#whats this fucker's name lmfao

[oozeandgoo-art]

#thomas seine #tom zane #thomas zane #whats this fucker's name lmfao #alan wake 2 #alan wake ii #alan wake 2 spoilers #alan wake ii spoilers #aw2 spoilers #put him in a garment i own. because it suits him. velvet squares AND translucent AND hideous AND fun #i think thats all the tags. #i promise i know he doesnt do digitial stuff i promise i know he's an analog beast and not a digital one. however. *I* use computers and i #only know how to mimic glitch shit so he gets what he gets and he doesn't get upsets

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

its called development hell for a reason

#my art lol #shitpost #comic #my ocs #do i really gotta tag all of them??? ugghh ok fine #aurelio #lucian #spencer #moira #legato #river #merth #dove and the other one arent getting tagged mostly b/c the other one doesnt have a [last] name yet even. fuckers #surprise. oc post. nobody [w/ exceptions] is gonna have like any idea wtf this means but that makes it funnier to me #NO THO DEADASS realizing some of these have technically been in devhell for. basically 6-7 years now. sheeesh. rip guys LMFAO #and theyre gonna stay in there for longer until i actually get shit together 😭 LMAO. chamomile's not even here b/c of that lmao #yknow what drawing smthn shitty and incomprehensible was kind of healing. i havent done ms paint shitposting in so long #not gonna say anything else. giggling to myself w/ my shitty sense of humor

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Twenty-Five Going on Forty-Seven

Dbf!Jake Seresin x fem!reader 12k words (.....yes. 12k. i-)

summary: Flirting with the guy who fixed your car turns out to lead to much, much more when you find out he's actually not just some random guy, but your new neighbour and father's new best friend, Jake Seresin.

a/n: porn with plot. a lot of plot. and a lot of porn. 18+ obviously. reader is twenty-five in this, jake is forty-seven. this is entirely based on my new fixation on dbf!jake. i have so many thots. so many that they led to a 12k oneshot lmfao. anyway, as always, a list of things to watch out for:

pet names used in an unholy way, safe sex (i fucking managed to finally give them a condom whooooohoooo), oral sex for the both of them (yes i also wrote a blowjob. this is unbelievable i know), dom!jake, some praise kink, a smidge of strength kink at the end. a lot of begging. as always. mention of shower sex. mostly vanilla. jake fucks in missionary because he wants to be nice for his first time with her. if there's ever a sequel i swear to god he will be the most unholy fucker ever

top gun masterlist

The first time Jake meets you isn't the first time he's supposed to meet you. He's supposed to come by for dinner that evening, to finally get to know the daughter your parents have told him so much about. And it's not his fault that he meets you seven hours earlier that day. Not really.

Because the pictures your parents had kept showing him were all old. Mostly childhood photographs, some from your graduation, but none recent enough to connect the dots.

So it's really not his fault that he doesn't recognise you when he sees you standing there on the side of the road, phone clamped between your ear and shoulder, the hood of your car all the way up. With how wildly you're gesturing, Jake guesses that you're not particularly close to fixing whatever problem you have.

You're wary when he pulls up behind you and opens his door. It's rarely a good sign when random men prey on very obviously helpless and distressed young women. But Jake doesn't even get closer at first, just stands there in the opened car door and asks if you need any help. For a little moment, you debate whether it's worth the risk. Then your father's voice rings out from your phone and you decide that there's not much this guy could do to you in broad daylight on a well used street with your father on the phone.

So you tell him the truth. Yes, you most definitely have a problem. The way he makes sure it's okay for him to come over and take a look calms you even more. He's considerate and careful and maybe you're actually lucky and he's just a guy who genuinely wants to help.

He steps out from the door and walks up to you and honestly, for a moment there you're startled. He has to be in his forties, but damn, he's attractive. Suddenly you're glad you picked your sundress over your sweatpants this morning.

You let him lean over your car and take a closer look.

"If he can't help, I'll just come pick you up and we'll call a tow truck", your father says after you've filled him in on what's happening. Honestly, you'd really rather not have to call a tow truck though, because that's just going to cost you a bunch of money again, which isn't particularly the way you want to spend it.

Also, this guy leaning over your car - and you're not even denying that you're very much eyeing him up - seems like he actually knows what he's doing there.

He takes a minute or two before he comes up again. He's smiling, which you take as a good sign. He opens his mouth and you hear what he's saying - but because you have no clue what it is that he's trying to tell you, you just nod along. You're not a mechanic, you don't know the goddamn terminology. Something something battery, something something fuel pump, whatever. You take the time to notice his accent instead.

The good news is he thinks he can fix whatever he's found, but you'll still have to get it checked out later on.

He walks back to his own car, rummages around and comes back with a toolbox and an unopened water bottle.

"It might take a while", he tells you as he offers you the bottle. "Feel free to turn on my radio."

You take the waterbottle and bite down on your lip to keep from grinning. He's sweet. Goddamn. Because you've deemed the whole thing safe, you tell your father goodbye and hang up - you honestly just want a bit of privacy to stare at this hunk of a man who's bending over the hood of your car again and offering you a very... good look at his backside.

It's summer. He's wearing a wife pleaser, which is reasonable in these temperatures, but the sight of his forearms working almost makes you feel like he knows what he's doing by wearing it. Does he have a wife to please, though? He's old enough to have kids - your age, maybe a few years younger. He's about as old as your dad. If he has a wife, maybe he's wearing it for her. Maybe she likes the way his biceps flexes just like you do.

You squint at his hands as you uncap the water bottle and take a sip. There's no ring as far as you can see. Would it be entirely unreasonable to assume he's... single?

It's been a minute, maybe, when you decide it's probably awkward for you to stand there and watch him, so you go with his suggestion and lean into his car, palms bracing against the seat to reach for the radio.

You turn it on, switch through a few channels until you find one you like and turn the volume up. Because it's probably just as awkward if you stay in his car - if not bordering on creepy - you step around the opened door and settle yourself against the hood. Your thighs stick to the warmed metal, but that's something you're willing to deal with.

Your eyes cling to him as he works. You don't know what the hell he's doing, you just hope he knows and you're not left with an even worse problem after. But he doesn't seem like that type of guy. And since he's seemingly unmarried... You don't stop yourself from staring.

Fuck, maybe he has a girlfriend, not everyone gets married at thirty. Not everyone wears their wedding ring either. But a girl can dream, right? And you're dreaming, for just a few minutes. You allow yourself to dream.

He looks so good. He looks so fucking good.

Sandy-blond hair, cut short, but not too short, broad, broad, broad shoulders... those arms, that back.

When he straightenes and looks at you, greasy fingers and a triumphant grin on his lips, you also have to admit that he's got chiseled fucking features. You swallow hard and do your best to pretend you haven't been ogling him.

"All done", he says. You raise your eyebrows.

"Really? That quickly?"

He grins and takes a step back, offering you to take a look yourself. You bite back a smile and push off the hood of his car - your hips are swaying as you walk, yeah, but as far as you're aware, he's single and just fixed your car for you, for free, in less than fifteen minutes.

Also, he's hot.

"Looks no different to me", you admit. He lets out a chuckle.

"Try it", he says, reaches for the hood and pulls it down as you slip into the driver's seat. You look up to him through the windshield before you turn the key in the ignition and-

The car starts.

The fucking car starts.

He's actually managed it.

You turn the key back and shake your head in disbelief. If he hadn't accidentally stumbled upon you, you'd probably have had to call the tow truck by now. Instead, you reach for the glove compartment and grab your purse.

"How-", you start as you climb out of the car seat again, shutting the door behind you. "How the hell?"

He chuckles.

"Actually, don't tell me", you interrupt yourself, throwing your hands up. "I don't even want to know. Here."

You reach into your purse and pull out disinfection wipes, offering them to him. He takes one with a smile and a drawled thanks and cleans off the grease on his hands before folding it up and letting it disappear into his pocket.

"So you're my knight in shining armour today", you say, biting down on your lip. Fuck it. You're gonna find out here and now whether or not he's single. "Otherwise I'm sure the tow truck would've cost me a hundred bucks - at least."

"Yeah, probably", he agrees, his eyes dropping to your mouth for just a second.

"Well, then", you smile, as coyly as you can manage. "How can I thank you?"

And just as you hoped, he stills, taking you in - maybe for the first time, you're not sure. His eyes rake down your body, your cleavage, your waist, your legs. His lips tug into a grin, but when he looks back up at you, he's serious.

"No worries", he tells you. "I'm not the tow truck."

He's not pushing you. Actually, he's doing the opposite, and you're not a fan. Maybe he isn't single after all. Maybe he does have a girlfriend. Or a wife. Or maybe he's not interested. Maybe... but you can give it a try, right? Just one try.

"I can't just drive off", you argue, blinking up at him a little more, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Fuck, are you really doing this? Your breath catches for a moment. But then again, if he isn't single, you're just gonna get into your car and never see him again. So who cares? "How about I give you my number?"

Your heartbeat quickens as he looks at you and straightens up. He's still grinning. You can't quite figure him out.

"I'm forty-seven, darling", he chuckles. You try your hardest to ignore how that pet name sounds, all sweet and intimate and god, you'd do a lot to have him say it again.

"So?", you ask and raise an eyebrow. "Does that mean you don't have a phone?"

Jake shakes his head with a chuckle, but you keep looking up at him so seductively, keep smiling so flirtatiously that he can't help himself. You're wearing such a pretty dress, such a dainty necklace around your throat. And you're serious about this.

He's had younger women flirt with him, yes, but usually five, ten years younger at most - and even that's been a while, because he isn't going to bars every night anymore.

You're really young. You're too young. You're, what, twenty-six? You can't be much older.

But you're stunning. Gorgeous eyes, kissable lips, glossy and plush and for just a moment, Jake loses himself in the images his mind seems to produce immediately when he looks at you - has been, from the second he'd spotted you through his windshield.

He's old enough to know better. But he still reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone.

...

The first time Jake officially meets you is seven hours later when he knocks on your parents' door and takes a step back to wait for it to open.

"That's gotta be Jake, someone get the door!", your mother's voice calls out, and it takes a few seconds until he hears soft footsteps coming down the hallway.

Then the door cracks open.

And there stands-

You.

You're smiling widely for the entirety of two seconds. Then your face falls.

Jake feels like the rug is pulled out from under his feet. He tumbles deep down a dark, dark hole as he stares at your pretty eyes, all shocked and wide, mouth open.

"You", you let out, almost breathless.

"You", Jake echoes, in quite the same tone.

Within seconds, you're stepping out onto the porch, closing the door behind you and holding out your hand in front of you, as if to keep him a safe distance away.

You're quick, almost stumbling over your own words as you come to conclusions and try to grasp all their consequences. Jake has a hard time even listening to you. He's frozen in his spot, barely comprehending the entire situation.

The young woman that had so unashamedly flirted with him this morning - that he had most definitely flirted back with - is his neighbour's daughter. His friend's daughter.

So he's fucking frozen in spot, yes.

He's frozen even as you're ushering him into the house with a smile on your lips that's just a bit too wide. He's frozen as he sits down at the dinner table and frozen as your mother offers him a beer. He's frozen as he settles on the couch after and as your father turns on a football game. He's frozen as you scoff at the tv and disappear up the stairs.

Your father asks him what's wrong, but there's no way Jake can tell him.

Even without your lecture on the porch, there would've been no way he would have admitted that he's got your number saved in his phone, "Twenty-five" with a winky face emoji behind it.

So he says he hasn't been all that well - maybe getting the flu or something.

Which is bullshit. He doesn't get sick. He's been sick two, maybe three times in all his life.

But he does think he'll be sick when you take your last step down the stairs half an hour later, in pajamas that barely cover anything - satin or something, he's too focused not focusing on your bare skin to notice anything except your bare skin, really. You just traipse over to the kitchen on tiptoes, eyes glued to your phone, hushed voices reaching his ears when you talk to your mother before you reappear in the living room.

"I'm going to bed", you announce, phone clutched tightly in your hands. "It's been a long day."

Jake can't hear your father's answer. He can't hear the commentator or the cheers from the tv. He can't hear anything, not when you're standing there in the doorway, when he's concentrating so fucking hard on not looking at you.

He fails miserably.

His eyes rake down your body so scorchingly hot that they burn holes into your skin. You have to swallow hard at his expression.

You're not tired at all, actually. Yes, it's been a long day, but if anything, you're buzzing with adrenaline. Which is worse. Because the entire dinner long, you've just had to sit there and stare at him and not do anything about it.

So you're aching to finally hide away in your room, to crawl into bed and contemplate what the fuck is happening. And, just maybe, to dip your fingers into your pajama shorts and think about his shoulders, his arms, his jawline...

Jake manages to grunt some kind of 'goodnight' before you flee - but he doesn't manage to drag his eyes back up from your stomach, all exposed and on display for him. And he doesn't manage to hide it from you.

...

He sees you often over the following weeks. He's been over at your parents' house almost every day for the past six months anyway, and that doesn't change just because you've come back home. Your father still invites him for football games, your mother still talks him into coming over for lunch or for dinner or both and whenever they're outside tinkering on something, he's being called to help.

And - because of course, it's your house as well - you're there, too.

All around him, all the time.

At first, it's innocent. You walk into the kitchen to get a glass of water and smile and say hello. You sit on the couch on a call with a friend and wave at him through the window. You come back from a walk with the dog and ask how he's doing before you disappear inside.

But then there come moments... Moments in which you lie down on a sun lounger in a skimpy bikini while he's painting the fence with your father, sunglasses high on your nose, a book in your hands, rubbing sunscreen into your skin and biting your lip when he can't help but look at you. Moments in which you brush up against him in the kitchen with a giggled 'Sorry', your mother's back turned to you as she grabs milk from the fridge, his fists clenching at his sides, his coffee cup held decently in front of his crotch. Moments in which you sit next to him on the couch and have to lean over him with a lengthy apology, your father just disappearing into the bathroom, your palm high enough on his thigh to stagger into the inappropriate.

The only time he's safe is at work. And even then, you're on his mind constantly.

Those pretty dresses you wear all the time, low-cut in the front and so short they hardly reach past your mid-thighs, in all colours of the rainbow. Those skimpy tops with the flowers on them and jeans-shorts or skirts he's more than once noticed are actually skorts.

He shouldn't be attracted to you. It's so wrong on so many levels. You're too young, much too young, twenty-two years younger than him. And - worse - he's best friends with your father.

He can't be attracted to his best friend's daughter. He simply can't.

It's wrong. It's so, so wrong.

But he can't help himself. He can't help himself when you brush up against him, when you touch him, when you look like that right in front of him.

He doesn't know how he survives those first weeks. He doesn't feel like he's alive, really. Every waking thought is of you - of you and of how wrong it is that he can't stop thinking about you. That he keeps imagining what it would be like to hold you, to kiss you, to-

No.

