#but the fact that i just have to drive two hours and it costs me half of what my normal vet would charge

[haeryna]

first time that i called you mine (that wasted summer) ↪ gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

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summary: suguru figures out he loves you the summer when you're both fifteen. satoru calls you his a few months after. when you finally realize it, there's nothing left to call yours. ↪ a continuation of this drabble

tw: angst, referenced abandonment, homophobia, implied mild sexual content, reader calls satoru a manwhore (affectionate), swearing, the author loves parentheses a concerningly large amount, not proofread teehee

notes: title taken from loote's wasted summer. reader is a teenager, along with satoru, suguru, and shoko. banner from @/cafekitsune

Suguru is only six years old when he falls in love with you.

At first, it was entirely childish. When he saw you for the first time, tears streaming down your cheeks by the creek he'd explore with Satoru, he liked feeling needed. He liked how you'd clung to him so desperately, and selfishly, he liked having something he didn't share with Satoru.

(He should have known that whatever was Suguru's inevitably also became Satoru's)

He knew he loved you when you were eight, bravely defending Satoru from a group of bratty kids who were calling him slurs before Satoru had even knew what love was. He knew he loved you when you were twelve and crying for him when Suguru got into his first fist fight, sniffling as you patched up the bloody scrapes after.

But this was different.

"Sugu, sit still!" you hissed, as he squirmed uncomfortably on the lumpy sofa that resided in his basement. You were fifteen, and tired of Suguru complaining about how the nearest piercer was a two hour drive away. In one hand you brandished a piercing gun; in your other, the piercings that were meant to go into his earlobes. Besides you, Satoru gleefully filmed Suguru's discomfort.

"Are you sure that's sanitary? Why are we doing this because you're bored, can't you experiment on Satoru first?" Suguru shot back, leaning away from the piercing gun.

"You're such a big baby, you've been complaining about your empty earlobes for months now. You literally came with me to buy the piercing gun, which cost me my whole allowance by the way, so sit still. And it's summer break, so if you're going to do something dramatic to your appearance, you have to do it now." Before he could stop you, you determinedly swung your leg up and over, lightly straddling his lap.

Suguru realized several critical things as he registered your weight sinking into him.

You smelled like the meadows you'd roamed as kids, mixed with the smell of cigarette smoke (Shoko had convinced him to take up smoking with her) and burnt sugar (Satoru's failed attempt at some monstrosity that still sat smoking in Suguru's kitchen). You smelled like them, he realized. Like a mix of the people who loved you.

You were pretty. He'd always known that, but now, with the heat of your body pressed against his, he didn't realize how somewhere along the way you'd grown into your gangly limbs and the clothes you complained were a few sizes too large.

These two realizations were combined with the fact that he was a boy, a teenaged boy, and you were so close that his heart was going to burst. You smelled like flowers, smoke, and sugar, you smelled like him, like you could be his, and if you moved an inch lower you would know that the Suguru you always came to for comfort was just another boy, and he couldn't bear it. He would rather die than lose you, he would do anything just to have you, he wanted, he wanted, he wanted-

"Yay, all done!" Effortlessly you slid right off his lap as fast as you'd hopped on it, and it was then he realized his earlobes were stinging. In the time he'd spent dazedly staring at you, you'd pierced his ears.

Satoru snickered, still holding his phone obnoxiously close to Suguru's face. "He looks like he's in shock. Hey, if I get a piercing, would you straddle me like that too? You'll make me jealous, you know."

As the two of you bickered in the background, Suguru couldn't help but swallow shakily, lightly pressing his fingertips to the round black earrings you'd picked out for him.

"I love it," he says quietly. "Thank you."

(I love you, is what he meant to say, but you didn't understand because you merely shot him a smug smile before berating Satoru for being a "manwhore, Satoru, I'm not like your groupies at school, go get one of them to pierce your ears for you if you want one so bad!")

Suguru has always known he's loved you, but that summer, he knew he loved you.

