jason never died. We want him to have a team of young heroes instead of being all alone in Gotham. But who could possibly be on this team??

I put forth for your consideration that there is a simple, elegant, perfectly fitting answer to this question:

Stick him on the 90s New Titans.

No! Not the famous Nightwing-led line-up that started in the 80s. The ragtag, barely acknowledged, Arsenal-led team that formed under government supervision in the last dozen or so issues of New Titans.

So here's the thing. Attempts to give Jason a team of his own tend to fall very flat for me for two reasons.

First, they are almost all overly constrained by a restrictions that this must be a cohort of same-age heroes, Jason's equivalent of the Titans to Dick or Young Justice to Tim. This is an incredibly difficult restriction to follow, because the majority of characters around that age have already been absorbed into Young Justice. Jason really never had a 'generation' in the first place. There was no huge boom of teen sidekicks alongside him in the early/mid eighties, in the same way there was in the golden/silver ages (original titans) or the late eighties/early nineties (young justice).

Second, these hypothetical groups tend to seriously lack a group identity or coherence, beyond being a grab bag of people who could feasibly be on a team with Jason Todd. And creating a team exclusively around one character is....bad.

But we are far afield of either issue here!

The 90s New Titans (sometimes also called Arsenal's Titans? we really don't have a solid, well-accepted way to refer to them) are not a strict age group growing up together. They're a messy mix of young heroes, from young adults of the original sidekick generation, like Roy, all the way down to young teens, like pre-Young Justice Bart Allen.

Jason fits right in. He has a few solid peers in the middle, like Rose Wilson and Grant Emerson/Damage, but we're not locking him to just peers. He also gets to be a kid to teammates like Roy, Kyle Rayner/Green Lantern, and for a while Donna Troy/Darkstar. And, for the first time in his life, gets to be the older and more experienced hero to a younger teammate, in Bart.

And forget about lacking a team identity; this group already has one!

They're the scrappy, ragtag group of leftovers assembled after the previous, better known Titans combusted. They are (minus team dad/leader Roy, and Donna when she's around) relative newbies feeling their inexperience in the superhero world--including their inexperience with teams.

An identity that Jason, a Robin recruited after the previous, better known Robin was pushed out, who constantly worries about his inexperience among comparative superhero giants, aligns with perfectly.

It just fits. For the eclectic collection of members the team does have, including a Super (Matrix Supergirl), Wonder (Donna), Lantern (Kyle), and speedster (Bart), one thing they never had is a Bat. They, like Jason, lie in a no man's land between Dick and Tim.

No contriving necessary! No scrounging to create a new team! There is one ready made for you, and I can make a solid argument that Jason would have been a member had he lived.

#*#*dc #dc #dc idea tag #new titans #jason todd #mmm feels weird to tag anyone else #anyway i will be incorporating this into my mental vision of any jason lives landscape starting immediately #10to2 #dc meta

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dracoxmalereader · 5 months

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Express

Draco x Male Reader

Context: Hufflepuff!Reader, takes place in at least the 2010's, I was thinking mid 2010's but it could also be early 2010's. Draco and Reader have a son, I put S/N as his name because I didn't know whether to keep Scorpius as his name or not.

Summary: It's officially time for you and Draco to send off S/N to Hogwarts. Much shenanigans ensue.

Requested by: @thatgayboysblog (I don't know why it won't let me tag TT)

Word Count: 609

“S/N, do you have everything? Let me check your backpack!” You fussed, turning your kid in circles by the shoulders for the third time, even as he stood two feet from the door into the Hogwarts Express.

The platform was packed, people rushing up and down along the train to get their kids on board in time. Voices filled the air, echoing off the walls.

Draco’s hands came to settle on your own shoulders, rubbing his thumbs into the tense muscles between them. “Let up a little, he’ll be okay.”

You turned away from your son and looked to Draco, brows furrowed and face pulled tight with worry. He blinked at you, and his expression was one of reassurance.

“He will be fine.” Draco insisted.

You sighed, loosening up. You turned back to S/N and pulled him into a tight hug. “If anything happens, you write us immediately, okay?” You pulled away and kissed his forehead, smoothing his blonde hair back.

“I will, Dad! You know I will.” S/N smiled as wide as he could, jagged teeth just like Draco’s shining almost as bright as his eyes. He jumped up and down in excitement, and looked between you and his other father for clearance to take the step onto the train.

Draco bent down beside you and S/N and pressed his hand to the kid’s head, smoothing back his hair just like you had.

“Don’t get into any trouble, okay?” He let seriousness etch into his face and pointed at S/N. “Or else.”

S/N looked scared for a moment, staring up at his father in uncertainty before Draco broke his stern character and chuckled, pulling S/N into a hug himself.

His smile was bright when Draco let him go, and he hopped up onto the train, stopping to turn back to you and Draco. Worry pulled at the kid’s mouth and his smile faded ever so slightly.

“You’ll do great!” You shouted to him, Draco pulling you backwards so other parents could shimmy their kids where they needed to go.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see your husband’s pale hands shooting thumbs ups at your son. You were overcome with fondness for the both of them. S/N grinned, nodded, and continued on into the train; you followed his blonde head through the windows as he settled down in a cubby with what looked to be one of the Weasley kids and Potter’s son.

He waved at you through the window and you waved back as the train huffed to life and chugged along until you could no longer see into the windows. You turned to Draco. His face was tucked into one hand, his other holding his phone and scrolling through the dozens of pictures you’d taken of S/N.

You pulled at his arm, and he let his hand fall. A helping of tears had streamed down his face, and his cheeks reddened. He sniffled. “I have to send these to my mother, she’ll be overjoyed.” He took a shaky breath and smiled at you.

You giggled back at him, taking one of his hands into your own and pulling him away from the track, starting along the way back. He clicked on his phone and you presumed he was sending the pictures to Narcissa. Overcome with love for your family, you still couldn’t help but joke. “You think he’ll make Hufflepuff?”

He finishes his clicking as you tug him along and he looks up at you with all the affection in the world. A wet puff of air escapes his nose. “Just like his dad.”

There are some usernames that just straight up refuse to let me tag them TT This includes the person that requested this and one person on my taglist that I feel bad about every time I post and can't tag them. I go to type it and tumblr just decides the blog doesn't exist. The day I learn how to tag the untaggable will be a glorious, glorious day.

Also sorry I didn't post anything yesterday like I said I would my computer just refused to re-install bluetooth and instead of fixing it I just accidentally uninstalled wifi also. Woops. It's all sorted now, though, so in the words of many an instagram reel: We're so back.

Tags: @nowayisthistakenyet @gayaristocrat @dracoshusband @skrunklespoingo @esperfraud @joongbin @midwestemosblog

#requested #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x male reader #draco x male reader #draco x reader #harry potter fandom #draco malfoy x reader #draco x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fanfiction

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gargoyleandgremlinpress · 1 year

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Build Me No Shrines, by Occultings. Another Binderary project!

"A few months after the events of Guanyin Temple, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji take on a night hunt of an unusual sort: The Burial Mounds are spreading, quickly and with no apparent explanation.

In Wei Wuxian, it brings old, long-buried things bubbling to the surface."

I love this fic. It has everything! Post-canon case fic, a gaggle of the juniors, pining, some seriously creepy goings-on, Yunmeng sibling feels and endgame Wangxian. (A friend said recently, oh, you know the fic! The one with the tooth! And I did indeed immediately know it was this one.)

And that last line of the summary hits totally differently once you've read the fic. Just sayin'.

I typeset this one last summer--I think it was only my third or fourth project. And then I printed it! And folded and sewed it! ... and then it sat with half a dozen other text blocks in a large, ever-growing pile on the dining room table because I just could not get going on building cases and casing in. But! My Binderary goal was to overcome and finish All The Things, and fourteen books later, cases are no longer quite so intimidating.

Homemade bookcloth for the cover, with a strip of leftover chiyogami from the endpapers just because. Cover and spine are acrylic paint stencilled on, and yes, I am quite pleased with myself over that little mountain illustration on the spine.

I'd make some small tweaks to the typeset now (including justifying the text, ack) but I'm pretty happy with the overall look of it regardless!

#mdzs fic #build me no shrines #occultings #fanbinding #ficbinding #the untamed #wangxian fic rec #just one really elaborate fic rec really #love me some creepy casefic

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genericpuff · 9 months

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Can’t wait for someone to make a copy of RS’s coveted “signature” stamp and just buy a few dozen books, stamp them, and sell them as “autographed” at a huge markup, and goofballs will buy them all.

I mean seriously, that stamp will be incredibly easy to copy if it’s not already been copied, it’s the polar opposite of exclusive or personal. Why anyone would pay $20 for that is beyond me but it proves that RS is a shrewd business person by any means necessary and will be richer than I ever will be. No wonder Hades is her idol.

