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carakook · 3 months

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🎀 A “Coquette” Misunderstanding 🎀

“Mmm… depends. You gonna let me put a real bow on your dick? Make it all cute and coquette?”

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♡Pairings: fuckboy!Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader

♡Synopsis: Jungkook has been a self proclaimed fuck boy after his last relationship ended fairly messily… until he met you. Started out as fuck buddies, but he always had a huge crush on you. With time, he realized that he’s actually falling in love with you, and he is itching to make you his girl. He knows being a fuck boy means he has to prove himself when it comes to being serious, so he comes up with the perfect gift to give you when he confesses… only for it to turn into the biggest fucking mess.

♡Genre: Romance/Comedy

♡Word count: 5k+

♡Warnings: 18+ for mature audiences only, MDNI, mentions of sex, lewd references, lots of talk about penises, talks of being in love (ew!!!), arguing, mentions of alcohol, no smut but this fic revolves heavily around sex, making out, Jungkook is kinda stupid (bless his lil heart), also kind of weird in general? Let me know if I miss anything!

♡Disclaimer: This story in no way reflects the characters of those who are mentioned. It is pure fiction and for entertainment purposes only. Please don’t take it seriously. Nothing is real in this story.

♡A/N: This is my first request! I hope whoever requested it likes it, it was supposed to be a Drabble but I got a lil carried away… oops! The request was fuck boy Jungkook falls in love with Y/N, but there’s a misunderstanding that eventually gets resolved and they live happily every after! I have no idea how I came up with this 😭 it’s kinda silly and kinda weird but I think it’s cute. I hope you guys like it. 😅

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Jungkook finds himself wondering if he can possibly get anymore fucking stupider than he feels right now.

It seems when it comes to you, he simply loses brain cells. He’s not sure what it is about you, but anything involving you short circuits his brain as of late, and he is continuously fucking things up.

Maybe it’s because you’re so fucking pretty. Maybe it’s because the way you look at him makes his knees weak. Maybe it’s simply because he’s a man, and men are stupid… Or maybe, it’s because he had the recent revelation that for the first time literal in years, he has caught feelings.

And what’s worse is that he’s realized this isn’t just a little crush. He’s fucking in love with you, and it’s making him forget how to function.

Jungkook doesn’t catch feelings, not since his last relationship ended very messily two years ago. The way the relationship ended left a very bad taste in his mouth, so he decided to go back to his college days of being a fuck boy and never falling in love again…

Which was working for some time. It was freeing to be able go back to his old ways; he could enjoy a woman’s body and worship them like the goddesses they are, and then wake up the next day without feeling any obligation… or anything at all, really.

Until you came along.

You had been friends for years, although you were never very close. He always thought you were one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen, but he also thought you were so out of his league. You weren’t the type of girl to go for fuck boys; you were put together and had very high standards, you knew your worth. He liked that, but never really had the guts to push it because he was sure he didn’t fit those standards.

That is, until one drunken night at one of Jimin’s parties… you flirted with him heavily. It was the biggest fucking ego boost that he ever had. He never assumed you would be interested in him, because his noncommittal habits weren’t a secret. But on this night you were very obviously interested in him. You were being touchy, and sweet, and you just looked so fucking pretty.

This was the first night you slept together, and Jungkook doesn’t like admitting that you unraveled him in a way no other woman had. The sex was mind blowing. He has never felt such intense chemistry with someone before… and fuck, you gave the best head he ever gotten. He was addicted after that, he knew he didn’t want it to be a one time thing.

He didn’t want to make you his girlfriend necessarily, good sex still wasn’t enough for him to consider being with someone seriously again… but he did want to see you again. The next morning he was bashful; made you breakfast, drew you a warm bath with essential oils and pretty smelling soap, and even ordered you a very last minute bouquet of flowers to wake up to.

This alone should have told him that things would be different with you, because although Jungkook always treated a woman with love and care when they gifted him their body for a night, he never went this out of his way to impress them.

He told himself it was because he felt the need to overcompensate. In bed he’s very confident, but out of bed, he’s not as sure of himself… especially with you. He felt lucky to have a night with you, and he knew he needed to put an effort in to keep you interested in him because he wasn’t exactly your type. If he was able to keep you interested, then maybe you’d see him again.

He was right, you didn’t normally go for fuck boys. Casual sex wasn’t exactly your favorite, because men often forget to focus on the woman, too. You weren’t exactly looking for anything serious, but you also weren’t looking to sleep with some guy who only cared about himself in bed. And most hookups you had thus far ended with you less than satisfied.

It was uncharacteristic for you to sleep with guys like Jungkook, or really give them any attention at all. But Jungkook has always been pretty, and he’s always been so fucking sweet… that night at the party, he looked extra appealing to you.

Even then, you weren’t planning on doing it again. The chemistry was undeniably intense, but you weren’t a fan of sharing. There were health risks to sharing partners if one of you weren’t careful, and you didn’t like that it made you question yourself. You tried it before, and it just wasn’t for you. You like exclusivity, and that’s ok. Everyone has preferences and boundaries and not everyone will agree with yours.

This is why you didn’t plan to see him again. But when you woke up and saw all the sweet little things he did for you, you were definitely tempted… what really got to you was how he fucking looked at you; he looked at you like a love sick fucking puppy and it was the most adorable thing you’d ever seen. He was adorable. You’d never been with a man who was so fucking sexy but also so goddamn cute at the same time.

No guy had gone through such trouble after what was supposed to be a one night stand before. It was like he really was a dog; he brought you these little gifts in the form of acts of service in the hopes you would continue giving him head pats. Or, actual head in this case…

And although he wasn’t actually love sick, he definitely was a bit pussy whipped.

Temptation won in the end.

There was no spoken agreement between you two… you just started having sex regularly. And every time it was fucking toe curling. No man took care of your body so perfectly and left you 100% satisfied. But beyond the sex, you both found that you thoroughly enjoyed being around each other. You’d never knew each other well before this, you were mere acquaintances who were familiar with each other because of mutual friends, but you grew closer and got to know each other as time went on, and in the end you kept it going.

Of course you were worried about his reputation, but you didn’t push him or even ask for exclusivity. He never explicitly said that he wouldn’t be exclusive with you, but you started liking him and the sex was enough to let go of that boundary and make an exception for him. You knew he was safe and you knew he would always treat you right. This was enough for you… even if it sometimes bothered you that you didn’t know whether he was sleeping around or not. He wasn’t your boyfriend, just a fuck buddy you grew fond of.

Little did you know, he had no desire to sleep with anyone else. You didn’t even need to tell him these boundaries, because he knew without you telling him. He wouldn’t dare do something to fuck this up. The sex was so good that he didn’t have the want for anyone else, he didn’t even think about it. He still wasn’t quite ready to be serious with someone, but he was content with you in a way that he never had been any of his previous hookups or fuck buddies. He wanted to keep you as long as you’d let him.

A routine started; as time went on you spent more time together, hung out often, and fucked like rabbits. You played with his hair and scratched his back, you picked on him and made fun of him in a way that made him laugh every time, and you knew exactly how to handle him even when he was a bit overwhelming. He was so content with what you both started.

Until recently.

Jungkook started realizing a few weeks ago that maybe having thoughts of an entire future with someone who’s only supposed to be your fuck buddy isn’t exactly normal. Sometimes he’d lay awake at night thinking of you for hours… he’d imagine taking you on actual dates, not just little outings disguised as friends hanging out. He’d imagine getting to brag about you being his girlfriend. But what really started to make it obvious was when he imagined what you’d look like in a wedding dress…

Five months in and he realized he’s falling for you. He’s so fucking gone for you, and for once, he’s giddy about it.

You’d both developed this sort of playful relationship. When you weren’t fucking, you were always joking around and making each other laugh. You both had a very crude sense of humor and so many little inside jokes. It was comfortable, and he started feeling like a kid on Christmas Day at the thought of keeping it going forever.

He wanted to ask you to be his girlfriend, but he knew you’d be hesitant because of his history. He wanted to do something for you that not only would prove to you he’s serious, but something that was special. He didn’t want to get you a piece of jewelry, or a bouquet of flowers with a card; he wanted it to be something only you would experience. He wanted to go all out for you.

He recalled a conversation you both had one time over dinner at his place while watching a drama. The guy in the drama was proposing to the main character, and it was as cliche as any other drama.

“That’s so cheesy. Why can’t guys be more creative? He’s asking her to spend fucking forever with him, more thought should go into it.”

“Yeah? Well if a guy proposed to you how would you want him to do it then?”

“I dunno… but not like that. Forever is a long fucking time, whoever decides to propose to me better do something more special than a damn ring.”

“But that’s literally what a guy is supposed to do, how else would he do it? You’re supposed to get the girl a ring and get on your knees n’ shit.”

“That’s so cliche though! I dunno, I’d rather something else… like maybe a dildo that was a replica of his dick. Something to the effect of ‘will you ride my dick forever?’”

That conversation ended in laughter of course, because you were only joking… but also, as Jungkook thought back on it, it would be so fucking perfect.

Not only would it show that he remembered the little things, but it would also break the stigma that he created for himself; it would show you that he was serious, he had no desire to be with anyone else sexually emotionally, and it would fit in with your playful dynamic. Like a little inside joke, and although he isn’t asking you to marry him, he wants the message to be clear that he wants to build a forever with you.

So he did some research. He original thought about getting you a dildo that was a replica of his dick, and found that there were DIY kits he could buy to make it himself. But also… why would you need a dildo if you had him? So he researched the more artistic aspect of things and found that there were actually a lot of artists who specialized in making replica sculptures of men and women’s body parts.

He liked this much more, because he felt it was a bit more sentimental and maybe more fitting. He found one artist in particular who’s sculptures and paintings looked very realistic. In their portfolio, they featured some comparisons of the pictures that inspired the sculpture vs. the sculpture they made, and there was barely a difference. They clearly had talent, and he was totally fine dropping however much money to get this done for you.

So he contacted the artist to order a commission. It was a hefty price, because he paid to have the process expedited. He wanted this done as soon as possible because he was practically shaking with excitement at the thought of asking you to be his girlfriend. But the price was worth it. The artist asked him some questions and listened to his requests. His only request was that it would be life sized, it would have a little pink bow wrapped around it (because you loved cute things, he remembers you called it ‘coquette’ once.), and somewhere it would have ‘Property of Y/N’ on it. The artist was confident that they could have it sculpted, shipped, and delivered by the end of the week. All the artist needed was a picture of his penis for reference.

Awkward, but understandable. It was very professional, obviously if he wanted the sculpture to look like his dick the artist would need a reference photo. This was purely for artistic purposes, it’s not like he was sending nudes or getting off on it. He was doing this for you and he couldn’t fucking wait to see the finished product or hear your little giggles when he presents it to you.

But of course, in his excitement, he fucks up exponentially.

He was supposed to email the photo of his dick to the artist. So he has no fucking idea why after he took the photo, he texted it to you… probably because subconsciously, who the fuck else would he be sending pictures of his dick to? He’s not even the kind of guy to send nudes, but he has a few times with you on nights that you’re both too busy to actually meet up and have sex.

He could’ve just played it off and said something stupid like ‘surprise’, but he immediately panicked because he was afraid you’d figure out what he’s doing. Which is so fucking stupid because how the fuck would you ever guess what he’s doing?

So what does he do instead?

He handled it very poorly, to say the least. He didn’t know what the fuck to do, and he had no idea why the told you he sent it to the wrong person. It was because it was the truth, that’s why. He didn’t really think anything of it when he admitted he sent it to the wrong person, because he had a clear conscious. Why lie when he has a clear conscious?

He panicked not because he was guilty, but because he was scared that you would catch on and the surprise would be ruined… which is so fucking stupid. Out of everything, you couldn’t possibly guess what he was doing.

He didn’t think about the implications of telling you that it was the wrong person, and it just went downhill from there. He really should have just told you the truth in that moment, but he doubts you would have believed him. The story would seem far fetched at this point because of how vague he was being in the beginning.

And you really didn’t believe him. You trusted Jungkook, but that message reminded you that you aren’t exclusive with him. He isn’t your boyfriend. He has a reputation of being a fuck boy and he’s just your fuck buddy. So it wouldn’t have been a surprise if he really was messing around with other girls considering he technically has every right to… but it still stung.

If he had come out and admitted it was meant for another girl, you would have probably been a bit bitchy about it, but you wouldn’t have fought with him over it. He has the right to see other people when you both never agreed to only see each other. It was that feeling of being lied to that set you off, you fucking hate being lied to. You have your fair share of history involving men who lie, and although you made an exception on one of your boundaries for Jungkook, you refused to make an exception on being lied to for any man.

And even though he wasn’t actually lying, how the fuck would you have known that? He’s right, if he did send you some elaborate paragraph about what the picture was actually for, and how he just instinctively sent it to you after taking it, you probably wouldn’t have believed him after he denied it so vaguely like he did.

For days he tried to talk to you. He blew up your phone, called and texted hundreds of times, blew up your Instagram notifications, and even started fucking making tweets on Twitter begging you to talk to him and let him explain (dramatic as fuck, his friends made fun of him for it, and he didn’t care because he was desperate.) You ignored him, of course, because deep down you were a bit hurt. You really couldn’t stand the thought that we was sending nudes to someone else, possibly fucking them, and then lying to you about it.

It reminds you as to why you have the boundary of exclusivity… and also makes you realize that maybe you like Jungkook a little more than you thought you did.

He’s a mess. He kept debating whether or not to just show up to your place, get on his knees and beg you to listen to him… but he knew you wouldn’t let him in, not unless he had proof of what actually happened. He feels so goddamn stupid. He could easily show up and show you the email as proof, explain his thought process and what the picture was for, what he was doing, confess that he’s fucking in love with you and wanted to do something to show you how serious he is…

But he decides to give you space. He knows that it’s unlikely you want to listen to him or see him right now, and he needs to let you cool off. By the time the sculpture is delivered, he can show up, explain himself, and do everything as planned.

It’s the longest fucking week of his life. His thoughts are consumed with you and he prays that when he does show up, it isn’t too late, and you’ll let him explain himself.

That you’ll say yes after it’s all said and done.

The next Friday, he receives the package. He nearly fumbles with it as he opens it, wanting to get this shit over with so you guys will be ok again.

Just as expected, it’s perfect. It’s obviously not the exact same as his dick, but it’s pretty fucking close. It looks exactly as you would expect a sculpture of a dick to look like. The bow that was sculpted onto it is perfect, pink and detailed, wrapped between the tip of the sculpted dick and the base. At the very bottom of the base, in tiny cursive letters reads ‘Property of Y/N’. He thinks it’s perfect, and if you find it in yourself to hear him out, he knows you’ll love it. He can already imagine your cheeks getting pink as you giggle at the absurd gesture.

He gets himself ready. He puts on some cologne, brushes his teeth, stares at himself in the mirror a little too long trying to psych himself up. He knows showing up without warning is probably not the best way to go, but he hopes that once you open the door and see him bearing gifts, you’ll be more open to listening to what he has to say.

He makes a stop on his way to your place because he impulsively decides to buy you some flowers and a cute gift box for the sculpture. He’s in a rush because he feels like he’s dying on the inside with you so upset at him. When he gets the flowers, he just stuffs a wad of cash in the florists hand before running back off to his car. He probably overpaid for them… but he doesn’t care.

He makes quick work of putting the sculpture inside of the pink box he picked out, adds a matching pink bow for good measure. Once he’s satisfied, he carefully placed the flowers and the gift box in his front seat, and nearly peels out of the parking lot in a hurry to get to you.

You’ve been sulking all damn week, because you miss him. At first you were pissed, because you swore he was lying, he just had to be. Why else would he be sending dick pics to someone? But as the week went on, you did start to question yourself. Because Jungkook had never given you a reason to not trust him, and despite that fact that neither of you have ever explicitly said it was exclusive… you know that it is.

Because when you’re both in a room full of people, his eyes never stray. When he tells one of his stupid jokes, the first person he looks for a reaction in is you. When he goes to the grocery store, despite you not living together, he always stocks up on your favs. And every morning and every night, no matter what, you are the first and last person he talks to. The little things tell you everything you need to know.

Even now, after he stopped blowing your phone up because you continued to ignore him, he made sure to text you good morning and goodnight.

So why would he lie? Why would he lie when all of the signs are there that you are his sole focus? You may be unaware of how deep his feelings are for you, but the little things show where his loyalties lay.

It’s just so hard to believe him because you can’t possibly fathom who else he could be sending nudes to, and if the reason wasn’t sexual, then why? You don’t exactly send pictures of your genitals to someone for casual or platonic reasons, so…

You’re sitting on your couch watching TV and pouting when he knocks at your door. You aren’t expecting anyone, so you have a feeling it’s him… you debate not answering the door, but in the end you do, because you’re just as irritable without him as he is you.

You open the door and keep a neutral expression on your face, you see him standing there with those same love sick puppy eyes and you nearly fold right then and there.

He’s holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a fairly large pink box with a bow on top. So he came prepared, it seems. You don’t know whether to be flattered or offended at the supposed bribe, but you keep an open mind.

“What do you want?” You say cooly… as if you’re not going to let him in anyway.

“Y/N can we please talk? I know you hate me right now, but please just let me explain myself. I swear this is all just a really big and stupid misunderstanding.”

He has no idea what’s going on in your head right now because you seem so calm, so collected. He wishes he could be like you, because if you don’t let him in, he swears he’s gonna cry and bang on your door until you let him. He’s not above throwing a fit at this point.

You stand there for a moment staring at him, making it seem as if you’re skeptical… but really, you just missed his pretty face.

“Fine.”

You open your door for him and he nearly fucking pushes you down when he barges his way in, afraid you’re going to change your mind.

He makes his way to your couch and sits down, pats the spot next to him and sits the gift box down on your coffee table along with the flowers.

“These are for you… open it first.”

You cross your arms and scoff at him, don’t sit down yet. You start to wonder if he’s avoiding actually explaining, wanting to butter you up first so that you’ll be more willing to forgive him.

“What? No, explain why you lied about sending—“

He holds his hand up to stop you from speaking, “Dammit, Y/N, open the damn gift first. You need to see it in order for me to explain. Please.”

You huff at him in response, because it’s kinda hot when he talks to you like that… but now is not the time to get hot and bothered. You don’t even know what his supposed ‘explanation’ is or if it’s something you’re willing to forgive.

You do listen to him though, you take a seat on the couch and grab the pink box. You take off the bow, which you love, and you carefully open up the box to reveal…

A penis. Hm.

You take it out and start inspecting it… you don’t know how to feel yet. You’ve been sleeping with him for months, you both know each others bodies very intimately, so you can immediately tell that it is indeed his dick, specifically because of the little heart shaped freckle down the shaft. You notice the bow that’s sculpted into it too, and you find yourself giggling at it without meaning to. Just like he thought you would. The entire gesture makes your cheeks warm. Such an odd fucking gift, but you already love it.