No, he can't.

Even though you're making it practically impossible for him.

And it's not like you really know what you're doing either. But ever since the car incident that very first day back home, you've been picturing those arms, those shoulders - and after the first time you caught sight of him working shirtless on some project in the backyard with your father, those fucking abs. All glistening, sweaty skin, that v-line, that happy trail...

It's not your fault he's starring in all of your late night fantasies now. It's his. It's his because he shouldn't be allowed to look that fucking good, to smell and sound and feel that good, when you can't have him. Because of course you can't.

He's twenty-two years older than you. He's your dad's new best friend.

You can't.

You can't flirt with him like you want to, you can't have him, because it would be wrong. But you also can't not.

You don't mean to taunt him, not at first. At first, it's just instincts. Talk to him, get his attention. But the more you're around him... the less you can control yourself.

You want to then. You want to graze your fingers across his thigh when your father isn't looking, you want to suck the straw of your drink into your mouth while you blink up at him, you want to accidentally drop your spoon and bend over in front of him. You want to because you know he wants you to.

Even though he doesn't say it, even though he forces himself to turn away when you walk by him, you see the way he looks at you. You catch him staring, you catch him eyeing you up and down. You notice the tick in his jaw and the way his fists clench at his sides. You watch his knuckles turn white as he grabs the neck of his beer bottle and takes a deep sip.

You know he's most definitely attracted to you.

Because even if you imagine half of those things - there's still the car incident. There's still your number saved in his phone. There's still 'darling' on your mind. Mostly the way he's repeated it since then, two or three times maybe, each one inspiring more sinful bedtime scenarios.

You can't.

He can't.

And yet neither of you doesn't.

...

Your parents are away when it happens. Your dad has to go on a trip for work and he takes your mother with him, surprises her with an extra weekend of romance just for the two of them. They're gone by Wednesday morning and won't be back until Sunday afternoon and even though you're twenty-five and have experience living on your own, they've asked Jake to check in on you, just to make sure you're okay.

The first time he 'checks in on you' is involuntary. He's just come back from work, it's Wednesday, 3pm, and he's sitting down on his back porch with a beer when he spots you.

He really doesn't mean to. He hadn't even known you were there.

But the fence between your house and his isn't high and so it's only natural that his eyes flick over to your garden once.

And then twice.

Because you're climbing out of the pool in the tiniest black bikini Jake has ever seen in his life, looking like some angelic, biblic, ancient goddess - your hair in a messy bun, droplets of water running down your bare skin, muscles working as you pull yourself up the little ladder and put both feet against solid, dry ground, leaving wet footprints with every step you take until you grab your towel, sling it around your shoulders and-

Look right at him.

Your lips tug into a flirty grin. You wave at him, your hand lingering in the air a second too long before you wrap the towel tightly around yourself and tread towards the fence. Jake can't do anything but watch you go and swallow hard.

The other option would probably be to drag you into his arms and ravage you until your throat is sore from screaming his name.

So he just sits there and stares at you instead.

"Hey there", you greet as soon as you're close enough to the fence that he can't look past your belly button anymore.

"Hey", Jake says and for whatever reason, his voice sounds raspy even to himself. Your grin only deepens.

"Do you have plans for dinner yet?", you ask. You bat your lashes at him innocently as you dry off your arms. "I was going to order take out."

So that's why three hours later, Jake rings your doorbell, in a black button up he spent twenty minutes picking out. The last time he'd spent that long in front of the closet, he'd been about fifteen years younger and about to go on an actual date. This isn't an actual date. This is anything but a date, because he's only supposed to check in on his best friend's daughter. He's supposed to look after you. Keep you safe.

But you open the door in an oversized, washed out band tee and smile so stunningly that he forgets what he's supposed to do in about half a second.

There's a moment of silence as Jake stares at you. He knows that damn band tee.

"Is that... mine?", he asks in disbelief as he waits for the sight to sink in, which it does not do. His mind blanks completely. It's not just that it's oversized and that you look like you're drowning in it, which already has him imagining the way he could flatten his palms against your stomach and feel for you in that heap of fabric. It's also that he knows this fucking shirt because he's been wearing it for the past ten years.

You look down like you're just realising what you have on, not like you'd almost had a heart attack when you'd seen it in the laundry basket, squealing so loudly that your mother had come in to check on you. Jake had worn that shirt the same day and apparently forgotten to put it back on when he'd gone home, so your mother had put it in the laundry.

She hadn't realised that you'd stolen it for yourself before she could wash it. She probably hadn't paid it that much attention.

You had though. And tonight had felt like the perfect occasion to wear it.

"I found it in the laundry", you say truthfully, looking up at him with big eyes. "Dad said it wasn't his so I just took it. Maybe a mix up. Do you want it back?"

Your fingers reach for the hem of the shirt down by your thighs, tugging mindlessly up just a tiny bit. Jake almost stumbles over his own words with how quick he is in denying you.

"No, no, keep it", he reassures. "Keep it."

You let go of the shirt as your grin widens.

"Okay then", you say softly, turn around and leave the door open so Jake can get in. You stroll into the kitchen, crack open the fridge and grab the freshly made iced tea while Jake closes the door behind him and puts away his shoes.

It could have easily been awkward. Honestly, Jake isn't sure that it's not. But it doesn't feel like that. It just feels... heavy. Drowsy. As though you're moving in slow motion, looking at him over your shoulder with a sultry grin. And in his shirt as well. His fucking shirt, it's unbelievable.

You're smiling at him over Chinese take out food with the radio playing softly in the background and the dim kitchen light on and it could have been almost normal, almost nothing, almost just a friendly dinner with his best friend's daughter.

But it isn't.

It isn't because you're leaning over the table and stealing a spring roll from him, grinning at him when he starts to protest. It isn't because you're pushing him back down onto his chair when he wants to get up and help you clear the table, leaning most definitely too close to him to grab his plate and bending most definitely too far down to put it into the dishwasher. It isn't because you're opening a bottle of whiskey, pouring him one and only then asking if he's going to stay and watch a movie with you.

You've already poured him the drink.

Not that he'd been planning to say no.

You're not close to him on the couch, not really. You're a respectful distance away as you put your own drink onto the table in front of you and grab the remote. You're still a respectful distance away as you scroll through a bunch of movies and ask him if he's got any preferences - besides football, of course.

But when you decide on a movie, on one of those rom-coms he'd never watch willingly, you're draping your legs over his and brushing your hair away from your face and he has to swallow hard.

His hands drop to your bare skin almost instinctively. He can't keep them off of you, not when you're this close to him, not when you're offering so prettily. It's like he has to touch you, has to brush his thumbs across your ankles.

This could all be normal. This could all be usual.

Jake doesn't bother paying attention to the movie. It's not like he could possibly pay attention to it, not when his fingers are running up and down your soft skin. So he doesn't really mind that he misses their first kiss, even as you look up from the drink you're refilling with a gasp and wide eyes to watch.

Jake just watches the way your hair frames your face, those droplets of iced tea on your lips before you wipe them off. He's sure he could taste them if he tried to.

You lean back into the couch then and stretch and your shirt - Jake's shirt - rides so far up that he catches sight of your underwear. Fuck.

He has to grab onto you hard so that he doesn't launch himself right on top of you. His mouth is dry all of a sudden, so dry that he has to swallow. You blink up at him as you feel his hands clench around your ankles, your teeth digging into your bottom lip to keep from grinning.

He needs a few seconds to even look up at you. It's like his eyes are glued to that expanse of bare skin at your hip, clinging to the thought of you in your underwear right before him. You're always wearing shorts. You're always wearing shorts. You're always fucking wearing shorts.

Shit.

He shouldn't. He can't.

But his hands brush up your calves and he does look back at you then, which really isn't better, because your lip is still caught between your teeth and your expression is so sinful that he has to bite down on his own tongue.

"Jake", you breathe, all soft and quiet and that's it. That's his breaking point.

You can't just say his fucking name like that, not in his shirt, not while presenting him such a good look at your underwear, and expect him to be okay.

"Fuck", he mutters, then he's on you.

It's an uncomfortable position. You're half turned to him, half away, your legs are still thrown over his lap, which means he can't really push close to you, but his lips are against yours, so firmly, so passionately that you can't care, not right then.

Your eyes fall shut and you kiss him back with the same fervor, the same heat, the same fucking desperation to finally feel him. You part you lips almost too eagerly, too quickly, just so he can stroke his tongue along yours. His hands dig into your thighs, grabbing you tightly, and your arms cross behind his neck to drag him down to you - just that your legs are really in the way now and you have to try and pry one from his lap so that he doesn't crush it, which isn't all that comfortable and takes a while too long to still be sexy. You hardly mind. Jake doesn't either, only pulls his knees up to the couch to climb on top of you.

The whole thing is complicated and annoying and decidedly too time consuming, but his lips are on yours and he's pressing against you, catching himself with a palm against the couch cushions and lowering you to lie down, every single touch frenzied and hurried and hot. Heady and heavy and horny.

You're dragging your hands through his hair, tugging, pulling, scratching your nails across his scalp. He's grabbing your hips with his free hand, grasping your thighs, tangling his fingers in your shirt and digging them into your skin.

You're grinding against him. Not softly, not carefully, not secretly. You're wrapping your legs around him and grinding against him, almost without realising it - you need to be close, you need to be closer. You need to move. You need to feel him.

At the first moan you let out, Jake stills. When you breathily add his name, he pulls back entirely.

It's cold and empty without him, cold and empty and confusing as he settles back on his ankles, panting and wide-eyed. Your arms and legs drop to the couch as you try to catch your breath.

"No", Jake mutters. "We can't."

You push yourself up onto your palms, chest still heaving as you look up at him. Your cheeks feel so hot that you're sure they're embarrassingly red by now and your mind is still hazy with what just happened -

Jake had kissed you. He'd kissed you and you'd kissed him back.

And now he isn't kissing you anymore and you're absolutely not alright with that. You need him to kiss you again. You need to dig your hands into his hair and feel him knead your thighs again. You need to find out what it's like to rake your nails along his arms and scratch down his back.

"Jake", you breathe, staring at him all wide-eyed as he shakes his head and inches even further away from you. He seems like he's in a trance. You repeat his name more forcefully and reach out for him - but he only shakes his head again and runs a hand down his face.

You still for the entirety of two seconds. Then you sit up, inches closer to him than necessary, and toy with the hem of your shirt. You've got a hunch that giving and taking the sight of your underwear will only help your case here.

"Why not?", you ask as you watch his eyes drop down, just like you'd wanted. His breath catches.

"You're twenty-five", he begins, his voice a bit too rough to sound unaffected. "And I'm friends with your father."

You take a long look at him.

"Would you if you weren't friends with my father?"

You bite down on your lip and blink up at him as prettily as you can manage. You're quite sure you know the answer. Especially with that car incident... With your number saved in his phone. With that smug grin you still see in your fantasies.

He hadn't been too concerned with your age back then.

"I am friends with your father", Jake says, all the while struggling to drag his eyes back up your body.

"But if you weren't", you go on, not ready just yet to leave this be - because you know that if you back down now, you'll never get a chance again. Not like this. Not with him. "If you weren't friends with my father. Would you?"

A muscle ticks in his jaw. You hold your breath - one, two, three seconds. Then he's on you yet again and this time, this time with no end in sight. Not as he pushes you back down onto the couch and sets both his palms down next to your head. Not as you wrap your legs around his waist and work the buttons of his shirt, fingers moving so frantically that you slip up more than once - not that you care.

You're kissing Jake. After what has felt like an eternity of teasing and quietly flirting, you're finally kissing him, touching him, feeling him. On top of you, all around you.

Yes, he fucking would. You were right.

His shirt finally unbuttons and you can hardly push it out of the way quickly enough to run your hands down his chest - exploring his collarbones, his abs, that fucking happy trail that has been driving you insane ever since you saw it for the first time. Your fingers brush bare skin, warm, hot, bare skin, before they catch on his waistband. He grinds his hips onto yours as you draw your fingertips along his belt and swallows the moan you so pathetically let out.

You're just about to get to work on opening his belt buckle when he shifts his weight onto one hand and grasps your wrist with the other, pulling an inch away from you as he does so, lips parting in sticky intoxication.

"Jake", you mewl, but when you blink open your eyes he's already shaking his head softly and- grinning. Grinning that smug grin that you've been dreaming of. The one you haven't seen since the very first time you met him. Not with your dad around or directed at anyone else, no. The grin that takes your breath away right then, and you can't even tell why.

It's confident and cocky and cheeky and so, so very, very sexy. Fuck.

You stare at him with wide eyes and parted lips, too caught up in taking him in to notice how he's bringing both your hands up over your head.

"If we're doing this, I'm doing it right, darling", he mutters, all low and rough and the pet name has you clamping your thighs even harder around him. "And only if you want me to."

You can't nod quickly enough.

"I need you to tell me, baby", he grins, exposing those pearly whites that you'd very much like to feel biting into your neck or something. "I need you to say yes."

"Yes, Jake", you push past your lips, breathless and panting and desperate. Desperate for him. "Please."

His chuckle reverberates in your own chest. He runs his hand down your side and rubs a soft circle against the bare skin of your hip, catching on the flimsy fabric of your underwear.

"Already begging for me", he mutters with a grin, his fingers hooking into your waistband. Your hips buck up into his and a moan drops from your lips and Jake just keeps on grinning. Keeps on running his thumbs along your hip bones. "That easily."

You can't even deny it, deny him. You need him to touch you and you need him to do it now.

"You're lucky I want to taste you, because I'm sure it'd be fun to tease you", he chuckles, holds you down against the couch as he sits back on his ankles, keeping your legs spread and the dark spot on your underwear right on display for him. "I could keep you here all night."

You're not sure what excites you more - the promise of all night or the tasting you part. Either way, you bury your hands into your own hair and tug hard to keep yourself from sitting up, pushing him onto his back and riding him into oblivion. He wouldn't let you anyway, you're guessing.

Jake runs his free hand down the inside of your thigh and you really have to concentrate on not moving then. Every touch, every brush and every stroke sends shivers down your spine and pools in your core, heating up each inch of your skin.

When he reaches your underwear once more, he hooks his second thumb into it as well and tugs. Your jaw clenches. God, you've gotta keep still, you've just gotta wait-

He looks up then and raises his eyebrows.

"Please, Jake", you breathe, before he can even say anything. His eyes drop again and he pulls your underwear down, down, down, pushing your knees together to slide them off your legs and you're holding your breath, holding your breath in this intoxicating mess of a moment as he parts your thighs again and leans in. Leans closer.

Leans... not close enough.

Instead, he grabs the hem of your shirt.

"As much as I like that you're wearing my shirt", he mutters, already pushing it up and exposing your stomach to him, "I want to see you."