No joke, there are pictures of Rachel using the stamp at SDCC and-

That stamp is literally just a standard one that you could order through any custom manufacturer. It's not a roller in any way, there's no unique cut they're working off of, it's just a round press stamp.

And it shows because this is the quality of the actual ink when it's on the paper-

Basically low grade printer ink on glossy paper. It's not gonna last at all, and it turned out exactly how I was expecting - there's too much solid color with too thin empty areas so the ink is bleeding into what's supposed to be 'white' (we deal with the same concepts in tattooing so I knew this was gonna happen as soon as I saw the stamp design).

Anyways so that's my long-winded way of saying that I took the stamp that was on Rachel's IG from her promotional posts, desaturated it, added a tone curve layer to adjust the sharpness/clarity, and threw it into VistaPrint. Just for science, and because I'm an asshole trying to prove a point.

Would literally only cost me $20-$30 for the stamp after shipping.

Now for obvious reasons I'm not saying anyone SHOULD do this, like... I'm showing you this for science but really, don't go making counterfeits because of this LOL This is really just to demonstrate how easy it would be for anyone to make a convincing replica, which is the unfortunate drawback to using stamps as your "signature" - and with a very low quality printer shop stamp to boot - because it makes it pretty easy to copy. Not to mention showing off the stamp design beforehand through social media means that people (like me, oop-) can rip it out of your image posts and reverse engineer it into something that can be uploaded and purchased. I get she wanted to make sure that people knew what they were getting, it would have been a HUGE piss off to go see her for a signature just to find out she was doing a stamp, but like... these are the risks that come with stamps.

Don't get me wrong, you can just as easily forge a signature, but it's a little harder to nail someone's personal signature vs. a stamp and you can usually find ways to make it more unique (like what Junji Ito did by giving out little doodles on each signature). It also doesn't help that that stamp is made so cheaply that a poorly done replica would probably be on the same level of quality as the authentic one. And of course she added insult to injury by deciding to sell ACTUAL HAND-SIGNED BOOKS WITH ONLY ONE BOOK THAT HAS ONE CRAPPY DOODLE INSIDE AT ONLY ONE SPECIFIC BOOKSTORE A WEEK AFTER SDCC WAS OVER THAT YOU HAVE TO PAY FOR EVEN IF IT MEANS YOU'RE GONNA HAVE AN EXTRA COPY OF A BOOK YOU ALREADY OWN-

sigh This isn't an uncommon thing to do, it's not unique to Rachel, but it gives me grifting gacha vibes and it feels like such a fuck you to the people who travelled all the way out to SDCC and paid for the ticket prices just to get a shitty printer ink stamp and then find out a week later after they've undoubtedly gone home that one bookstore in San Diego actually has hand-signed copies. I've seen Youtubers pull this kind of shit with vinyl printings and Youtooz figures and it's equally tacky.

If she had done it either with handwritten signatures or at the VERY least a better quality stamp design and higher quality ink, then yeah, it would be harder to make it seem legit for anyone who's not privy to creating things like lino cuts or using roller ink and thus make it a much more valuable collector's item. But the books at SDCC were literally made with a stamp that anyone can replicate for $20 and then the hand-signed ones were offered at only one bookstore after Rachel had already flown home. It feels so impersonal and cold to the audience that has supported her through all the bullshit she's pulled in the last year.

#anyways does anyone want my totally real signed copy of volume 1 #$100 or best offer #for legal reasons this is a joke #insert sarcasm here #lore olympus critical #lo critical #antiloreolympus #anti lore olympus #ama #ask me anything #anon ask me anything #anon ama

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missmarthanightingale · 6 months

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i want to tell you guys a story from my life, about something that really happened in my family, & then i want to talk about that story in relation to what happened between ray & sand in ep10. let me be very clear -- this post is not intended to scold people for disliking ray. part of the reason i waited so long to write this was so i could have confidence that i was being fair & not letting my affection for the character colour what i wanted to say. i would really appreciate it if people who feel negatively about ray in particular took the time to read this & take it into consideration, as a sincere appeal from someone who has alcoholics in her family to really consider some of the ways i've seen this fandom talking about ray's addiction.

so. the story. some half-dozen years ago my uncle was trying to get sober. his marriage was on its last legs & no one wanted his kids to be living with their father while he was going through withdrawal if that could be avoided, so he came to stay with us for a while. my mum did her homework, understood enough to know that he shouldn't have easy access to alcohol in that time, & so we moved all of the alcohol we had to hand into a locked room in the cellar & gave the key to a neighbour for the duration of his stay. it went okay for a little while, & then my uncle had a fight with his wife over the phone, or something to that effect. in one night, he drank three half-bottles of prosecco which we'd forgotten we had stored in the garage.

we didn't even know that alcohol was there. we'd totally forgotten about it. but because we missed it, what should have been a bad night turned into a relapse. keeping alcohol in close proximity to a recovering alcoholic, especially in the early days of sobriety, makes it so, so easy for them to backslide. partly because constantly knowing it's there can wear on them, sure, but mostly because no matter how strong anyone's commitment, there will always be moments when they falter, & the easier it is made for them to relapse in those moments, the likelier it is that they will. & maybe not everyone in this situation would relapse, but you cannot know whether a person will or won't until it happens. most of it's up to factors far beyond your control. it is not worth taking that risk with someone you love.

so trust that i am speaking from bitter experience when i say that sand's home-brewing was always, always going to be a problem. they put it in the opening credits, for god's sake. i was absolutely certain from ep2, when we first found out about the plum wine, that whether ray ultimately tried to get sober or not, the easy access to alcohol that a relationship with sand granted him was destined to be point of conflict between them. sand was always going to have to confront the tension between his relationship with an alcoholic & his main (?) source of income being home-brewed alcohol, & he was always going to have to choose between them. & it is not fair to sand that he has to make that choice, i know. it's fine if you think that he made the wrong choice, or that he shouldn't have had to make that choice at all, but it was inevitable that he would have to, fair or not. because if you have an alcoholic in your life, you are most likely going to have to change your behaviours around them, in big ways & small, for their benefit. this is just how it goes.

i was astonished that there were people who seemed caught off-guard by this fight -- the only thing that surprised me was that it happened before ray was really taking rehab seriously, because i fully expected that this fight would happen after a relapse, likely one involving the plum wine, a couple months into sobriety. there was no version of this show that could both be honest about ray's alcoholism & fail to highlight this conflict at some point. they gave sand this source of income specifically so that sand & ray would have this problem down the line. it was so obvious to me that this was coming, i just took it as a given that everyone else saw it too. & again, this post is not intended to judge anyone for how they have interacted with this show or with this character, that's not what i'm here to do. but i do want to address an element of the way that i have seen some people talk about ray & his addiction.

it is fine if you don't like this character. i am not going to scold you for being understandably mad about the way that he has treated the people around him. but it is very frustrating, & sometimes downright upsetting, to occasionally see people speaking with great confidence on alcoholism despite saying things which i know from lived experience to be inaccurate, or worse, unfair. i am not here to judge you, but i am going to ask you extend a certain amount of grace to this character, & more importantly to all the people who see themselves or their loved ones in him. if you're going to talk about alcoholism, or the aspects of ray's character & actions which are intimately linked with his alcoholism, i would ask you to take some time to make sure that you do actually know what you're talking about. if you're criticizing ray -- & there is plenty to criticize! -- i would ask you to take a moment to think about whether you're really just holding him accountable, or if maybe you're being unduly harsh on him. i think there's more than a few people in this fandom who have some unexamined biases around addiction & those who struggle with it; this is an excellent opportunity for all of us to educate ourselves on this subject. i've been learning a lot about what different structured recovery programs look like; my uncle never pursued one, & i'd never sought out information on that before.

ray isn't real. none of the people he's hurting are real, either. but he & the people around him are a very well-written reflection of a very common, very difficult experience. you don't have to like him, but if you want to understand more about addiction i think he could be a really good starting point for that. if you don't want to, i genuinely get it -- sometimes you just want to watch a show & enjoy it without having to do homework. that's okay. but if that's your position, then please think twice before making public posts passing uninformed judgement on the show's representation of an incredibly complicated & sensitive topic.

i'll reiterate one last time that this post was not intended to judge, scold, or otherwise castigate; i hope that i've managed to maintain an acceptable level of the objectivity i was aiming for, & if i haven't, then my apologies, i definitely tried. if you're going to disagree with some of what i've written, that's fine, but please remember that i wrote all of this based on my personal experience with a family member, & be kind.