You turn it over, and you see at the base of it right above the testicles of the sculpture, in cute little letters ‘Property of Y/N’.

As weird as it is, you find the gesture so fucking cute… but you also don’t understand it. You don’t understand why he just gave you a coquette sculpture of his dick, what this has to do with the dick pic, and why it says property of Y/N, because that’s a very serious thing to put on a sculpture of his dick that he just have to you.

Before you gush over how much you love the silly thing, you ask wearily, “Ok… but like… what does this have to do with anything?”

Jungkook let’s out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in and his heart pounds because he’s so fucking thankful you seem to be open to hearing him out.

He begins explaining hesitantly, “Yeah, right, so umm… lately I’ve been thinking… about us. And I sort of realized that I… like you. Like, a lot. Not just the sex or the whole fuck buddy thing, but I really fucking like you as a person Y/N.”

Now your heart is pounding because you genuinely didn’t expect this confession. Which in return, makes you impatient… because you like him too. But you can’t tell him that until you figure out what the fuck happened with the dick pic and wether or not you need to stop this before it starts, or forgive him, or even apologize for not letting him explain.

“Ok but what does that have to do—“

“I’m getting to that. Just… ugh, shut up, this is embarrassing.”

He looks away from you and starts biting at his lip ring. You feel kinda bad, because he really does look embarrassed about it. But oh, it is so fucking cute…

You nod at him and lean back into the couch, the sculpture in your lap as you silently agree to let him continue and try to keep your impatience in check.

He reluctantly continues, “After realizing this, I wanted to… tell you. Wanted to ask you to be my girlfriend. But I didn’t want to be cliche about it, I remember us talking about it before… so I wanted to do something special… something only for you.”

He lets out a breathy laugh and squeezes his eyes shut, because he starts overthinking a bit. He wanted to to something special for you, so he got a fucking sculpture of his dick made… ridiculous train of thought. Such a fuck boy thing to do.

“I remembered you making a joke about how if a guy proposes, you’d want it to be with something other than a ring… and I’m not proposing! But you know, it’s similar so… yeah. Fuck. Anyway, I did some research and found out that apparently dick sculpting is a type of art? And my dumb ass thought that was perfect…”

He chances a glance at you, looking up from his lashes as he sits forward and rests his elbows on his knees. So far, you seem receptive of the story… you don’t seem to be suspicious of him yet. Thank fuck.

“I commissioned an artist to make a sculpture of… my dick. For you. And they needed a picture for reference… it was all very professional. But when I took the picture, I guess I just automatically sent it to you, because I don’t do that shit with anyone else. So I didn’t think. But when I realized I texted it to you, instead of emailing it to the artist… I told the truth because I didn’t think about the implications. And I did a very fucking bad job at attempting to explain when you did start questioning it. That’s my bad…”

It’s slowly starting to make sense. The story is a bit… far fetched. But it’s so far fetched that you highly doubt Jungkook would have gone through the trouble to actually commission an artist and drop who knows how much on this sculpture just to save his ass. It may be a very specific situation, an original experience, if you will… but the proof is in the pudding, and you can tell by the look on his face that he isn’t lying.

“I should’ve just told you what happened but I doubted you’d believe me after how badly I fumbled. So I waited for the damn thing to show up. I can show you the emails back and forth with the artist and stuff too if you want… but Y/N I swear I wouldn’t lie about something like that. I haven’t fucked or even looked at another woman since we started messing around… don’t want to. Only want you. So please believe me.”

He looks at you with pleading eyes, and gives you a small pitiful smile. You do believe him. You really didn’t have any reason not to to begin with, but the miscommunication prevented you from seeing that.

It really was just some very stupid misunderstanding.

You say nothing. Instead, you set the sculpture down carefully, and you scoot closer to him. You grab his face gently, and lean in to kiss him.

Fuck. He missed your lips so bad.

He immediately kisses you back, damn near whines at how good it feels to have you again. To see that you aren’t rejecting his explanation or refusing to trust him, but you’re forgiving him. He kisses you back sweetly, one of his hands coming to the nape of your neck while the other cradles your jaw.

You pull back and murmur, “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. Was stupid of me. Forgive me.”

He smiles so fucking stupidly at this and nudges his nose against yours. He starts peppering your face with little kisses as he says, “Forgive me for being a fucking idiot…”

One last huge smooch to your forehead, and he pulls you into his lap. He feels so much more lighter now that things are cleared up. God, he wants to fucking laugh at how absurd it all is. All week he started to regret ever choosing to get a sculpture made of his fucking penis as a way to ask you to be his damn girlfriend… who the fuck does that?

Him, apparently. And he started wishing he fucking didn’t.

But seeing you now, seeing how you’re smiling at him with the same adoration in your eyes as him, he’s thankful he did it. Sure, was a very odd gift to get you… but it suits your dynamic perfectly. And the way you giggled at it bashfully, he knows you absolutely loved it.

He reaches down and squeezes your ass as you sit on his lap, not trying to initiate anything, just wanting to touch you. He stares at you in silence for a moment, because a week away from your pretty face was far too much.

He flicks his lip ring with his tongue before asking, “So… does that mean you’ll be my girlfriend then…?”

He doesn’t mean to sound so awkward when he asks, but he’s nervous that you’ll say no because you didn’t really say anything when he explained earlier…

Stupid boy, can’t he see how much you fucking adore him? Of course you’ll say yes.

But even then, you hum in response as your hands reach up to play with his hair, as if you’re mulling it over and considering your options.

“Mmm… depends. You gonna let me put a real bow on your dick? Make it all cute and coquette?”

“Yes.”

He doesn’t even hesitate. Of course he will. Fucking anything you want if that means you’ll be his girlfriend, if you’ll let him love you and fuck you and take care of you for what he hopes is forever. And honestly, the thought of you putting a bow on his dick weirdly turns him on.

You giggle at him, lean in and press your lips against his again. You kiss him once more, a bit more tongue this time just so you can hear him pant and feel his heart beat faster against your chest.

When you finally come up for air, you say against his lips, “Then yes. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, was nervous you were going to say no. But you didn’t. And he has never felt so fucking excited or proud about something, he swears.

He can actually say that you’re his girl now. Thank god for his coquette dick.

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erwinsvow · 1 month

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introducing... bitchy reader!

rafe never pays attention to sarah’s friends. new yet similar faces seem to make the rounds through tannyhill every week; the place was a revolving door. the occasional familiar girl would say hi to him, which would of course be ignored since he doesn’t care enough to say hi back.

so naturally, you become the exception to his little rule.

you and sarah are on opposite sides of the counter, flicking through magazines and taking sips from overpriced iced coffees, when he overhears a conversation that makes him stop and listen.

“-and he’s not like topper, like, at all. he’s really nice and actually talks to me instead of at me-”

“wow,” he hears you say, dragging out the syllables and sarcasm dripping from your voice. “such standards you have. no, really.”

“shut up. he’s totally sweet-” sarah says, but you interrupt her.

“he’s, like, totally a dirty pogue.” that catches his attention—not just the fact that there’s something going on between his sister and some pogue, but the way you say the sentence, how the words sound coming from your mouth.

you nearly sound like rafe.

“that is so rude-”

“what? i’m just being honest. i’d be a bad friend if i didn’t tell you the truth.”

“what truth?” his sister questions.

“that you’re settling for some pogue boy because you’re bored of top. i get it. if i was dating him i’d be bored enough to fuck a pogue too.”

rafe cringes at the topic even though your word choice makes him laugh—topper is boring, though he doesn’t think he’s heard anyone else bring it up until now. he steps back into the doorway, watching the two of you. the crass words are coming from you, dressed in a sunny yellow dress and tapping pretty pink nails against the counter.

“hey! i’m not bored-”

“you mean, you like hearing about his boat and golf every single day?”

“he has other hobbies! like-”

“like what?” you pause, watching sarah’s expression before giving her a pointed look—a look that says told you so. “who are you really trying to convince right now?” you flip through another magazine, finding something that must have caught your eye. you lift it to show sarah—some pinked striped pajamas and fuzzy slippers on the pages. “don’t i totally need this?”

“shut up.”

“that’s what someone says when they know the other person’s right,” you say with a mocking smile, setting down the magazine. he’s watching the whole thing—you’re funnier than he would have thought. “and if you change your mind just go to country club. top’s dime a dozen there.” the two of you start laughing.

“i’m not gonna change my mind-”

“that’s what you said when you started dating topper,” you say it deadpan, and rafe holds back a laugh.

“-because he’s really nice. he’s a good guy.”

“ugh, sarah. making out with a dirty pogue at a bonfire is one thing. you’re talking like you’re in love. get a grip.”

“what? what’s so wrong with that?” sarah asks, taking a sip of her drink.

“because you can’t be in love with someone you have to hide your valuables around.” that’s when he decides to walk in—sarah sputtering on her drink while you roll your eyes.

“and what’re you girls talkin’ about?” rafe asks, and two sets of eyes turn to look at him. you look at him a little confused—in all the years you’ve known sarah and times you’ve been at tannyhill, rafe’s never once spoken to you.

“i don’t think it’s any of your business-” his sister says, and then he rolls his eyes. you interrupt right away.

“sarah, it’s okay.” you turn to rafe, looking right at him and leaning in a little like you’re gonna tell in something. “it’s really not any of your business.”

blank face, trying to be annoyed but not actually feeling annoyed, he stares back at you. his sister laughs stupidly, heading into the living room. she leaves you alone with rafe in the kitchen, but as you grab your drink and try to follow sarah, rafe says something.

“y’know i heard that shit you were sayin’. you’re funny, kid.” you turn back to look at rafe.

“thanks. i wasn’t joking.”

“yeah. good. at least one of my sister’s friends has ‘er head screwed straight.” you laugh, but the look on your face says you didn’t think it was funny.

“are you trying to compliment me? by insulting all my other friends?” he wasn’t expected that retort.

“no. no, i-”

“maybe if your friend wasn’t such a shit boyfriend, sarah wouldn’t be talking to some pogue. but hey, what do i know?”

“hey, kid, i-”

“don’t call me that.” you roll your eyes, walking to the living room without even glancing back at rafe. he calls out after you again.

“so have you?” you pause, turning again.

“have i what?” “made out with some pogue at the bonfire.” he shrugs. “that’s what you said to sarah, isn’t it?”

“again, how is that any of your business?” you ask, cocking your head at him.

“that’s not an answer.”

“i don’t owe you an answer. but for the record, no, i haven’t. i actually have standards.” he doesn’t miss the remark and what it says about his sister.

“good,” rafe says, looking at you. his eyes rake over your body before he can stop it—your short hem, the jewelry dangling on your wrists and neck, the heels even though you hadn’t gone anywhere.

“shut up. weirdo.” you walk to the living room where sarah’s waiting for you.

rafe’s gonna have a hard time staying away from you.

#this was so much better in my head but oh well #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #bitchy reader

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theoddest1 · 4 months

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Let's Actually Talk About The Issues With Vivziepop

Okay, first off, hello you beautiful people! Sorry about this foreboding title, but I needed to catch y'all attention on this so I can break down the issues that I and many have with "Hazbin Hotel" and "Helluva Boss" creator, Vivienne Medrano. Now I am sure you all on here are already aware of at least a couple of the controversies that revolve around this particular creator and if you have seen my posts floating around already, some have been greeted with the problems surrounding her social media presence and just her overall as a person. I know seeing another callout on her seems very very tiring at this point, but I felt that a lot of the current callouts missed key details that were not at all addressed or properly delved on. I plan on shedding light on my issues with her and I hope you get where I am coming from when I say that she sucks.

BULLYING

Okay, I am starting off with Vivienne's blatant use of bully mentality, her agreeing or encouraging her fans to call people who see flaws in her works sub-humans or harass those who find issue or simply jest about her works trademark cussing and and overcrowded designs. She has had this issue for YEARS and refuses to grow up and act her age despite many telling her, even her own fans at times, that she shouldn't be acting so unprofessionally. Clearly, she doesn't care and thanks to her fanbase caring more about her feelings than her being better she feels as though she doesn't need to change or do better. This goes for her friend group as well, who defend her tremendously and act as though she is never in the wrong. Name one time a friend of hers called her out for acting childish, I'll wait.

Now, you're probably wondering, "Wtf could they have done to warrant such a response?"

Criticism...That's all they did. (White Text is random peeps they would speak with or maybe mutuals)

Keep in mind...they used to be a fan as well. They were also a minor at this point

But, Viv doesn't care, this person's critical yet harmless tweets about her shows is what lead to her painting them in a horrible light and making them out to be someone who has attacked her personally and as "nasty".

Rich coming from Viv since she is completely fine doing exactly that for "Ava's Demon". Not only does she criticize it, she takes a shot at the creator as well, but GOD FORBID others do the same towards her.

And according to someone who knew her well, it's all cause they felt creeped out by her.

Her hatred for criticism is so prominent that Ima makes that a section of its own. But let's get back on the topic of bullying.

Vivienne has a fanbase filled to the brim with pushy and overall annoying individuals who have harassed, threatened, disrespected, and wished harm on many people, all cause someone had a negative thing to say about Vivziepop's mid af show. One of the earlier known instances is the one revolving around a MEME of all things.

This was what started it all, and it led to both parties blocking each other and people being mad pushy and calling them an idiot and the like over their opinions. Now look, their take and you're opinion on said take is fine so long as you stay respectful and humane about it all, but don't dogpike someone all cause they think HH sucks. And while Viv can not control her fanbase, for they are not a hivemind (some of y'all act it tho, ima keep it real) she is seen here ENCOURAGING the behavior. Tell me how someone who doesn't even like your trash ass show has the sense to tell people not to harass others, someone with a smaller following, but not your grown damn near 30 year old ass?

Oh, but people wanna act like she can handle criticism, is a sweet person, and grew from her past experiences. Fam, she was 27 in this screenshot [December 16, 2019] and has shown no change from 2013 to fucking 2024. Over a decade of the same petty ass behavior, and keep in mind, according to several of her old friends and workers, she is worse behind close doors. WORSE. She's already acting like she got no damn sense out in the open, imagine behind closed doors.

Last but not least, a glimpse into her outright blatant slander towards Dollcreep, a once good friend of hers that she even visited and spoke with frequently!

She stated that they fetishized pedophilia yet according to the victim and friends of the victim who were once friends with Viv as well, Viv actually threatened to end their friendship if he hadn't drawn NSFW art of her character and his character having sex [Addi was 15 at the time this was drawn]

On top of that, she liked the post, something she didn't need to do. The art also depicted things she had regularly drawn on her own. Addi being tied up forcefully, being sexualized, being harmed to some degree through bondage, etc. The claim that she forced DC to draw this out is backed up by her own art depicting similar elements. Also, if my memory serves me well, Viv and Doll were 17-18 years old [Doll was 17 Viv 18] and have a 1-year age gap. The way Viv frames things here is as if DC was way older and imposed some sort of power over DC, which sources say otherwise. If anything, Viv had a LOT of control throughout all of this drama, which deserves its own section.

I'll be making posts that talk about the different issues regarding Viv, so one post isn't too long (this one is already lengthy enough) and that you can just pick at one post targeting certain issues around this creator.

#vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #vivienne medrano #vivziepop critique #anti spindlehorse #anti vivziepop #viv get a grip #vivziepop #hazbin #hazbin hotel #call out post #analysis #creator analysis #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel critique #hazbin critical #hazbin critique

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breathlesswinds · 2 months

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(Devlog) What We Learned Making A Trans Dating Game

Hello, Amelia here, the writer for Breathless Winds. It's been 250,000+ words, countless revisions, and three years since this game entered development, and I wanted to talk about what I've learned leading up to release.

The concept for Breathless Winds was actually sort of a joke between friends. I was talking with Doris about how there should be a dating game where you play as a trans woman and your dating options revolve around certain ‘tropes’ we’d both seen in trans fiction-- the totally accepting cishet guy who falls in love with the trans heroine before she even knows she’s a woman, the cool trans woman who the heroine doesn’t know if she wants to date or wants to be, and so on.

Doris wound up suggesting we make this game ourselves. We both like visual novels and want to tell LGBT stories. Still half-jokingly and half-seriously, we started fleshing out what the romance options would be and coming up with a setting-- and soon, we were fully committed to making this game real.

I was a fan of visual novels but had only ever written prose. I knew which visual novels I liked and which scenes stood out, but I didn’t know why they did or how to make my own.

I read some great advice from visual novel developers, but a good amount of my knowledge came from just working on Breathless Winds. As our first project, this game has grown a lot with us and we’ve learned a lot while making it.

Learning How to Write Visual Novels

A bad habit I had to break out of was only using the ‘novel’ part of the game and not the ‘visual’ part. I would sometimes write “He smiled” or lines like that, and Doris informed me that we can convey this much more simply with a sprite change.

It sounds obvious in retrospect, but lines like that are often pretty invisible when you’re reading a non-visual novel. These lines change the sprite of the character inside your head (if that makes sense, haha). I realized that I’m so used to them being ‘invisible’ that I didn’t notice their absence in visual novels I liked, so I would accidentally include them while writing.

I was also writing these routes in a word processor, so I didn’t have the visual portion to reference, myself. I wound up making a lot of ‘tone’ notes like, “Lantana should be smug here” so that the meaning would carry when revising and implementing these into Ren’py.

So, while visual novels share a lot with prose, they’re an entirely different medium. On the subject of representing things visually, I’ve struggled trying to figure out how much can be visually represented and how much should be written.

Every asset in the game has to be drawn by Doris, so if I want the characters to go to a new location for a scene, I have to keep in mind that’s another background that Doris has to draw. If I want a new character to show up, that’s another sprite she has to draw. I don’t want to overload her, but if I’m trying to avoid this entirely, characters sometimes wind up standing in one room talking for ages without anything significant changing on-screen.

I’ve learned that it’s recommended for something to almost always be changing on-screen, though, so sometimes I just have to ask Doris to make a new asset for a certain scene. I still try to stick to locations/characters that already exist more often than not.

Every single thing in a visual novel is deliberate. Another thing I’ve had to learn that I never even considered before is how to write each line so it fits in the text box. It sounds obvious, but when I’m playing a visual novel, I don’t usually think about how each line has to be carefully constructed so it doesn’t need to be split up into two or more text boxes. In my mind, if a visual novel is well-created, there’s not much that breaks a reader’s immersion.

Planning & Outlining

The previous section might sound really weird to some people, so let me elaborate. I’m a lifelong ‘write by the seat of your pants’-er, so the biggest trial-and-error of creating Breathless Winds for me was planning out the game.