You let out a pathetic little moan, loosen your hands from your hair and pull his shirt over your head instead, dropping it down onto the floor without looking or bothering where it lands. You're not really bothered about anything besides getting Jake's mouth on you right now.

You're dripping already, dripping down your own thighs as he takes you in - all naked, all bare in front of him, soft skin and smooth curves, chest rising and falling with your heavy breath, eyes half-closed, lips parted and kiss-swollen.

It's wrong. He shouldn't. But he's already gone too far and now, now, with all of you for him to see, to touch, to feel, he can't go back. He can't ever go back.

He wants to burn this image into his memory forever.

"Jake", you whisper, voice just as soft and silky as the rest of you and he snaps out of his trance, runs his fingertips over your stomach, studies you as your breath catches. He leans down again, but his eyes are fixed on you still, focused even as he presses a kiss to your hipbone, then to the inside of your thigh. His teeth graze your skin and his fingers brush against the underside of your boobs.

Fuck.

You bite down on your lip.

Jake thinks he might be in heaven as he palms at your breasts, swiping his thumbs across your nipples and watching your expression change ever so slightly. He breathes against your wetness and his eyes flicker down to finally look at you, dripping for him. His fingers still for just a moment.

If he does this, there's no going back. He's crossing a line that he can never uncross.

But in all honesty - he's already long crossed that line.

So he flattens his tongue against you and tastes you. And you throw you head back and let out a moan that's so filthy that he can't even be bothered to care about what fucking lines he's crossing anymore. He just buries his face in your wetness and basks in the way your eyes roll back into your head.

Your hands dig into his hair all by themselves, tug and pull and push him closer, further into you. You taste heavenly. You are in heaven. You're in heaven with Jake between your legs, brushing his tongue through your folds, sucking your clit into his mouth and groaning into you. He's running his fingers over your breasts, palming and grasping at them, circling and tracing.

That's when the movie stops.

You hadn't even realised it was still on, to be honest, but now, in the silence, your moans echo three times as loud. Jake bathes in the sounds you're letting out. You're absolutely gorgeous like that, teeth tugging at your bottom lip, cheeks flushed, eyes fluttering closed before you blink them open again to look at him, to watch him as he lays between your thighs.

You're soaking in the way he swipes his tongue against you, the way he palms at your skin. With every touch and every brush, you can feel the knot tightening. Can feel the tension in your limbs growing. Can feel the way your legs are starting to clamp tighter, tighter and tighter around Jake's head.

He's so good at this. He's so fucking good at this.

Your grip on his hair tightens so much that you're sure you have to be hurting him, but he doesn't show the slightest hint of wanting to tell you off for it. No, quite the opposite: he pushes further into you and groans his approval.

Which is about the last thing you can take.

Your legs cramp, your hands drag at his hair, your back arches, your head hits the armrest of the couch and Jake guides you through your high, eyes set on you, focused and fixed on you, watching every single reaction you have to him, drinking in the sight of you, drinking in your moans. You're pushing back against him, panting and clawing at him, lips parted and eyes shut tightly as you take in a shaky breath and sink slowly back against the couch.

The air is heavy. Heavy with your emotions, heavy with your orgasm, heavy with your moans.

Jake pulls back slowly, softly, draws his hands down to your stomach to rub circles onto your skin - significantly warmer now than before. You're still breathing heavily, legs unhooking from around his head only reluctantly. Honestly, you wouldn't have minded if he'd just decided to stay down there for the next three to five business days. But you also don't mind as he pushes himself up and presses a kiss to your lips, because he tastes like you and you get to hook your arms around his neck and pull him even further down onto you.

With his half-bare chest pushed against yours, his tongue runs along your lips and you open willingly up to him. More than just willingly. Because with him on top of you, his lips sticky and syrupy on yours, not wanting or not able to part from yours, there's already anticipation running in your veins, wetness pooling in your core again, the urge to wrap your legs around him and grind against him growing and growing with every second that he's kissing you.

You draw your hands down his throat, push his shirt out of the way and brush your palms down his bare torso, all hard abs against your fingertips. He's in such good fucking shape you could truly be running your hands up and down a washboard right now. It feels unfair that he's more than twenty years older than you and somehow fitter.

Your fingers catch on his waistband then.

"Jake", you whine softly against him. "Please, I need you."

He groans, drops his head down to your neck and for a second, you just hear him breathe - all hot and heavy before his lips graze your skin.

"Fuck, you can't say that, darling", he mutters. "You don't know what you do to me."

His belt buckle feels cold against your fingertips, so cold against your sticky, sweaty skin.

"Show me", you whine, beg, plead. He's not teasing you, not taking his time, he's not waiting or edging or anything, and still- Still, you're so fucking desperate. He's finally got you here, finally, and as much as you're sure you'd enjoy his teasing... You just need him to fuck you. Now.

Jake chuckles breathily as he raises his head to look down at you. There's that grin again. That fucking grin.

Then he plants that grin onto your lips and you moan softly, hooking your fingers into his belt and pulling hard. You've just started loosening it successfully when he sits back onto his ankles, leaves you cold and lonely and fully naked on the couch. You mewl.

"Jake-", you let out, but he's already standing up, climbing off of the couch and you're sitting up as if in trance, just to follow him, whatever it is that he has in mind.

He slips off his shoes before he starts to work his belt and then lets that fall to the ground too. You reach for him instinctively, drawing your fingertips along his thighs as he pops the button of his jeans and pulls down his zipper, but when he hooks his thumbs beneath his waistband and tugs down, something snaps inside of you.

"Wait", you whisper. "Let me."

You reach out for him and graze your fingers along his waistband, taking a breath as your eyes flutter up at him. He swallows hard, lets his arms drop to his sides and nods heavily. God, he looks so fucking attractive. His hair all messy, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed solely on you. You make sure to work quickly, almost frenzied, hurriedly pulling down his jeans and taking his briefs right with them. You won't spend unnecessary time on unimportant things.

Your breath catches, palms stilling against his thighs.

Fuck.

Jake's hand twitches, then clenches into a fist. But he stays right where he is, doesn't move an inch. Everything in him screams at him to run his fingers through your hair and guide you closer to him - but he doesn't. He won't. Not tonight, not right now. Right now, he wants to give you every out he can. Just in case you want to take it.

You don't. Of course not.

Not when you can see just how much he's holding himself back.

So instead you lean down and kitten-lick his tip. His hand flexes, again, and even though he lets out a deep groan that will surely echo in your head for the next two weeks, he stays still.

You just wrap your fingers around the base of his cock and take him into your mouth.

He has to close his eyes and tilt his head up to keep from bucking into you. Damn, it hasn't even been that long since he got blown. And he didn't react like a teenager then. But something about your warm, wet mouth, something about the way your dainty fingers reach around him, something about how you eagerly take him so far that he hits the back of your throat, something about that soft little gagging noise you make just before you pull off of him to breathe in deeply-

Fuck, you're making this really hard for him.

"Jake", you mutter, your hand still working him. He opens his eyes and looks down at you, looks down at you sitting there on the couch, completely naked, eyes all wide and cheeks flushed and so fucking stunning. His fingers brush along your forehead, tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

"Jake", you repeat, a little more breathlessly this time. "Don't hold back for me. I won't break."

His jaw clenches again, but you just blink up at him, the weight of your words heavy between you. His eyes roam your face for any sign of uncertainty - then he nods. He'd like to disagree, though. He's more than afraid he'll break you.

You're so young, so sweet, so fragile.

Just not innocent. And you feel like you have to remind him of that - of your more than obvious flirting, of your sultry grins and half-naked hints, of your number sitting so unashamedly in his contacts.

So you lean in again, pull your free hand from his thigh and grab his wrist instead, dragging it away from your cheek and planting it on the back of your head as you wrap your lips around him. He takes a shallow breath and your hand drops back down to his thigh. There's one, two seconds in which your eyes just flutter closed and your nails dig into his skin-

Then, finally, fucking finally! Jake tangles his fingers into your hair and pushes you into him. You loosen your hand from around him and put it against his other thigh, allowing him to pull you closer and closer. You breathe deeply through your nose as Jake groans above you - and it takes everything in you not to grin. Instead, you just let him guide you, blink open your eyes to look at him and try to ignore the arousal dripping down the inside of your thighs. He looks so fucking good, it should truly be forbidden, because now you have to press your legs together and steady your palms against him.

Jake feels about the same. His breathing is heavy, his grip on your hair firm, and his eyes are set on you - on how he disappears inside your mouth, again and again, your spit coating him, your throat tight. He can't help but push you down, one time, two times, and pull you back, three times, four times, then push you down and pull you back again. And again. And again. He can hardly concentrate on how good you're making him feel when you're looking that fucking sinful.

Shit.

Before he can come right then and there in your mouth, he tugs you off fully, his jaw clenching involuntarily at the soft whine you let slip. But you can barely be truly bothered when he leans down and presses his lips to yours instead. You're not bothered about anything, really - about anything but his tongue against yours as you cross your arms behind his neck and draw him in, your hands dragging into his hair, your mouth moving desperately against his, sloppily, silently begging him for more.

Jake steadies his palms against the back rest and pulls away heavily, breathing hard as you open your eyes again to look at him - half-lidded, all languid and slow. He swallows hard.

"Do you-", he starts, his voice low and rough and you nod, letting your arms drop from around him to point at the side table.

Have a condom, he'd wanted to ask. In any other situation, he'd have one himself, but something about bringing condoms for a check in on his best friends daughter would have felt incredibly wrong.

"In my makeup bag", you say, your voice thin and breathy as he stretches and reaches for the lavender coloured pouch, unzipping it and looking for the condoms between all the brushes and lipglosses. He can barely pull one out before your fingers close around it, before you've carefully torn it open. He drops your makeup bag back onto the side table right as you straighten up to press a kiss to his lips - almost innocent, almost, if it weren't for the taste of him on your tongue. Then you press a kiss onto his collarbone. Then one right onto his abs. Then one just above that happy trail that has been driving you fucking insane. And then, then, you run your tongue over his tip again before you roll the condom onto him.

Which means it's his turn.

And he doesn't hesitate.

He's not rough in the way he pushes you onto your back on the couch, no, he's smooth with it, hands running along your skin as he cages you in, as he rests his arms next to your head - but he's firm nonetheless. He takes control easily, moving you how and where he wants to, claiming your mouth, pressing his lips to yours. You let him. More even, you relish in giving in to him, in giving him control, in letting go, in trusting him. You bathe in his kisses, in his touches, in his soft grunts as he guides himself into you.

"Jake", you whine against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair, eyes falling shut. The stretch is delicious, heavenly. He fills you slowly, dragging his lips down your throat as you tilt your head back and let out a filthy moan. Your legs wrap around him, pull him closer. His teeth graze your neck, drawing a moan from you as he settles. He gives you a moment to adjust.

A moment too long.

Way too long.

Even with his lips on your skin, with your nails dragging down his neck, digging into his shoulders, even with him inside of you, you need more. You need him to move. Right fucking now.

"Jake", you mewl, your eyes fluttering open. He raises his head to look at you and- Fuck, good lord. You've messed up his hair and his pupils are wide and his cheeks are red and he looks fucking heavenly. So heavenly that your breath catches. You forget what you wanted to say for a moment. Then his thumb brushes your cheek and you remember.

"Move", you breathe, digging your fingers into his skin and wrapping your legs around him tightly. You need him to move. But his lips tug up in that grin again and, as quickly as you can, you add- "Please, Jake."

His grin widens as he looks down at you, all pretty and desperate, clenching around him, lips parting in a silent moan. It would be so easy to tease you, so easy to make you beg and plead for him... And you'd look so gorgeous doing it. You're already so eager to please him.

But not tonight. Not right now. Right now, he just needs to make you feel good. So he leans down, presses a kiss to your lips and moves. Finally.

You open up to him eagerly, letting him run his tongue along yours, moaning into him as he thrusts into you. Deep and languid, hitting all the right spots like no one has before. Fuck, fuck, fuck-

You're really doing this. He's really doing this. You claw at his back, scratch down his skin, sure to leave bruises as he pulls his head up to look at you, to watch the way you arch up into him. Your skin glistens with sweat, your lips part to let out a breathy mewl and the coil in your stomach tightens, tightens, tightens.

Jake shifts his weight onto one arm, frees a hand to brush his fingers through your hair, tugging, tilting your head back, exposing your throat to him. You moan at the ceiling as he drops a filthy kiss onto your collarbone before he lets go of your hair again, trailing his hand down your side instead - and his hand is so fucking big, so big as he draws it down your body, brushing his fingertips over your boob, sweeping over your hip, grasping your thigh. You pull him down onto you, crash your lips back onto his hard. You need to feel him, you need to kiss him, you need to hold him right now. You need him. You need this.

He smoothes his fingers down your skin until they catch on your clit.

"Jake", you moan into his mouth, pathetic even to your own ears. He only grins into the kiss and circles your clit as he thrusts into you, again and again and again, your legs clenching harder and harder and harder around him before he pulls away, pulls even further away even though you chase after his lips, his eyes roaming your face as you squeeze yours shut tightly.

"Look at me, darling", he drawls, his voice low and raspy, his fingers rough against your clit. "Look at me when I'm fucking you."

You let out some kind of deranged moan at his crude wording, opening your eyes and blinking up at him because there's no fucking way you can deny him. Not when he calls you darling like that. Not when he thrusts inside you just right. Not when the view of him, messy hair and grinning and all, has you clenching around him this hard.

You're close. So close.

"Atta girl", he mutters, and that does it for you.

Your legs cramp and your lips part again to let out a gorgeous little moan that Jake swallows up immediately, slotting his mouth over yours and drinking up the way you clench around him. It takes everything in him not to come too. You're so fucking pretty and you're clenching so fucking perfectly around him, but he needs to make you feel good first, he needs to make you come first, he needs...

"Jake", you mewl, face scrunched up, back arched, as he guides you through your second high of the night. "Fuck, fuck."

He's grinning when you come down. You grab his hand and pull it away from your clit. It's too much right now, too much. It takes a second for you to even realise that he's stopped moving entirely, too focused on watching you, on drinking up the sight of you, tousled hair and red cheeks and parted lips and all. You look like an angel, so fucking heavenly that he can't believe his eyes, not really.

"Jake", you mutter, slurring his name so prettily and pulling him in for another kiss, your arms loose around his neck, your fingers lazily brushing through his hair. "Come for me?"

It's barely more than a breath, barely more than a whisper onto his lips, but he hears it, oh, he hears it. He lets out a groan as he draws away again, his eyes roaming your face. You're unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable.

You're asking him to come for you. Begging him to come for you.

And there's no grin in sight, no smug smile, no hint of trying to take control of him - it's not a command, not even close, you're actually, genuinely pleading, your eyes half-lidded and barely focusing, just needing him to feel good now, too.