#i am very nervous about posting this but i think i really needed to say it #only friends #ofts #only friends the series #original

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sunlightmurdock · 1 year

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Operation Apollo | 0.5 | Jake Seresin x Reader AU

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: After a threat is made against her life, the President’s grown up daughter gets her security tripled. Her long term detail is about to retire and needs replacing, only — she isn’t the easiest to work with. Ex-Navy and current Secret Service, Jake Seresin is devoted to being the best at everything he does. He isn’t going to let a bratty little girl cost him this job.

Warnings: age gap, power imbalance, enemies to lovers, danger and angst + eventual smut , suggestive content and language but no sex, minors dni

…

“She said she’s not coming out while you’re here.” Allen explains, adjusting his tie as he steps out into the hallway and closes the door behind him. Jake keeps a straight face, then shrugs his shoulders. He wants to laugh. You’ve spent two weeks trying to get under his skin and he managed to get under yours in six minutes.

“So what are we supposed to do?” Jake asks.

“How about you two head downstairs, check out the hall, I’ll bring her in with me in a couple of minutes.”

“That isn’t what the briefing said-“

“I know that, but whatever you said to her this afternoon has her pissed off. This is the new plan.” Allen interrupts, his tone stern. It’s the first time he’s shown a sign of actually being a leader since Jake got here. Jake nods his head.

“Fine.”

He turns and abandons his post outside of her door. Manny trails along after him.

“What did you say to her to have her this mad?” Manny asks, glancing behind them to make sure you aren’t within earshot.

“Told her to stop flirting with me.” Jake answers calmly. It isn’t a lie, but Jake chooses to leave out the part where he had her pinned to her bed and begging for his cock.

Manny chuckles, pushing his hands into his pockets, “So she was still trying to get you fired, then?”

“Think so,” Jake agrees, adjusting the wire behind his ear as he leads the way into the event hall. It’s already teeming with security, which is good. It means that Jake’s job should be a little easier tonight. “I don’t know how you put up with her for this long. She’s driving me crazy.”

Manny hums amusedly, then shakes his head, taking in the tasteful decor around him, “Well, you aren’t exactly doing yourself any favours by being such a dick to her.”

Jake stops at the top of the stairs, turning to face his colleague seriously.

“We aren’t here to be her friends.” He reminds him.

“Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe she could do with some real friends more than security?” Manny replies calmly, pushing one hand into his pocket as he heads down the stairs towards the event. There are a couple of low tier guests here already, a lot of people without their own details. The higher tier guests always arrive later on.

Jake follows this time.

“She has friends,” Jake answers. He doesn’t dare put his hands in his pockets because he remembers his training. “Did you forget the dozen or so kids she had over the first day I showed up?”

Manny scoffs.

“What?” Jake urges him to continue with what he was going to say. Manny grabs a non-alcoholic champagne and turns, taking a sip from the glass. He gives Jake a look. Like Jake’s so out of the loop, like there’s something that he just doesn’t get yet. Manny has been waiting for him to figure it out, but he figures that if he waits any longer then the two of you might actually kill each other.

“Those aren’t real friends.” Manny takes another long drink from the glass.

Jake stands at his side, considering what this statement means. He thinks about it for a while. He’s been at your side all day, every day for about three weeks now. He hasn’t heard you getting a lot of texts, no phone calls. He wonders if any of those friends have checked up on you since he got here.

He opens his mouth to question Manny further, then spots the head of security heading straight for them.

“Gomez - enjoying the refreshments?” Don calls out.

Manny’s eyes widen as he hides the glass behind his back like he hasn’t already been caught.

“Yes, sir. - No. No, Sir.” Manny answers.

Jake’s gaze lifts. He notices the security at the top of the stairs first. The president enters the room, arm in arm with his wife. You look most like your mother. She’s a beautiful woman, she looks elegant as she stops at the top of the stairs. He glances down at his watch, you’re supposed to be here before they are.

He shakes his head, lifting his sleeve, speaking into his cuff, “Update on Apollo, please.”

The President and the First Lady move down the stairs together and immediately get to greeting their guests.

“On our way, asshole.” Your voice comes through Jake and Manny’s earpieces after speaking into Allen’s cuff. Manny glances across at Jake. Jake sighs and leans his head back, staring at the twinkling lights covering the ceiling.

Jake waits patiently, checking periodically as the president makes his way around the room while Don scolds Manny at his side.

“Manny. It’s been a while.” Matthew interrupts Don’s lecture to reach out and shake Manny’s hand. Manny smiles at him, the two of them make small talk about their personal lives and how long it has been since they last crossed paths. Matthew then turns his attention towards the taller agent at Manny’s side. “And you must be the one causing all the trouble.”

It’s a playful comment, and the President smiles as he says it. He extends an open palm out towards Jake.

“I’m sure that’s what you’ve heard.” Jake agrees as he places his palm in Matthew’s and shakes his hand with a firm grip. Matthew chuckles.

“It’s good to finally meet you, Seresin,” Matthew smiles, Jake catches a glimpse of you in his features, but you still look most like your mother. “Allen has been telling Sara and I that you’ve been doing a great job taking care of our little girl.”

Jake thinks back to this afternoon. He did a great job of making her want to fuck him, then murder him in the space of a couple of minutes. Still, Jake smiles and nods his head.

“Just doing my job, sir.” Jake says calmly. He feels a little bit like a pilot again when he says it. Maybe it’s trying to hold back the smugness in his tone.

“Keep it up, kid. - It’s not an easy placement, I know. I want you to know that I appreciate you being so patient with her.” Matthew says.

Jake nods his head.

He probably could have done with this pep talk before the events of this afternoon, but he smiles and nods nonetheless.

Jake glances up, catching a glimpse of colour in his peripheral.

Your hand is resting in Allen’s, you’re at the top of the stairs, there’s an almost nervous smile on your face as you glance down at the steps. You’re worried about tripping in these shoes, but Allen’s got you and you’re secure in that knowledge.

Jake’s gaze starts off at your heels. A simple pair of classy heels, not too high, you walk confidently in them - you’re worried inside but Jake can’t tell. The dress ends around your calf, not floor length, not short. It’s elegant, mid-length and its colour lands somewhere between pearl and champagne. It compliments your skin tone, your figure.

The straps are dainty, the structure of your collarbones catches Jake’s attention. The supple curve of your shoulders, the way the satin sits on your skin. It doesn’t expose much, you’re still plenty covered up - it’s a charity event after all, but Jake’s in awe.

It’s a straight neckline, draping slightly in the centre. It’s flawless and almost posed, even when you’re moving. There’s a dainty gold necklace - a birthday present from a few years ago - dangling between your collarbones, the twinkling lights overhead make it glint with each step that you take. Jake’s eyes take a while to find your face.

You’re looking at him when he finally does.

It’s his turn to be searching for words. He watches you take your first step, your hand in Allen’s palm as he walks with you.

He doesn’t know where the doe-eyed deer in headlights from this afternoon went, but the beautiful girl in that incredible dress walking towards him now, she would never fall for such a thing. There’s a confidence to the way you hold your chin high, a grace to the way that you step down into the room. An effortlessness that gives away how much practice you’ve had at doing this kind of thing.

Your eyes are on Jake’s each step of the way. A softness in the green of his eyes. Maybe regret, even, for the way he treated you earlier.

You reach the bottom of the stairs and squeeze Allen’s hand gently. Jake’s lips part slightly, you’re staring right at him, headed straight for him. He closes his mouth and stands up a little straighter, swallowing. It makes him feel like he’s in middle school again, the way his heartbeat picks up with each step that brings you closer.

His eyes briefly flicker upward, to the twinkling lights overhead, then he looks over at the live band. Then, back to you. He holds his breath as you reach him, worried that a trembling inhale will give him away.

“Daddy.”

Jake’s brows furrow tightly together. Your eyes are on him when you say it. There’s a split-second where Jake worries he’s about to explode with embarrassment, then your attention turns.

“Princess!” Your father returns your greeting as he turns his body to face you. He opens his arms and hugs you tenderly. Jake lets out a breath, then brings a hand up to loosen his collar. It’s extremely warm in here all of a sudden.

Jake adjusts his earpiece and keeps his eyes on everyone else. Anyone but you. Your mother when you hug her, Allen as he’s greeted by both of your parents. Manny just so that he doesn’t have to pay attention to the way your eyes haven’t faltered from burning into his side.

It’s an observation that Jake cant help but make: there’s a formality and structure to the way that you greet your parents that isn’t all that different from how you have greeted everyone else earlier today. The media training takes precedent over familial ties. Your smiles and soft touches look good on camera. That’s what matters.

“I have someone for you to meet.” Your mother takes your hand and squeezes it, smiling widely like this is something for you to be excited about. It isn’t. This has happened at every event since you turned eighteen. She has been trying to find you a husband for a very long time. She was married at your age and she reminds you of that constantly.

“Oh, I-“ You look to your father for help, for an out. Jake catches the look. He looks over at Manny.