Where Suguru goes, Satoru follows. It's only inevitable that he'd realize he was in love with you too. Despite his easygoing nature and flirtatious charms, there's a critical difference between Suguru and Satoru. Satoru gets possessive, a dangerous combination of the spoiled upbringing and how guarded his heart is.

"Who is that?"

Satoru blatantly stares at the boy leaning against your locker. Pettily, he thinks that he's definitely shorter than Satoru, and uglier too. It doesn't seem to matter though, because you're laughing at whatever the he said. As you turn to reach for your books, the hungry look in the boy's eyes make Satoru's fists clench.

"Kenji?" Shoko looks amused when she sees the look in Satoru's eyes. "Isn't he in our English class? He's got a massive crush on her, apparently it's all he talks to his friends about."

Satoru grits his teeth. "Oh, does he?"

He can't quite explain the burning, insidious feeling that forms in his chest. What could've possibly been so funny to make you laugh like that? The smiles you're giving him, why didn't you give those to Satoru too?

The boy, Kenji, reaches over to your face, looking as though he's going to tuck a loose strand of hair around your ear. Something inside of Satoru snaps. He stalks over, ignoring Shoko's snicker, calling your name loudly and abruptly.

"There you are!"

You turn, surprised, as Kenji's hand drops away, his lovesick smile turning into something that looks something similar to fear. "'Toru, where were you? Suguru said he needed to stay in during lunch for a club, but I couldn't find you when I waited outside your classroom."

Satoru's heart lurches traitorously inside his chest, and before he can stop himself, he latches onto your wrist, tugging you towards him. "Don't scare me like that," he murmurs, cradling you firmly in his arms. "Shoko and I couldn't find you, it made me worried."

You peer up at him, clueless to the long forgotten boy fuming behind you. "Ah, I'm sorry, I forgot I left my lunch in my locker." Something in Satoru's chest yearns. Is it because you're so used to his physical affection, his touch, his love, that you don't give him the same starry eyed look as the boy who's still awkwardly waiting by your locker? How can he get you to look like that? How could he make you love him too?

The realization doesn't strike him like he expects, but it feels a bit like finally finding the choreography that fit with the song, the way that he would find a lyric for a song Suguru was attempting to write. It felt like coming home, and reclaiming what was once lost.

Satoru loved you. He has always loved you.

"Let's go," he says, signature smile back on his face, any trace of vulnerability long gone. As he intertwines his fingers with yours, he turns back to see the resigned, frustrated look on Kenji's face.

Just to be an asshole, he tucks your hair behind your ear as you walk away.

You're sixteen when Suguru and Satoru get together. They don't tell you anything. They don't have to. You can see it in the way that Suguru cradles Satoru's face when he falls asleep, affection settling warm in his dark brown eyes. You can see it in the way that Satoru somehow always needs something from Suguru at the precise moment that a girl tries to ask him out. It's in the dark purple marks you can see peaking out from Suguru's collarbone when his shirt slips down an inch, in the way that when Satoru stretches, you can see angry red scratches down his back.

You're sixteen when Satoru's parents find out, shattering the life that you once had. You're sixteen, sitting in Suguru's basement, sobbing as his parents tell you that he's gone. Shoko is saying something to you, but everything feels muffled and hazy, as you let out a choked wail. You know he's gone. The guitar you gave him only a couple months ago, the binder full of music he's composed, even Satoru's clothes that he'd keep in the dresser next to his bed. Every trace of them is gone. You feel as though they took your heart with you.

You're sixteen when Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru leave you, and it's in that moment that you realize you loved them a little too late.