You're really fucking unbelievable.

He can't remember ever having a woman ask him to come.

He kisses you so hard you become dizzy, pressing his lips onto yours and tangling a hand into your hair. He pushes impossibly closer, thrusts back into you and pulls another string of moans from you, bordering on incomprehensible, hardly more than breaths, mewls that he swallows before they can flee into the empty air of the living room.

His own breathing comes in pants, his muscles clenching and tensing and he's there quicker than he thought he'd be. He's close, really close, and that's when you decide to dig your teeth into his lip and tug and fuck, he's there, alright. He's done then. He spills inside you with a groan, pulling back right as you flash him a dazed grin, eyes fluttering open to take him in.

Your throat feels way too dry all of a sudden.

You don't think you'll get this image out of your head ever again, this image of him coming undone on top of you. It's burning itself into your memory while you watch, never to be forgotten.

Because hell no, you won't forget this.

"Fuck", Jake groans, his voice all rough and hoarse and he leans down to press a kiss to your lips again, slow this time, almost soft. He brushes a thumb down your cheek, lightly cups your jaw and pulls you even closer, your skin warm beneath his fingers.

You tighten your arms around his neck a bit, keeping him firmly there, firmly on top of you, firmly inside of you. But he makes no move to leave, anyway. Just runs his tongue tenderly along yours, unhurried and gentle, and holds you close. You don't know for how long. He could've kept you there for eternity and you wouldn't have minded. How could you mind, basking in the afterglow like this, with his skin sticking to yours, his fingers grazing your cheek, his lips brushing against yours? No, really, you could've stayed there for the rest of forever.

But he pulls back after a while, of course, and pulls out, too. You let out some kind of disappointed mewl, but that's about everything you can do before he gently grasps your wrists and pulls your arms from around him, smiling in a way you can't even begin to complain.

"Lets get you cleaned up, darling", he says softly, carefully helping you sit up, his hands everywhere but nowhere nearly long enough.

You sigh dramatically, blinking your eyes open to look at him, even as you let him pull you up. Your legs feel like pudding. You feel like pudding.

"If we have to", you give in, smiling as Jake grins and shakes his head at you.

"We have to", he chuckles, hauls you up into his arms and waits for you to hold onto him before he carries you into the bathroom - seemingly fucking without any problem whatsoever, as if you weigh nothing at all to him.

You bite down on your lip and rest your forehead against his chest, squeezing your eyes shut to not have to look at him while you contemplate his strength. He should not be this fucking strong. He should not be allowed to be this fucking strong.

"Careful", Jake says, his voice low, as he sets you gently down on the toilet seat. You flinch away from the ice-cold seat against your thighs, fingernails digging into his shoulders for one, two, three seconds before you relax and settle down.

Jake lets go of you just as softly, steadying you until he's sure you won't just fall right off the toilet. He turns and you look up, his back right there to stare at, a smile tugging at your lips again - goddamn, he looks way too good, holy shit. You barely hear the garbage can open and close as he throws away the used condom, then rummages through the drawers until he finds a washcloth that he can soak in luke warm water.

He turns with a smile, grabs your chin tenderly and presses a kiss to your lips, just one, all sweet and languid, so unlike the rest of his kisses. You hardly notice that he's cleaning you off as he kneels down in front of you, simply because you're so entranced by him. God, but he really looks like he's fucking glowing, you hate him for having this effect on you.

He wraps his arms around you again - did he put the washcloth away? fuck, did you miss that? - and you cuddle close, almost (but just almost) letting out a pleased sigh. Fuck, he's so broad and so strong and so comfortable...

He sets you down on the couch and smiles.

"Wait here for me, darling", he mutters, bending down to pick up your shirt (his shirt, really) and slide it carefully over your head once again. You hug yourself close and settle deep into the couch as Jake disappears. His steps echo through the house.

Then there's silence.

Absolute silence.

You rest your head against the headrest and close your eyes, your fingertips absentmindedly drawing circles against your heated skin.

And in this quiet emptiness... the reality of the situation finally sinks in.

For the first time.

Because you just slept with Jake Seresin.

Jake Seresin. Your neighbour Jake Seresin. Your dad's best friend Jake Seresin. Twenty-two years older than you Jake Seresin.

Holy fucking shit. Holy fucking shit.

This actually happened. This actually fucking happened. You slept with Jake Seresin. And somehow... somehow- Somehow you can't feel guilty. You can't feel bad or ashamed. Not like you should. And you definitely should. Because this is Jake Seresin, not some random frat guy. This is forty-seven year old, your dad's best friend Jake Seresin.

But you can't feel bad.

You really do try, for the entirety of a minute or two, while somewhere in the back of the house, a door is opened and closed again. But you still can't feel bad. So you don't.

Jake comes back with a water bottle and his briefs back on, which you can't help but feel disappointed at. He sits down on the couch next to you and hands you the bottle.

"Drink", he nods, so you uncap it carefully and take a sip. It's charming, really, how the first time you'd met him with your car broken down, he'd also handed you a water bottle. A grin tugs at your lips involuntarily. It's just coincidence, you know that, but there's something incredibly sweet about the way he's seemingly always made sure to keep you hydrated. There's something sweet about him, simple as that, with how softly he's cleaned you off and settled you down on the couch after.

You put the bottle down on the table and turn to him.

He looks almost normal again, almost like before. He's still nearly naked though (which you certainly aren't complaining about), and his hair still looks like he's just walked straight out of a hurricane. He raises his eyebrows at you as you take him in.

"We should probably talk about this", you say, your voice cracking halfway through. You're not sure you want to talk about it. And with the way Jake's face falls... yeah, he doesn't seem to, either. But he still straightens up and brings some more distance between the both of you.

Maybe that's smart, actually. Maybe. But then again, you've already done everything you could to try and feel bad, so instead of doing the reasonable (you're already way past the reasonable anyway) and pushing further away from Jake too, you stretch out a leg and drape it over his lap again.

A muscle in his jaw ticks and he grasps your ankle almost immediately, as if there's no other choice but to touch you even while he's trying to keep his distance.

"But", you grin, scooching a little closer as an idea forms in your mind, "You know, I still have to shower. Chlorine is so bad for the skin unless you wash it off. And I did spend quite a while in the pool today."

...

It's Monday afternoon and even hotter than the weeks before. You're sitting outside, sunbathing in the fifteenth layer of sunscreen of the day, with sunglasses on that hardly seem to do anything and wearing nothing but a bikini because god, you're fucking melting. It hasn't been this hot the entire year.

The only really good thing about the scorching heat is that Jake, for lack of swimming pools in his garden, is doing sets in yours. You're incredibly glad for your sunglasses, because even though your mother is sitting right next to you, burying her nose in another of the novels she'd checked out from the library two weeks earlier, you can ogle Jake without worrying that she'll catch you.

And goddamn, you're ogling, alright.

It's not like you haven't stared at him enough. Over the past five days, you've barely been doing anything else. Well, except for those times you'd had your eyes closed and his lips on yours, of course. But still, you don't really feel like you could ever possibly get enough of staring at him.

And right now, right now, with the way he climbs out of the pool, arms tensing and flexing, water dropping down his skin, his hands running through his soaking wet hair...

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You bite down on your lip and press your thighs together. God, if you aren't careful, you'll have to disappear into the house and shower early, because you're sure you could not pass the dark spot on your bikini bottoms off as sweat.

Jake turns away to grab his towel and starts to dry off and you're already mulling over how you'll phrase the message you'll send him (something along the lines of 'tell my parents you need to use the bathroom' with a shower selfie attached? You've already sent him way worse things while he'd been at work) when your mother suddenly gasps.

Three heads turn to her simultaneously.

"Jake!", she chokes, her book sinking down into her lap. Jake raises his eyebrows at her, just as clueless as you are. She parts her lips and then clamps her mouth shut again, apparently lost for words. "Your back."

It hits you like a tidal wave.

Oh, shit. Oh, holy fucking shit.

You should've noticed earlier. Much earlier. You should've- God, he'd known, too, hadn't he? But you'd been the one to stare at his back long enough that you should've noticed. Yesterday. You should've noticed the long, red lines running down his skin. Your long, red lines running down his skin. Fuck, fuck-

"Oh, that-"

Jake stumbles over his own words for the first time ever since you've met him. His eyes find yours, for just a moment or two, and you can see the panic in them. It's the second fucking day your parents are back. The second fucking day. And you're already messing up, you're already-

"I knew it", your mother grins, clapping her hands together and letting out a laugh that startles you so hard you flinch. "I knew you were a womanizer after all! I mean, looking like that, there's no other way-"

"Honey!", your father gasps, and she giggles and throws her hands up. But he's grinning too and you know him well enough to say he isn't really mad that she's complimenting Jake.

"Sorry, sorry, just saying." She chuckles to herself and grabs her book again, her voice dropping to a mumble. "I can't believe it though, we go away for five days and suddenly he's hooking up with someone! I think we need to stop inviting him over so often if we want him to find somebody."

Your father laughs and gets up to offer Jake a beer.

"You didn't happen to see who he brought home, did you?", your mother asks, her voice almost too casual to really be casual as she turns her head to look at you with raised eyebrows.

You choke on your breath.

"Um-", you start, but your father already rolls his eyes and saves you without meaning to.

"You're not nosy at all", he chides, resting his beer bottle against her foot. She tugs it away and shakes her head at him.

"Just curious", she grins. "Just curious."

Yeah. Just curious. You pray to god that just curious won't one day expose the little secret you've got going on with Jake. Next time, you'll really have to be more careful with your nails.

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin smut #dbf!jake seresin #dbf!jake seresin smut #x reader #dbf!jake seresin x reader #top gun #top gun x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin smut

[avawritesthings]

crash n burn | ln4

✦ word count - 1,358

✦ summary - y/n crashed out of the 2024 shanghai gp, and lando can’t help but worry.

✦ warnings - injuries, angst(?), worried lando, racing/f1 inaccuracies!!

✦ ava’s notes - f1driver!reader for this one, folks. sorry for the inactivity, i haven’t had the writing spark in a while. but here i am, and with a new sport, no less! i'm also trying smth new, no Capitalization...not sure if ya'll are into it. i got into f1 a couple weeks ago, so there might be several inaccuracies, but i tried my best. thank you for the support 🫶🏼 (sorry for the long ass note LMFAO)

f1 masterlist & nhl masterlist

THE FAINT SOUNDS OF VOICES reached your ringing ears. you could feel your head pounding from within the totaled car. suddenly, the simple act of opening your eyes was the hardest task for your shuddering body.

“y/n, are you alright?” the voices of your engineers could be heard through your helmet.

“i’m alright,” you mumble, not sure if the words made it out of your dry mouth. as your hands reach towards your harness and disconnect the latches, you let out a sigh of defeat, a whimper slipping past your lips.

you knew the race was over. the helmet was next to come off, throwing it out of your car before shakily ripping off the balaclava from your sweaty head. the act of taking off your helmet meant you couldn't talk to your team, you knew, but you couldn’t care less. 

you felt like you couldn’t breathe with the restrictive head gear on. 

tears burned behind your eyes, but you willed them back, refusing to show weakness. you felt and heard people around you. medics, probably, you couldn’t tell.

they were whirling around you and the war, or what was left of it. you felt them help you out and you let them, too tired to refuse. as your almost lifeless body left the constricted space, you took a heavy, deep breath, the exhale coming out trembling.

hands grabbed at your waist to keep you upright. waving a hand towards the concerned yet roaring crowd, the medics helped you into the van. before the double doors closed, you opened your eyes as much as you could and stifled a sob at what was left of your car. 

you willed the strength to run your hands down your exhausted face. a blood pressure cuff made its way up your arm and you turned to the man responsible.

the thought of your family filled your head; are they worried? are they watching? your boyf-

lando.

you knew he’d be worried sick. turning your head towards the medic, you asked “c-can i speak to him? lando?”

the man – who you felt knew you were going to ask at some point – wordlessly handed you a headset, and you could already hear his yelling.

“-and none of you bloody fuckers have heard from her? complete bullshit. is. she. okay?!”

“lando?” his name spilled from your lips, relief ever so present in your voice, knowing he was okay — as well as he could be after seeing the love of his life crash, hard.

“babe? is that you? fuck- i hadn’t heard from you and i thought the worst.” he spoke, and you knew that if he wasn’t racing, he’d be running his hands through his hair like a madman.

“i’m okay lando, i promise,” you said, your hands gripping the microphone attached to the headset. “i’ll see you soon, okay?”

“yeah- yes, baby. i’m so glad you’re okay. i love you,’ and that was the last you heard before the doors of the medical van opened and you were being whisked away to the medical center in the paddock.

-

a mild concussion and a bruised rib.

you got off easy, they said. it could’ve been much worse, they said.

you just felt tired. exhausted. however many g’s your body was put through would have probably killed a normal civilian. soon enough, you saw the familiar head of dark curls jogging towards you. daniel wrapped you in a comforting side hug, running a hand up and down your back while he placed a soft kiss on top of your head.

“glad you’re alright, sugar,” he breathed out. “don’t know what i woulda done if you hadn’t ended up okay.”

a small, genuine smile appeared on your chapped lips as you leaned against his warm body. danny had dnf’d a couple laps before your crash, and you were slightly glad. it was nice to have a friend after your unfortunate end to the race. 

“thanks, avocado,” you acknowledged, a hand coming to rest on his upper arm. the nickname stemmed from an interview he did with a kid that butchered his last name, saying avocado instead of ricciardo.

“you talk to lando yet?” danny asked, knowing your boyfriend is probably worried sick.

“yeah, spoke to him on the way here,” you answered. “he was worried sick, yelling at his team until i got on the radio. sorry you crashed out, danny. it wasn’t your fault.”

“ah i see,” he teased, knowing how much the boy loved you and worried over you. “and ‘s alright, couldn’t do anything to stop it. appreciate it though.”

you squeezed his arm before letting go, knowing he’d have to do interviews and such. “you got somewhere to be? interviews ‘n whatnot?”

danny turned his watch towards himself and swore, making you lightly chuckle. the sound of your laugh brought a smile to his face and he squeezed your arm back, his worried eyes scanning over your tired body. “you sure you’re alright? i can probably push the interviews back a few…”

waving him off with a flick of your hand, you affirmed that it was fine for him to go. he left you with another kiss to your temple and hurried off, turning around with another wave and his signature large, beaming smile. you blew him a kiss and he pretended to catch it, and you smiled fondly. your relationship with danny had always been friendly and flirty, lando never felt intimidated. a brother & sister bond is what it felt like with danny, being teammates strengthened your friendship greatly. 

sleep was calling, but the crowd and bustling people kept you up. your eyes met the tv broadcasting the race, seeing the drivers come towards their garages. red flag, you correctly assumed.

fiddling with the zipper of your fireproof suit, you couldn't do much other than stay hydrated and watch the race. a few more people came in and visited you, mostly your team, to make sure you were okay and alive.

on the uncomfortable hospital bed, you tried to catch up on sleep. as soon as your eyes closed, you heard the voice of the commentators. “the race has come to an early end. y/l/n’s crash was brutal. we haven’t heard much about her condition as of yet…” their voices faded out as you heard commotion outside of your hospital bed.

minutes later, lando came barreling in. his fireproof suit was still suited up, and his eyes immediately locked onto your worn out body.