Manny quirks an eyebrow knowingly, Jake thinks back to their conversation about friends. He wonders how many of your friends were carefully picked out for you by your parents or their staff.

“You’ll love him. His mother is the…”

Jake’s eyes are firmly on your back as you’re led into the crowd. The dress isn’t entirely backless, but the top half of your spine is exposed to him as your mother leads you away. He cranes his neck to keep an eye on you in the crowd.

“Well, it was great catching up with you boys,” Matthew smiles politely, “If you’ll excuse me, I have a few more hands to shake.”

The three of them are left there, watching intently. They should split up for better viewpoints, but they remain for a moment.

Allen leans in close to Jake, his expression calm and friendly as he does. His tone is anything but.

“I don’t know what you did, but I swear to god, if you hurt her - I’ll end your career.” Allen says calmly. Jake keeps his head straight, his eyes on you. He nods his head in silent understanding. Honestly, he’s surprised that you didn’t tell Allen everything. Jake knows that he was out of line and could be fired for what he did. But he doesn’t regret doing it.

Jake keeps an eye on you. You’re introduced to a boy around about your age. He’s the son of one of Matthew’s friends from law school, he’ll be a lawyer himself soon. Tom. Average height, short, dark hair, skinny.

The two of you chat for a while, talk over some drinks, and then move towards the dance floor. Jake doesn’t know how long he watches, but he knows that he’s pulling a face. He just can’t help it. He doesn’t like the way this kid touches you.

“Hey, Jake, mind doing me a quick favour?” Matthew’s hand comes up to rest against Jake’s shoulder, squeezing platonically over the fabric of Jake’s tux. Jake turns his head and raises his eyebrows. Surprised by the gesture and Matthew’s presence simultaneously. He nods his head quickly, anything, he agrees.

“Break that mess up, for me, would you?” Matthew nods his head, gesturing to the centre of the dance floor. Jake follows his gaze, already knowing exactly what your father is talking about. The boy’s hand is a little low on your back, his fingertips are white at the tops, and leaving indents in your skin, he’s trying to hold you closer and closer to him.

You’re leaned back slightly to put some distance between your faces. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re not comfortable.

“What should I tell her?” Jake asks. Matthew shakes his head and sips his scotch.

“No, no, I don’t want to ruin her fun completely. Just dance with her for a bit, until that little shit takes the hint.” Matthew decides.

“Oh. I don’t - I think she would be more comfortable if I asked Allen to do that, Sir.” Jake shakes his head slightly.

Matthew nods his head, tapping at the edge of his glass, his eyes on you.

“Yeah, but you’re the only one here who looks as pissed off about those two as I do,” Matthew smiles at Jake. “And even if she doesn’t like you, I’m sure she would much rather be seen with the guy every woman in here keeps looking at as opposed to someone old enough to be her father.”

“I don’t kno-“

“One dance. Don’t make me ask twice, son.” Matthew chuckles, like it’s a joke, then nudges Jake towards the dance floor. Jake swallows.

He straightens up and sighs as he makes his way over. You see him coming first, narrowing your eyes at him. He places his hand on Tom’s shoulder.

“Mind if I cut in?” Jake asks, though it’s clearly not a question. If Tom wasn’t so repulsive, you would have objected yourself. Jake waits until Tom’s gone before he takes your hand in his and wraps one arm around your waist softly.

You look past Jake and find your father smiling. He nods in head in acknowledgement, thinking that he just saved you from that creep, and then turns away. You scowl at Jake.

“I’m not thrilled about this either,” Jake announces, before you can say anything. He leads your body with the arm around your waist, swaying to the music. He looks you in the eye, his face softens. “You look… nice.”

“Nice.” You muse over the compliment.

Jake’s lips quirk slightly, “What was I supposed to say?”

“No, nice is fine. Maybe worth it might have been more appropriate, but I’ll let it go.” You answer him. Jake smirks. His hand rests safely on the middle of your back, thumb stroking tenderly over the exposed skin for a moment. You hold his shoulder, letting him bring you closer. He leans in so that he can talk quietly.

“Well, if you’re still wearing those cute blue panties then I might reconsider.” He isn’t serious, his tone tells you clearly that he’s making fun of you. You pull back and look up at him, tilting your head.

“Actually, I’m not wearing any.” You tell him. You watch his nose scrunch just slightly. He shakes his head.

“There’s no way you’d show up here with no underwear on.” Jake answers.

“Shame that you won’t get to find out.” You give a soft shrug of your shoulders. Jake smiles at you. He hums in agreement.

Sara sets her glass down and leans into her husband’s side, brows furrowed slightly as she leans into her husband’s side, “Matthew, why is she dancing with the staff?”

Matthew chuckles, “Because the staff are the only guys here that I can trust not to try something with her.”

Sara frowns, watching the way he looks at you with a soft smile toying on his lips, the way your hand rests on his shoulder. She’s too far away to hear you quietly threatening each other. The two of you look good together. The way you move together is swift, dynamic, it makes sense.

“How can you be so sure that they won’t? - I mean, look at him, I wouldn’t blame her if she had a little crush on him.”

Matthew frowns at his wife’s opinion of the agent. Still, he finishes his scotch and kisses her temple, “Because if any of the staff are stupid enough to try that, then I get to personally set them straight, sweetheart. That’s why they behave.”

“If you want, I can go get that little slimeball to come back here and finish the dance.” Jake says it tenderly so that no one around you will catch on to the nature of your conversation. You narrow your eyes at him.

“What happened to you to make you such an asshole?” You ask.

Jake shrugs his shoulders, “I’d ask what happened to make you such an entitled bitch, but - I think I have an idea.”

He gestures around him. At all this.

You step forwards, pressing your heel purposely into his shoe. Jake narrows his eyes at you.

“I’m not an entitled bitch. I’m mean to you because you’re a miserable dickhead.” You tell him.

“Smile!”

You turn your head and Jake tucks you in against his side. You both smile politely for the camera. The photographer moves on and Jake turns to face you again. He wraps an arm around your waist, then pulls you flush against his body. You open your mouth to protest, caught off guard as he dips you back slightly, his hand finding the back of your thigh to guide it along his.

Jake’s got you, secure in his arms, his eyes on yours. He’s only a couple of inches from your face, and the lights overhead bring out the shimmer on your eyelids. Jake’s been through years of training. He considers himself to be a disciplined person. Yet, there’s a split second where he does consider just doing it. It would be so easy for him to lean forwards and press his lips to yours.

He stands you upright and takes your hand in his.

It’s clear that the two of you could do this all night. The last thing Jake wants is for you to run out of the event, screaming about how much you hate him. In fact, he’s quite enjoying having you exactly where you are. He leads the dance, swaying you against him. You narrow your eyes as Jake’s features soften.

“I’m sorry.” Jake says softly.

Your brows furrow for a moment, then raise in surprise. The music is loud, you aren’t sure if you heard that right.

“I’ve been being a little hard on you, and what I did this afternoon was out of line. I’m sorry.” Jake’s fingertips trail over your exposed spine tenderly.

You shake your head softly.

“I could have you fired for what you did today.” You tell him.

Jake nods, his lips quirking up into a soft smirk, “Sure. If you wanted to tell your dad about how you needed it so bad.”

You stop moving and scowl at him, Jake pulls you back in against him and continues to guide your bodies to the music.

“That’s what I thought. I said I’m sorry, it won’t happen again. I think we just need to respect each other a little more.” Jake murmurs.

You let out a heavy breath. It won’t happen again. You’ve been thinking about Jake’s deep voice, strong muscles and the things that he said to you all afternoon. Sure, you’re upset with him for what he did - but you’re more upset at the idea that he won’t do it again.

“I’d respect you more if you weren’t-“

“Stop talking,” Jake sighs. He looks back at you and smiles, “I love this song.”

Your scrunch your nose at him, not recognising the melody. He guides your body to each note, letting out a contented breath. You frown slightly, surprised by this behaviour.

“Wow. So, you don’t hate everything.” You comment teasingly.

Jake chuckles. He lifts your arm and turns you, spinning you away from him and guiding you around until your back is to his chest. He sways the two of you to the music, resting his cheek against the top of your head.

“Just you, sweetheart.” Jake jokes.

You drive your elbow backwards into his abdomen, feeling him flinch. He laughs at the action, then spins you back around and turns you to face him. He’s a good dancer. You wonder if he has ever been married, you know that some men take dance lessons before their weddings.

“I need a drink.” You tell him.

Jake squeezes your hip playfully, “Stay until the end of the song. For me.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, then lean closer. Jake realises what you’re trying to do and leans down slightly, turning his head so that you can whisper to him. Your hand slides around to cup the nape of his neck, holding him close.

Jake closes his eyes as your lips graze his earlobe.