Initially, I created outlines for each of the four routes, and we agreed ahead of time on which CGs each route would have. That way, Doris could draw the necessary backgrounds and CGs while I was in the long process of drafting this game. My original outlines weren’t great. I know a lot of people have different experiences with writing, but for me personally, a story is always shaping itself in my mind. When I started making the outlines for Breathless Winds, I knew the concepts we wanted to convey, but I didn’t know what each route (and the game as a whole) was really about yet. This might sound weird and unprofessional, but sometimes, I don’t know what a story is about until I finish the first draft.

So while I was writing, I would look at my outlines and I would think, “this doesn’t actually make sense, he wouldn’t say that” or “this plot point would work better if moved to this other section” or “there’s a plot hole here I didn’t notice”. The story wound up changing a lot in this way as I learned what it’s really ‘about’.

And even after I finished the first draft, I’d get feedback from Doris and/or my editor and they would suggest fixes to problems that even I hadn’t noticed, and then I would revise the route some more, and later on I’d come back and need to redo part of the route to comply with something I wrote in a later route-- I haven’t really felt ‘finished’ with Breathless Winds at any point, and I think I’ll still feel this way after the game is released.

This means that sometimes, a background was created but would go unused because there was no space for the scene that would use it, or we’d need a new CG last-minute, or so on.

When I’m figuring things out as I go while writing a non-VN, the only person that I can adversely affect is my own self… so I’m eternally grateful for all of Doris’s patience with me on this matter. I think Breathless Winds has come out a much better game for all the re-plotting and revision.

I redid the outlines several times as I went. I think I’ve understood how to create outlines that personally work for me-- ‘living’ outlines that hit all the main points, but leave wiggle room for moments when a character does something unexpected, work the best for me.

Scope Creep

So, originally, each route was meant to be 40,000 words. “With four routes, that’s only 160,000 words!” I thought. “And some of my favorite visual novels are about that long, so I can write that much, too!” ← clueless

This is the most infamous mistake that new creators make, and I walked right into it. I should have known better since I’ve bitten off more than I can chew with past non-VN writing projects before, but I was starry-eyed and didn’t realize how much work it is to make a VN. Some of those favorite visual novels I referenced were made by much larger teams, writers whose full-time job was writing (I wrote all of these routes on the side while working at a day job).

If I could have done it again, I would have asked Doris to start out with a really short VN. But, I don’t regret making Breathless Winds at all. It’s brought Doris and I a lot closer, for one. Every time I thought I wanted to give up on this, Doris would motivate me to continue. Without the two of us both and our strong friendship, Breathless Winds wouldn’t exist, and I think that’s beautiful.

No matter what, we’re going to see it through to the end. (I hope people like it, though…)

Anyway, here I am talking about how much 40,000 words is. Each route now is about 60k to 70k words. The problem with having evolving outlines is that they can often evolve into double their original size.

We came up with the idea of the poachers really early in development, and then not addressing the poachers felt like a failing, but by that point it was too late to remove the poachers entirely… and so the game wound up a lot longer dealing with the poachers.

I think that if we had an editor sooner on in the game’s development, then we might have had someone to tell us, “do you really need all of this in the game? Does this plot point really need to be there? Will you be able to write all of this in a reasonable amount of time?”, haha. But Doris and I were really excited about the possibilities of this game when we started creating it, and without anyone to reel us back in, we wound up coming up with more and more things we wanted to put in the game.

Did you know there was going to be an island full of talking rats who say things like “the big cheese” and stuff all the time in Breathless Winds? Yeah.

The Core Design Philosophy of Breathless Winds

So, for anyone who’s read this far but doesn’t know yet-- the premise of Breathless Winds is that you play as a trans woman who doesn’t know she’s trans yet, and she finds love with one of four love interests as she discovers her gender identity.

In real life, it can be a lot messier for a person to date when discovering their gender identity. To put it briefly and mildly, a trans person’s life and sense of personal identity can rapidly change during a gender crisis and the early stages of transition.

However, we wanted to make this game a ‘wish-fulfillment’ type story-- a trans fantasy about acceptance, community, and love. During a gender crisis, it can be easy to feel as if one has lost touch with themselves and become isolated from others. A sincere wish shared by many trans people is to be accepted, loved, and even celebrated as their true gender, not just tolerated.

Since many trans people don’t get love and acceptance in real life, especially with the ongoing transphobic moral panic, we wanted to create a game that would bring this feeling of trans joy and celebration to trans audiences.

We also hope that cis players will still enjoy the story and characters, and maybe come away from the game with a new understanding about being transgender and other aspects of LGBT identity (although we never intended this game to be ‘educational’).

Making Characters that Celebrate Trans Identity

Although we went through several revisions, the core identities of each character stayed the same since the game was first ‘jokingly’ pitched. In another post, I discussed how each character is themed around a change in seasons. (I also wound up theming them around the four humors when I was initially concepting them-- I really wanted to avoid too much ‘overlap’ in the LI’s personalities, haha).

Ultimately, characters are created to serve a role. The LIs in Breathless Winds were designed to be love interests, of course-- characters who would appeal to the hypothetical trans femme audience. As mentioned earlier, we modeled them after other trans fiction tropes because these types of characters have a certain tried-and-true appeal, but this left plenty of flexibility to put our own spin on it.

A trans woman being loved as a woman by a cishet guy can feel like a high form of ‘passing’, ‘fitting in’ to the female gender role, and being validated by his orientation. He only likes women, and he likes you, so you’re undoubtedly a woman. As a cishet guy, he represents a sort of acceptance into a societal norm that trans women can desire to live to. (Lantana, as a cis lesbian, represents the sapphic counterpoint to this-- although there is of course a big gap between the ‘normalcy’ of a cishet man and a cis lesbian woman, and I don’t mean to say those two are equivalent.)

But not all trans women want to live to that (cis) societal norm. Rue and Valerian, as a trans woman and a trans man respectively, are the t4t options.

Rue’s route represents that trans/sapphic ‘envy’ (“do I want her or do I want to be her?”) as well as finding power in community aside from what society considers ‘normal’. We’ve always been pretty clear about what we wanted to do with Rue’s route.

We went back and forth a lot more on Valerian’s route. Initially, we were unsure if he should be trans. He and Rue are the two less-friendly love interests (at least initially), so I was afraid it would come across that t4t is a more hostile option, which is not true at all. But it also felt like a mistake to not have a trans man in the game-- but making Gallardia trans would have required a big overhaul of what we had in mind for him and his route. (Although, childhood friends t4t is a really good idea...)

Beyond that, Valerian takes a villainous role in any route that isn't his own. We were worried that it would be wrong to have a trans antagonist who represents unjust power. However, Breathless Winds is a queer game with other positive trans characters, and we've always approached Valerian as a hot anti-villain man that you can't help but like.

In the end, Valerian’s route is about breaking generational cycles and what it is that makes you a man, and I also managed to sneak in a scene where they dance at a ball in the royal palace, so in the end I think it all worked out great.

Wish Fulfillment and Catharsis

Doris and I both agreed that we wouldn’t depict on-screen transphobia in Breathless Winds. Poppy worries about not being accepted, but fear of acceptance can come with any change in identity. Rue was rejected by her family for being trans, but this doesn’t take place ‘on screen’ in the game. There exist certain metaphorical parallels for transness and transphobia, but every route has a happy ending.

Following up on this-- it can be difficult to write about discovery of gender identity without writing about transphobia, considering how many trans people suffer from internalized transphobia during their period of repression.

Sometimes, repressed/closeted transgender people ‘hyper-perform’ their assigned gender as a form of denial. A trans woman might grow out a beard and join a gym, while a trans man might become very interested in makeup and feminine clothing.

In Breathless Winds, Poppy often struggles with ‘strength’ and what it means to be a man. In several routes, she tries to prove her strength under the assumption that being stronger would make her happy. Afraid the world would reject her if she became who she really is, she preemptively rejects herself.

Not every trans person suffers from prolonged denial, internalized transphobia, or even gender dysphoria. I don’t think it’s impossible to tell a purely-positive story about trans joy.

While Poppy never gets rejected for being trans, faces transphobia, gets called a slur, etc, she faces both internal and external (metaphorical) obstacles to realizing and accepting her identity.

Gallardia represents a societal norm that Poppy can’t live up to herself as a man.

Lantana suffers from certain aspects of her identity as a woman, which makes Poppy feel guilt for wanting to be a girl.

Rue is isolated from town at the start of her route, a ‘punishment’ for breaking this societal norm.

Valerian has to hyper-conform to his masculine gender role at first in toxic ways before finding acceptance from within and from his loved ones.

These struggles are real to a lot of people, but instead of pretending they don’t exist, I hoped to tell a story about catharsis. Poppy is able to live up to her truth as a woman and finds love with Gallardia, Poppy and Lantana redefine what being a woman should and does mean to them, Rue and Poppy find community in others who don’t fit the norm, Poppy and Valerian stop seeking gender validation from a society that was never made to serve them.

Although these powerful forces of oppression exist, loving yourself as a trans person- and loving those around you, protecting the natural world, and standing up for what you believe in- can save the day. That’s the kind of story we wanted to tell.

Wrap-up

There’s a lot more I could write, but this has already gotten really long (sorry!) so I’ll wrap it up here.

Learning how to write a visual novel in terms of technical skill (how to depict events on-screen, how long each line should be) as well as in terms of writing skill (how to outline the game, how to plan visual assets) has been a massive undertaking for me.

Writing Breathless Winds has been a big challenge but also deeply rewarding, and all of your support has made the experience even more wonderful. Thank you for reading and thank you for supporting the game!

#visual novel #otome #dating sim #amare #trans #lgbt #breathless winds

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jongseongsnudes · 8 months

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twenty six.

warning; 💌 1.6k words. masterlist.

“all this back and forth is so tiring. just have angry make up sex and get over it already.”

“leo! you can’t say that around all these people!”

the last thing you expected to happen tonight was to run into leo of all people and of all places too.

you were so close to not showing up tonight, to this place full of upper-class kids, dressed to their best, all gathered to celebrate sooji’s grand birthday. but you couldn’t say no when she invited you personally, out here onto her parent’s private island resort for a two day birthday bash.

it was a beautiful place. the fresh air, the breath taking view of the sea, the place was a complete opposite of the city life you’ve become accustomed to but it’s a nice change, one you really needed to clear your mind.

but despite so many others in attendance, and how hard you tried not to, you ran into sunghoon. the man was dressed to his best, standing out like the main character of the night. he had barely even looked at you, only greeted you with a side glance before diverting his attention back to sooji. to be fair, you didn’t even blame him. it was better that way anyway.

but somehow during it all, leo randomly appeared, keeping you company, listening to you spill about your boring life revolving your step brother. also known as, the park sunghoon chronicles, according to leo.

“i’m happy for him,” you can’t help but sigh, downing the rest of your champagne at the sight of sunghoon and sooji not far away, “he’s so... happy with her.”

“if i’ve learnt anything from being his best friend for 15 years it’s that, that man is as cunning as his father,” leo chuckles, sarcasm coating his tone, “the only time i’ve seen him genuine is with you.”

“yeah. genuinely hate me.”

“alright enough of this bullshit. either you guys get together or i’m setting you up with someone. screw sunghoon and beomgyu, you deserve better anyway,” the man throws his arm over your shoulders, squeezing you reassuringly, “i am putting an end to this. once and for all.”

though slightly hesitant, you allow the man to pull you towards sunghoon who was now standing alone. his eyes are immediately attached onto how you’re standing in leo’s hold, his brows lowering at the sight.

“my dear bestie~” leo coos, evidently in an attempt to provoke your step brother, “since you’re so busy with your lover, me and my hot date are gonna head upstairs to my room. send up a few bottles?”

the change on sunghoon’s face is one you don’t miss, the way his gaze zooms into you for a split second, like an indirect warning. it has you unknowingly take a step backwards but leo holds you still.

“don’t make a fool of yourselves,” is all sunghoon replies with as he walks away, his words seemingly more so at you than his best friend.

“give it... 10 minutes little one. trust me. that man is going to come running.”

and true to leo’s words, there is a knock not even ten minutes later on his room door with none other than park sunghoon standing on the other side looking grim as ever.

“i need to talk to her,” sunghoon says, his low voice threatening. the man enters the room as if it’s his own, while leo is quick to take his leave, giving you a cheeky wink before closing the door behind him.

the last thing you wanted was to be alone with sunghoon tonight, yet there he was, standing not even a metre away from you. the atmosphere inside the room is suddenly ten times heavier with his presence, your mind already mentally preparing for the fight that was to come.

“what are you doing in leo’s room?”

“it’s none of your business,” you hoped that your blunt tone would be enough of a hint for him to realise you didn’t want to talk, a hint for him to leave.

“he’s my best friend so i know him. he’s not interested in you.”

“okay and?” you know for a fact that he’s irritated, he had been since entering the room and your nonchalant response was only adding to the fire but you weren't going to back down, “can you just go, i want to rest.”

“rest in your own room.”

sunghoon reaches for your wrist but without hesitation, you step away, yanking your arm away from him, “don’t touch me.”

“i’m sorry.”

you pause for a moment, your mind trying to process what you just heard. you had fully expected him to either spit hurtful remarks at you or even cuss at you but apologise?

“i didn’t mean what i said the other night.”

“uh...” perhaps it’s the alcohol in you but your one word answer came off more sarcastic than you had thought. you weren’t being a bitch, you were just genuinely caught off guard.

“i’m not going to repeat myself. take it however you want.”

it really does take some time for you to process it all, that he had just apologised to you. the words park sunghoon and apologise were ones that rarely coined together so to hear it tonight like this, shocked you more than it should’ve.

you know it’s literally the bare minimum but this was park sunghoon you’re talking about.

“can you stop making this harder than it is?”

“hard? no one is forcing you to apologise sunghoon!”

although you’re the one screaming at him, sunghoon had somehow pushed forward, cornering you in against the wall. he’s now staring down at you, his face so unnecessarily close that you could feel his heavy breaths against your skin.

and you knew exactly how dangerous it could be being this close to him.

“look. i shouldn’t have said that to you, i didn’t mean to hurt you,” for once the man seems lost for words, his breathing uneasy like he’s carefully choosing his next set of words, “i’m sorry.”

“okay... i accept your apology. you can leave now. your girlfriend is probably looking for you.”

“girlfriend?” he sneers, as if he had just heard you say the funniest thing, “she is not my girlfriend.”

“she’s not? then what? what are you even trying to do?” you say with your brows furrowed together, your words direct and curt, “but whatever it is, whether it’s to stop the marriage or to prove something to your dad... i don’t want to be apart of it anymore. i’m tired and done with it all sunghoon.”

“i don’t want to prove anything to anyone,” sunghoon’s voice is as soft as you’ve ever heard it, almost inaudible in the quiet room. like the complete opposite to the him a moment before. seeing the lack of reaction from you, the man grabs onto both your hands with his, holding them like he was scared you’d run away.

“then what do you want?”

“you.”

it feels as though your head is spinning at high speed, your poor heart going on overdrive with sunghoon’s word. dramatic seems to be the right word to describe you right now because his apology already startled you enough but now a damn confession?

“i said what i said. i want you,” his words are now in whispers, as if just loud enough for your ears, “i can’t explain it right now, but just- just trust me. give me a little bit more time.”

“i... i don’t know sunghoon.”

“please.”

you’re slightly hesitant but the look in his eyes, that hopeful, pleading look was enough to persuade you. you know you may become the stupidest person alive by the end of this, but you can’t for the life of you say no to park sunghoon.

“okay.”

he lowers his head as that answer leaves your lips, as if he was relieved to finally hear so. his eyes are closed, a deep sigh emitting from his lips as he moves to the side of your face, covering your skin with soft kisses.

“i don’t know how you do it, but you drive me insane.”

“i think that’s just your anger issues though sunghoon...”

“you think you’re funny now?” his hand is quick to grasps your jaw, tilting your head up so he could glare specifically at your lips. your lips that were currently in a pout. “what did i say about this?”

if you weren’t listening properly, you would’ve thought he was being threatening but once the words actually hit you... you could only chuckle. the memory of that one night at his little house in japan flashes in your mind, that one night you were daring enough to talk back in your drunken state.

that night he kissed you. over and over.

“and what sunghoon?”

his brows raises at your daring question but instead of a cocky response like you had expected from him, the man reaches around to grab the back of your neck, pulling you in without hesitation. kissing you like you had hoped he would. you could feel his growing smile through the kiss, the rare sight almost too much for your poor heart to bare.

you sink further in his hold, wanting nothing more than to live in this moment a little longer. where nothing else matters. where mr park, sooji, beomgyu... or even your wedding, don't matter.

because right now, he’s holding you and he’s kissing you.

because right now, there’s just you and him.

and as impossible as it may be, a part of you still held onto the very small possibility that there’d be just you and him by the end of this too.

“this,” his voice is in whispers as he pulls away just slightly, his forehead now gently pressed against yours, “this was what i was afraid of.”

“what... are you afraid of?”

“finding you.”

end.

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zzoguri · 20 days

Text

safe haven (how much longer do we have?) ➵ kim taerae

kim taerae x reader, slight sung hanbin x reader

you can only hope for more tomorrows with taerae.

genre/warnings ➵ strangers to lovers, heavy angst with a happy ending, touch of fluff, afab reader (no gendered terms), lowercase intended, apocalypse au, hurt/comfort (both physical and emotional), depictions of grief, descriptions of gore/blood, use of guns, allusions and discussions of suicide, minor character deaths, hanbin is your ex, zhanghao and matthew appearance :’), elements of the last of us (don’t support neil druckmann!), mostly written in past tense (because u’re remembering!)

word count ➵ 6.2k words

inspired by ➵ “anaheim” by niki, “are you happy?” by wavesmp3, “love wins all” by iu, episode three of hbo’s the last of us, and “you’re gonna carry that weight” quote from cowboy bebop

a/n ➵ thought i'd make my official debut to zeroseblr with this lil piece that i absolutely love!! i hope you guys look forward to more zb1 fics from me :DD here's the original one if you're interested! if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

time was the one thing that occupied everyone’s minds. it held value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and people revolved their lives around it.

questions flew around with every tick and tock—what day is it today? when’s your next doctor’s appointment? how long has it been since you’ve last seen your friends from high school? until when does this meeting last?

as the hands of the clock continue to rotate, the calendar pages would flip along. birthdays were celebrated with every revolution as candles on cakes were lit up, awaiting the puff of celebrants as they wished for their desires. holidays were ones to look forward to; people dressed up to celebrate periods of the year that mattered to them while others slept in until noon. and days were spent counting down until graduations, where caps with tassels would fly to the expanse of blue and orange as cheers and sobs sound throughout.

but now, no one keeps track of time. clocks stopped moving and calendars weren’t produced annually. once the surge of the infected took over, grabbing on humans, taking them away from the lives they’ve lived, everyone ran like they were running out of time. with every second that passes, people are ridden with possibilities of how they might bid farewell to life itself—would it be through the hands of the infected or their own?

now, only one question echoes within their minds: how long do we have?

yet, the clock continues—tick, tock, tick, tock. it keeps going, and going, and going, like how everyone expects it. while everyone seemed to let time go, you still kept track of it all: birthdays, holidays, a graduation you never had.

the outbreak hit two years ago on the day of hanbin’s graduation. cheers turned into screams. white togas and diplomas were splattered with red. the lively became lifeless.

you remember hanbin’s hand in yours, fingers gripping you as if you were his life, as you charged out of the gymnasium, legs keeping up with the speed of his. you darted off to nowhere as images of the infected tearing people apart took up every block, all the way from skin to bone.

and while it was a rush of tragedies, hanbin was the only hope you had.