“oh y/n,” he whispered out. lando walked closer to you and carefully wrapped his arms around you, and you could feel his body buzzing from adrenaline. 

“hi, lando,” you spoke softly, wrapping your arms around his slim torso. you could feel him hug you tighter. “they didn’t have to call off the race, y’know…i’m honestly fine.”

lando stood up straight and his eyes raked over you, similar to when daniel checked up on you. “fine my ass. you look like shit, y/n. but i’m so glad you’re okay.” his hands ran up and down yours, seemingly to calm himself and you down. “fuck the race, i had to see if you were okay.”

“just a bruised rib and-”

“and? there’s more?” lando’s concerned yet exasperated voice berated you. 

you rolled your eyes before continuing, “-and a concussion. honey, i swear, i’m fine. they gave me meds for the headache and i’ve just been in here waiting for you.” you turned your head and grabbed his hand, your lips meeting the inside of his wrist. a smile formed on your face, trying to comfort him. 

he sighed out in relief, glad you were okay. he brought you into his arms again. “i just- i don’t know what i would have done if it was worse. i’m so glad you’re okay.” you could feel him press a million kisses to the top of your slightly throbbing head. 

a few seconds passed before you spoke up, teasing clear in your voice, “you’re gonna have to apologize to your team, y’know. your yelling was quite loud, baby.” 

he groaned out dramatically and chuckled, “oh, fuck off.”

--

italics they could never make me hate you :/

(like/reblog/comment/follow, if you want! if ur a little ghost reader, i appreciate u xo)

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #formula one #formula 1 #lando norris imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #lando norris fanfic #my writing!

[lowkeyrobin]

MCYT with an S/O who fosters kittens? :D

OH MY LORD YESYESYESHDNSKDNDN I had sm inspo w this bc I have 5 cats (cats are one of my favorite things ever I swear) and yeah dkkdkd THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST

MCYT ; you foster kittens

includes ; tommyinnit, tubbo, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, quackity, foolish gamers, karl jacobs, & slimecicle

warnings ; language, talk of harm towards animals

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

genuinely feels so bad when you have to let the cats go

like he tears up nearly every fucking time

he watches some of these poor cats go from aggressive and distant, barely able to eat because they don't trust you yet, to warm, loving and cuddley little creatures

he literally watches them grow and he gets so emotional cause like why can't you keep all of them???

he'll be off to the side when you're handing them away to a new home wiping his tears

he's more emotional about it than you

he gifts you like new cat food bowls and cat towers and stuff once they get all beaten to a pulp

if you're fostering more than like three at a time, he'll have a gang of them on his lap while he's editing, recording, or lounging around

his hands are always covered in scratches and scars because he'll fuck around and find out even after you warn him about them being feisty at first

"this one got ran over by a car and he's blind now"

"can we keep him?? :("

TUBBO

"Oh fuckin christ- y/n! the children are invading!"

they're always running in and opening the doors with their lil hands when he's streaming LMFAO

he loves that you foster cats, the fact you take time out of your life for these precious little animals that just need a chance at a better life is so heartwarming to him

if he's not streaming or sleeping, he's spending time with those chaotic fuckers

he and freddie make an orange cat that you fostered -who was deaf- become a dj

he didn't know the cat was deaf until you asked what he was doing

"I mean, for a deaf man, he's making some bangers!"

"yeah, this cat knows how to party, y/n, come join us"

he can never be around when the cats have to leave though, he just sits there with a pout because he gets too attached to them

yall got a whole room dedicated to the foster cats, don't worry, they're spoiled as all hell

RANBOO

like tubbo, it warms his heart to see you care so much about the poor babies that just need a little help readjusting and understanding that not all people are bad/you're there to help them

absolutely loves when you bring back like little feisty babies that barely know how to walk but know how to hiss

they can't help but laugh like "awe oh my god, this is so sad but it's so cute"

when I tell you all those cats are so spoiled by them

it's sweet though, he really cares about all the cats you take in too, you honestly foster them together at this point

you guys end up keeping this tuxedo cat with one eye and name it Jellyfish (as per chats vote)

the amount of fanart of you two with jellyfish 💔💔💔 so cute

jellyfish becomes the mom of all the new fosters and looks over them and shit, that way they ease into the new environment a little better

buys all the fosters outfits. there's a barbie sized closet for all the clothes

FREDDIE BADLINU

it's like there's a new cat every week considering he brings back street cats as well LMAO

these mf cats are SO SPOILED but they deserve it

he gets so attached to the disabled ones because he loves having to help them out

he loves teaching them how to eat from his hands too

it's so funny, like they'll nick his fingers and he'll be like "fuck, that tickles, Mr. Peanut!"

gets so emotional when you have to give them to better homes

like hugs and kisses them goodbye 4 times

he genuinely thinks your magic, watches those cats go from shy and trying to stay away from you to like being attached to you by the hip and all wagging their tails

he's constantly running around the house playing with them too

he loves seeing them pop up on 2 legs like meerkats when he's serving them wet food or treats LMAO

NIKI NIHACHU

she couldn't care less that the house is loaded with cat stuff and a whole room is filled with cat towers, shelves and toys for them

loves making new little puzzles/mazes for the cats with the shelves, making a little competition to see who can get to the top fastest

she names the cats because she's gonna get attached either way, but after a while they become more and more silly

like they go from Sebastian and Pixel to Tater Tot and Simon From Alvin And The Chipmunks so quickly

she learns how to make homemade cat treats as well

she also, like ranboo, gets a little barbie closet and fills it with cat outfits

some cats like the outfits and others don't, but the ones who do, good god it's like britney manson on the runway

absolute ws in that house, photoshoots for days

QUACKITY

"AH WHAT THE FUCK? Y/n! come get Jessie and Walter, they've invaded my stream!"

he genuinely names most the foster cats characters from meme shows/movies/memes in general

actually named one Badass Grandmas Meme ; also named another Hurricane Tortilla after that one vine

always taking .5s of the cats once they've accepted that he exists as well

sometimes they hop on his desk and join the stream

"Oh, look! it's Goldfish, she's the newest foster that y/n took in"

constantly taking pictures of you and the fosters throughout the stages of rehabilitation

from hissing and scratching to cuddling on the couch and lazy naps

no cat leaves without a little pair of sunglasses

he's genuinely inspired to make quackity cat merch because most of the fosters you take in LOVE clothes LMAO

FOOLISH GAMERS

literally treats these mfs as babies

you'll walk in and see him holding one of the elderly cats you're rehabiliting from a bad home whom just got rescued and he's holding this poor girl like a literal infant

she loves it though, most the cats do

the fosters love playing with his hair too, and he plays into it, always bends down to their level and wobbles his hair around for them to smack around and try to chew on

he has such a soft spot for them

if you're having one of those rare moments where you might give up on a cat, he's right there to try and help you

flea baths on kittens are always done by him, he feels so bad for each of them, meanwhile you're on cat-drying duty and giving them a lil medication to kill any remaining fleas

he's 50/50 on names at first but gives up with trying to not name them bc he gets attached anyways

"Oh, lookit! this is Evergreen, she's been chilling with us for like, 3 months I think"

he loves when they interrupt his streams bc they're so cute and explorative and curious LMAO

KARL JACOBS

he's always snuggling with them and letting them climb all over him

let's them play with his hair/dangly earrings he's wearing all the time

uses his hoodie strings to play with them too

also teaches them how to eat from his hands

he giggles with a "Oh my God, that tickles!'

he gives them all human names

the litters usually look like Tom, Sally, Joe, Micheal, Cameron, and Mellissa

loves giving them clothes too

genuinely releases a little merch line of cat clothing considering he's got a mini closet full of cat clothes for the fosters, why not share the little cuteness

he's a cat whisperer istg

CHARLIE SLIMECICLE

he's the most supportive of you fostering cats like ever

loves fucking around with them and sliding them around on the floor, if there's any long hair cats, he loops very loose bows and clips around their fur and shit

cradles them like babies to sleep

and then slips them into the cat tower or on the couch/bed etc

even covers them with a little blanket

"Oh shit, they've invaded, they're raiding! the axe weilding brothers are here!"

gives them the most dumbass names like Microwave Popcorn and Toaster Strudle

he frames pictures of every cat in the hallway once they leave

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #tommyinnit x reader #ranboo x reader #quackity x reader #badlinu x reader #tubbo x reader #freddie badlinu x reader #foolish gamers x reader #karl jacobs x reader #niki nihachu x reader #charlie slimecicle x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #they/them reader

[blades-bundle]

How they are in the mornings

ft: Kafka, Blade, March 7th, Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, Luocha, Seele, Bronya

Kafka

- You'd think she's a morning person, considering her job and how she has to be awake a lot. - No. She hates mornings. - She's a HUGE cuddle bug, though. - Kafka will be holding you tight and trying to drag out the morning as long as she can. - She'd much rather spend the mornings in bed with you than heading out on another adventure because of Elios Script. - She also has either herself, Blade, or Silver Wolf make you both coffee when she's finally done holding you hostage pffft. - "Mmh... Good morning, baby..." - Her voice is soft and sweet, but also partially gravelly.

Blade

- He's very cuddly. Like. Look at that man and tell me that despite his personality he isn't a cuddle bug. - He is touch starved asf. (Maybe I'm projecting, who knows?) - Blade is the typa guy to actually be really affectionate when tired, even if he isn't typically. - When he's tired, he isn't worrying about what he's supposed to say or do. - He just.. does. - "Quit squirming... it's too early for this... Let me hold you closer..." - He definitely has a very hot morning voice. - Yeah, he knows it too.

March 7th

- She is very 50/50. - Either she's up at the sunrise, waking you up to make you both hot cocoa and watch it. - Or she's dead asleep with you well past noon. - It really depends on how tiring the trailblaze mission was. - She's cuddly when she's falling asleep, but this girl moves a shit ton when she's actually asleep. - Like. A lot. - Expect to be kicked lmfao. - She'll apologise a lot afterwards tho aksjgfkjdsg - "I'm so sorry! Here, let's cuddle and watch a movie to make up for it, mk?"

Dan Heng

- He sleeps like a fucking rock. - On his back, arms either by his sides or across his chest. - Well, unless you're laying on his chest. - Then his arms are around your waist. - ..Or well, unless he's having a nightmare. - He doesn't get them very often, but they're always awful. - Memories of his past always coming back to haunt him. - It's a big relief for him to wake up with you right next to him, trying to help. - It almost completely calms him immediately. - "It's.. okay, dear. I feel much better now that you're here..."

Jing Yuan

- He is a human teddy bear, and no I do not take criticism. - He's so warm and big and just grgrgrgr - His arms are so inviting and he's so gentle with you. - Jing Yuan is the type to run his fingers through your hair to help you sleep while humming some random tune. - He wakes up early in the mornings but always waits til you're awake to move. - Then he makes you both coffee and breakfast. - God his morning voice is so gravelly and deep. - He doesn't even seem to notice the difference unless you point it out. - "Mmh.. My voice? Well I suppose it is slightly lower, haha.."

Luocha

- Smug bastard smh /affec - This fucker is the type to hold you super close on purpose. - He knows what you are. - Luocha makes the best tea in the mornings. - Gives you just the right amount of energy while both tasting good and helping you feel good. - His words, not mine. - He's quite gentle with you, however. - A hand running through your hair as he lays on his back, you spooning his side. - "Such a sweet thing.. Good morning, my dove..."

Seele

- She's a light sleeper, that's for sure. - A habit she's picked up from working with Wildfire. - That doesn't mean she doesn't know how to relax... - It just means she can't sleep well if you move in your sleep. - Not that she would say such to you, of course. - If she wakes up, she just watches you sleep before slipping off herself once more. - Seele finds it endearing, seeing you snuggle into a pillow and mumble under your breath. - She heard you say her name once in your sleep, and she wasn't able to look you in the eye for a bit. - She's just embarrassed pffft. - "Mmh.. Finally awake, sleepy head?"

Bronya

- Miss Ma'am. Why do you have a perfect sleep schedule? - She wakes up and goes to bed at the same time every single day. - She always either makes breakfast for you both or has one of the workers at her estate do so. - Bronya will wake you up gently to have breakfast together and dance to the record player in the living room. - I see her as a hopeless romantic almost. (Maybe I'm projecting idc.) - She's got a soft and light morning voice, but it's still somewhat stern. - Mom friend alert pffft. - "Good morning, dear. Time to get up.. I made breakfast."

#blade hsr x reader #kafka x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr kafka x reader #hsr march 7th #hsr march 7th x reader #hsr dan heng x reader #hsr dan heng #hsr jing yuan #hsr jing yuan x reader #hsr luocha #hsr luocha x reader #hsr seele #hsr seele x reader #hsr bronya #hsr bronya x reader #bladie_posts

[beemers-hell]

i desperately wanna apologize to you but you would call bullshit and paint me like something evil bitch when in reality, i want the cycle of abuse to end and to ease my mind. i just wanna redeem myself before ending it all.

- you already know who

to everyone else sorry about this, but I've had enough, anyway i was just gonna delete this, just like i deleted the TWO suicide notes you sent me in my ask box a lil bit ago, but a number of my friends DM'd me about what you've been posting on your blog so I can only assume this all came from Nene, also known as @/shugurrsn0w , and for anyone who doesnt know Nene is, well this callout thread will get you acclimated with her REAL quick lmfao:

You are not fucking apologetic at all if you are using s0uless' full REAL name on your blog, you stupid bitch. That kind of information can put them at risk of REAL GENUINE HARM. S0uless made the mistake of using their name as their art handle when they were younger but they have been doing a pretty extensive wipe of that username being online, I know this isn't exactly doxxing because of that but USING IT WHEN THEY'RE CLEARLY NOT WANTING IT TO BE PUBLIC INFORMATION IS SOME PRETTY SCUMMY SHIT, AND CAN BE USED FOR ACTUAL REAL HARM BEING DONE TO HIM YOU JACKASS

Don't come in my ask box hiding behind anonymous acting like you actually feel bad for the shit you did when you are STILL making posts calling me and my husband fucking freaks when you know DAMN WELL we're not. Don't you dare try and act all remorseful and pitiful and like you're some misunderstood fallen angel when you've been doing but helping making our lives a fucking nightmare. You don't get to act like you've done nothing wrong when you have CONSISENTLY VICTIM BLAMED THEM, CLAIMED THEIR TRAUMA WAS FAKE, BEEN RACIST TO ME, MOCKED MY ABUELAS RECENT DEATH, THREATENED HARM ON BOTH OF US, HARASSED AND STALKED US, AND SPREAD ALL THIS INSANE SHIT ABOUT US FOR NO GODDAMN REASON. You don't get to just act like you made some petty mistakes that you can walk off, you have been non stop harassing, stalking, and falsely accusing me and s0uless of being scum of the fucking earth when there is no goddamn evidence that we are and you KNOW there isn't, because we fucking ARENT. Unlike your freak ass, we KNOW what the fuck is right and what is wrong. But that kind of shit gets around to people and makes people start thinking we ARE those freaks that we aren't.