“You’re not worth it.”

His lips quirk up into a smirk as you pull back and slip out of his grasp. You step around him and head for the refreshments. Jake watches, you glance back over your shoulder once and smirk to yourself as you grab a glass of champagne. He’s seen you wandering around the house in a bikini a couple of times now. He hasn’t ever given you a second look.

But, the low back on the dress and the soft smirk on your lips as you turn away from him, sipping the champagne - that has his full attention.

Jake stands idle on the dance floor for a few seconds, watching you walk away from him.

Somehow, Jake has always dated women that have had an attitude. Even his first girlfriend in middle school had had plenty to say. His girlfriend in freshman year never let him have the last word. Even Dani, she spent more time making fun of him than she did making out with him.

He stands there under the lights, his eyes unashamedly on your ass, and realises that he has a type.

Jake moves from the centre of the dance floor and picks a point where he can see you, but not where the two of you will run into each other. Manny’s closest to you, Allen’s standing by the exit.

Jake glances around the room. It isn’t dissimilar to all of the Navy balls he has been to. Only, at those, it wasn’t so bad that his date was mean to him, because he spent the entire night secure in the knowledge that he was going to take her home. Dani wasn’t ever officially his date. She wasn’t ever officially his girlfriend. Or his anything - except for his wingman.

It was an unspoken rule that they would be each other’s dates to every event, without anyone ever questioning what they were.

Jake does his best to not think about Dani these days.

She would love the way you push Jake’s buttons. Jake bites his cheek, he imagines that Dani would be in fits of laughter at how pissed off Jake has been these last few weeks. She always thought he was cute when he was mad, which usually just made him more mad. Jake glances over at you periodically.

You have a fresh glass in your hand each time, but it isn’t his job to stop you from drinking. Allen or Manny can hold up that end of the bargain. Jake stands by the steps and watches an hour pass. There are plenty of people who want your attention, you’re polite and friendly with each one.

It grows boring to watch quickly. Jake moves to count the lights on the ceiling instead. 111… 112… 113.

“Um, does anyone have eyes on Apollo?”

Jake frowns, brows furrowing. He took his eyes off of her for a couple of minutes. He presses his earpiece closer to his ear and raises his cuff, “Manny, she was right next to you. What happened?”

“Someone got in my way and she was just gone! - Can either of you see her?”

“Fuck.” Jake mutters, he cranes his neck to look around the crowd.

“Alright, she’s not in here. Jake, you take the north wing, check her room. I’ll take East, Manny you take west.”

Jake takes off without need for further instruction. It’s part of the job to not take off running. Not cause a scene. Not let your father know that he lost you already. His heart thuds a beat harder with each room he checks that you aren’t in.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Jake mutters under his breath. He checks his watch. He has been searching for eight minutes now, he doesn’t know how long you were missing before that. There’s a maximum window of twelve minutes. A lot can happen in twelve minutes.

He hears giggling and comes to an abrupt stop. Jake grabs the door handle and slams his shoulder into the wood, swinging it open.

It’s Tom. That’s the first thing he notices. The second thing Jake notices is Tom’s slacks around his ankles, and the surprising lack of hair on his legs. Finally, Jake’s eyes land on the bare ass, belonging to the girl bent over an admin desk.

“What the fuck, man?” Tom pants, eyes blown wide. He struggles to grab for his underwear, making no effort to hide the girl. Jake has already averted his gaze. The girl rushes up and drops her dress, Jake frowns. It’s not you.

“Jake! Have you- oh my god.” There’s a hand on Jake’s shoulder. His head whips around, lips parting to find you looking equally shocked at his side.

This is bad. Jake’s hands find your hips and he’s shoving you out of the small office. The last thing he needs is for someone to come across the four of you. Tomorrow morning your picture in the papers with a headline about an orgy. He swings the door to the office shut behind him, his other hand still pushing you back into the hall.

You stumble, your back hitting a portrait so hard that it almost falls off of the wall.

Jake’s brows furrow, he steadies you with one hand and the portrait with the other.

“Where the fuck have you been? - You can’t just take off and not tell anyone!” Jake demands, his tone stern and scathing. He glances down and notices the open bottle of gin in your hand, then looks back up to your face. “Are you drunk?”

“I needed to pee!” You defend yourself, pushing off of the wall and standing upright. “I walked by Daddy’s office on the way back and found this.”

Jake sighs in frustration, lifting his wrist, “Found her, Apollo secure. Moving to home ground.”

“Apollo, homeground…” You shake your head disapprovingly as you lean back against the wall, looking at him through heavy lashes. “Can’t you just say my name? - And that we’re going to my room?”

Jake shakes his head as he waits for confirmation that his team just heard what he said.

“Did you see his dick?” You giggle. Jake shoots you a look. He did see Tom’s did, unfortunately. “That thing was weird looking.”

“Heard. Moving to position A, standing by.” Allen confirms.

“Heard, I’ll go to B.” Manny agrees.

Jake catches movement in his peripheral and turns his head. His lips part as you take a gulp straight from the bottle.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He grabs the bottom of the bottle and tears it away from your mouth. You frown and grab the neck of the bottle tight. Jake narrows his eyes at you, “Let go.”

Your lips quirk up into a smirk.

“Make me.”

Jake shakes his head, “I’m not playing with you, drop the bottle.”

“Make me.” You answer again.

Jake tugs hard at the bottle, making your hands slip from its neck. You frown as he sets it on the hallway table behind him and grabs your hand in his. He begins to try to drag you along the hall.

“How is Tom getting laid and I’m not?” You complain, trailing sadly behind Jake, dragging your heels.

“Stop.” Jake checks around and shushes you.

You dig your heels into the carpet and stop walking, folding your arms over you.

“Move.” Jake gestures his head. You stare at him defiantly. It’s been a long day, he has been up for almost twenty-four hours straight. He doesn’t have the patience left to put up with this.

“Make-“

Jake leans forwards and grabs the back of your thighs. He lifts, tossing you over his shoulder and grabbing your legs to steady you. You yelp, pressing your palms to his back. You bite your cheek to keep from grinning as he carries you through the hall.

He opens the door to your room, then swings it shut behind you. He flicks on the light and sets you on your feet. You wobble slightly from the head rush, Jake grabs your waist and steadies you. You lean into him, lifting your chin, your eyes locked on his.

“Don’t.” He tells you again, his voice soft. You slip out of his arms and turn to face him.

He watches as you stand before him, at the bottom edge of your bed, then pull at the tie fastening the back of your dress. You stare at Jake, waiting for him to leave. His eyes fall down to the tie in your hands, then he glances back up to your face. He takes a step further in and away from the door.

Jake stands up straight and loosens his tie slightly.

You let out a soft breath, sliding the strap off of your shoulder. Jake watches silently. Your heart thuds in your chest, liquid courage in your veins. Jake’s eyes follow the second strap as it slides down to your elbow. His gaze flickers back up to meet yours.

You wait for him to stop you, or to head for the door. He stays where he is.

The straps fall past your elbows as you straighten your arms. Jake watches as the champagne coloured fabric slips, exposing your chest to him. His eyes linger on your breasts for a moment, before he looks back up at you.

He raises his eyebrows slightly.

You swallow, pushing the fabric past your hips. Jake’s eyes widen for a split second. Your lips quirk at his reaction.

His adam’s apple bobs in his throat, eyes raking over your body. He clears his throat, then meets your gaze once more.

“I did tell you.” You say gently, heat rising to your cheeks as you cross your ankles, standing before him in nothing but a pair of heels. Jake almost smiles. He stops himself. You did warn him. He just didn’t think you were brave enough to actually go commando in a room full of some of the biggest names in politics.

Jake reaches out, skimming your side softly with his fingertips. A soft trail from your hip to the edge of your ribs, your skin soft under his fingertips. He’s distracted, looking down at your body, watching the course his fingertips take. He looks back up, finding you to be staring at him. There’s a nervousness to the way that you look at him.

“Did you mean what you said? - A-Am… Am I-“ You’re just tipsy, it’s just that he treats you like such a burden. You just need to know that he didn’t mean what he said.

Jake knows what you’re asking. He feels guilty for this afternoon. He bites his cheek.

He glances down between your body and his, sliding his fingers between yours, squeezing your hand softly.

Jake’s eyes find yours, searching over your features for a moment. He lets out a soft breath and guides your hand forwards, pressing it over his crotch. Your lips part, you look down at your hand over the fabric. His cock is hard and straining against the black fabric. You press your palm against his length and lean into him.

Jake brushes your hair tenderly off of your shoulders.

“You’d better get ready for bed.” He tells you gently. You look up at him, unsure whether he means for you to put pyjamas on or bend over. Jake clarifies for you by turning and picking up your neatly folded pyjamas from the chair in the corner of the room.