“keep your eyes on me,” he glanced at you, eyes off the path as he met your gaze. “don’t look at them. only look at me.”

it was impossible to ignore the wails that filled your ears, but you would repeat his words—his soft-spoken voice—to drown them out.

by nightfall, you and hanbin found yourselves in a motel room, skin cleaned from blood splatters and dressed in clothes that engulfed your figures, and in each other’s arms on a twin-sized bed. the duvet that wrapped around you two is thin, not at all keeping you warm for the night, but the warmth of hanbin was enough to provide you a sense of security—stability amidst the ever-changing world.

he whispered into the crown of your head, words meant to dispel your fears, all while you sobbed into his shirt. there was nothing that he could do but stay strong for you.

and for a few days, that room acted as your safe haven. the time spent within those four walls is the life you imagined your future with hanbin. it would’ve been in a two-story house with a garden where a singular orange tree stands, lounging on the couch as you played movies to fall asleep to, but all you had was an old room with a carpeted floor with unrecognizable stains and a bathroom unable to fit two.

yet, you would choose this over anything. even if it meant eating instant noodles for every meal or sleeping on a mattress that ruins your backs, you would choose this if it meant hanbin would be with you.

still, time continues to move. hanbin knew that you both couldn’t stay in that room or else the infected may reach you. so when you both went to bed on that last night, you outlined his features from the space between his eyebrows all the way to his lips, and you spent that time memorizing his warmth to carry with you for the rest of your life. you could only hope that he stays with you until the end.

after a month passed, you and hanbin met zhanghao, an injured boy who only wanted to live. at first, hanbin was hesitant to take the stranger in, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to live with the idea of abandoning someone in need. in a world where the infected have taken over, it only seemed right to help out others, save them from a fate they’re not ready to meet.

what started off as a pair turned into a trio. you’ve learned more about what it takes to survive in this life. long gone is the need for money to buy necessities; you need to scavenge if you want to live in an infected-ridden world. thanks to zhanghao, you and hanbin got to learn about how to find supplies in every building that you pass on the journey.

but it’s not enough to know where to find food and bullets. hanbin decided that it was only right to teach you how to use a gun. with every morning that came, you two spent hours learning how to hold, reload, and fire.

“don’t worry,” he told you as his chin hovered over your shoulder. you both stared at the tin can situated on a stack of boxes only a few meters away. “you won’t have to worry about fighting alone. i’ll be here with you.” as you exhaled, your eyes zeroed in on the target. “now, shoot.”

six months have passed, and you were happy that you were still a trio. zhanghao became your best friend over that time. his laughs were enough to shine glimmers of hope onto you. you were glad that you decided to help him off the ground and tend his bullet wound that day.

until you found yourselves retreating from the horde of infected.

time moves at a constant speed but it can become swift if it decides to. when you and zhanghao reached the doors leading to safety, you remember seeing hanbin fighting off those who were once like you, bullets firing at their heads. you remember your screams, telling him to run to you—go to where it’s safe—so that you can keep having tomorrows with him.

yet, hanbin glanced at zhanghao, nodding at him before his eyes met yours. you watched how his mouth moved, a soundless three-word phrase leaving him before the doors shut before you. you would’ve pried them open but zhanghao kept his arms around you, holding you back. from letting the infected reach you. from letting hanbin come back to you.

the wails that left you are enough to attract the infected. if only the infected were to burst through the doors, grab onto you and bring you to hanbin, then maybe you would stop crying. yet, zhanghao dragged you away. you never saw him as your best friend after that.

a month passed, and you still refused to talk to him. the boy tried to strike up a conversation with you, trying to earn your laugh like he used to, but he was only met with a cold shoulder. with every brick he put, you smashed your sledgehammer against it, dispelling any hope he had in rekindling his friendship with you.

the two of you learned to live in silence, fighting for survival while dealing with the loss of the one who would always bring you both to safety.

until you came across another boy who pointed his gun toward you. his defensive demeanor reminded you of hanbin, and you wondered if this was his doing—his reincarnation. but before he could pull the trigger, zhanghao saved you from meeting your fate.

somehow, the duo had turned into a trio once more. you still refused to talk to zhanghao, but would eavesdrop on the conversations he shared with the stranger. you learned that the new addition is named taerae.

but even the stranger wasn’t enough to fill the void that hanbin left. with every nightfall, when the soft snores of the two boys filled your ears, tears streamed down your face as sobs threatened to spill out of your mouth. the palm of your hand wasn’t enough to muffle your weeps. behind your eyelids, hanbin’s last words to you play on repeat. the ones he failed to say. the ones you’ll never hear again.

maybe if you didn’t leave that motel room then he would’ve still been with you, arms finding their place around your waist as he trails kisses all over you. if the outbreak didn’t happen, then maybe you would be living in that two-story house with him. maybe you would wake up to a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice by the bedside table and the warmth of his lips on your forehead. and maybe you could finally tell him yes before he slips the silver band on your finger—you could’ve grown with him until your hair turns grey.

the weight you carry never got lighter with time. the void continued to consume you whole with the goal of ripping you apart. as another month passed, another life was lost—not to the infected but to the raiders.

“hao, you have to stay with me.” those were the first words you told him since hanbin’s death. crimson continued to spill out of his abdomen through the gaps between your fingertips in the same way tears flow out. “taerae! find gauze, betadine, anything!” you never glanced at the stranger, keeping your gaze on your best friend whose eyes continued to droop.

still, zhanghao caressed your face, thumb wiping teardrops. as he slowly entered territories that you both knew he would never escape, he grinned at you one last time. “i missed hearing you. i’m glad you’ll be the last thing i hear.”

but you tried to tell him that you couldn’t be the last voice he heard. it should’ve been with someone he can imagine his future with, maybe in a two-story house or a cramped flat in an apartment complex. he deserves more tomorrows in the same way hanbin did.

but time continues to move. it took him away from you in a matter of minutes, slithering away without a second thought and no regard for the value of life, and all you were left with was his temple—still. lifeless. as you sobbed into his shirt, still holding the wound, the warmth of taerae’s hand stayed on your back, moving along with your wails.

now, you carry the loss of two. it never got easier with time.

taerae still sticks with you. it only seemed right. stay strong in numbers as you wander off to nowhere, grasping at the loose ends of survival.

two weeks have passed. you and taerae got used to the new dynamic; while he went hunting and you were tasked with scavenging, you both played your roles in combat, ready for any raid or horde. when night came, you both took shifts, keeping watch while the other got some shut-eye.

until that one evening.

you recall the sounds of wood crackling from the fire. it stood strong against the breeze—burning, shining—surrounded by greens that latch on browns. hues of amber cascaded over your skin, painting you with warmth—it’ll never compare to the one you craved. your eyes drifted to taerae who sat across from you, his eyes trained on the fire as he rubbed his palms together. perhaps he craved the same type of warmth you longed for.

“we used to be three.” his eyes snapped towards yours. “before you came, we used to be three—zhanghao, me, and—” it rose in you like bile, wanting to escape but never leaving. “we were three then.”

you glanced at the fire that continued to burn. “we met zhanghao a month after the outbreak, spent six months together until—” the claws of the void struck against your throat, holding you back from sharing with the stranger what your life was before he came. while you never found the right words to say, taerae never pushed, letting you say what you wanted to share while filling in the blanks on his own.

“i resented zhanghao after what happened.” you moved your gaze to taerae whose eyes never left you. “refused to talk to him. refused to forgive.” and you remember how you hesitated, taking a deep breath in before sputtering out the next sentence. “refused to accept.”

nine months ago, the outbreak didn’t happen. nine months ago, you were attending hanbin’s graduation. nine months ago, you two were imagining your tomorrows—together, for eternity.

and those nine months fractured all hopes and dreams; the glass is now littered with cracks, ready to burst into shards.

“but i think about the last time we saw zhanghao,” the image of him sitting in front of you all frail, treading the line between life and death, flashed in front of you; it’s quick but strong to remind you of what’s lost. “and i wish i could’ve learned how to forgive during those two months.”

but it was an impossible request. how could you ever forgive a boy you’ve known for only six months for taking your future away? how could you forgive a world that took him away? how could you forgive and live?

and still, you did.

you left it at that. they were enough. so when you told taerae that you’ll take over tonight’s shift, he never asked to hear more. instead, he laid near the campfire as you keep an eye out.

and once enough hours have passed, you allowed yourself to sob like other nights. the breeze that passed through branches reminded you of zhanghao; rustling leaves imitated the giggles of the boy you’ve only known during the apocalypse.

the wind that grazed against your skin should’ve been a nuisance, but the warmth of the fire wrapped you up like the duvet in that motel room. and you don’t complain—it’s the only part of hanbin you have left.

the heat was enough to last you the night, but the chill of reality sent you back to the void.

that night, taerae listened to your sobs. not one of you got enough rest for the journey.

another two weeks went by. you two got into a better groove of the routine; instead of hunting and scavenging in silence, you and taerae found yourselves talking more about your lives before the outbreak. you learned that he’s only a year younger than hanbin, and he shared that he had plans to pursue music.

“if the world finds a cure to this mess, you have to promise me that you’ll get me front-row tickets to your first show.” it was a joke. in what world could there be a cure for the infected? but the wishful thinking of what could be—what could’ve been—is all you had left.

still, taerae promised you that.

that night, you two stayed in the living room of an abandoned house. instead of lighting the fireplace, candles were placed on the coffee table. they shined in the middle of you two, you who stayed on the couch and taerae who sat on the mattress lying on the floor.

“where were you?” his eyes met yours. “on the day of the outbreak, i mean.”

he leaned back, hands resting on the mattress before he looked once more at the wax that continued to melt. “i was there for my upperclassmen’s graduation.” it hit you like a sudden downpour on a sunny day. “i knew the people in the music program and we were going to celebrate after. until the infected came.”

and when you said the name of the university, his gaze met yours as his shoulders stiffened. “m—my hanbin.” it’s the first time you spoke of his name, and the sight of taerae’s eyes widening over it was enough to speak for himself.

“i—i didn’t know,” he whispered, but his words were loud enough to shatter glass. “i only spoke to him a few times. he spoke of you with so much love.”

your heart skipped beats; it should’ve been enough to send you off into the same territories where hanbin and zhanghao now stay. your mouth turned dry as taerae’s voice morphed into radio silence.

before you knew it, the two of you left the information to hang in the air as you tried to drift into slumber. the clock continues to tick. minutes turned into hours; time moves like it usually does once more.

yet, you were stuck in the same gymnasium, fixing hanbin’s toga as you scolded him about how wrinkled it’s become—hey! you’ll go up on stage soon. we can’t take pictures of you like this. despite your words, he smiled at you before grazing his lips on your temple—his silent way of telling you the three-word phrase.

in a split second, you were off the couch. you barged out of the house, clutching your chest as the knot constricted your throat, and your feet dragged you off to nowhere. every sound has turned into a buzz—only the voice of hanbin being the one clear thing amidst the hysteria.

before you knew it, you stood before a horizon of green. it takes only one step into the woods, alone with no protection, for you to meet your demise. you would’ve charged into it in the same way you would’ve charged out to save hanbin that day.

all it takes is one step, and—

“what are you doing?!” a pair of hands gripped your shoulders, spinning you around until you were face-to-face with the last form of life that you know of. his breaths were short as his fingers dug into your arms. “you can’t just rush out in the middle of the night! i woke up worried sick.” his eyebrows knitted in frustration. confusion. distress.

the voice was caught in your throat. how does one begin to unpack the baggage they’ve learned to carry? when the items they bring are revolting, rotten, repugnant, how does someone not feel shame about showing all the tattered-up objects?

how do you learn to open up to someone you’ve only known for three months?

your hands trembled; you’ve carried the weight of it all for too long.

in that split second, your nose met the juncture between his chin and shoulder. the material of his shirt against your cheek allowed you to bathe in what you miss—the hand of zhanghao that once caressed your face. the lips of hanbin that lingered with every kiss. all the moments that you hoped time would freeze just for you lives in the boy you stick with for survival.

all it took were taerae’s hands to rest on the lower side of your back for the tears to begin their stream. the sobs spill out. for once, they weren’t muffled like those other nights. they sounded throughout the space that surrounded you two. you allowed yourself to drop the baggage only for a few minutes.

taerae took you back to the house that night, allowing you to sob about all that you’ve kept under the wraps. when sunrise came, you found your legs mixed with his as his arms remained wrapped around you, and your ear pressed against his chest. the sound of his breathing is the one reminder of what a safe haven is.

half a year went by. taerae still stays by your side. the baggage got lighter.

it should’ve been the same routine; taerae goes off to hunt while you scavenge, and you’ll take turns on the night shifts. but that night shifted something between you two—stolen glances, quiet giggles, linked fingers.

two months have gone by. the moon shined through the trees, their shadows cascading on an abandoned cabin that you and taerae decided to stay in for that night.

it should’ve been the same set-up as other nights spent in abandoned houses; you’ll sleep on the couch while he sleeps on a dragged-out mattress. instead, he sat with you, your back resting on his chest along with his hand staying on your arm.

a lit candle rested on the table; its amber tones painted the taerae’s skin—close to the fruit tree that stands in your lost future.

“what would you do if there is a cure to this?” you watched how his fingers danced across your skin, calloused from plucking guitar strings or wielding a gun.

taerae’s chest rumbled against your back as he hummed. “what would you do?”

a giggle left as you looked at the boy. “i was the one who asked you first!”

he shot you a grin as his hand slipped into yours. the candle continued to burn; it did a poor job of giving you light and warmth that night. but he did it all—one smile. one exhale. one indication to show that he lives.

“travel, maybe? or i’ll go back to writing music.” you nodded at his plans before looking back at the light source. “what about you?”

“i don’t know.”

there was no point in going back to university after such a catastrophe. if anything, the year spent surrounded by the infected, fighting for survival, has shown you that there’s more to life than the perpetual cycle of working a nine-to-five.

so…

“i would settle down if i could.” the wax continued to melt. “i think i’ve seen enough of the world. for once, i just want to stay home, indulge in my hobbies, live the life that i want.”

his breath grazed the top of your head. “with someone?” and suddenly, you became aware of it all—the heat that emitted from his palm, the movement of his chest against your back, the gravity of his question.

the words get caught in your throat. your heartbeat rang in your ears. for the first time since hanbin’s death, you considered it.

“with someone.”

before you knew it, his hand caressed your cheek. you were forced to meet his eyes which glistened with devotion. he leaned forward, his breath grazing your skin while you held in yours. you didn’t miss how his gaze flickered to your lips before he met your eyes once more.

then, he held back. it’s a choice, one only you can make. but when your eyes shut, it’s a quiet plea—a silent yes.

his lips met yours.

the warmth that blossomed in your chest wasn’t like the one in that motel room. not like the embrace of the one you’ve lost. it was one of all seasons—changing with the weather, bringing comfort throughout the everchanging times.

it’s a perpetual cycle of fighting for survival. you’ll endure through it all.

a month passed by, and you came across another boy on the journey. he’s named matthew, and he told you of a safe haven located in the town that you and taerae grew up in.

for a moment, it was an internal debate—should you go back to where the downfall started? can you go to where the memory of hanbin still lives?

but one glance at taerae was enough to settle it. the three of you embarked on your journey.

you remember that day. it was a walk with the goal of finding a car to make the journey back an easy one. the heat of the sun prickled against your skin, but you still kept your arms crossed.

“are you two together?” matthew asked, causing you to whip your head towards him. your eyes met taerae’s for a split second—confusion, dejection—before they landed back at the stranger who kept his eyes on the path you took.

“no, we aren’t.”

for the rest of the journey, it was quiet.

sundown came, and you found yourselves in a convenience store for that night’s shelter. taerae was in charge of taking the night shift, allowing you and matthew to rest up. when the stranger went off to sleep on the makeshift bed, you were left alone with taerae.

you watched how he cleaned his gun with a rag stained with dark splotches. the moon gleamed through the window—it cannot compare to how taerae shines.

you needed to get some sleep, is what you tell yourself. with one spin, you were about to make your way to where you’d sleep for that night.

“are we really not?” you halted in your tracks. you couldn’t look at him. “did it mean nothing?”

not a single answer left your mouth. your eyes remained straightforward, refusing to meet his gaze.

the warmth vanished with a lack of an answer. instead, it was replaced once more with the cold—the void—that attempted to consume you whole.

and when a scornful chuckle left taerae, you knew that you’d burnt the bridge. you walked away, leaving him to do his job, bidding farewell to the closest form of a safe haven.

two weeks went by and another goodbye had to be done. matthew stood in front of you two, a grin on his lips while tears streamed down his face. his arm was out, revealing a bite mark. the veins near the wound had already turned black. he would’ve turned in a few hours.

“go out.” those were taerae’s first words to you since that night in the convenience store.

you remember the last thing you told matthew before you left the room—you’ll get to your safe haven. the sobs that spilled out of him are ones you’ll never forget. and when you shut the door behind you, it took 20 seconds until you heard a gunshot.

the weight got heavier once more.

another two weeks went by, and you and taerae found yourselves standing in front of the remains of a safe haven. the fences were torn down. streaks of dark red littered over pavements. not a single sight of a soul lived.

still, you two trudged your way through the town, all the way until you reached taerae’s house. like others, his was abandoned. the cream walls were littered with red strokes and vines. when you both entered, you didn’t miss how taerae’s eyes lingered on a photo hung on the wall—a picture of him, his sister, and his parents.

you gave him all the time he needed to explore, to sit with the mess, while you stayed in the living room. as you sat on the couch that had gathered dust, you caught sight of a bowl of plastic produce that rested on the coffee table. it held a variety of fruits whose paint had chipped: watermelon, chestnut, and fig.

but amidst the crowd of old, torn-down, plastic fruits, a strawberry and an orange leaned against each other as grime collected on them. once your hands reached out to the fruits, you pulled them apart—a mess of red and orange stained the two.

he came back to you in 30 minutes, eyes glistening with tears. yet, he only gave you a nod, and you two went to another house.

you then stood in front of your old house with taerae by your side. weeds grew in the front yard, and the wooden exterior has turned a few shades darker. silence settled between you two.

to be back in a place you grew up in, where all your memories live, is a process—a grieving one. being face-to-face with the damage brought by the infected can only remind you of what you had and could’ve had.

and once you made your way to your childhood room, you were reminded of all your hopes and dreams before the outbreak. dust rested on top of books. the laptop on your desk had no charge. potted plants have withered.

when you approached the picture frames found on your table, your hand darted out to a photograph of you and hanbin. there was no occasion when that picture was taken—the fact that you two were together was enough for it to be remembered. memorialized.

as you made your way back down the stairs, you saw taerae crouched in front of the console table with eyes trained on photographs. “was this your high school graduation?” you approached him and saw the picture he was referring to, you who stood beside hanbin with a big grin as his lips were on your temple.