And you should be well aware of how fucking awful that makes a mother fucker feel, you know? Since you wanna keep whining about how "people keep being mean/demonizing you for no reason." What, you don't think people are gonna DM me asking me what the fuck you're talking about in those posts you make? Newsflash dipshit, most people wanna know both party's stories regarding drama that surrounds someone they know. Don't you try to twist this and cry about how I'm some creepy weirdo that's stalking you, you should've thought harder about following someone and then IMMEDIATELY sending them an anonymous ask about me and s0uless, cause that DEFINETLY isn't fucking fishy at all, dumbass. That's how I was alerted to you and your new bullshit. Don't try and act like I'm a freak that keeps tabs on you, I thought you'd drop off the face of the earth after that one callout thread got made on you. You wanna talk about evidence of wrongdoing? Nothing really shows your true colors more than publicly being racist, harassing minors, and consistently AND RECENTLY consuming bestiality porn of minors. Try bouncing back from saying that YOU want to make noncon porn of your favs, or being a whole ass adult saying you wanna fuck a 16 year old character that you KNOW is 16. THATS some REAL freak shit that YOU admitted to your damn self, you don't get to act like me or s0uless are the real freaks when there is REAL AND RECENT EVIDENCE of you doing that shit, you gross fuck.

Leave us the fuck alone, I do not care about your pathetic ass and s0uless sure as shit doesn't either. This has been going on for over a FUCKING YEAR NOW and i dont give a single SHIT about playing nice and being quiet about it anymore. Don't fucking come whining to me and acting like you're remorseful again when you're PULLING THIS SHIT AGAIN. Leave me the fuck alone and I'll leave you the fuck alone. Expect a restraining order dumbass, it was real easy to get your info when you've got it so readily available online! If youre gonna play stupid games, expect to win stupid prizes. Get the fuck off my and my husband's dick and focus on fixing yourself you ghoul. Do some fucking introspection so you can figure out why the fuck people don't like you. And don't come to me threatening suicide again, I don't give a single SHIT about you and I'm sure as FUCK not going to give you any sympathy when you've shown no fucking growth or genuine remorse for all of this. I've thought about killing myself a lot lately too, you're not fucking special.

#again sorry to yall but i am literally at my limit at this point #i havent wanted to be a bother to anyone so ive just kept quiet about it cause i thought that would end it but nah #i am not going to just take this shit anymore ive had it

[leclercloml]

Bunny? It's MIFFY | FT7

Pairing: Ferran Torres x french!reader

Summary: in which ferran's girlfriend is obsessed with the miffy plushie.

Genre: SMAU

Warninga: grammar mistakes probably, google translated spanish & french

Author's note: this one is made specially for @zowanew the og miffy girl, ilysm and i hope you like it 🤍 (most of the pics contains Sira Martinez and I know she's not french but for the fic let's pretend she is)

yourinstagram

liked by ferrantorres, pablogavi, mikkykiemeny and 234,638 others

yourinstagram the love of my life and Ferran 🐰🤍

view comments

ferrantorres WOW, thank you??

⤷yourinstagram you're welcome.

⤷username lmfao 😭

ferrantorres did I just got replaced my a literal stuff toy?

⤷yourinstagram stuff toy? STUFF TOY??! her name's MIFFY.

⤷ferrantorres stuff toy.

⤷yourinstagram blocked.

⤷username Ferran ilysm but don't you dare call miffy a stuff toy ever again.

liked by yourinstagram

⤷username she liked 😭😭

mikkykiemeny my girl 🤍

⤷yourinstagram ILY !!!

⤷username the IT wags.

username they're so cute tho 😭🩷

ferrantorres I love you ❤️

⤷yourinstagram I love you too I guess.

⤷ferrantorres you guess?!!

⤷pedri 😂🫵🏻

⤷username LMAO 😭😭

pablogavi i could use that as a punching bag.

⤷ferrantorres please do, you're doing everyone a favour

⤷yourinstagram DON'T YOU DARE GAVIRA.

⤷username that's something gavi would definitely do.

username okay but can we talk about how cute these two are?? No?? Anyone??

ferrantorres

liked by yourinstagram, pedri, pablogavi and 2,629,729 others

ferrantorres Mi novia 🩷

view comments

yourinstagram he won a banana for me cause there was no game which winning prize was miffy 😔☝🏻

⤷ferrantorres be grateful?!

⤷yourinstagram I AM.

⤷username y/n would choose miffy over Ferran anyday

liked by yourinstagram

⤷username she liked the comments lmfao, poor Ferran.

pedri why was I not invited?

⤷ferrantorres as if you don't thirdwheel us 6/7 times a week.

⤷pedri exactly. It should be 7/7

⤷yourinstagram no. give us a break.

⤷pedri R U D E.

⤷pablogavi it's ok bro, we both can hangout 🫂

⤷pedri i would rather chew on a glass.

⤷username HELPP

⤷username golden retriever gavi x black cat pedri>>>

⤷username my man was tired of driving him to training everyday 😭

username okay but the 2nd slide, I might kms.

⤷username ikr they both are WAY TOO adorable

username can someone kiss me? with a gun? down on my throat?

⤷username ayo chill 💀

username still can't believe how Ferran bagged her.

⤷mikkykiemeny me too.

⤷username mikkyyyy lmaoo 😭😭

username everyday i open Instagram, saw these fuckers on my feed, wonder when it'll be me, cry myself to sleep, and then repeat.

⤷username us moment 🫂

yourinstagram added to story 10 mins ago

caption: Ma vie 🩷 (my life)

view replies

ferrantorres thought that was that rabbit but okay te amo ❤️

⤷yourinstagram for the last time ferran torres garcia it's MIFFY.

⤷ferrantorres rabbit.

⤷yourinstagram sleep at Pedri's today.

⤷ferrantorres I'M JOKING.

mikkykiemeny can't believe I got replaced by a basic white boy 😔.

⤷yourinstagram OFCOURSE NOT, you're my no.1

⤷mikkykiemeny I better be

pedri why was I not invited again.

⤷yourinstagram can you shut the fuck up?

Twitter

iMessage

Fer<3

look what I just found

y/n

Ferran mfing Torres!!!!

You better bring one of em home

Fer<3

One? Nah.

y/n

Wjwhakshsh

Je t'aime tellement!!! (I love you so much)

Come home as soon as you can.

Fer<3

I love you too!!!

On my way

Instagram

yourinstagram

liked by ferrantorres, mikkykiemeny, sophiawebber and 2,638,920 others

yourinstagram the gift giver vs the gifts, Je t'aime 😭🩷

view comments

ferrantorres te amo ❤️

⤷yourinstagram je t'aime aussi ❤️(i love you too)

⤷pedri ew.

⤷yourinstagram go away hater.

ferrantorres the gift giver>>>

⤷yourinstagram get over yourself

⤷pablogavi fr fr and give pedri back

⤷ferrantorres no.

⤷pablo kys.

⤷username I'm dying lmaaaooo

username cuties 😭🫶🏻

username i would die for them but that's just me tho.

⤷username me too girl me too

mikkykiemeny I'm better than both

⤷yourinstagram ofcourse you are wifey 🤭💍

⤷frenkiedejong no.

⤷ferrantorres no.

⤷username the real couple is actually mikky and y/n, Ferran and Frenkie are the side chicks here.

username I want what they have.

Twitter

Grace's note: this one was quite fun, I hope you like it @zowanew and Ferran literally loves you.

#ferran torres #ferran torres x reader #ferran torres x fem reader #ferran torres x you #ferran torres x y/n #fc barcelona #barcelona #football x reader #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer x you #football fic #ferran torres fic #footballer smau #leclercloml

[iznsfw]

People say that everyone is connected by a red string of fate. The people we are destined to be with could be close by while some cases the string stretches out.

You have the ability to see other people's red string as well as your own, but in your case you haven't found the person at the end of the string. Time passes and you see that the color red started to fade away, which you didn't mind.

One day while you're working the late night shift at the convenience store when a girl suddenly entered the convenience store. When she reaches the counter she places two bottles of soju and a couple cans of beer. You catch a glimpse of her face, even in that small period of time you saw how beautiful she is. She then hands you her card, and right then and there the two ends of the string meet.

"Sorry, but can I ask what's your name?"

"Kwon Eunbi."

Now, how would you tell Eunbi that both of you are bound to fall in love at the cost of one of your lives?

i'm looking right at the other half of me

[ IZ*ONE's Eunbi x Male Reader Fluff & Angst ]

4540 words

masterlist

This took so long... and finally it's out! Thank you @brokennightmares01 for such a great idea, and I'm sorry I took so long to reply </3 This was difficult emotionally to write. I guess I'm just too attached to Eunbi lmfao

"The fuck are you looking at, cunt?"

Ah, welcome to South Korea, one of the many places in this miserable world where you can just be an adult fresh out of teen years trying to make a living, yet still be bothered by people like this one. You never should have agreed to this ridiculous night shift. There were less of these freaks in the daylight.

You look away from the musty man and give no response. It's how you deal with ninety-eight percent of these situations. It's the safest way to go around it, but also the most dangerous. You never know when you looked or said nothing the wrong way.

11 PM on the clock. Just five more hours to go and you're good, you reassure yourself. Remember, the pay will be much bigger if you go through this shift.

"That'll be a total of 17000 won, sir," you inform the man, looking nowhere but down. Down as you collect the change and the receipt. Down as you pass the money to his hands blackened from dirt and grease.

When he leaves, you feel the relief come back to you. Oh, you're thankful just to live another night. You may hate this world and all the miserable little fuckers in it, but it's no good lying and saying you thought death was the best escape route. No, death would do nothing at best. You have no family, you have little friends. Being dead changes absolutely nothing. Because of that, you just have to hang on the best you can.

It can be pretty hard sometimes.

You hope that there won't be any more customers. You don't have the mood to deal with more rude individuals who don't see you as an individual. You're just a servant to them. Although that's kind of your job, it hurts to see how differently people look at you if you had a different job, looked a little differently.

The bells to the 7-11 ring. A woman enters.

Strange how you knew it was her from the moment she entered. From the moment you caught an eyeful of her pretty face, her pretty smile, you know now that you've finally met her.

It's ruining you. She's ruining you. It should have been a moment of evangelization, finally meeting the supposed love of your life. But what good is there in having one when you know just by looking at the red string, that you could die at the climax of your meeting? That she could die? It's like an indie film with a poor plot twist.

When you ask her her name, she's blunt. Straight to the point; no poorly composed giggle or attempt at conversation. She looks tired—her eyes are swollen with red, from what you guess isn't sourced from just lack of sleep. What was she doing, you wonder, during all the time she hasn't found you? How was she doing?

"Well?" she prompts, rather impatiently.

You realize you've been staring at the red thinning thread between the two of you for too long. The more you gaze at it, the more fear you feel for the two of you. But there comes the love, too; she's like living deja vu. You've seen her before, you're sure. You just can't place where. But she reminds you of a good memory nested in a photo album, a sweet puppy love crush in middle school years. Eunbi is nostalgia, sweetness, affectionateness—all rolled into one pretty girl you meet by chance, who also happens to be your lover.

(Not yet, anyway, but soon.

Soon? You can't love her! If you fall in love with her, she could die. You could die. If you went ahead with this, one of you could just drop dead during a normal date. One of you would be left alone, heartbroken for life. This is a world where there would be no other one for you. No, the crush you had in middle school for whom you tried desperately to match your string with isn't your destiny. Neither was that one-night stand. There's only one for you, molded by whatever came before the world, and she just told you her name. You can't just move on to a rebound.

But you can't just... stop this from happening, can you? It's fate; there's no easy way around it. You're made to fall in love no matter what happens, no matter how short the time you have left is.

So, what should you do?)

"It's on the house," you tell her.

"Don't test me, please," she says tiredly. She's supporting herself by one arm perched on the counter, gazing at you with unamused pupils. "I've had a long night. I just need the beer and you can go your merry little way out of this underpaying convenience store."

Ouch. "Are you usually this straightforward, Kwon Eunbi?"

"Are you usually this desperate for a good fuck?" she counters smartly.

"Y-you're pretty and all," you admit. You have to admit you were not exactly just admiring her gorgeous face, but also her gorgeous body. But you have your morals, and she has hers. You have no intention that strays from wanting to settle this out. "But I don't want to fuck you. I promise."

"Huh." Eunbi smiles, crossing her arms on top of her green sweatshirt. "That's a first."

You push back her credit card, sliding it above the smooth cashier counter-table. "Do guys not, like, do stuff for you without wanting a 'favor' in return?" you ask.

Eunbi shrugs. "I guess. They just think I'm a pretty face with a pair of tits. Nothing more." She slides back her card. Her forced, sarcastic smile warns you to not play this losing game with her—you're tired, she's tired, you both want an easy way out.

"Well then let me be the first."

"And why would you do that for me," Eunbi leans over the counter, looking up at you with a sweetly challenging smile, "mister Nice Guy?"

She's right. What proper answer can you give her without sounding like a creep? What were you supposed to do, anyway? Tell her you're the love of your life who needs to spend all hours of the day with you now before it's too late?

"I guess we'll have to find out," you say steadily.

It's definitely not an answer she expected, but hey, she's smiling. It must mean something.

-

"You left your shift just like that?" Eunbi asks, looking back at the 7-11. It's a dark, pitch-black night, and the forest surrounding the area doesn't look too safe. You've ventured in scarier places before, though, so they can give as good as they can, and you'd be unbothered. Working in retail gives you that immunity.

You answer, "Yeah." Unscrew the cork from the soju while Eunbi pops open a can of sizzling beer. The smell mixes in with the natural scent of leaves and ground. Your 7-11 is set in a rather rural part of the city, as ironic and contradicting as it sounds, so the smell of gasoline and smoke is much more distant than one would think.