“Wha- Jake.” You frown at him.

“Do me a favour and don’t argue with me for once.” Jake tells you, unfolding the pyjama top. He takes your arms and pulls the shirt over your shoulders first, then pushes the matching shorts into your hands. You frown up at him as you step into them. “We can’t.”

You whine softly, watching as Jake’s capable hands button the sleep shirt.

“You don’t want to?” Your fingers skim over the fabric of his suit jacket as you look up at him. Jake fixes the collar on the sleep shirt and shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter if I want to.” Jake tells you. Fuck, he wants to.

You sit on the edge of your bed and lean back on your palms. It makes sense that he doesn’t want to. You’re in your childhood bedroom, the entire house is teeming with security at all times, and Jake’s career is on the line. You nod your head.

“Good girl,” Jake tells you. You stare up at him. He has to get out of this fucking room. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He leaves, closing the door behind him. You lay back against the white sheets and close your eyes. A breath slips your lips. You already know that you’re going to regret all of that in the morning, but right now, breathing softly as you rest for a moment, you don’t.

…

Tag List:

@alanadetigy @thedroneranger @momc95 @basicchelsea @perpetuelledaydreaming @cherrycola27 @eviesaurusrex @xoxabs88xox @desert-fern @fuckyeahhangman @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @khaylin27 @cowboybarbie @the-mouse27 @hawsx3 @someinsanefangirl @marchingicenotes7 @marantha @lgg5989 @herladyshipxx @chaoticweirdogeek @mak-32 @obiwankenobis-lap @diamond-3 @wolvesofthewinter

#jake seresin #jake seresin au #jake seresin smut #jake hangman seresin #top gun smut #glen powell #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman top gun

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r0-boat · 5 months

Text

Random Emmet hcs

Just a collection of random thoughts I had about him every once when I had various thoughts about him. Or things I've changed my mind about when I made posts like this similar in the past. Anyways enjoy! ( I miss writing Submas :( )

Sfw below cut for length

Follow me on this blog for multifandom writing content (mostly Pokemon)

He's very competitive when it comes to anything with competition although he's very good at Pokemon battles, because to him winning a battle not only means better in skill and raising your Pokemon but also a bigger Bond with trainer and companion he is actually happy when he loses because it still means he has a lot to learn and grow which he is always happy to know more, and he gets to see a happy trainer and happy Pokemon celebrate their victory is there a greater reward than that? But for some reason video games he becomes a sore loser no yelling no Tantrums just silent anger stowing in his Petty thoughts he'll never act out.

He was lying on his living room floor with a blanket topped over him in a T-shirt and sweatpants when he was sick because, for some reason, the floor felt better than his own bed.

Hangs up memes around the office or sends his friends semi cursed images / memes for no reason with little too no explanation. And has a whole folder in his phone just for joltik/other bug pokemon image memes, just in case he needs to react to anything he can't put into words.

I still think he likes to play scary games but his favorite ones are the ones he gets to play with his friends and laugh at their deaths. Skyla and Emmet give each other Petty nicknames and fight with each other on the regular especially over text online and in games. They fight like siblings which is funny because image is actually really close with his brother and doesn't understand why a lot of people aren't packed with their siblings. Sometimes, your sibling's actions can get on your nerves, but their family are sometimes the only ones who can understand you.

He takes self degradation even if they're jokes very seriously.

If Emmet could he would be a full-time joltik breeder I mean don't get me wrong he probably has dozens of them but I mean those breeders that have cool morphs of like certain lizards, snake and insects. Because I refuse to believe in the world of Pokémon that they are no Pokemon that are the same species but with different patterns/ fur or scale color/ breeds etc. He tried to do it himself, but he was stopped by a certain someone

Emmet cannot have TikTok downloaded as much as he loves the app; he will spend hours and hours on it and flood his poor brother and Friends with 99+ notifications. One of the depot agent managers runs the official TikTok account, and before they post anything, both brothers have to check for inappropriate content.

Emmet is either very photogenic or takes very cursed blurry photos there is no between. They'll either be a photo that looks almost professionally done with perfect lighting with his loose tie and shirt half buttoned while another one will have the lighting making it look like his eyes are glowing while the entire photo is dark with his hand coming down on the camera with a caption that says "POV: you're a bug Pokemon"

Still trying to win Nimbasa's hottest Bachelor after his brother who had one the last 3 years in a row😔

Genshin player/bias

#submas #pokemon emmet #Emmet x reader #writing submass as if the community isn't going to 'Welcome Home cheater' me XD #subway master emmet #subway master kudari #Kudari x reader #subway boss emmet

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pippytmi · 1 month

Note

Hey there! I absolutely loved your Kacy Post Breakup AU stories. I was wondering if you could write "Cop AU where I've been undercover for years" or the one with the ring. It would make my day, but seriously, no pressure at all!

(this is. 100% an excuse for me to write a kacy + fast & furious au)

///////

The first time Kate gets a breakthrough while undercover, it’s in the form of a cryptic text which only reads: meet me at the bar. 2 PM.

Jane Tennant’s bar is the worst-kept secret of the street racing community, and though Kate has been there dozens of times already, being invited is a game-changer. And being invited by Jane Tennant herself? It might as well be a neon sign—Kate is in. This could be the invitation that can crack the whole case wide open.

But with every push, there’s the demanding pull from the universe which demands equilibrium, because when Kate walks into the bar none other than Lucy Tara is the one behind the counter.

Their eyes inevitably meet. Kate tries to smile; Lucy only stares back, expression carefully blank, and Kate’s smile falls.

“Hey, Whistler.” Ernie—Lucy’s best friend—is the only other patron in the bar, and he makes no attempt to hide his obvious surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Tennant asked me to come,” Kate says, uncomfortably placing her hands in her pockets as she walks over. “Is she here?”

“She’s in the back,” Lucy answers for Ernie. “You can wait for her here.” It’s not a suggestion, so Kate slowly takes a seat. Without asking, Lucy pours her a club soda, and Kate accepts it gingerly.

“Thank you,” she says, but Lucy makes no indication that she’s heard, just turns and continues talking to Ernie about whatever they had been discussing before Kate arrived. Kate only catches a few words here and there, something about slashed tires and mangled gear shifts, before she tunes them out and starts scrolling through her phone instead.

That is, until Ernie says, “Wow, you went on an actual date?” and just like that, Kate’s stomach twists into itself. “Let me see. Hello Skylar…” He starts swiping through Lucy’s phone, which Lucy only makes one halfhearted attempt to steal back. “Points for the can’t wait to see you again text. I like that there’s a heart emoji, too. Carla is always saying something about heart emojis and kind auras.”

Lucy shakes her head. “I call bullshit,” she says.

“I might be paraphrasing a little. But you get the point.” Ernie lets Lucy snag her phone back, and she’s laughing as she cradles it to her chest, face alit with such joy that Kate’s stomach twists for a whole new reason.

All Kate can do is drink in the sight of that joy, utterly helpless—helpless to the way Lucy’s eyes crinkle at the corners, the softness of her smile, the genuine mirth that makes her whole body shake when she laughs. Suddenly, Kate wishes her drink was something stronger.

Thankfully, Jane pushes her way into the front from the mysterious back door, and Kate welcomes the chance to redirect her attention. “Thanks for coming on such short notice, Whistler,” Jane says, leaning over the side of the bar next to Lucy. “Can I get you a beer?”

“No, thank you. I’m fine with soda,” Kate declines.

Jane smiles in an unnerving way, like she knows something Kate doesn’t. “I heard about the race yesterday.” She tilts her head towards Ernie and Lucy, effortlessly inviting them to join the conversation. “Ernie wouldn’t stop talking about it, actually.”

“It was glorious,” Ernie says, nodding vigorously towards Kate. “Kai’s still sulking about it, but hey. All’s fair in love and…automobiles…”

Lucy winces. “Oh, you need to workshop that one.”

“I know,” Ernie sighs, dejectedly sipping from his little straw in whatever tropical mixed drink he’s been nursing.

Jane pointedly clears her throat and they both shut up. Kate would be in awe of how Jane commands a room like that under any other circumstances, but then Jane is surveying Kate again, one eyebrow quirked but the rest of her face inscrutable. “I’m not trying to poach you from Curtis, but I do want to make you an offer.”

Kate nearly holds her breath. “What kind of offer?”

“Work for me when you’re not working at Curtis’s,” Jane says simply. “I can always use a fast driver on my team. We make deliveries from time to time—special cases. The pay per run is guaranteed to be more than whatever Curtis is paying you.”

“Deliveries for the bar?” Kate asks, and Tennant gives her that secret smile all over again.

“Among other things,” she says. “Are you in?”