#haerinwrites #jjk angst #geto suguru x reader #suguru x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader x satoru #satosugu x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #idol!satoru gojo #rockstar!suguru geto #im obssesed with them im sorry

[kimsohn]

insignificance

pairing . eric x gn! reader about . 2k words, fluff (suggestive) warnings . 16+ cause there is heavy making out at the end, drinking wine, mentions of murder but it's all jokes!!

synopsis . it takes one dinner and a late-night drive for you to fall in love with your fiancé all over again. note . the inspo for this fic was @sohnric's plot twist make-out scene (and this pic) i hope i did it justice 💗 i wrote this on a whim and am posting this at 1am so please excuse me for this monstrosity 😭 tysm @juyeonszn and @mars101 for cheering me on YUPP tagging . @stealanity @invuwrld @gfksn (+ bar)

The background noise of the waiters shuffling around fades away as your two glasses clink together. Vivaldi’s Spring is playing in the background, a piece you’ve only heard once in a blue moon at an orchestra concert. Eric seems to have experienced differently, though, judging by the taps of his dress-shoe-covered foot beneath the table and the twinkle in his eyes.

“Cheers,” you whisper, giddy with excitement.

“Cheers, baby,” Eric whispers back, the corners of his mouth lifting in a grin.

The wine in your glass swishes as you take a tentative sip. It’s sweet and fruity, and you’ve already forgotten the name Eric rattled off to the waiter as if expensive drinks were second nature to him. They probably were second nature to the Sohn family, considering the elegance of this fancy restaurant, the outfit he bought that now adorns you, and the sparkling ring that sits on your finger.

You set the glass down next to you, already a little overwhelmed with the elegance of this atmosphere. You knew you married rich, but it never particularly occurred to you just how rich your fiancé is. In fact, you feel a little out of place sitting in a chair that costs half of your monthly paycheck and staring at a menu that you once never would’ve been able to. Despite already being engaged to the love of your life, you’re not sure you’ll ever find a way to fit into the intricate setting that the Sohns have grown up in.

“What’s wrong?” Eric asks, seeing the glimmer in your eyes dissipate with your overthinking.

He reaches across the table to take your hands in his, running his thumb over your ring. He traces the lines of it, following the swirl pattern as if he were seeing it for the first time. As if he didn’t spend hours agonizing over what design to gift you, so sure that you would reject him if it wasn’t up to your liking.

(You would’ve said yes even if he proposed to you with a lollipop.)

“I feel like I don’t belong here,” you admit, your head hanging low as the embarrassment clouds your features.

He intertwines his fingers with yours, lacing them tightly. Eric is all too knowing of the nagging thoughts in your brain, telling you you’re undeserving of the man in front of you and the wealth that comes along with it. However, you’ve hit the jackpot in the fact that Eric is always ready to argue back with the devil on your shoulder, even if it’s three in the morning and you’re delirious from sleep or if you’re a little bit too tipsy and crying in his lap. Eric, for lack of better words, is always there for you. Even now, as he holds your hands and stares into your eyes as if you’re the only person in the universe, he is here for you.

“I’m going to eat that little voice in your head so it goes away,” he responds a moment later with finality, extremely serious.

The statement is so absurd and unexpected that it has you giggling, and you grip Eric’s fingers tighter as you lean forward and can’t find it in you to stop. All your previous tension disappears when you look into Eric’s eyes, filled with mirth and kindness.

“You’re crazy,” you voice through laughter, reaching for the wine glass to calm your jumbling nerves.

Eric just shakes his head, unable to hold back a smile that reflects your current predicament.

“Crazy for you, babe. Now stop worrying your pretty little head and enjoy your food, okay?”

And enjoy the food you do. The three-course meal followed by dessert has you clutching your stomach after, full and bloated from the amount of delicious food you’ve consumed. You can’t even bring yourself to take a couple more bites of the black forest delicacy that sits on your plate, but luckily, you have the universe to thank for the takeout box that now rests in Eric’s left hand.

His other hand holds the car keys, and as he clicks the unlock button, the Orange Corvette lights up from across the parking garage. Its bright color is exactly reminiscent of the man standing next to you, exuberant and dashing. You felt like a little kid the first time he picked you up in his car, extremely impressed with the interior neon lights he showed off to you in the earlier stages of your relationship. Now, as his fiancé, the car is something comfortable to you, having seen it too many times to count by this point. 