"Wish I could say that for myself," Eunbi says, shaking her head with a smile. God, she's pretty. She has the cutest, most mischievous-looking smile in the world. And yes, you're pushing through Korea and setting that record for her. Her smile is contained and small, not as wide as your friend Jiwoo's or as timid as Hyewon's, but her eyes slant upwards, adding to the cuteness factor. "Should have ditched that exam the second I saw Professor Bae was in the class."

"You're still in school?"

You can't remember the last time you stepped foot into a college. There's a reason you've been working at 7-11 ever since the first semester: you couldn't pay for it. You saved every penny and dime you could find, yet never got to the needed amount. This girl's lucky to even be attending classes.

Beer drapes Eunbi's plump lower lip as she takes it all in, bottoms up. You can tell she's been drinking for most of her life—she barely struggles for air while she downs the intoxicating liquid.

The can goes down, and her head remains tilted downwards from the back as well. Her eyes are a different story, though. They're hidden far back her eyelids. " Fuck, that always feels so good," sighs Eunbi.

"Careful," you add helpfully.

"Fuck you. Why do you care?"

Because I already love you. Okay, let's settle for "like," just in case you want to take things slow. But I know I love you because I've been searching for you my whole life. Because that's how it's supposed to happen. Because you're so pretty but so fucking lonely that it makes me want to protect you. Because I don't want to leave you when we both need each other, when you probably need more help than I do. Because—

"I don't know," you say. Shrug. "It feels right. Don't you think?"

Eunbi giggles a little. "Yeah, you're right. It sure does."

Suppose since Eunbi's drinking straight from the can, you can drink straight from the bottle. It's been a minute or more since you had soju. And it's... good. Weird, but still good. Drinks like these are on your neither-good-or-bad side. They're just something to fill your stomach when food becomes scarce, or when strength is so scarce you can't eat food around the house.

You would offer some to Eunbi so she can finish it instead of you, but she doesn't look like the type of girl to be able to stomach down a mix of liquids, no matter how "similar" they are. So you hold yourself back.

The forest has streetlights, so you safely go through there. It's not a typical wilderness kind of forest, but one you just like to call as one for the mass of trees. There aren't any animals—just you, Eunbi, and the pregnant moon.

Minutes pass filled with nothing but silence (except for twigs snapping), and finally Eunbi speaks up. "Yeah, I'm in school," she answers. It's probably just to fill the awkward silence, but it's already a step.

"Uni?"

"How'd you know?"

Lucky guess? Lover's instinct? You-or-me-can-die-at-any-given-second-if-we-fall-in-love instinct?

You force a grin. "Just do. Is the drinking because of the exam thing?"

Eunbi's shoulders slump. "Yeah," she says. "But I've been drinking even before that, so don't you worry. I'm an experienced alcoholic."

"Gotcha. I wasn't planning to, though."

Wrong words. Wrong delivery. You picture the frown that would darken her features, but once you look into the bigger picture, all you can see on her face is an entertained smile.

She bumps you, driving you sideways of the road. Shocked, you do the same. But she's stronger than you thought. If she put all her might into it, she can knock you down and send you rolling down the hill. And she almost, almost does, if it weren't for your grab at her arm. From there, you maneuver the force she exerts into nothing but air, pulling her to you. It ends up with her back against your front and her small face right below your chin.

And now, you're staring each other down. Great. Way to go for the first meeting. You got drunk and bumped into each other on purpose then you wrestled her to stay calm. To finish it off, there's this staring contest.

Her long dark hair rounds her face, which displays a challenge: keep your front strong. But it's not easy to when you literally have the prettiest girl you've ever seen pinned to your chest, with her back and bum pressed firmly to your front, and her pretty face looking arrogant and smug in the moonlight.

Stare her down. She looks deeply into your eyes.

One. Two. Three? Four. Then, five—

Eunbi's blink signals defeat. Still looking up at you, with her head tilted backwards, she smiles. "I like you, mister Nice Guy," she says.

"You're not so bad yourself, Kwon Eunbi."

"Hm," she chuckles. She pulls away. "What's next?"

"Mall?" you offer.

To your surprise, she laughs. "The mall? At this hour?" she asks you, just to make sure you aren't kidding or anything.

"Why not? We're both depressed kids trying to survive. Can't we call this a cheat day?"

Eunbi considers this. "As long as I ride shotgun."

"Wait," you say, holding up your hands, "how'd you know I drive a—"

Cold metal meets your palm. Eunbi's holding your ring of keys in place with your hand. Your fingers are curled around each other. Your breath feels nonexistent.

Eunbi bumps the signal button with the heel of her wrist and looks deep into the woods expectantly. Your car then beeps to life, sending a red signal to the darkness and blaring its lights. Your mouth is sore from it being wide open the entire time.

"Lucky guess" is all Eunbi is able to offer as an answer.

-

Okay, so the love of your life pickpocketed your car keys and you didn't know until she chose to tell you herself. Wifey material? Probably.

You're on the road, veering through a clear path on the way to your local mall. It's known for having a twenty-four-hour open time, so it's sure to have a majority of its stores open, even at this hour. You can probably spend a lot of time there doing fun stuff.

Eunbi's beside you in the passenger seat. The wind whips her black hair back. She's smiling; that gives you a bit of fulfilment. But then she says:

"You're a terrible driver."

"Oh yeah? I bet you can't drive for shit either!" You have to yell over the gusts of wind entering your rolled-down windows.

Grasslands and trees say hello and goodbye to your side point of view. When you were younger, you tried to say hi to them and goodbye as quickly as you could, knowing the speed of the car your father drove would make it impossible for you to have a proper time with the view. Your dad drank and drove like a maniac, hence your driving.

But you aim not to become the person your father once was.

"Okay, dad!"

Great timing. "I'm not your daddy, Eunbi!" you shoot back. "I'm just saying—"

"Nobody said you were! I said you were my dad! "

"What?"

"Nothing!" Eunbi tosses the empty can outside the window. The world is already polluted as it is. There won't be any harm in littering. "I said you were a shit driver!"

"No, I heard you!" Take a left. The soju bottles almost crash. " Dad and daddy are completely different things, Eunbi!"

"For your porn-addicted self, maybe!"

"I'm... I'm not addicted to porn!" you say indignantly. You've watched some before, but it never grew to an addiction. It's just an occasional source of dopamine on lonely nights. "Just... watch your wording, is all!"

Eunbi scoffs, smirking in disbelief. "Daddy issues?"

The car slows down, but you aren't even near the mall yet. Your shoulders tense. The mention of your father, or anything related to that, makes you feel ill.

Every day that passes, you try to convince yourself that your father only wanted the best for you. That was why he was like that. But you can't come up with a fitting justification, which probably should have made clear to you your father's heart wasn't pure at all.

What's left of it lies in a small urn back at your apartment. You didn't know why you bothered taking home an urn containing the memories of the man who hurt you, who did not look at you as if you were his own flesh and blood.

"Yeah, I think so," you mutter. You start up the car's pace again. No use trying to cover it up; the red is already fading.

Eunbi smiles tightly. "Same here. More on mommy issues, but dad... he was something else."

Laugh a little. "Tell me about it, huh?"

In a fucked up way, you and Eunbi are meant to be. Both of you are tired, both of you have (or had) horrible parents. They say that opposites attract, but love and fate can easily shoot that misconception down, because when you look at Eunbi, you can see your reflection, your self, looking back at you. The swollen eyes, tired face... they all scream you. You wonder if she knows that the two of you are bound to be together. And if she has no idea, how would you tell her?

You get off the car at the local mall. It's a lonely Friday night. Nobody is out here except the store owners and the like. Nothing and no one else.

You walk in, still in your 7-11 uniform: a white polo shirt and a green vest, complete with your name on a golden tag, and Eunbi in her green 1987 sweatshirt.

"Baskin Robbins?" you offer, spotting an ice cream stand just as you enter the building.

"I'd rather get some Sprite," says Eunbi. "But go ahead."

You purchase a birthday cake ice cream in a cup, pay the owner, and sit with Eunbi at one of the tables in front of it. She had bought her Sprite already. She's downing it like water, just like she did to the beer. The owner looks on with obvious concern.

"Are you a sodaholic or what?" you chuckle. You've never seen someone buy so many soda cans.

"It's better than continuing being a miserable drunkard," Eunbi explains. There's a cut on her lip from the sharp metal rim of the can, but if it bothers her, she doesn't show it.

Eunbi leans forward and licks her lower lip. "So."

That can't be a good sign. She looks suspicious. But you pretend that you're not anxious yourself about what would follow this conversation.

"What?"

"What's your deal?" she asks.

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't just buy me drinks on the house without a motive. What's going on here?"

She's smart, you'll give her that. But you have no doubt about her intelligence, although you've only met her an hour ago. There's the folks' tale going around that you know how and who your soulmate is, even if you've never met them before. Maybe the grandmas and grandpas were right.

But the death of the soulmate if they haven't met earlier was not just a mere myth. You've read cases about it. Lost a friend's friend's sister's friend to it. The string isn't exactly strong enough to hold for eternity.

But how can you tell her that? She might not even notice; her end of the string looks strong still, but the rest that connects you to her is already fatally weak. If you're apart for more time, it wouldn't be able to handle it.

"Because you look like you needed it," you say. That's the half of it anyway. "Everyone needs a helping hand sometimes."

Eunbi quirks a brow. "Nothing else?"

Bite your tongue and shake your head.

Eunbi juts out a bottom lip thoughtfully. "Huh." It hasn't occurred to her that it's possible for men to be like that with her. They go feral for her in the classrooms. It's nice to have someone who didn't want to do a nice gesture for her without her body playing a role in that for a change.

"You wanna know something, mister Nice Guy?" asks Eunbi.

"Enlighten me."

"That's the first time I ever felt safe with a guy at night. And yeah, I know about all that BS: 'not all men are the same.' But it's..." She squints emphatically. "Relieving, you know? You don't look like a pervert, you don't look like a fed. You don't look like you'd stuff my body down an acid pond. I feel safe with you."

"That's really flattering, Kwon Eunbi. Thank you."

"No problem," she says kindly. Her smile is a genuine bright lamp that fills the nighttime mall. She gestures to your cup of birthday cake ice cream. "Can I have some?"

And that's where it all began: a 7-11, a broken-down car, and a talk over ice cream and soda. That's how you made Kwon Eunbi yours.

-

Fast forward to a two years and five months. You're still working at a 7-11, a thing you wished would have changed. You still meet up with Eunbi, but this time, it's about something more.

The door bells jingle. She comes leaping in with dance in her skips. "Hey, hotshot," Eunbi greets you in the most unorthodox boyfriend-girlfriend manner.

Chuckle. The strings meet again. But this time, you don't worry about it. You have been with Eunbi for this long. Nothing can take her away from you. The string may be thinning by the day, but the two of you and wake up in the same bed everyday, and it seems like you've beaten all the odds. You're okay. She's fine. All is well.

Eunbi's kiss makes your cheek flush, as if the red on her lips infected the area. "Hi there yourself, Eun," you say. Yep, you're on a nickname-basis with each other. It grew after months and months of playful loving.

"I was thinking we go to the Han River tonight?" asks Eunbi hopefully. Her hands push down on the hard counter while she raises a lower leg to the back cutely. "Just you and me?"

"Why not?" You brush a kiss on her forehead. "After I finish this hour, we can go."

Eunbi smiles. "You know I love you, right?"

"Of course. I love you, too."

Looking back, you should have said that more. You really should have if you knew how the world loved to toy with you. It has to at least be expected, but you trust that everything would go well. It's been a long time since the string of red bothered you; why would you stress over it now?

-

Because of this:

One day, you'll die. You'll die alone. Whether from the fate of the string or natural cause, the only sure thing that will happen to you is death. One day, you'll have to leave her alone. If it's not you, then she will have to leave you.

But you forgot all about that. Right now, you've brought your mic and laptop to the side of the river, and you're both singing your hearts out.

Well, she is. Eunbi is an amazing singer. You found out about that when she volunteered to sing at the bar. She sang a self-composed song she sold to Woollim Entertainment, one of the leading mid-sized companies in Korea: Amigo.

"You seriously don't know how this song goes?" asks an offended Eunbi, glaring at you when you blank out halfway through the tune. "I thought you loved me!"

"Shut up and do the rap part!"

"I'm not Babysoul, you little shit!" Eunbi says, panickedly looking at the upcoming lyrics of the rap break. Rapping is not her forte.

"But you are my baby," you point out. "Now go do it, baby. Rap for me."

Eunbi cringes. However, she's laughing. "You're so ridiculo—"

Her words never find their way out.

Eunbi starts to choke. You immediately go over to her, trying to keep her steady. But she's already fallen to the ground, unable to get up. Her eyes look straight to the empty, dark blue sky, but never at your face floating above hers.

"B-baby—" she chokes out. Coughs and gags squeeze their way out from her chest. "I can't, I can't, I can't—"

"Did you swallow something, hon?" You're stuck. You don't know what to do. "Look at me, look at me, Eunbi. Please."

You hold her face in your hands and lift it up. But then you see the string that once connected the red thread from you to her. Your lifeline. It's snapped; blunt yarn-like strands disconnect your thread from hers. It can never be tied up again.

No.

Eunbi hasn't choked on anything. She's simply dying, just like how the fate of the string has foretold. It's her time to leave. You were let go, while she's taken in your place.

Somehow, she knows that, too. "I want to live," Eunbi confesses. Her eyes are two dark oceans of sadness. "Please, baby, I can't die yet. I want you here with me. Please."

You shake your head. "You're not going to die, Eunbi," you lie through your teeth. You lift up her black hair to your thigh so she can breathe properly. "I'll call the doctors, you want that? Just hold on for me, please."

"No, don't go!" sobs Eunbi, grabbing your thigh. She's crying loudly. She climbs onto your lap and hugs you with her shaking frame. She suddenly feels worryingly thin and light. "Don't leave me, don't leave me, please don't leave me."

"You're going to make me cry, pretty girl," you sob. "I can't call for help if you don't let me go."

"Please, please stay with me. I don't want to die. But everything..." Eunbi blinks twice. "Everything is so dark. I'm so alone."

That strikes a chord in you. Eunbi has talked and joked about death plenty of times, but now that she's on the brink of it, she doesn't want to give in. She can't give in.

You pull her closer and hug her hard. You begin to rock her like a doll as she grows more limp in your arms. "You're not alone. You have me, remember? I'm here. I'm going to take care of you. Remember when we first met, baby? You do? We went to that mall, right, and ate ice cream? You want to do that again?"

"Oh... oh yes, please," whispers Eunbi, nodding. But she's still not looking at you. Aside from that, her voice is incredibly weak. Her shoulders indicate the effort it takes for her to speak.

"Then you have to fight for me, Eunbi. You have to stay strong. You have to let me go so I can call someone who can help and we can do that."

She starts whimpering. "Why is this happening?" she sobs. "I just want to be okay. Why is it... why is it..."