For a single, fleeting moment, Kate glances at Lucy. She doesn’t know what she’s looking for—not even sure what reaction she wants. When Lucy gazes impassively back, though, Kate gets a sinking feeling in her stomach which she can’t possibly rationalize.

“Definitely,” Kate answers at last, trying to feign as much enthusiasm as she can.

Jane doesn't seem to notice the pause. Or at least, she doesn't question it. “You’re family now, Whistler,” she says, sealing the deal with a firm handshake. “Lucy will give you all the details about the next job.”

“Me?” Lucy blurts out, panicked, before she quickly tries again with: “Boss, I’m sure Kai or Jesse could do a much better job.”

“Your shift’s over, isn't it?” Jane asks.

“Yeah…?” Lucy trails off like she isn't sure what the right answer is.

“Then it works out, you're already here,” Jane says. “I’m sure Kate can give you a ride home. You can discuss everything on the way.” There it is again: the unquestionable authority in her voice, the kind that means Lucy doesn’t try to argue.

So that's how Kate and Lucy end up alone—sitting in the flashy red sports car which was previously seized at a crime scene—in complete silence. Kate doesn’t start the car, and Lucy doesn’t ask her to. Through the window, Kate sees Kai and Jesse pull up in a blue pickup truck, but Lucy doesn’t even comment on that.

Kate clears her throat, finally. “If you want one of the guys to take you home, you can go.”

“One of the guys?” Lucy repeats, shakes her head disbelievingly. “Wow. Already jumping right in, aren’t you?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.” Lucy won’t face her, just keeps her eyes firmly on the window. “This is your dream, huh? All this time, I never guessed.”

“My dream?” For a brief, sickening moment, Kate thinks her cover is blown.

“Oh, come on, Kate.” Finally Lucy whirls around to glare her down, and she’s so openly furious that Kate does a double-take. “You wanted to be part of this team all along. That’s why you walked into the bar the first time, isn’t it? That’s why you kept following me around like a lost puppy?”

Lucy’s words sting, and Kate swallows thickly—hears the anger, but also hears the quiver of Lucy’s voice and knows what it means. “It’s not what you think.”

“People always say that in the movies and it is, it is exactly what they think!” Lucy exhales sharply. “You used me.”

“That’s not what happened,” Kate says desperately. She has an explanation on the tip of her tongue. Hell, she has the entire confession just waiting to explode. That she has been in deep cover in pursuit of Jane Tennant and her team for almost a year—that she met Lucy by accident, and didn't know she was part of said team—that the reason Kate broke up with Lucy at all was because she knew it was the right thing to do, and not because she wanted to. But it would be worse than just self-sabotaging to tell the truth; it could ruin countless lives. So Kate can't say anything.

“How else would you describe it?” Lucy demands. “You’re the one who kept chatting me up, asking about the bar and the races. So what is it you want? Money? Protection?”

“Lucy—”

“No, tell me! Tell me what was worth stringing me along for? What was worth giving me some dumbass excuse to wait for you while you ‘figured things out’?” Lucy’s voice sounds choked now. “Did you figure it out, Kate? Huh? Did you get what you wanted?”

“I want you!” The first sharp prick of tears aren’t a surprise, but Kate still tries not to let them fall. “But I can't—I— “

Lucy’s expression softens, just a tad, like a thought is occurring to her she hasn't considered. “Are you in trouble?”

The question is unexpected, and Kate discreetly wipes at her eyes. “What?”

“You could've told me,” Lucy continues, “if you were in trouble. You didn't have to—” She doesn't finish her thought, but Kate can fill in the blanks. “I could've helped you.”

Kate knows, logically, that the “help” Lucy is referring to would likely be of the not-so-legal kind. But the fact that Lucy is willing to offer it? It makes Kate’s heart hammer in her chest like a lovesick teenager and she just doesn't understand. How on Earth is she supposed to betray Lucy Tara?

“It's complicated,” Kate says at last, which is true. “I can't talk about it.” Also true.

Lucy sighs. “Well, whatever you’re into,” she says. “It’s not going to get back to Jane, is it?”

Kate sucks in a shaky breath. “It won't,” she lies.

“Good. Because I can totally kick your ass if I have to.” Lucy drums her fingertips against the car door like she wants to say something else, but doesn’t. “Can we go now?”

“Yes, of course,” Kate says quickly, starting up the engine. “Do you want to just tell me where to go?” Though she still remembers where Lucy lives, she also doesn't want to be presumptuous and start driving there either.

Lucy seems to begrudgingly accept this turn of events, in any case. She goes through the motions of giving directions, but the entire drive over she still does not broach the specifics of the next job like Jane asked her to.

Kate has the sense not to push. She dutifully parks at Lucy's apartment complex when they arrive and just waits—lets Lucy take the lead on where to go next.

“We're doing a delivery to a warehouse on the south side next Friday,” Lucy finally says. “We go in pairs. I'll pick you up at eight.”

“What kind of delivery?”

“Nothing to worry about,” Lucy says. “Jane won't say it, but this is a test run. No details until she’s sure that you're trustworthy.” She turns to make sure Kate is looking at her, then asks, “Are you?”

Faced with the rawness of Lucy’s voice—of the guarded frown on her mouth—Kate can only nod ever-so-slightly. “You can trust me, Lucy,” she says softly, and wishes more than anything that she could mean it.

She wishes a lot of things, actually. Selfishly, for the chance to reach across the center console and hold Lucy’s hand, press a kiss to her knuckles like she used to, because it would make Lucy smile. (And also make Lucy try to push her luck at every red light back to Kate’s place). But she mostly wishes that she could go back in time and fix everything.

“Then I’ll see you on Friday,” Lucy says. “Are you still crashing in Curtis’s back room?”

“Yeah,” Kate says, thinking wistfully of days where Lucy used to squeeze into the makeshift bed along with her. “Do I have to meet you anywhere, or—”

“I'll pick you up,” Lucy says, but pauses just before she reaches for the door handle. “Is your phone number the same?”

“Since three months ago?”

“Don’t—try to be cute,” Lucy huffs. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

Kate feels the burgeoning twist of a smile try to form, unbidden, and she has to bite it back. “Okay,” she says. “Um, goodnight,” she adds, so as to not say something stupid like I still love you.

“Night,” Lucy mutters, throwing open the door without so much as a glance back.

Kate watches her leave, and only when she is sure Lucy is safely inside does she allow herself to look away, down at her phone where Lucy’s smiling face is still her screensaver. She thinks about it once or twice, but ultimately gives in and calls Curtis. “Hey, it’s me,” she tells his voicemail. “I’m joining Jane’s team for something next Friday. Can you get everyone together tomorrow? I’m going for a drive tonight, don’t wait up for me.”

And she does exactly that: puts her windows down, lets her music blast loud, drives and drives and drives until her fingers are numb against the wheel in an attempt to make her inner turmoil go away.

(It doesn’t).

#this one feels more like an AU setup not quite as angsty as i wanted but! i hope you liked it & thank you for ur kind words <3 #kate x lucy #kacy #ncis hawaii #i need a fic tag #mangeur-detoiles

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elderscrollsconceptart · 18 days

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This isn't Elder Scrolls Confessions (A great blog BTW check it out) but I have something to confess to all of you.

Oblivion's horrendous LOD, performance issues, and pop in are legitimately the reason I've only ever beaten the game a single time. I've played a bunch of Morrowind and Skyrim on PC with zero issues that couldn't be easily resolved. Open MW runs smooth like butter. Skyrim, even heavily modded, can run near flawlessly minus an occasional hiccup. But god oh god does Oblivion run terribly.

Even natively, Oblivion stutters regularly, and when I'm able to get it to run smooth, the draw distance and various other visual issues are so overwhelming to me that I can't play it without getting a headache from the FPS and my personal frustration. I don't want to be walking to Kvatch and see trees and grass literally popping into existence within my direct line of sight. I want to be able to actually see forests and ruins from the distance without having to install a bunch of janky mods from 15 years ago that just add even more stutters than before.

I've seriously tried everything I can to get that game to both run smoothly *and* have solid visuals/LOD/draw distance. I've tried every mod and LOD Gen method I can and nothing works. Even if I'm able to get the LOD fixed, the LOD fix causes horrendous stuttering issues that are even worse than the native performance.

IDK what Bethesda was doing with Oblivion's engine but boy oh boy did they goof on it bigly. I have an immensely powerful PC rig and still can't get that game to look and run right on modern hardware.

I beat Oblivion on the 360 and really enjoyed it back in the day, but when I got into PC gaming and tried replaying Oblivion for the first time in years...woof. It was a rough experience. I only got like halfway through the game before I couldn't handle the performance and visual issues anymore. I've tried probably half a dozen times since then to get back into the game and fix the issues, but I never can and it makes me immensely sad.