“yeah,” you said as you crouched beside taerae. “we knew each other back when i was a freshman.” your fingers trailed on the wooden frame, gathering the dust before flicking it away. despite your efforts, it was still covered in grime, but you didn’t mind.

“and you stayed together since?” all you did was hum. “did you find anything up there?”

for the first time since you entered your old house, you looked at taerae and he met your gaze. your eyes trailed his features. the eyes that speak of a thousand words. the lips that once kissed yours.

and it hit you like the gunshot that filled your ears, the breeze that rustled the leaves that one night, the doors that shut close. it was 20 months since the outbreak happened, 13 months since you lost hanbin, and 11 months since zhanghao told you his last words—but it was also 13 months spent with taerae, choosing to survive with him.

“yeah.”

you found a lot of things within those four walls. there were books you once read growing up, stuffed toys you slept with, and the one picture of you and hanbin; they’re the remaining pieces you have left of a life that was good.

you would’ve kept it all, rebuilt the life that was ripped away by the hands of the infected—

“but nothing to hold on to.”

they’re memories, ones you’ll carry with you, but ones worth moving on from.

“oh,” he said as his eyes still held your gaze. “okay.”

and with one exhale, you said, “let’s rebuild it, just a place for us two.”

it was a whirlwind of emotions in taerae’s eyes, ones you can’t identify. for a moment, you thought he’d say no. maybe he decided that 13 months was enough. one more day with you would be too much, and—

“okay.” when his hand reached out for yours, linking fingers with you like all other times, you gave him a small smile.

when you and taerae stood up, you made your way out of the house, off to find a place just for you two—a safe haven to last you many tomorrows with him.

a month passed. the safe haven was rebuilt; the fences stood strong with electrical wires and barbed wires, and the town was cleaned of all remnants of grime and blood. the two of you took up different tasks ranging from cleaning, cooking, building, and maintaining the haven.

but while you were okay with a knife, accidents did happen. “fuck!”

“what happened?” you remember how taerae came rushing in, only to see you pressing on the skin around the cut on your finger.

before you knew it, you were sitting down with him as he wrapped gauze around the wound. “taerae, it’s just a cut. i’ll be fine.”

“still, i don’t want you getting hurt.” you watched how his eyes were focused on treating your finger. “i’ll be in charge of cooking now.”

you shook your head. “no, i like to cook. i want to cook for us.” his gaze then met yours, his filled with worry while yours filled with determination. they flickered back to your finger, and his hands busied themselves with covering it up.

once he was done, his hand continued to hold yours. you remember the heat of his thumb as it drew patterns on your hand. he’s etched himself onto you.

his eyes met yours once more, and he said, “okay, just let me help out.” all you gave him was a nod.

another month went by, and you woke up to the sound of gunshots. you remember how hazy your vision was that night, fresh from sleep but panic coursing through your veins. and when you looked beside you to only see an empty spot, you didn’t think twice about rushing out of bed.

when you exited the house, you saw taerae holding his gun, firing at the people who attempted to tear down the haven’s fences. “taerae!” when he looked back at you, you caught sight of the crimson that poured out of his abdomen.

another gunshot was fired, grazing taerae’s leg, and he fell to his knees. you ran to him, reaching out to rest your hand on the wound as you began to sob. “fuck! you have to stay with me.” with his arm resting around your shoulders, you dragged him back to the house.

you set him on the table and moved his hand to hold where he was shot. “hold it.” you rushed to where the medical supplies were stored and gathered whatever you could hold. when you got back, you saw how blood continued to spill out.

you got to work, focused on trying to patch him up. making sure he stays. “you can’t go. i won’t let it happen.” and while your hands busied themselves with treating the injury, you remember how taerae’s hand caressed your cheek, thumb wiping away the spilled tears.

“in the basement, there’s a piece of paper that has all the codes. if you ever—”

“no, you’ll be okay.”

still, he continued to talk. “if you ever forget the codes, you can always look at the paper. don’t forget that you need to always check the water system every two days, and—”

“taerae!” you croaked out his name in between sobs. “you’ll be okay. you have to, okay?” the more he went on about what to keep in mind, the baggage got heavier. “i can’t do this without you. i won’t allow it.”

because 15 months ago, you would’ve bid farewell to the mayhem. 13 months ago, you hoped for time to drag you away. 12 months ago, you would’ve walked into the forest. but it’s been 22 months, and you were still walking on this earth, choosing to live amidst the chaos—so long as taerae was with you.

and when you leaned your forehead on his, eyes closed, you felt his breath graze against your lips. “i need you.”

all it took were three words from you. “okay.”

it’s been two months since that happened. the safe haven was rebuilt once more. you and taerae fortified the defense system, hoping they’ll be enough to keep any infected and raiders out. all that matters is that you two were protected—safe—from the chaos.

now, you sit on a couch as you flip through the pages of a book you didn’t have time to read before the outbreak. when all responsibilities vanished, you were able to find enough time to do things you couldn’t do then.

you were ready to get yourself sucked into the world of the novel, but taerae came into the living room with his hands behind his back and a small smile on his lips. “do you remember what you made me promise you before?”

you frown at him, confused, until he shows you an acoustic guitar. “oh my god, you found one?” you put the book on the coffee table.

he takes a seat beside you, body facing towards you as he rests the instrument on his lap. “here, front-row tickets to my first show.” you almost laughed because this is no stadium or club, but a home—one you built with him.

it takes only one smile from him for you to hold it back.

“any song requests?” he strums on the guitar strings, perfectly in tune. it’s almost as if he tuned it before coming to you.

a hum leaves you as you rest your head on your hand propped on the couch. “whatever you want to show me.”

it takes him a few seconds, fingers fiddling with the strings, until he figures out what to play. when he sings out the words—dearest, darling, my universe—you melt like the candles you lit up those nights. as he continues to play a song of a world in hysteria but a love that endures, that’s when you realize what you’ve had all this time.

time is the one thing that occupies your mind. it holds value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and you learned to revolve your life around it.

it takes you two years to figure out that life doesn’t end after the outbreak—and 17 months to realize that your safe haven is not a two-story house with an orange tree in the garden but the boy in front of you.

when you lean closer to him, his fingers falter, messing up the chords. your hand reaches out to caress his face as your eyes flicker to his lips. you don’t miss how taerae holds his breath, how he stops playing the guitar, how his eyes look back at yours—it’s a slurry of warmth, tenderness.

“i love you.”

all it took was a three-word phrase from you for him to close the distance.

the warmth that spreads within you is like the one you experience in the abandoned cabin. but now, you’re full of hope—a reason to stay—in an infected-ridden world.

now, only one question echoes within your mind: how much longer do we have?

an eternity is what you hope.

taglist ➵ @kflixnet @blankjournal

#works of moni #kflixnet #bjnet #k-labels #zerobaseone #zb1 #zb1 x reader #kim taerae #zb1 imagines #kim taerae imagines #zb1 angst #kim taerae angst #zb1 fluff #kim taerae fluff #sung hanbin #sung habin fluff #sung hanbin angst #sung hanbin x reader #sung hanbin imagines

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georgeweasleyslostearhq · 10 months

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REQUEST: So a girl named y/n is Steve’s best friend. But they are very attracted to each other. Steve once dreamed that he and Y/N had sex. So one evening, Steve comes to watch a movie at Y/N, they talk about the dream and then…the smut part. @safinkd

SHOW ME, STEVE

Steve woke up in sweat and out of breath, his mind filling with the imagine of you, and him, naked on his bed doing things that best friends shouldn't do

he sat up, leaning on one arm as he ran his other hand though his hair.

he looked down at his pants and cursed under his breath

"fuck"

he got up and groggily walked to his bedroom to clean himself

he didn't know why his unconscious state would come up with something so... freaky, especially with you.

Steve has had his fair share of wet dreams before, but it's never revolved around you, and it has never been that graphic before, it was almost as if it was a memory

he went back to his bed and looked at the clock that sat on his nightstand

6:39am it read

he shook his head at the time and groaned.

the image of you in his head was something he couldn't shake off, it was imprinted on his mind and it had no intention of leaving anytime soon

of course he's thought about it, there's no way that in the 14 years of knowing you, he was bound to think about it sooner or later

Steve heard the phone ring from downstairs and since his parents weren't home, he had to get it

he took his time going down the stairs and into the livingroom

he walked to the phone that hung on the wall and picked it up

"hi, harringto-" he stared grumpily, sick of saying the same thing over and over again when he picks up the phone

"steve!" he heard your voice

"who is this?" he joked, knowing you hate it when he does it

"oh shut up, Steve" he could practically hear the eyeroll "just checking in to see if we're still on for tonight"

Steve's mouth went dry, he had totally forgot about his plans with you to go to your house that night

how could he face you with the image of you both in his bed running in his mind, still not leaving

"Steve? you there?" you questioned

"yeah, yeah, I'm still coming over tonight" he spoke up after clearing his throat

"ok, good- and please, for the love of god pick a good movie, Steve. I'm sorry, but I don't know if I can handle watching vision quest again" you sighed

it was an understatement to say Steve liked the movie vision quest, he took you to see it in the theatre when it came out not too long ago and every time he would come over to watch a movie at yours he would rent out that movie that you've gotten sick of it

"so I rent out vision quest?" he asked, wanting to annoy you

"Steve i swear to god if you bring Vision quest again I'm not letting you into my house" you huffed

"you will"

"no I won't"

"you will but whatever, I gotta go now, I need to get ready for work" Steve argued

"alright, bye, have a terrible day" you yawned

"bye"

Steve knocked on your door, a copy of back to the future in the bag full of your favourite candies

you opened the door slightly, peeking your head out, glaring at him warily

"what movie did you rent?" you asked dully, not letting him in until you had an answer

"vision quest" Steve lied with a smirk on his face

you continued glaring at him "seriously?"

"no, back to the future" he replied, taking it out of the bag and showing it to you

"ok, I don't have a problem with that" you smiled, opening the door and letting him in

he looked at what you were wearing and almost flinched when he saw almost the exact outfit you were wearing in his dream

"c'mon, I'm hungry" you groaned, grabbing his arm before pulling him in, shutting the door behind him

you ran to your room as he chased you up.

you went to the phone on your table and looked at the list of numbers named with restaurants next to the digits

"pizza, chinese, what do you want?" you asked as he sat down on your bed

"pizza sounds good" Steve shrugged

you ordered the pizza and flopped onto the bed next to him, not noticing the way he tensed up

"how was your day?" you asked casually, sitting up and getting comfy in your bed next to him

"it was fine, work was boring" Steve took a deep breath, rubbing his hands on his jeans

it was boring, he barely got anything done and was distracted by you, even if you were there, you stayed in his mind the whole day, never leaving

"no hot girls in groups coming in to flirt with you?" you questioned, tilting your head

there was a few girls that tried to get his number by he paid them no attention, ignoring them completely, letting Robin take care of them, they seemed more her type anyway, even if she didn't care either

"I'll get the movie going" he said, getting the movie and putting it into the tv, getting the remote and putting it on while you waited for the pizza

around 10 minutes into the film you heard a faint buzz from the front door.

you ran down stairs with money your parents gave you and paid for it

you got back to your room and put the pizza on the bed

"dig in, Harrington" you grinned before crawling into your bed again, getting close to Steve as he took the first slice, the movie still playing as he didn't unpause it.

Steve looked over at you at some point in the movie and stared as you watched the movie, eating your favourite snacks he brought

"Y/n?" he spoke up making you raise your eyebrows, your eyes still on the film

"yeah?" you whispered

"do you ever have weird dreams?" he asked curiously

"depends on what you classify as weird" you took another slice of pizza

"about me" he hesitated

you looked at him with a tilted head, not quite following what he was saying

"Steve, what do you mean?" you smiled, confused by his words

"have you ever had a-" he paused, closing his eyes tightly "a sex dream?"

you sat next to him, stunned and frozen

"uhm- well uh- not that I remember, why? have you?" you answered

"what if I did?" Steve took a deep breath

Steve was never nervous around girls, especially you. but he didn't know what to think, he's never reacted to a wet dream like this before, but then again, it's never been about you, it made him confused and awkward around you.

you shrugged "I guess it's a normal thing to happen"

"yeah" Steve nodded vigorously, watching as you smiled tightly, going back to watching the movie

Steve shifted as your thigh brushed against his

"what if- what if it was about you?" he blurted out

your head whipped in his direction with wide eyes

"did you have a sex dream about me, Steve?" you wondered nervously

"yes"

it stayed silent for a bit, you just staring at him while he fiddled with his fingers under the blanket

you let out a light laugh as you found the situation funny

"what did we do?" you asked

Steve grew confused at your reaction but then all of the nervousness washed away did you like the idea of it?

"wouldn't you want to know?" he chuckled lowly

you sat up straight and turned to him

"I would actually, or would you prefer to show me?" Steve noticed you biting your lip slightly, you did like the idea of it

"really?" he moved back slightly, getting a good look at you

you slowly nodded your head, leaning towards him

"show me what we did, Steve" you mumbled, getting closer and closer

he leaned in and waited to make sure it was ok

you nodded again and he kissed your lips gently. he felt you kiss back and he smiled against your lips

he laid you down and put you in the middle of the bed, the kiss deepening as he held your cheek

he took his other hand and held your waist, his hand going up your shirt just a little and rubbed your skin with his thumb

he moved down to kiss your jaw and made his way down to your neck, letting it bruise as he sucked on the delicate skin of your sweet spot

he heard your breath hitch as you closed your eyes

soon enough, he had your shirt off as was staring at your chest, admiring the way they looked through your light baby pink laced bra

"where'd you get this?" he questioned, playing with the strap, pulling on it and letting it go, hearing the clap noise it made when it hit your soft skin

"Victoria's Secret" you sighed in content, looking up at him with soft eyes

"I don't think there's gonna be any secrets to tell after I take this off" Steve smirked

"well by this rate you're getting nothing, you're taking your sweet ass time" you teased

"is there something wrong with admiring the view? I'm just taking you all in"

"I thought I'm the one supposed to do that with you?" you smirked playfully, laughing at the face he made when he realised what you meant

he reached behind your back and unclipped it, letting it pop off.

he slid it up your arms and took a deep breath when he looked at your exposed chest

he took both of his thumbs, running them over both of the nipple

he leaned down and took one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the bud while holding the other, giving your tit squeezes and pinches

you stopped him and took his shirt off, throwing it on the floor, not caring where it ended up

he smiled at you before kissing you down your stomach getting to the top of your jeans

he looked up at you from your torso and silently asked for approval

you bit your lip and nodded your head, watching as he unbuttoned your jeans, unzipped them and slid them off, chucking them off from the rest of your clothes

Steve felt himself become hard at the sight of your panties that matched the bra that was abandoned only a few moments ago

he gripped onto your leg and lifted it up before kissing on the inner thigh, getting closer and closer to your clothes heat with each kiss

you stopped him again and told him to get off his pants, he leaned up and rushed to get them off, he pulled them down and shook them off before going back to you

"hurry up" you whined "show me, Steve. show me what we did, Please"

that was all Steve needed to hear before he slipped your panties down, slowly, making you whine more

he felt his mouth water as the sigh of your fully bare body in front of him, desperate for his touch

he lifted his hand up and reached to touch it, looking at you to make sure you were ok

his index finger ran along your folds, that had grown wet at some point in the process of getting your clothes off

"steve" you sighed lightly

he sat up and took his boxers off, letting them go wherever

he leaned down and leveled with you, giving you a kiss, letting his head fall to your shoulder before he pushed himself in

you let out a painful moan- painful because of how long it took, how desperate you were

"you ok?" he asked

"perfect"

he started moving in and out, watching the way your eyebrows would furrow and how your mouth would open, the noises you made sounding exactly how they did in his dream

his pace quickened and he held your hand that started to harshly dig into his back

"oh, Steve. fucking hell" you moaned, arching your back as he hit all the right places

he felt you tug at his hair and pulled it back, making him look up at the ceiling

he wasn't a very vocal guy when it came to sex, but he couldn't help but groan and grunt at the feeling of him inside you

he never thought he would be in your room, both naked and pleasing each other, it was something that he would often find himself thinking about, but he never thought it would ever actually happen

"steve" he heard you moan quietly before you let out a squeal of surprise when he reached down at began to rub your clit

"yeah?" he replied, out of breath as he thrusted deep inside you, feeling every part of you

"I-" you paused, the feeling becoming too much "I'm gonna- I'm gonna"

"you can do it" Steve encouraged, feeling himself grow to the point of an orgasm as well

a few more deep thrust, it began to get sloppy and you let out a load, long moan as you squirmed in your spot, only staying still from his hand that held your hip

he held it in as he let you finish before pulling out, letting himself finish on his hand

"is that all we did?" you asked, trying to calm yourself and catch your breath

"that wasn't even the beginning"

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

if you couldn't tell by the shit writing, I don't really enjoy writing smut because I'm shit in that area of writing

#imagines #oneshot #stranger things #x fem!reader #request #steve harrington #joe keery #steve the hair harrington #i hate this #stranger things smut #smut #steve harrington smut

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elvisabutler · 10 months

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fandom: elvis 2022 | elvis presley rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( big daddy flavor ) x female reader word count: 2100 you didn't see any other word count. warnings: cockwarming! p in v sex ( unprotected ). public play. mildly excessive baby talk. use of buntyn and nungen and princess as nicknames. mild embarrassment kink? author’s note: welcome to day 11 of ally’s wet hot smut summer, public play with big daddy elvis presley x reader. sorry this took a minute, i've been incredibly exhausted lately and so it's made finishing things a bit of an adventure. quick notes for this fic, this is a sort of au, in that i placed it in a mythical place where elvis doesn't die in 77 and is free of his vegas residency in the 70s. so maybe call it a nebulous 78 to 80? reader is implied to have been with him for years and you can read it as having an age difference but it's in my head as not having one. basically this is secretly a reader version of quiet on the set's future and i'm not sorry for it. beyond that if y'all have left me a comment on any of my fics or anything i'm going to get back to them. when i tell you i've been exhausted it's been a lot. without further ado, i hope y'all like this. also pick if you want austin elvis or real elvis the end.