Why is it like this?

Why does it have to be like this?

You don't tell her. Not at her last moment. On her last seconds left, you cradle and kiss her. You tell her of all the things she does and is that make you smile, of the funny moments the two of you shared in this lifetime. You tell her that if there is a next life, you'll be there with her. It wouldn't matter if you were a worm and she was the bird; you'll find a way to make it work. And oh, Eunbi, I love you so, you tell her, from the moment I first saw you. From the moment you sassed and insulted me, I knew we were meant to be. You're forever mine.

But you're wrong. The breath leaves her lips. Her soul has left. She's in another world now, where she's no longer yours.

It's over.

#ask #brokennightmares01 #kwon eunbi #eunbi #kwon eunbi angst #eunbi angst #kwon eunbi fluff #eunbi fluff #izone fluff #izone #izone fanfiction #izone eunbi fluff #izone eunbi angst #prompt

[citrus-grove]

what are some ways to refer to an alter who doesn't want a name lmfao

currently i am dubbed "unnamed fucker" so that's something

#unnamed fucker post ig #endos dni #anti endo #actually traumagenic #actually did #actually dissociative #did #did osdd #osddid #did system #cw swearing #swearing

[bigmack2go]

List your favorite character and then some headcanons about that character! Then repost into the ask box of your favorite moots! <333

Love, anon

So i was convinced i already answered this but i just looked and i cant find it so i guess imma do it again

Imma go with my fav character of my current hyperfixation which would be:

Albert DaSilva. Ofc

SO

SPRALBERT SPRALBERT SPRALBERT

His username in modern era would either smt along the lines of „einsteinTheSalvia“ or like „redwaterdrops“

In superhero au he would have themperature change/recistancy because gingers are more sensitive to themperature @ykthefancyclamwiththepearlinside

Childhood Besties™️ ITH TOMMY!!!!!

Has HPOTS. (Let me project my smaler problems on my blorbo without traumatising him to much>:()

Can get super kinky

THIS KID LOVES RED PADAS and monkeys and lemurs and all those funny little creatures.

Fav color: Hot. Pink. do not attempt to change my mind.

Al is the Delancys Cousin and stepbrother

His nickname is Twitch. The other Newsies started calling him that because he gets super jumpy and flichy really quick with sudden movements. Little do they know the reason for that. (Lmfao remember when i said i wouldn’t project on them to much)

For the next one I‘ll just out a picture for context bc it doesn’t make much sense without the ither ones

Albert has anger issues (but thats nothing new)

Tried to dye hair before bc kept getting teased for being ginger (it did not go well)

Allie is genderfluid and gets super super dysphoric on she-days (which is what she calls it in her head) but that’s not only cause of her body; she also doesn’t understand how there are transpeople who DONT get dysphoric/ wishes she could be one of them

Usually uses he/him or he/they and honestly has „she-days“ fairly rarely. But when she does it’s she/her/they/them

Blue eyes!!!!

When he gets confused, or irritated etc he starts to draf out words. Not talk slow, only drag out the words. He also starts blinking rly fucking fast and sometimes his head tilts without meaning to. (Spot ADORES it)

Needs hearing aids but barely uses them so he zses a lot of sign language

If this guy doesn’t have ADHD, my name is Angela Merkel. But al is one of those cases that puperty did Not mix well with ADHD and just gets tired all the time

ALBERT IS A SLUT. CHANGE MY MIND. IF HE DOESNT GO AROUND FLIRTING WITH EVERYTHING THAT CAN BREATHE (though that‘s optional) I SHALL NOT BE NAMED MACKJ

Obviously prankmaster ™️

he wears his hat backwards cause it covers his hair better cause he’s embarrassed of it

This is from @homosexual-newsboy

HOWEVER IN MODERNERA this man is the proudest mother fucker alive and his hair is practically the only thing he cares about

Ocd

Lots and lots of sensory issues

CANNOT control his volume. Always either too loud or too silent

Everyone love Al‘s family‘s chillie recepie. - that’s the only time when he’s alowed in the kitchen: when they’re having chilli. Not unsupervised tho

Chronic migraines

That‘s all i can think of is rn and i‘m in a hurry so.. yeah

#newsies #kosa newsies strike #albert dasilva #headcannons #boots newsies #hotshot newsies #spot conlon #jack kelly #racetrack higgins #katherine plumber

[moe-broey]

Jacket!!!! Ye olde varsity I got at the very beginning of my transition thinking "Oh fuck yes I am going to pass so hard in this" and. Well. It never worked I just have never passed a day in my life I don't think 😔 Eventually it just became a beloved test subject and has since gone through a bit of a transition itself LMFAOO

Some Notes:

> A lot of the decorations are taken from old backpacks I loved dearly that got absolutely fucking destroyed by the weight of all the shit I'd lug around in highschool LMFAO (sketchbook, diary, all kinds of notebooks...). Never had the heart to get rid of them. Specifically: The pink zippers, the holographic pockets, the glow in the dark stars, and the holo angel wings!

> The pink/blue checkers are from a small decorative quilt I thrifted years ago, I wouldn't be surprised if it was handmade (it's super soft material, btw! Important LMAO). I only took out one line of squares, I plan on stitching the rest of it back together (haven't done it yet though LMFAO). The reason for this was to upsize the jacket, so I can button it without it clinging. The pockets were added for funsies ESP cause it lined up very well and aren't really practical LMFAO (BUT YOU CAN PUT THINGS IN THEM! If you want!! 🎉🎉🎉)

> The patches (esp the name/pronouns one) were the first additions actually. Eventually more and more things were added, but I will say all the pins on the opposite side of the patches were haphazardly placed for a concert I VERY BADLY wanted to look good for LMFAOO (that's when the stars were added too! Fighting for my life on the car ride over speedrunning sewing and trying not to throw up about it AHAKHSKSHDK)

> Spike placement may be odd and I'd like to add more, but also I do frequently still carry around big heavy backpacks so I have to take that into consideration. Which is also why the wings have been bolted on. Those motherfuckers are NOT going anywhere LMFAO (has a really cool visual effect too!!)

> The material of the jacket itself (sort of a swishy windbreaker fabric) IS ABSOLUTE ASS TO WORK WITH. BY THE FUCKING WAY. IN CASE YOU WERE WONDERING. I would NOT recommend it to anybody ESPECIALLY someone who is just starting to fuck around and find out. I literally am just sticking it out bc of the sentimental value this fucker has to me 😭😭😭

This jacket was my first plunge into customization and punk fashion, I didn't have a plan and still don't have one (and I think it kind of shows lmfao). I do worry that it's too soft and cutesy. Kind of the whole point for me, when it came to leaning heavy into punk, was to feel sharper, like I had some bite to me. I might be getting closer, but I think I'm still just kind of a silly guy LMAO. But, I do think in a way, esp as my first project, it represents me well -- where I started, what I loved before the beginning, what I tried desperately to be, what I still wish for, reuniting with the things I loved and embracing them in a brand new context. It's still an ongoing project too! So maybe as I keep growing, it'll grow alongside me, maybe finding that grit I've been striving for along the way.

#the big concert was mcr. btw. and cause it was a stadium no one got to see the glowy stars anyway LMFAOOOOO #for that concert i desperately wanted to have a big piece inspired by house of wolves on the back. #but i have never been able to get it right. #but like. it is actually my favorite mcr song. i REALLY wanted to do something transgender w it too. #like tell me i'm a bad man. i AM a bad man. bad man in the context of the song AND bad man as in. in the eyes of the observer. #i am just doing it poorly. on purpose. fuck with me about it!!!!! #also 'tell me i'm an angel' would compliment the wings as well #but as an artist i find i am way better at cartoons/characters than literally anything else. #ask me to do something cool w fonts/words beyond simply being legible and i'll throw up and cry. #also something i don't want to say outright but feel okay sharing in the tags is Why punk is so important to me #is cause i am just. so sensitive. i always have been. #but in a world that is actively becoming more hostile to exist in as a very visibly queer person #AND as a noticably autistic person too know like i think i have gotten to the point where people notice Something about me #(which. is good. bc autistic masking absolutely fucking ruined me so fucking bad.) #i need to get stronger. tougher. sharper. more dangerous. to exist as i am and to do so so boldy #i need to have the bite to back it up. i still feel like a prey animal but i have teeth i have claws. #going back to my church even for a moment has made me 10% eviler also. inspiring me to be the thing they fear. #so i think once i've rested i'm gonna go back to the drawing board for that transgender house of wolves backpiece. #diy punk #my projects

[blackrainier]

im not even making new characters for BG3 im just recycling old ocs 💀 moonwort and gemini i already got going (also amir but i made him moons guardian LMAO) now onto these fuckers

Jeneva (they/them) Half elf? no idea on class atm

Eduard (he/him) high elf, rogue

This ones gonna hurt bc i wotrked so hard on her design only to have to simplify it BUT thats ok shell still be hot. Anastasia (also eddies sister) also high elf and rogue

im CONSIDERING sabine. I miss her sm and was lost bout what to do w her forever. we will SEE. maybe woof elf and druid

Jack (she/they) she was for a vn that im not rly interested in anymore so im throwing her directly into bg3. paladin/cleric/sometihng idk LOL shes a human but ill check out other options

this nameless adopt i ended up keeping billions of years ago. i have no idea lol I'll name her Vasavi for now. might make her a tiefling since i realize i only got elves and humans here LMFAO

#oc #textpost

[furies-inthe-mirror]

guy who doesnt know what dysphoria is or what being trans is who also somehow lives up to his name purely by threatening to be Upset (#real)

cloak given to him by Inland. they r not on the best of terms they simply just Do Not Vibe Well Together but yknow. Inland is trying (and Electrochem keeps trying to force them to be closer. lmao)

Inland noticed the dysphoria first lmfao. It was like "hi maybe dressing up would help u stop being a little bitch. dressing up is fun. ok bye." it worked a bit!

really really low on the pecking board™ of Harry's skills bc the fucker put EXP into others so he's not threatening at all appearance-wise. He makes up for it though!!

Empathy WISHES her ass could cry on command. She is soooo Jealous (also #real)

#artists on tumblr #my art #authority disco elysium #disco elysium #THERE fuck oyu the cloak has lore now. #ties in w system shit too fuck it. everything works out etc. etc. AJSDFGKHTK #i am 1000% projecting system shit aside. liek girl idk How to be intimidating i fee like this is what would happen . #girlie u are so hard to draw. screams

[worldwright]

good evening ! im super early today bc im dying lmao

man, it was so fucking hard to fall asleep after my war against that fucking stinkbug, and someone i wont name fucking deserted and left her leader to fight this great and horrifying enemy

anyway, i checked which fucking painkiller i can take, and the only one i can is paracetamol but this fucker does nothing to my headaches, so im switching entirely to water from tea bc it works better than a fucking painkiller

i slept bad (what a surprise), my father woke me up bc he couldnt find me (man, the only day he wants to know where the fuck i am is the only where i dont wnat him to find him), a headache is there and my nap didnt help ;-; but at least i finished my second watch of glass onion (started last week) and watched the episode of dunmesh and now i can say w/o any doubt that chilchuck is my fav -he was from the very beginning but ude, now im sure)

ill be able to finally sleep in my bed tonight yay

and here a picture the coward from this morning (or icecream, or latte, or whatever you like to compare her to. my friends call her "table basse" [coffee table] or "chieng en format familial" [familiy-sized doggo]. youre too kind with your nicknames for her lol)

have a wonderful morning with your partner my friend !

o how decadent is her lounging !! would that we could all feel the same peace 😌❤️

(no that is not proper English grammar don't copy me 😭😭)

hehe tiny emojis 🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🍃🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

immmmmm so excited to hang out with people I felt like I was withering lmfao

I think I'm gonna go up to see all my friends next weekend, since all of them are once again living in their dream life shared apartment with the besties ughhhh I can't wait to live there

the new office manager at my job is so cool :3 he's incredibly gay lmfao

I've officially caught up on apothecary diaries. ugh what do I do with my life now

obviously the answer is wait impatiently for every new episode and write analysis posts in the meantime

mmm I wanna reread witch hat atelier...... next week downtime obsession found 👍👍

egg salad last night was all right! I accidentally added too much mayonnaise and then had to overcorrect from there, so it ended up not having as much egg per volume as it should have. but still tasty and nutritious :3

speaking of food you're SO valid about Chilchuck. he's just ❤️❤️❤️ This Is A Divorced Father Of Three With Extreme Communication Issues ❤️❤️❤️ who looks like a middle schooler 🥰🥰🥰

also chatted with a friend about our fic ideas, which was really fun. the problem is that I have a really fleshed-out AU, but I don't know what actual plot to put in the AU. lol. ahhhhhhh

girlfriend weekend!!!!! girlfriend weekend!!!!!!!!

hope your headache goes away in time for you to get good sleep tonight!!

#pen pal

[manicpixiefelix]

I LOVE the short drabble TO full on one-shot TO possible epilogue (wouldn’t be surprised)pipeline on this blog

And another chapter of h,h,h…you’re insane and I love it, no complaints from me

awww bless, i'm glad. im really fond of this one for a lot of reasons. the prompt was simply that felix should absolutely beat someone up on reader's behalf, and it really spiralled out from there.

there are a few heavy themes in this, and there will be warnings, but there's also a lot of sweetness.

it's set at Edinburgh Fringe Festival right before they head to their first year of Oxford. fun fact, i chose this setting because I worked at Edinburgh Fringe Festival for the 6 weeks out of the year that it's on, and its going to be a yearly thing for me. try and guess my day job lmfao.

also also, there is an OC that features heavily, his name is Magnus, he is THE BEST. i personally think Felix Catton should kiss more boys, and should have a short fling with a punk rock acrobat who has the strength and stamina to throw his 6'5 ass around. do not test acrobats, ESPECIALLY if they base tricks, those fuckers got arms for the gods.

also yeah, hhh14 should be out tonight. i consider the night to be young, it's almost 9pm. what you people may not realise is that when i say i have the worst sleep schedule, i mean it. most of my work is written in one sitting, barring the opening paragraph (btw that is a hack of mine that many other author's follow, once you've finished a chapter or a piece, start the next one IMMEDIATELY, even if you don't intend to follow through. that way when you come back, even if you just have a paragraph, a few lines, you're not staring at a daunting blank document). there's a few exceptions, sometimes i will riff on different scenes from around teh story on my phone while out or in bed before sleep, but usually it's mostly in one go.

i also START at 11pm most nights. or even 12. not kidding, most of my posts are around the 3-5am mark EVERY TIME.

so yeah, the night is young, im almost done here with the one shot, i love yuou so so so much, im so sorry i was so rambly, im on my meds and im hype for these fics.

#head heart hand fic #felix catton x reader x oliver quick #it shouts back