Maybe PC gaming ruined me and my expectations of visuals and performance, but its so hard trying to replay Oblivion with all its performance issues. I haven't been able to get back into it playing the game despite absolutely loving the game itself and the story.

I suppose this post is my last cry for help on this. I'd love nothing more than to get Oblivion fixed and running well. There's no reason Morrowind and Skyrim should run so well on my PC while Oblivion cannot.

If anyone has any ideas, please let me know. Maybe someone else with similar frustrations will find this post and your advice could help them too.

#the elder scrolls #tes #oblivion #pc gaming #lod #performance issues

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inklore · 9 months

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— CELEBRATING TWO YEARS OF LOVE.

let's pretend that i posted this on the real anniversary date (july 18th) and not a few weeks late ok. but i'm still shell shocked i honestly stayed around on here for this long, seeing as how i've been on this hellsite for over ten years maybe even longer, have left many blogs and sideblogs behind, but have stayed put on here for longer than it feels. even through all the craziness and friends gained and lost. i have not grown sick of this place and i know it's all because of my mutuals (and followers) aka the most beautiful, hilarious, talented souls anyone could ask to have on their side.

whether we are friends or have never spoken i love you, i adore you. thank you for making my time spent on here worth it even when times get tough and this little hobby of ours seems more like a stressful nine to five.

@deathmotif, @authurials, @theauthorvt, +annie — hey remember when we all met on wp and i started that silly little michael langdon gc on kik and it was a dozen of us in there but then it soon dwindled down to us five and kik was on the verge of imploding and we all moved over to snap and now we literally all talk every day, if not every other??! my day isn't complete without seeing one of you sending an unhinged video in the gc. IT'S BEEN SIX YEARS with you guys in my life and you know me better than anyone. i can tell you my darkest secrets, traumas, thoughts, and there's no judgment. it's literally the most healthy friend group ever. i'm forcing ya'll to dress up as barbie's for my bachelorette party, like you're stuck with me. barbie is serious. just as serious as my love is for each and every one of you. when i think about my life and future you guys are always in it. idk if we should thank cody fern or the antichrist or both. but whoever brought us together in this life i hope they do it in the next because life without y'all would suck.

@psychedelic-ink — you should already know how much i love you, but let me remind you, let me go on for ever and tell you how special you are to me ok. when i was balling my eyes out on the phone/discord you were there to listen to me be a blubbering mess, you were there to talk me down, to listen, to validate my feelings. when i need someone to be motivating and get shit done with me you're there. when i need to rant about something horny you're there to encourage the unhinged. our discord sleepovers are my favorite thing in the world. i'm still shocked when i think back to our casual messages on here turning into a friendship so close and tight that my man spent over $100 to send you a magazine (without question) because he knows how much you mean to me. you have my heart always!

@pedrito-friskito — i have the most vivid memory of me and sil talking about you on discord and how great you were and i was like um?? i wanna be friends with kay! so after we got off of the phone i messaged you and then before i knew it me, you, and sil were in a gc together and the rest is history. i love that you and i like to disappear without a word sometimes but always come back like lol sorry but here's this love and support and encouragement and let me just life update you but also make you horny with this thought, and sil just puts up with us and i love it. ily. i'm forever forcing you to write and publish every story you write because you're going to put sjm to shame with the beauty your brain comes up with.

@tom-whore-dleston — i know i'm the worst at replying but you never make me feel bad for it. you're like 'oh yeah her adhd brain will get back to this text in 2 to 3 business weeks it's ok', and i love you for it. but no seriously ily so much. you're the first person i think of when all i can think about is dick because i know you're thinking the same thing. i know you'll understand. every time i see you post on social media i'm like wtf?? why am i halfway across the states and not with the loml right now?? it's truly unfair because i know if we were together we'd be the most chaotic, loud, sluttiest duo ever. your talent always amazes me, your beauty makes me jealous. both of our partners better watch out because i'ma run away with you one day i swear!

@chaseadrian — the fact that we grew close in a fandom that i despise now and is more toxic than not and a beautiful friendship came out of it?? iconic. every time i think about you all i can think is 'they just seems like they have everything all together, their ideas, their graphics, their mind, the way they speak is like talking to that really cool english teacher' like lmao i cannot explain how much i want your vibe. i adore your vibe. i ADORE YOU.

@greenorangevioletgrass — as one of my first friends on this little blog of mine i feel like i need to do more than put into words how much i adore you, how grateful i am to call you a friend, to be a part of your presence on here. hearing your ideas, your living breathing fic-like life is serotonin to me. like please share in the sexy wealth bestie!

@sapphireplums — when i see you in my inbox i literally get this overjoyed feeling inside me like charity thought about me today?? took time out of her day to send me something?? i'm blessed. i hope you and your beautiful mind are thriving bestie because you're literally one of the nicest, softest, people i've met on here and i'm in your corner if you ever need me. to show you love and support. to continue to convince you that your themes will always be more superior than mine!!

@rae-gar-targaryen — if success and talent and beautiful prose (and face) was an olympic sport you would have won by now. you HAVE won. we may not talk as much as we used to but just know that i always am thinking about how you are, waiting patiently for you to bless us with more of your fics (even if it's a crumb i'm like a little mouse savoring it because hello?? emily henry who? she got nothing on you). as my lawyer i love knowing if i needed you you'd be there with a simple text, as my bestie, as someone i look up to, as someone who radiates elegance and something else i can't even put into words because that's literally how you leave me, speechless: never change and know i'm always here for you.

@allaboardthereadingrailroad, @littledemondani, @wroteclassicaly — the three of you were those 'big' accounts that always intimated me. i stood in the background reading your stuff and being like ok they're going to put me out of business and then being absolutely shook when you followed me, i felt like i made it. like this was what being on here was all about having the accounts you find the most talented and amazing, and who have wrote some of your fav fics, follow you. and we may not talk a lot but i cherish you guys so so very much. like even before i made this account, on my old accounts, i've always been your #1 fans!!

@kittyofalltrades, @namorwife, @yoditopascal — i may have all but died out and disappeared from the discord server, and we may not talk anymore, but some of my best memories are with you guys. the unhinged, the thirst, the games, the rantings, i've never been more entertained and chaotic and rowdy than i was with ya'll and i love it. i miss it. ya'll are still my favorite people, my loves, my besties. one day i will be horny over the same characters as ya'll again and you'll be annoyed with my thirst again.

@eupheme, @tripleyeeet, @wint3r-h3art, @ohcaptains, @celestianstars, @flordeamatista — if there were ever a group of beautiful people i constantly compare myself to because the way they write, the way their themes look, the way their fic layouts / set ups look, their graphics, their vibes, their talent, their so many damn things: it would be ya'll. like i'm constantly like how do i get on their level? like i know there's not levels on here and everyone is so uniquely special and amazing at what they write and do and make, but i'm always in the trenches of devoting and heart eyes over EVERYTHING ya'll post. ya'll are the cool art kids i want to hangout with but instead i'm screaming in cheer in the silent museum where your creations should be showcased.

@mothdruid, @moonlight-prose, @moondirti, @angrythingstarlight, @amywritesthings, @oncasette, @withahappyrefrain, @navybrat817, @bakerstreethound, @villenelle, @refined-by-fire, @ladylannisterxo, @emerald-chaos, @mxgyver, @foli-vora, @jettia, @moreofem, @bits-and-babs, @woodlandmouth, @fluffyprettykitty, @cocoamoonmalfoy, @galatially, @ladylannisterxo, @saintlike78, @buckys-estrella, @ghostlyfleur, @arctvrvs — through the two years of me being on here i have had the pleasure, the joy, of talking to each of you. whether that be screaming in asks, inboxs, discords, pms, where we were hyping each other up, sharing ideas, support, check ups, screaming over each others fics, whatever it may be. there has been love and support and every time i see ya'll in my notfis, reading my stuff, your thirst posts or rant posts or your rbs, i'm always grateful to see it. for it. to be a part of it. but most importantly i'm like: hello why are we not closer?? why do i not bombard them with my love?? annoy them with it so much so that they have no choice but to be my bestie and feel all the doormat love and support that i'm constantly feeling when i see their little icons and usernames. so this is me both saying i adore you, ily, we may not talk as much as i wished but i'm here supporting and loving everything you do and beware that i will annoy you with my love when you least expect it and soon you'll be wishing for me to get out of your pms. you have a friend in me, a supporter, a hyper, seriously i got lucky with y'all being my mutuals <3.

there's so many other babes that i'm missing but tumblr has a tag limit so i couldn't get everyone on this list but just know ily ily literally every single one of my mutuals is a gift from god to me. you put up with my posts and insanity, i have no choice but to give ya'll my whole ass heart!!!!

#two year celebration #forever hating tumblr for not letting me add all 227 of you ilysm

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