There's something funny about how Elvis would prefer the two of you to be private. There is something truly and genuinely hilarious to you about the fact that he preferred the two of you to be private. His argument has always been that the happiest he ever is in his life is during those private moments with the people he loves. You always argue that he can't show you off like you know he wants to if you're being private and yet he'll flash that little twinkle in his eye and ignore your protests. So much of his life isn't private but the love he has for you— the love between the two of you is supposed to be private. An oasis for him to relax in as much as he does in Hawai‘i.

Despite all of this you know so very well how much he cares for you and how much he loves you. And if you were being entirely honest, the privacy makes the times he does want to show you off all the more special. Indeed it makes the times he does feel like delightful surprises.

Maybe that's why you had agreed to come play poker with him and the boys. It's been a long time since you've enjoyed that sort of thing and you've missed it. Truthfully it's been a while since Elvis has even been in Vegas, memories of how he almost was stuck in a revolving door of engagements here cluttering his mind and giving him a nightmare or two. So having him enjoying time with friends and you seems like a perfect recipe for a night. Of course, you should know better by now, know how Elvis always has something up his sleeve. A playful little trick he can play with that glint in his eye.

"Where's my chair, Mr. Presley?" You ask, not bothering with his nickname or his first name. There always was something fun about how he acted a bit like an admonished schoolboy when you called him Mr. Presley. "Can't very well play poker if I don't have a chair."

Elvis looks at you and gives you that sly smile you know so very well by now as he pats his lap, thigh jiggling just a tad as he does. There's that glint in his eyes that spells trouble of the best and worst kind. "Ya got a chair right here, Princess. Nice 'n plush too."

You'd think after all these years and after seeing his body through so many changes that you wouldn't be affected by the jiggle of his thigh and the open v of his legs. Yet, you're a woman who knows what she wants and you're the woman he put a ring on all those years ago. Most of the things he does get you more hot under the collar than they have any right to. This is one of those things. You feel your pussy clench around nothing and despite yourself you rub your thighs together even as you're standing.

"Are we playing as a team, then? Us against the boys?" The questions roll off your lips with an ease and familiarity only you manage when it comes to him. "Otherwise I think you'd be able to cheat."

As you speak, you've started to walk closer to him and finally find yourself at arm's length. Elvis wastes no time in grabbing your arm and pulling you flush against his lap, his thighs cushioning your behind and his cock stirring ever so slightly under his stomach. A gasp leaves your lips unexpectedly.

His arm wraps around your waist, making sure you don't move too much while he talks. "My wife accusin' me of cheatin' at cards. I could take ya thinkin' I'd step out on ya but I would never cheat at poker."

The soft rumble of a laugh courses through your body and has you following suit as you shift in his lap. "I let you step out and you let me as a present. But I know you're a sore loser who can't focus when I'm here."

You turn your head just slightly, watching as Elvis's eyes practically dance with mirth. He's mercurial as all get out when he wants to be but he can take some good-natured teasing when it comes from you. It's why you've worked well all these years.

"Now honey, my yittle nungen, I know you're still smartin' from that game ya lost against me 'bout a week ago but that ain't no reason to be tellin' lies about my sportsmanship."

A defense is on the tip of your tongue when you feel Elvis's warm hand against your thigh, slipping under your dress that you decided to wear today. That warmth does away with the words in such a quick fashion that you find yourself biting your lip to keep from sighing. "Elvis."

You say his name in a feather soft whisper as his friends start to trickle into the room. You've been in a situation like this before, when you were younger and somehow just as randy as you were now but Elvis hadn't done something like this in ages. He hadn't even thought to tease you like this in ages.

As if he isn't paying attention, he merely hums at your whisper of his name and uses his arm to maneuver your crotch against his cock, the flowing fabric of your dress hiding his actions from prying eyes. You don't know when or how he managed to free his cock from the confines of his pants and yet he has. That hand that innocently is burning against your thigh has crept up to your panties and with the ease of someone who knows your body like the back of their hand, he moves them just enough to the side to slide inside of you.

"Goddamn. Didn't expect ya to be so wet. Was hopin' but— Lord almighty, ya gonna stain my pants if ya move." Ironically you choose just that moment to move, attempting to get off of him for a moment before his grip on your waist stops you. "Nungen, you be a good girl for yer Buntyn and stay put. Can't have 'em seein' Lil Elvis, now can we?"

You feel the heat of mild embarrassment and excitement flush through your body as a shiver racks it. A shake of your head is the only answer you can manage for a moment. "You want me to sit like this for the whole game, baby?"

Elvis nuzzles his lips against your neck, his eyes taking in his friends pulling out their seats and sitting down, none the wiser to what was happening in his lap. They wave at you and you, ever the courteous host wave back and even smile, saying hello as Elvis mumbles words into your neck. He doesn't need to greet everyone, not while he's buried inside of you, his cock leaking precum like he's ready to fuck you on the table instead of just letting you sit on his cock. Besides, they know better than to disturb him when the two of you are wrapped up in one another.

The chair isn't close enough to the table and you move to drag it a little closer, or drag both you and Elvis a little closer only to have what feels like the world's loudest squelch come from between your thighs. No one looks at the pair of you as if they heard it but to Elvis and you it might as well have been a shout. You let out a shaky breath as you shift to try and make yourself comfortable. Elvis's legs open up just a bit more to make sure you're where you need to be, even as he thrusts just a tad. "Gotta stay still. Gonna, if ya move— I might just take ya on this table, damn the game."

You can't help but swallow at the idea, your mouth filling with saliva at the mere idea of being flipped thrown onto the table, pussy exposed to people you and him call friends. It's primal and practically voyeuristic and the sort of thing both you and Elvis aren't incredibly fond of with your relationship and yet. Yet it fills you with such arousal you feel it actually dampening his pants as the game starts.

Elvis isn't the worst of poker players but in combination with you, he's nigh unstoppable. Of course, maybe that's because everyone else's eyes are on you, wondering why you haven't moved to the empty chair next to Elvis. Jerry— who's there on a surprise visit is closest to the two of you and raises an eyebrow as he looks at his cards and then at you. You clench around Elvis's cock in a bit of worry.

"Is it a little warm in here?" A simple question to everyone but from the way he's staring both of you down it's not meant to be one. Both you and Elvis open your mouth before you kiss Elvis to stop whatever one liner is about to leave his lips.

"With how cold he keeps it in here? The only reason I don't need a jacket is because of his body heat," you practically titter out a laugh, the fear of being caught heightening your arousal even further. You feel your clit throbbing as everyone laughs at your joke.

Jerry rolls his eyes and shakes his head looking down at your lap. Still, the game is going nicely, with Elvis winning more hands than not and you trying to grab at a free hand to get some form of relief. After what feels like an eternity Elvis finally has his hand move between your legs, his calloused fingers brushing up against your aching little clit.

"Haven't teased ya like this in years, have I, Princess?" Elvis murmurs against your ear, feeling your vagina clench around him. "Haven't shown everyone how good ya are for me for a long time, have I? Haven't made 'em realize why I couldn't forget 'bout ya."

Your answer is a hum caused by you biting your lip to keep the cry that threatens to escape your lips at the pressure of his fingers against you. It's not enough for Elvis though, he knows you can control yourself better than he ever can. "Darlin' use ya words."

"It's been too long," you choke out the words, one of your hands moving to grip his meaty thigh and the other to grip at the table. You can feel your walls fluttering around Elvis, feel your body tensing up as it chasing something you know he won't give you in public. The face you make when he pulls an orgasm from you is one that's strictly between the two of you. Yet you're so wound up that you fear you'll be leaning over the table for support as soon as he says the word. In an attempt to alleviate something, anything you try and bounce only to have him nip at your ear.

"Ask me nicely, Nungen. Ask me nicely. Give 'em their game and their show. Remind 'em I caught ya jus' the same as ya caught me." His voice is more of a grunt as he slides a set of chips into the pot wordlessly. "Show 'em what I get in bed every night. What 'm wakin' up to every night 'less ya let me stray. Show 'em what I see after I've eaten my dessert.

Despite the way you're biting your lips so hard they're practically bleeding a noise that sounds like a scream forces its way out of your lungs and mouth as you clench around Elvis. You feel a gush that you only identify with times you've been played with so much by Elvis that you make a mess of every sheet you have. His pants are ruined but they'd be anyway from how you feel a warm rush of his cum follow yours. Through the grace of God himself you don't fall onto the table, instead stabilizing yourself using Elvis's thigh and somehow his lap in general. Your breath takes a few minutes to even out, even as everyone watches you and Elvis panting as if you've run a marathon. There's a knowing look that crosses everyone's face but everyone is too scared to speak until finally you smile and smooth out your dress as if you plan on standing up.

"This is why you're losing boys, you can't pay attention the game."

You make no effort to get off of Elvis's lap.

taglist: @ab4eva , @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7 @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @stylespresleyhearted @be-my-ally, @mooodyblue, @pixiedustcosmos, @jessicarcates, @amydarcimarie, @flwrs4aust @myradiaz, @adaydreamaway08, @arabellalightning505, @doll-elvis guarantee i'm missing someone. i tried the end. also i clearly added this originally. also you want to be added just ask me. i keep forgetting people or losing people in these and just it's a mess.

#elvis presley #ally writes #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x you #elvis presley x y/n #big daddy elvis #ally's wet hot smut summer #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley smut #austin elvis smut #austin elvis x reader

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iveneverdoneanythingwrong · 10 months

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This line. This one line for me colored all the rest of Porsche's journey in this show. This one line really grabbed me and percolated in the background of my mind throughout the rest of the series, because, seriously?? Who says that to their kid? Why make it obvious that you have a favorite child? Porsche was 10 when the "accident" happened so not only did his mother say this to her child, she said this to her prepubescent sponge of a child who will internalize just about everything.

As the rest of the series goes on, this is the line that made me think that Porsche and Chay are actually half brothers (or at least everyone but them thinks they are, including Nampheung). Bear with me here:

For context, this line came right after Kinn asked about Porsche's tattoo, and Porsche says that his mom liked phoenixes and that she talked about them all the time.

This context adds an element of rebirth to her directive not to "die" until Chay has graduated. Before the "accident" Chay was much too young to take in anything from such talk, so the phoenix imagery was directed solely at Porsche. So what "death" and "rebirth" was Mom expecting for her eldest?

The easiest explanation for this is that (only?) Porsche's (assumed?) father was in the mafia. We only get two real examples of Porsche's relationship with his mom pre-mafia-events and they both revolve around phoenix imagery: the sauna scene, and the memory scene where she tells him to "Grow up and fly with freedom, be strong and immortal like a phoenix."

When she talks to child!Porsche she talks of being strong, being free, of dying and rebirth. She's preparing him for the trial of being hunted/taken by the mafia. She's instilling the yearning for freedom, and the idea that no matter how hard or how bad it gets (death), it won't last forever (rebirth). In telling Porsche not to die until Chay has his degree, she wasn't suggesting that Porsche is worth less to her than Chay. I think what she's asking is that no matter what happens, Porsche should try to make sure that Chay is set up for a good life away from the mafia. Porsche cannot die (be subsumed by the mafia) until Chay finishes his degree (is independent of the mafia). Because no matter what happened to her, the mafia would be coming for Porsche sooner or later. Which they did. And they did only come for Porsche.

Being half brothers would help explain the way the mafia was completely focused on Porsche and only treated Chay as an information source on Porsche/hostage for Porsche's behavior. Korn only mentions Chay as part of the deal for Porsche to work there (ep1) or as a carrot after punishment (ep5). Because he was important to Korn as Porsche's brother, not as Nampheung's son. If Korn's and Gun's obsession with Nampheung was the reason for bringing Porsche in, then they would have done the same with Chay.

(Is it possible for Korn to also already have other plans for Chay? Absolutely. That fucker is a fucker. But once he had Porsche he said that all the pieces were in place. Chay had not been secured as a piece on the board.)

(Also, I don't think Chay's age would be a barrier for Korn/Gun; they're not waiting for him to get older before doing to him what Korn did to Porsche. For one, Macau goes to the same school Chay does. For two, Chay is at least 18 and applying to university. I don't think a year or two will phase the mafia. Especially since Vegas' goons had no problem kidnapping him, twice!)

Porsche was deliberately hunted, kidnapped, and manipulated into the mafia because of who he is. Chay only experienced any of these to the extent he did because of his relationship to Porsche. Nampheung knew that the mafia really had no inherent interest in Chay, and that Chay could be permanently Out of the mafia (except, you know, for him stalking crushing on Kim who is also wrong in thinking you can get out of the mafia).

So if the interest from Korn/Gun in Porsche is not from being Nampheung's son, then why? Why does Korn want Porsche working there and being happy? Why does Gun want Porsche to switch sides and come to Gun for "protection"? Who do they think Porsche is?

In semi-related meta, this also makes me think that Porsche's dream is not so much A Bar on the Beach specifically, but that it represents the freedom to live for himself. He specifies a private beach, where he opens when he wants, closes when he wants, and serves what he wants. Where his actions aren't constrained by other people at all. He took Nampheung's directive to heart and has been living his entire life for Chay. He only had a few more years to go for Chay to get his degree, for Porsche's life to be his own. But then he was kidnapped by the mob to live the rest of his life for them.

#kinnporsche #kpts #kinnporsche meta #kpts meta #my meta #porsche kittisawat #porsche pachara #chay kittisawasd #porchay pachaya #namphueng kittisawat #kprewatch2023 #i've been meaning to write this for over a year #me? procrastinate? noooo

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trexiejan · 5 months

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My opinion : Babs was deaged to be with Dick.

Okay so I've seen so many dickbabs shippers try to deny that Barbara was deaged to fit Dick for the purpose of defending dickbabs or make them look better i guess. They keep saying that wasn't the reason why she was deaged. they always point to the 1st time she got deaged.

like why are they so upset when they see people say that. I wonder if they care more about the ship than barbara as an individual character.

cuz if they truly liked Barbara separately from Dickbabs maybe all the anti-dickbabs comments wouldn't be an issue for them. 🤷‍♀️

anyway i'm going to explain why it's true.

here's the thing :

Barbara was deaged multiple times

Crisis on Infinite Earths wasn't the only time she was deaged, she got deaged again in other books/continuites.

So The real question is where did they deaged her to be the same age as Dick to make them work not when was she first deaged. (we all know it's always in dickbabs comics where she's written as the same age as dick, i wonder why)

The 1st time she was deaged was in Crisis on Infinite Earths, it was so Jim could be younger but they only decreased her age slightly because she's still written as older than Dick, here is a panel from Secret Origins #20 that was published in 1986 exactly 1 year after she was deaged in Crisis on infinite earths (1985) she said Dick is too young for her and that batman is always the one on her mind. So Dickbabs during this time still has a big age gap so they're still unable to work.

The 2nd or 3rd time she was deaged is in dickbabs comics where she was finally made the same age as Dick so dickbabs can finally work as romantic pairing.

Instead of being older she's now written as a part of Dick's generation.

From a congresswoman to someone who went to highschool prom with Dick.

Even Tom Taylor wrote them as childhood sweethearts so he can portray them as soulmates in his comics. a huge wtf moment for me because Babs wasn't originally this young when she first met Dick 😭

pls She had a PHD, has been working as a librarian and congresswoman when dick was still a young boy in gotham.

Barbara is now written as a part of his generation and his one true love since day 1. (from an independent congresswoman to Dick's childhood sweetheart and girlfriend who revolves around him)

Before Dickbabs couldn't work because of their age gap but now they can work. thanks to dickbabs comics deaging barbara again and this time for the sole purpose of reducing Babs into Dick's love interest.

So Just because she wasn't deaged to be with Dick in her 1st deaging doesn't mean she wasn't deaged to be with Dick in her 2nd or 3rd deaging 🙃

Dickbabs shippers can deny it all they want but at the end of the day dickbabs wouldn't have worked out if she wasn't deaged to be the same age as dick.

and even if they're right, let's say for the sake of their argument they're right that babs wasn't deaged to be with dick, it still doesn't change the fact that dickbabs is weird.

Regardless if Babs was deaged to be with Dick or not, It's still weird to see Dick being put in a relationship with a woman who was originally a congresswoman when he was still in highschool.

It's like deaging Batman into a teenager (like let's say it's because they want to make Bruce appealing to teenagers) but years later they decided to give him a love interest who is also a teenager as part of the new batman stories.

So even though his deaging has nothing to do with women or shipping in the first place, it's still weird to suddenly see Batman in a relationship with women who are a part of dick's generation knowing he was originally much older than them.

Like Bruce/Raven or Bruce/Starfire suddenly becoming a thing 🤢 No amount of deaging would be able to justify those pairings.

The same happened to Barbara she was originally a part of Batman and Superman's generation.

for goodness sake she dated Superman!!!! She was so much older than Dick.

Also remember when Dickbabs was originally a pedo-like ship and it was so controversial and hated the same way Brucebabs was hated today? Because Barbara the adult woman is kissing minor grayson but now she's fully making out and having sex with minor grayson in dickbabs comics.

The reason why Dickbabs fans don't want people talking about this is because they care more about making dickbabs look good than barbara's independence. They don't care that Barbara lost her independence, her phd, her solo careers, her librarian and congresswoman job because of dickbabs shipping.

They don't view Barbara as a character seperate from dick. Barbara is trapped in this relationship because of people like them. They don't fight for Barbara's independence. The only thing they want from her is to be the girlfriend of Dick and nothing else. It is so hard for them to let Barbara Gordon be independent and not just “Nightwings girlfriend."

Barbara's real enemy is the dickbabs ship. Before, she is able to stand on her own, but now she's nothing more than just a love interest who can't live without dick and too dependent on him and his solo books to exist.

DC really needs to get Barbara some actual character building that doesn't involve Nightwing whatsoever but it's hard to do that when she won't even stop chasing Dick nonstop like a dog in his solo books and thinking about him 24/7 because of writers like tom taylor who is always busy making babs' entire personality all about dick than writing solo babs stories.

Dickbabs is unnecessary and disservice to her character, it does nothing for her independence. She is forever demoted to Dick's love interest unless they free her from this ship.

poor babs she deserves better than people who only want to associate her with dick 24/7.

#nightwing #dick grayson #batgirl #oracle #barbara gordon #dickbabs #anti dickbabs #antidickbabs

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1bringthesun · 1 year

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what a lot of bsd fans, especially the younger ones, don’t understand is why or under what circumstances characters are described as “childish.”

it’s always a slap in the face when i see someone say, “oh, Oda called Dazai a ‘crying child,’ and people still ship them? obviously he’s his father figure!”

i’m not gonna argue against the fact Oda could have been some sort of authoritative, caring, older, responsible guy to Dazai, but under no circumstances do i think Oda saw Dazai as a kid.

as far as BSD goes, Oda is one of the most respectful characters to other people’s perceptions of themselves. hell, he didn’t even see his orphans as children. he had a convo with one of the em in dark era that went something like this:

“It’s always so upsetting when Pops treats us like children. We’re not kids, y’know? We’re adults. Is the fact that we grew up so fast an issue for the grown-ups?”

“Mhm, it probably is.”

so, if Oda doesn’t see a literal eight-year-old as a child simply because he knows how mature he is, what makes people think he’d see Dazai of all people as one…?

the reason Oda described Dazai as wearing the expression of “a child about to cry” has nothing to do with his age or his maturity- it’s because there’s a distinct difference in the way adults and children cry.

when adults cry, it’s with the knowledge that they’re not the only one suffering. that the world isn’t against them, but instead, they probably got themselves into a bad situation. when children cry, it’s free from rationalization and logic, just pure unadulterated agony at something that may not even matter in the grand scheme of things.

it’s not that Dazai is dumb, can’t understand that the world doesn’t revolve around him, or seems like a kid to Oda, it’s that the chasm in his heart transcends the normal despair of what you’d expect to see in a grown-up. it’s the same flavor of raw pain that you can see a child display when something doesn’t go their way, the same blindness to anything outside of their own point of view.

Dazai looked like “a child on the brink of tears” because while walking into the outstretched gun of a sniper, he could only see his own abysmal emptiness.

Oda also described Mori as having a child-like grin or something of the sort, so if he sees Dazai as a kid because of that, i’m going to claim he saw the boss of the mafia who happens to be double his age as a kid, too.

this is just something that has been on my mind, especially since i’ve been seeing an influx of Oda dad content. everyone’s entitled to their own opinions and headcanons, of course, but it admittedly grates on me when people get attacked for something stupid like this, and since the tumblr bsd community seems to be forgiving, i’m talking about it here.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #dazai #dazai osamu #Oda sakunosuke #odasaku #odazai #what the meaning of child is in bsd and why it’s nothing like what people see it as #katsumi #katsumi as in katsumi the orphan

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chevelleneech · 9 days

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While I do not mind BuckTommy, I wish their shippers and anyone more partial to them than Buddie, would stop lying about what their relationship is.

Tommy does not prioritize Buck, he simply revolves around Buck. It is the whole reason why them having zero development this season was so stupid, because it left way too much room for fans to make their own decisions on what the relationship is or isn’t, and claim it as canon. It’s why people are already saying they’ll be mad of BT break up, because Tommy is Buck’s healthiest partner, when he’s not.

Tommy is not a character who has a storyline, let alone one who makes decisions that impact the overall story. Everything he does is a result of what the writers need Buck to feel or where they need Buck to be, and that does not make him a healthy partner. They just haven’t written any conflict for them, good or bad.

Thus far, their biggest issue was Buck stumbling through his first date with a man, where Tommy did in fact mock his nervousness then leave him standing in the curb alone. Now, I’m not hung up on that, because I can see why it happened. Buck was extremely nervous and being awkward and likely made Tommy feel bad a little bit, but at the same time, it was wrong of him and he didn’t apologize. And since snippy remarks is all we really know of Tommy, it does become canon that he isn’t actually that nice to Buck. No matter what Bobby said, because as I said before, I strongly disagree with the writers writing in their own cop-out as an excuse for failing to develop Tommy or BT during the season. So yes, Tommy is attracted to Buck and doesn’t treat him like shit, but none of Buck’s exes ever did either. Pretending otherwise is y’all trying to rewrite the show to uplift your ship.

All that to say, Buck and Tommy dating is canon, yes, but them choosing each other or making sacrifices for their relationship, is not. We have been shown quite literally nothing. Everything BT shippers claim for BT, does not actually exist in canon. Not a single bit about love, lust, infatuation, commitment, relationship goals. Nothing, and I wish more “on the fence” fans pointed that out instead of piggy backing as if it’s true. Y’all are hopeful, and that’s fine, I am too. I want Buck to be happy, but I also don't want to give Tim and co praise for doing less than bare minimum.

Buck coming out overshadowed the entire season this year in terms of press and social engagement, but the amount of story and screen time he got in comparison is abysmal. By lying about canon, y’all are giving credit where it is not due. I mean honestly, if someone were to put together a compilation of out!Buck, it would not amount to anything. More so, they’d have to pad it with Buddie scenes, which speaks for itself even if they never go canon.

Anyway, my point is, stop lying about canon, and stop hyping Tim, the writers, and ABC up for what is currently a pretty poorly written storyline. Be happy we got bi!Buck, but also want more for his queer relationship. Especially when his relationships with women came with various small scenes to build their foundation, and him talking to his loved ones about how much he liked them.

#911 abc #evan buckley

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heyidkyay · 6 months

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And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Eight

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Authors Note: Hey! Quick note, this part has a LOT going on, it jumps from pov 2 or 3 times, but there's details mentioned that will make more sense later on, I hope that leaves no one confused:) Also there are a few new characters coming in, some will stay, some won't, so keep that in mind! I was gonna end this part like halfway through and then post, but it felt a little unfinished, so here it is hope you enjoy:))) x

Warnings: A short scene revolving around body image, mentions of scars, drugs, sobriety and heavy drinking

Masterlist

Messages now Jamie O (glasses!) In the area, fancy meeting up for coffee?

It had been a good few days since I had last messaged either Jamie or Matty. Though the latter hadn't seemed to have caught onto the fact that I had suddenly distanced myself. Jamie, on the other hand, had and had surprisingly given me some space with it.

Well, up until now that was.

It was a weary sigh that escaped me when I gazed down at my phone, needless chatter of gossiping mums and squealing children having faded far into the background.

I had only just managed to drop Teddy off at nursery, dipping and diving through the crowd to deliver him right to the classroom door, and was already halfway out of the playground now. It was my first day off in weeks- like proper day off. And now, I had Jamie to deal with.

Alright, maybe that was a bit harsh, but saying that, I wasn’t so much of a twat to just ignore the first message he’d sent me in a while. Especially after I'd disregarded all of the man's previous efforts. Still I couldn't quite stop myself from huffing quietly as I shot him back a message, anxiety creeping in.

Messages now Closer to Tufnell Park than the studio at the minute

Jamie’s response came only seconds later.

Messages now Jamie O (glasses!) No worries! Meet you near The Dome?

Sidestepping a few latecomers as I exited the school gate, I chewed on my bottom lip but eventually sent a text to let Jamie know that I'd be there. I only hoped that the man didn't ask too many questions about my sudden disappearance, I wasn’t too sure I could take the heat.

Early morning rush hour was in full swing by the time I’d made my way out onto the highstreet, people bustled past me to get to work without a care, or even an apology, for anyone who got in their way, zooming on ahead like a soldier in a storm. That was one of the things that had taken me some time to get used to, in truth. How different the crowds of London were to the tiny population of my hometown.

I'd just surpassed the underground station when I caught sight of a vaguely familiar head of dishevelled hair. Jamie stood a way ahead, smiling at the passersby with his hands shoved deeply into the lining of his coat's pockets. He wore a pair of dark, fitted trousers and had a smart looking scarf thrown haphazardly over his right shoulder, something to shelter him from the exaggerated cold.

Somehow, his face seemed to brighten upon seeing me approach.

"Glad you could make it!" He said as I approached, and he clapped my upper arm in light greeting. "Thought you would have managed to beat me here though."

I made do with a small smile, before gesturing my head over towards where a quaint cafe sat up a few doors down so that we could begin walking.

"Nah, it's pretty hectic trying to escape the crowds at this time. Did you catch the tube up here then?" I conversed and saw Jamie’s brow dip for the briefest of moments before he hastily shook his head at my question.

"Oh, no. Was just leaving a meeting up in Shoreditch, you were on my route so I thought I'd ask."

I gave a low hum, unsure, but didn't comment on it when I thanked him for holding the door open for me to pass through.

"What are you in the mood for then? It's on me."

"Ah, no it's-"

I didn't even get the chance to decline the offer before Jamie was waving me off with a charming smile and a wave of his arm. "Honestly, mate. It's fine, a cup of coffee won't have me out on my arse. So what do you want?"

Blinking with a somewhat disbelieving shake of my head, I prattled off my usual order in a low murmur and told Jamie that I'd find us a table. Just wanting to be helpful, but also to get a second to think things through.

The cafe wasn't too busy. It held the expected usuals; a handful of early-rising old timers and a couple of suits headed in late. So there were a few free tables up for grabs. I picked the one by the window.

Jamie joined me a few minutes later, wearing his usual grin as he carried over a tray of goodies. I raised an eyebrow at the mountain of sweet pastries procured but the man simply shrugged.

"Looked like you'd had a long morning, figured you to be the chocolate type." He commented as he nudged a large croissant in my direction.

Just looking at the buttery roll made my stomach grumble. Teddy and I had been in a wee bit of a rush this morning to get out of the house after my alarm had failed to wake us, so I'd skipped breakfast and picked Teds up something to eat on the way into school.

Toying with the rim of the coffee's handle, I gave Jamie an appreciative smile. “Cheers.” I breathed out and carefully pulled the plate in a little closer.

After that we both simply sipped at our warm drinks for a short while, watching as the morning commuters passed by the large window. It was a calm affair and far from as awkward as I might've expected the meeting to be. In fact, it was actually the first time Jamie and I had met up since that day at the studio, and even then we hadn't had much of an opportunity to chat.

Still, Jamie’s company felt very similar to that of Adi's- perhaps even Finn's. It allowed me to relax a little.

It was only after I'd broken off the end of my croissant that I spoke up.

"So, is driving across London at nine in the morning just to buy me a drink your idea of a date, or do you do this with all your mates?"

Jamie blinked at me once, twice, before his eyes widened in alarm, which caused me to, quite literally, snort into my tea.

"I'm joking! Don't fret. Just wondering why the sudden change in pace."

Jamie gifted me a sheepish grin in response and took a quick swig of his coffee before he finally replied.

"You went quiet on us." He shrugged as he picked apart a blueberry muffin, separating the berries from the soft sponge, which amused me somewhat. "Gave you a couple days to breathe, but I reckon you've had long enough. You wanna tell me what's up?"

My eyes strayed back to the window as I withheld a sigh, knowing full well that this had been coming.

“You know how it is.” I shrugged, almost petulant, and gripped at my cup a little tighter. "Just got busy. I mean, you have to deal with Matty and the band constantly. Can’t be an easy feat."

I received a laugh in turn but my attempt at a little lighthearted humour didn't derail Jamie.

"I know we haven't known each other that long, and you really do have no reason to trust me, of all people, with your problems. But I am here if you ever need anything. Can't speak for Matty, try as I might, but I wouldn't put it past him to go completely out of his way to do whatever you asked either." He chuckled to himself then, like he knew something I didn’t. "He actually hasn't been able to stop talking about you, you know. Not since we met."

I tapped at the mug and felt my tongue prod the inside of my cheek to keep from snorting at Jamie’s words. I just shook my head.

"Doubt he's even noticed I've stopped replying." I quipped lightly, trying to shrug off the sudden emotion that admission had stirred up.

"Ah, so you have been ignoring us then."

I inhaled sharply and dropped my gaze. I couldn’t outright lie to him.

"Yeah, sorry. Just had a lot going on, you know? This is all new for me, you and Matty, you've just. I don't even know. You just turned up out of the blue and..."

"Sort of invited ourselves into your life?" Jamie filled in with a wry smile.

"No, no! That's- that's not what I meant. Honestly. It's just strange. Different from what I expected." I attempted to backtrack, but ultimately failed.

"No, I get it." Jamie assured, but didn't push the topic any further. "You're stupid, by the way, if you think Matty hasn't noticed. In all the time I've known him, the idiot’s only ever texted me when he's needed something- but the last couple days? I don't think my phone’s stopped going off."

I shovelled another piece of the chocolatey pastry into my mouth to keep myself from replying or reading too much into that.

Jamie released a breathy chuckle and shook his head, as though he could read my reaction, my thoughts. "You've been good for him so far, Mouse. No parties. No drugs. Can't say the same thing about the drink, but he's cut a lot of it out. And I'm chalking that all up to you, ‘cause I can't think of anything else that might've changed in his life to have forced his hand like this."

His words confused me, but then he paused for a moment and purposely caught my eye.

"Whatever's happened, don't let it keep you from opening up. Not just for his sake, but for yours too. Besides, you can never have too many friends, can you?"

I wiped at my mouth before dipping my head in quiet assent. "No. I ‘spose I can do friends."

Jamie all but beamed, looking pretty proud of himself as he reached across the table for a scone. "Now, tell me all the things that I've missed."

***

Matty practically jumped out of his seat when he heard the front door rattle shut.

He'd been on edge since the moment he had woken up, but had decided to try for once. He made breakfast (well, rather a late lunch), tried all that meditating malarky (his therapist would be, oh so, proud), and even ended up doing a loop of the block in a desperate attempt to keep his chaotic mind at bay. But nothing. Nothing. Had been able to keep him from wearing the soles of his feet into the fucking floorboards.

"And where’ve you been?" Matty instigated as soon as Jamie strolled into his sitting room with his usual smile, shaking off the autumn chill he’d invited in with him.

"Around." Was all the twat replied as he draped his heavy overcoat on the back of one of the upholstered armchairs. He paused to eye Matty closely. "Why, what's got your knickers in a twist?"

Matty’s scowl was infamous by this point, but Jamie was one of the fair few to have gotten used to it. A right shame, that. "Nothing! Just- I texted you, wanted an update."

Jamie quirked an amused brow his way and it took all of Matty’s nervous pent up energy not to blow up at him. He could feel his own irritation building though, it tingled in the tips of his fingers and raised goosebumps across his skin.

"That all? You know the team won't give us an answer until they’re certain that it all won't fall through."

Matty gritted his teeth together and tugged a rough hand through his dishevelled hair. "It's bollocks! It's our fucking album, why do they get a say in what happens with it?"

Jamie sighed quietly to himself as he wandered over towards the heavyset globe sat in the far corner. Matty watched on as he slid its top off and procured a pair of tumblers, pouring two fingers of murky whiskey into each of the old fashioned glasses.

"You know why, mate."

They'd had this conversation too many times before. And yet,

Matty clenched his jaw to keep from snapping, lashing out, but his knuckles whitened around the glass when Jamie pressed it into his palm. He almost wanted to laugh.

"Thought you wanted me off the drink?" He remarked coldly but swallowed the spirit down before Jamie could give him an actual answer, or take it away. He only wished that the alcohol burned brighter, these days it barely left a bitter tang on his tongue.

Jamie didn't touch his own as he made his way on over towards the chaise lounge, but his fingertips tapped a smooth rhythm against the crystal. The house didn’t make a sound.

Matty followed, as expected, restlessly flinging his feet up onto the centre table before his agitation once again began to overwhelm him. He huffed when he dropped them back to the floor again, the heavy vibrations grounding him somewhat as he moved to rest his elbows on the knobs of his knees.

"That newest story's doing wonders for you right now though." Jamie told him gently when Matty’s quick eyes met his gaze, his hands still toying with the full glass. "They want to rebuild your image. Figure it'll help with album presales, and they're not really all that wrong, mate. Since you've been out of um-”

“You can say it.”

Jamie rolled his eyes but barrelled on, “Since you've been out of rehab. Well, the public's been enjoying seeing this new side of you. Besides, I thought you liked whatever her name was."

With a scoff, Matty forced his gaze away. "It's complete shit and you know it. PR just wants control. For me to fall in line. And the public couldn't give a single fuck about what I do! All they live for is the gossip, the drama. And that's what I do best, no? Don't worry though, J, I'm sure I'll fuck up sooner or later."

"Don't talk like that." Jamie scolded as he pushed his tumbler onto the table and moved a little closer. He looked to be fighting an internal battle, his fingers twitching on the inseam of his leg to keep himself from reaching out to comfort.

"Oh, fucking come off it, Jamie! You know it's true." Matty spat back, the rage once again building. These past few days had had him fraying. "I bet they’re already sitting there at that table just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And I already know they’ll want to be the first in the know, when I finally do fuck up again. Spout about what a waste of space I am! How they should've sacked me off sooner. That it should've been me and not-"

"Don't."

Jamie’s voice cut through the room like a blaring siren, but Matty had never heard him speak so lowly.

"Don't go there. He wouldn't want you thinking that way."

Matty locked his jaw and narrowed his scrutinising eyes at Jamie. "Don't act like you know what he'd want."

Jamie glanced away for the briefest of seconds and inhaled slowly before his gaze finally returned. Matty could see his own torment reflected in Jamie’s sad eyes. "It hurt me too. You know that."

Matty forced his eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Unable to deal with the many emotions that threatened to overpower him. He swiped Jamie's drink off of the table and swallowed it down in one, then swiftly stood and strode across the room to make another.

The amber liquid warmed his chest as expected and he felt the moment it hit his empty stomach. He braced himself against the globe's golden stand, leaving his hair to fall helplessly into his face. Thankfully, it shielded his glossy eyes from Jamie’s view.

It was still so hard. Most nights it was all he could ever picture-

No. Not today, he rebuked. Not now. Not again.

It was a never ending nightmare that he just couldn't seem to wake himself up from. And how he fucking wished he could wake up.

Matty went to refill the glass again but faltered. His hand stilled, midair, fingers itching to grab at the ancient old bourbon that sat only inches away, but instead he reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out his phone.

Too many notifications cluttered the screen. But not a single one from the person he wanted to talk to most.

In a fit of dismay, he went to throw the stupid thing at the nearest wall but a hand caught his wrist before he could do any real damage.

Matty’s eyes flickered up to meet Jamie’s- he choked.

"I just-" He tried to force out but the words felt like thick bile in his throat. His lip trembled and Jamie tugged him close. Matty wondered when he'd ever allowed the man to get so close. To breach his high walls.

"I know." Jamie hushed him, allowing a steady hand to come to rest at the back of Matty’s neck. "I know, mate."

Matty wondered if he truly did.

***

Mesmerising.

I let the word play over and over on a loop in my head as my fingertips trailed along the jagged lines of my torso.

Seventeen I'd been- my first time with this boy from college and he had called the scars I was forced to bare mesmerising. As if they were something special, something to be proud of. I'd frozen back then, the word had, so suddenly, hindered my entire world, but he'd gone on exploring without even noticing the way my mind had started to spiral.

The scars had always been a difficult pill to swallow. They weren't mine. I hated how others could so easily claim their own. His scars. My scars. Hers. I didn't want them. They were just there. A myriad of haunted memories to which I'd been burdened with since the age of seven.

All these years later and still I couldn't recall the smooth expanse of skin that had once been there- untarnished, unharmed.

The bronze shadows, created by the setting sun which illuminated my bedroom walls in a burning shade of amber, crawled across the floorboards beneath my feet and caressed my skin. They dipped and curved, exaggerating sharp lines and hallowing shallow slopes.

I'd only meant to have a quick shower, in and out, before Finn inevitably ended up dropping Teddy back home. But I'd left the wardrobe door wide open in my haste to leave early this morning and had yet to shut it, exposing the slim mirror attached to the inside of the wooden door. A slip up.

So now my distorted body stared back at me mercilessly and I couldn't find it in myself to tear my eyes away. The meek girl stood within its four cutting lines just wasn't me. It was simply the reflection of a sheltered kid who'd been forced to grow up far too quickly.

Her skin, hardly what you'd pale but not far off, was flushed and pink all over from the steam of the shower. Her hair, still damp and wet, clung to the majority of her forehead and dripped water droplets down the line of her throat. Her eyes, usually a deep, warm colour, were somewhat sunken, hidden behind heavy lids and long lashes. The dark circles that sat beneath them only emphasised the muted scarlet that rimmed her waterline- a lack of sleep.

I wet my lips. They were dry, bitten from hours of relentless anxiety, but parted enough so that my front teeth could just about be seen. Her face was lined by worry. Fine wrinkles etched themselves around the corners of her eyes and mouth, then again between her furrowed brows.

The scars, faded but somehow still raw, swept up her neck and collarbone, and jumped over her right shoulder. One crept across the cut of her jaw, whilst another sliced through the bridge of her nose to meet another, smaller scar, on her cheek. Her chest, where it had been previously impaled, was now stretched and knitted. Some lines were a few shades darker than her natural complexion, maroon, and oftentimes cardinal. Others were lighter, pale and whitened. Faded.

A gruesome gash down the centre of her abdomen led to a spattering of fine hairs that lined her navel, trailing low beneath the hem of the towel she'd wrapped around her waist earlier. Her hands were now fisted at her sides though, so much so that prominent veins danced up the insides of her forearms, skirting around the few fawn freckles that painted her skin.

Mesmerising.

The sudden blare of a mobile ringing sent a sharp chill up my spine and knocked the air back into me. Shakily I inhaled, averting my eyes from the mirrored prison, then spun round on my heel to answer the call.

There was no greeting, no small talk. It was cutthroat and to the point.

"I need a drink. You coming?"

And I had never answered a question quicker.

It was a hard task, squinting down at my phone in an attempt to concentrate on the text I was trying to send to Finn, but the strobe lights and throng of people around me were making the task rather fucking difficult.

To be honest though, I couldn’t actually remember the last time I'd stepped foot inside a club. Or even spent an entire evening sat in the local pub. But I’d been all but desperate, and so, in the heat of the moment, I had practically jumped at the first offer I’d been given.

I was beginning to second guess that decision now though as I pushed my way through the rowdy crowds, the assorted smell of liquor and sweat already clinging to my clothes. I hadn't really put too much thought into those, too busy trying to escape my own head. Really, I’d just thrown on an old skirt from my uni days, a top that made my tits look great but hid the scar there, and the well-worn leather jacket Finn had gifted me at the end of my first year working on the show.

I had just sent the text off, double checking with the man himself that he was still alright to have Teddy til the following morning, when a raised voice caught my attention.

Frowning, my head snapped up but that soon faded once I caught sight of the tall ginger propped up against the bar not too far away. My lips curled up into a lopsided grin on their own command and I was quick to pocket my phone, already moving towards him.

"Mighty Mouse. You actually made it!" Ronan Kelly bellowed in that familiar Irish lilt of his, welcoming me in with a hearty squeeze to the waist as we embraced. "It's a feckin' miracle!"

I gave him an impish smile and dipped my head slightly to rub at my nose, then made the effort to catch Ronan's icy gaze. "I guess it has been a while."

"A while- Babe, I ain't seen you in months!" Ronan laughed, flashing a row of white teeth and wrinkling his bright blue eyes. I felt some of my worries ease at the sight of the man's familiar face, a warm reminder of older days. "Can't believe you actually agreed to come out with us!"

I shook my head and released an airy chuckle, "You know how it is, Ro- got Teddy to worry about now."

Ronan's face, if possible, lit up even further at the mention of the small toddler. "Ah, grand! How is the wean? At school now, right?"

It was sweet of him to ask and I smiled up at him as I went to answer, but was forced further into Ronan’s space when some prat barged past me to get to the bar. Ronan caught me by the waist with a natural ease he’d always been capable of and narrowed his eyes at the guilty party from over my shoulder.

Not wanting things to escalate, I did my best to quickly wave it off and distract. "Teddy's good!" I heard myself tell him, voice slightly raised to be heard over the pulsing music, tiptoeing almost now in his grasp. "He's with Finn at the moment."

Ronan's gaze reluctantly trailed back to me upon hearing me speak, he reluctantly smiled and nodded but had yet to drop his hands from where they were now stationed at my hips.

"I'm sure Finn is completely lovin' that."

With a light laugh, I rolled my eyes at his sarky reply and moved to press my forearm up against the edge of the bar’s countertop. "They're a proper little duo. Finn has been a saint, what with all his help and that. Don't think I'd be standing here today without him really."

"Well, let's cheers to that then, hey?" Ronan grinned, then raised a hand to gesture over towards the barman.

Within seconds two pints were being placed on the bartop, a dizzying yellow colour filled to the brim with minuscule bubbles that had my mouth watering. It had been a long while since a fresh pint of lager had wet my lips and it helped that Ronan’s presence was a comfort.

"Sláinte!" He announced brashly, already having hoisted his glass into the air between us.

"Cheers!" I laughed, clinking our glasses together before gulping down a too large swig.

"That's what I like to see!" Ronan whooped, almost proudly. He squeezed my right hip in celebration before choosing to steer us both away from the bar and over towards a wall lined with darkened booths. "Come on, Auley and everyone's waiting over here, been excited to see ya!”

I only nodded in reply, pint close to my chest as I followed after him, bobbing between an array of patrons effortlessly now. The earlier anxiety shovelled deep, deep down.

***

Withdrawal was something Matty had never thought too much about in the years before. He'd always had everything right there, on tap. A quick hit, a line just to pick him up. It always felt so easy.

But now, without the copious amount of pills, the parties, he finally realised why the fuck people were never able to stay away for too long. Because sooner or later, they always ended up crawling back.

It wasn't so much the flu-ish like sickness that had him reeling, although he really could've done without the high-fever sweats and the full body tremors. It was more that ever encompassing sorrow. The depression that never seemed to lift- but then again, depressed wasn't even the first word he would use to describe it. It was like a thick plume of murky black that fogged every exit, far beyond the gut wrenching nausea that clawed away at his insides at all hours of the day, or the constant drilling in his head that kept him from sleep.

Being without-

Being without was practically maddening. A spiral of hellish days with no escape, the only choice he had was to carry on or simply turn back. And he'd come too far now to run towards the latter, he’d already made that mistake. And if he had anything to thank his godforsaken mother for, it was the sheer stubbornness they both so clearly shared.

Matty couldn't complain though, he wouldn’t, as much as he wished he often could though, because he was still leaning heavily on the spirits. He knew. As well as the band and Jamie, who'd also been hellbent on 'helping'. In their own way.

Although the idiots hadn't made things much easier for him, the guys hadn't put up much of a fight against his drunk ramblings or the never ending mood swings. They just took it all in stride. Which Matty was mostly grateful for.

The alcohol though, he'd currently taken to using as a crutch. He'd drink a little more and more just to cope with the effects, the longing, to get him through to the next day. But he'd never felt too dependent on it before and didn't feel as though it was a massive problem now, he'd been drinking since before he'd worked out how to pick the lock on his dad’s old liquor cabinet. He’d keep drinking ‘til he was near the grave.

The drinking though, was just a baby habit in comparison to the drugs.

It was also how he'd managed to find himself out on a Thursday night.

He'd actually managed to forgo Hann's mothering this time, sending his mate off home early from the studio before he'd called up an old friend. Itching for that familiarity of older times, shaking with it really, but knowing better.

"Oi, Healy- you still with us?" Crowed a loud voice in his left ear.

Matty startled at it and turned back around to find the one and only Danny Willis hanging over his shoulder, usual open-mouthed grin on full display, a drink in hand.

He blinked up at him once before Matty’s lips turned upwards into a lazy smile, he spun around on his foot to get further in his friend's face. "Thought you'd gone off with that bird?"

"Who, blondie?" Danny questioned, smirking now. "Nah, wouldn't have left you hanging all alone, mate."

Matty snorted.

"Ah, so you do care!" He drained the dregs of his bourbon then grinned at the twat, "Always wondered whether you fancied me, Danny boy! Guess this just proves it, don’t it?"

Danny wound an arm around his shoulders and leant in to press a sloppy, wet kiss to his cheek. Matty pulled away, cackling as he tried to shrug the added weight off.

"Prick." Matty scoffed lightly, stumbling as he rubbed at his face. He grunted at the small group he'd accidentally bulldozed into in his haste and they all scowled in return, but it wasn't long before Danny jumped in to rescue and steer him away.

"Come on. Let's get out of here, hey? The next bar awaits and all that." Danny proclaimed, chucking back the remnants of his own drink. Matty chuckled when the man winced and then wiped the corners of his mouth. "Reckon we might be able to find someone decent for you to take home there!"

Matty merely hummed in reply as they pushed their way through a set of double doors and out into the night, not really listening as he propped himself up against Dan's side, ignoring the whispers that tended to follow wherever he went.

"Ah, look at that, would you!" Danny's voice came again, right by his ear, as he paused on the pavement to cock his chin outwards, forcing Matty to follow his gaze. "It's a full moon!"

Matty rolled his eyes.

***

"Come on, Mouse!" Auley tried for the umpteenth time that night. His larger than life smile, I noted, had always been much gentler than that of his brother's. "You can't stay cooped up in this booth all evenin'! You need to put yourself out there, darlin’- have some fun!"

I shook my head, chuckling up at the giant of a man standing before me. "I swear I'm fine here, Aul. You go and have enough fun for the both of us."

Auley's face scrunched up in distaste as he reluctantly pushed away from the table's edge, the dim lights of the bar illuminating his hair, almost seeming to set it alight as it added a halogen glow to the already coppery red.

Ronan chose that moment to reappear, brushing past his brother to settle back into the booth next to me. He set two more drinks down on the table. "Leave the poor lass alone, won’t you, Aul! You know how she gets."

I rolled my eyes, albeit fondly, and Auley did the same as he slowly backed away, mouth quirked upwards. "Yeah, yeah. Yer like a pair of old women, you two- peas in a pod or somethin'."

"Ah, shove off!" Ronan laughed, a deep rumbling sound that shook his whole body. "Think I can hear the dance floor callin' your name, mate."

"Too right." Auley quipped, flashing another bright grin at his brother before he turned back to face me. "Know that this isn't over just yet. You might've won this battle but you ain't won the war, darlin’. I'll soon get that dance."

I snorted, but was unable to help my grin. "One day, babe."

Auley winked at me and I watched on as he melted into the mob of people before us, leaving Ronan and I alone.

I observed the crowd for a long moment, taking note of all their dizzying smiles. For a Thursday night, the bar was oddly rampacked, but I couldn't find it in myself to complain too much, not when everyone seemed to be having a great time.

There was a large group of us out tonight. Alongside asking me to join, Ronan and Auley had brought along the entirety of their flat as well as a few others, some from uni, others from work, I reckoned. They'd all split up within the first half hour though, but they kept drifting back and forth, I could easily spot Penn and his brightly coloured shirt over by the snooker table in the very far corner, and most of the girls had crowded together out on the dance floor.

"Havin' a good night then?"

I repositioned myself upon hearing Ronan's question, he was closer now in an attempt to be heard over the music, and I sipped at the foamy top of my pint before answering. "Yeah, I am. It's, well it's been a while since I last did anything like this." I chuckled, eyes roaming the room again.

Ronan shifted closer once more, the booth’s leather seat squeaking quietly under his weight as the song on the overhead speakers faded into the next.

"I'm glad. We haven't seen you proper since yer last year at uni."

It was true but that wasn't just down to me, I felt the need to say. But instead gave him a small smile as I just shrugged, thumbing the edge of the table, "Life gets busy with a baby. Plus, it's not as though any of you lot had time to just drop by and see me, with all your classes and what not."

Ronan’s lips pursed at my words and a quiet stretched between us. I watched on as he fiddled with the bottom of his pint glass, before finally he replied. "Could've made time. Finn did. Cassie, too. Just- it felt strange, going back after that summer and you not bein' there."

To be honest, I didn't really know what to say to that.

As much as I had loved my time at university, I hadn't really had much space for it in my life after Teddy had come along. And although I’d never regretted my decision to leave, not after everything I'd gone through to get to where I am today. Because my God, had that been hard. I did sometimes miss the memories I’d made there, the people I’d met and, surprisingly, the workload too. It made me question whether I could have had it all, a degree and a baby. Although, I somehow doubted that that was what Ronan was grasping at here.

But it wouldn’t do well to continue to dwell on the past. I'd already spent a large portion of my life doing exactly that, and I’d known in the long run that I would have to have let go of some things in order to provide a better life for Teddy, better than the one that I’d had. I wanted my son to have every possible opportunity, every choice, in order to better himself. I wanted him to be a kid for as long as life would let him.

And as much as I really did love spending time with Ronan and the old gang, I also knew that come tomorrow morning I had actual commitments and responsibilities to attend to. I didn't have the opportunity anymore to skive and bunk off of lectures so that I could deal with a nasty hangover and sleep in. Teddy was always relying on me to come through. And come through I would. Every time.

But right now! I just needed to let my hair down. Enjoy an evening away, and maybe (hopefully) get rid of some of that tension that had been piling up over the previous weeks.

Thankfully though, I was saved from answering when a flushed Alice came hurrying over, clinking her cocktail on the table so hard it's fruity contents spilled out across the wooden surface. The overexcited girl, who was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, didn't pay much mind to the mess as she threw herself into our booth and peered over her shoulder to search for something or other.

I shot Ronan a bewildered look, but the ginger merely widened his eyes at me as if to say that he had no clue what was going on either.

"Er, you alright, Al?"

Alice's head snapped back so fast that I honestly fretted a little over the whiplash she must've felt.

"No?! Do I look alright?" Alice stressed, digging her perfectly painted nails into the red cushion that lined the booth's back. "You'll never believe who Penn and I just saw walk in!"

I only hid a smile to myself whilst Ronan decided to humour Alice. "Who d’ya see, Ali-cat?"

Alice's face was nothing like I had ever seen before, her usual pretty smile had been traded in for a kilowatt grin, bunching her rosy cheeks and narrowing her soft brown eyes.

"That singer! You know- the one with the hair and the face! Ah, what's his name? From that band!"

"Matty!" Answered Indra- seemingly a friend of a friend of a friend- who had bounded up to our table in the time Alice had been freaking out, practically hyperventilating. "The. Matty Healy!"

"That's who!" Alice exclaimed and was nodding away excitedly now, whilst I simply sat frozen, drink halfway to my lips.

"Didn't you interview him?" Indra queried suddenly, her eyes as wide as saucers whilst her gaze flitted back and forth between me and the bar at an impossible pace.

Shakily, I set my glass down.

"You did?" Ronan piped up beside me. I swallowed thickly before turning my head towards him, then back towards the two girls, who were anxiously waiting on my reply.

"Uh, yeah." It felt as though I’d forced the words out of my mouth. A ball of cotton having replaced my tongue.

"Oh, Mouse! Introduce us, would you? Please!" Alice all but squealed imploringly.

My alarmed eyes flickered back to Ronan again, then Indra, and then Alice.

My mouth had never felt so dry as I tried my best to ground myself, to get over the sudden, unexpected headfuck that had sent my mind reeling.

"Ah, I don't know, Al. It's, well. I-" I really did struggle to find the right words that could possibly get me out of this entire situation, but before I even knew what was happening, Indra was already reaching for me and pulling me up out of the booth.

Alice jumped up to join her and patted my sleeve eagerly before proceeding to try and drag me away. Ronan, thank the stars, reached out to stop them just in time, tugging on the hem of my jacket and shooting the two girls a sharp look.

"Oi, you two. Behave, will yer? You didn't even give her the chance to answer."

Alice looked up and flashed me a sheepish grin, "Sorry, hun."

Feeling sheepish and rather relieved, really, to be freed from all the clawing hands, I waved her apology off, knowing Ali was only just drunk and excited. "It's fine, just- I think I'm better off heading home now in truth. You know, I've got Teddy to think about."

Both of the girls' disappointment was overwhelmingly obvious, but they didn't push it any further, simply nodded and tried to smile as best as they could.

"No worries, Mouse. You get on home, babe. Sorry again."

"Wait, you're not actually leaving, are you?" Ronan questioned suddenly, causing me to cast a glance over at him. He was frowning now, that much was obvious from the deep set line rapidly forming between his bushy brows. "It's not 'cause of that tosser, is it?"

Immediately, I felt myself shake my head, already knowing that the lie would taste bitter in my mouth.

"Ah, come off it! Stay for another round at least." Ronan goaded me, moving to stand with the girls, his hand still on my elbow though.

"Nah, I'd best head home, Ro. I don't want to be dealing with a hangover as well as a screaming toddler tomorrow morning." I insisted with a lighthearted chuckle, I gifted him an apologetic smile whilst fishing out my phone to call a cab.

It wasn't even late yet, just gone eleven, and there was an unread text from Finn demanding that I have some fun. I gave a heavy sigh.

"Don't be like that, babe. Come on, one more drink and I'll even walk you home." Ronan raised a brow just as he jutted out his jaw and smiled.

It was tempting but...

I laughed lightly and shook my head. "Honestly, Ro-"

But the man wouldn't hear it. "Come on, ladies. Help me out here!" He implored to both of the girls standing either side of him now, the way he towered them was almost funny.

Indra giggled just as Ronan wrapped his strong arms around her and Alice, shaking them a little. Alice simply rolled her eyes at him in amusement, but pulled away slightly to squeeze my hand.

"It's up to you, M. You know we love seeing you, but I can call you a cab if you really want to head off now."

I could only smile at her and silently questioned why we didn't spend more time together outside of the group. I could easily recall Finn saying something or other about a pottery class the two of them had attended the previous weekend and wondered if that would be something I might enjoy.

"I'll be fine, babe. Thank you, though." I told her kindly, before turning to face Ronan. "You enjoy the rest of your night, alright? I'll text you when I've made it back."

"Mouse..." Ronan groaned unhappily, "Just one more drink. For me?"

I shook my head and tugged my jacket further around my body as I stepped away from the trio, patting down my pockets to make sure that I did have everything I needed.

"I'll come out again, soon." I promised them, but tried to aim my words at the frowning redhead as I continued to back away. "You can hold me to it."

Ronan worked his jaw before he nodded curtly, and I sighed to myself before spinning on my heel to hastily make my exit.

Only, it didn't quite happen like that of course, because, of all the people, in all the world, I just had to bump right into none other than Matty.

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