He helps you into the front seat before getting in beside you, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the back of your headrest as he backs the car out. You’ll never admit this to him, but the view of him looking back and inching the car out is devilishly handsome to you, and you have to fight the warmth that rises to your cheeks.

Once he repositions the vehicle and drives forward, the hand that’s behind you now moves to your thigh. The shiny watch on his wrist glints in the moonlight, and he absentmindedly draws circles on your clothed skin to the beat of the song. It doesn’t help that it’s an R&B track, so every movement of his finger is slow and torturous, and every trace ignites fire against the cloth. 

“Eric,” you start, watching as he pulls to a stop before the red light.

“Hm?” he responds, turning his head to face you.

You notice that he’s wearing a singular stud earring on his right ear. You can only pray that you’ll find some strength to survive the rest of this car ride because as soon as it’s over, you won’t let him see the light of day.

“How much longer?” you ask tentatively, like a little kid squirming in their seat.

He rolls his eyes, turning back to focus on the road. It doesn’t help though, because his side profile is just as alluring as his front.

“Couple more minutes, baby.”

True to his word, he exits the main road a few minutes later, driving up a dirt path unfamiliar to you. The road is slightly bumpy, and you’re a little tipsy from the wine so you shift around quite frequently, but Eric’s unwavering, strong grip on your thigh keeps you grounded. The more you stare at his hand, the more sexy you find his hand pressed against the silk you’re wearing.

You’re reconsidering your decision to spend the rest of your life with this ridiculously hot man when he pulls into a forest clearing.

“Are you going to murder me, Eric Sohn?” you tease as he parks the car, swiftly maneuvering the wheel.

You move to step out once he’s done, but he’s faster than you, and he opens the car door before you can even reach for the handle.

“If I wanted to murder you,” he says, holding your arm as you step out, “I would’ve already done so, my love.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but you have little to be annoyed about as you survey your surroundings. The dark forest around you is a contrast to the vividness of the car, but nothing seems brighter than Eric’s smile at the moment and the twinkling stars around you.

Eric leads you to a clearing, his hand pressed against the small of your back. You peer over, fascinated at the realization that you can see the whole city from here. The twinkling lights of the bustling city below you are something of a dream, and as you look towards Eric, you can see the stars reflected in his eyes.

Minutes like these, where you’re not surrounded by extravagance, are when you truly feel your connection with Eric. Raw, unearthed, and simply pure, you feel like you’re stripped of all labels. You both are just insignificant specks in the universe, and he is truly just some guy to you in this moment, but you know wholeheartedly that this very guy is the one you truly love. You would never have it any other way.

The grin on Eric’s face is infectious as you face him with one of your own. You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, clasping them together as his arms find their way around your waist. 

“Found this place the other day,” he explains as if he could hear your thoughts, “I kinda regret not proposing to you here.”

“Don’t lie,” you mutter, knowing that he definitely does not regret whisking you away to his private condo in the mountains just to put a ring on your finger.

He laughs, pressing his forehead against yours. The cicadas chirp around you, and all is silent when he calms down except for your two breaths in unison. His gaze circulates from your eyes to your lips and then back to your eyes, and whatever triangle method he’s using is working because one second later, you lean in to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

He tastes like strawberries, and you smile against his lips remembering that you’d gifted him strawberry lip balm two days ago. Your man, your sexy, diligent man, following your orders to take care of his lips stirs butterflies in your stomach. The fact that you hold some kind of power over the Sohn family’s heir makes you feel a little dizzy, but your only response is to pull Eric closer and kiss him harder.

The sweetness of both the strawberry scent and the kiss fade as he presses back with just as fervor, adjusting his arms around you to pull you in tighter. The space between you feels unbearable, and despite the proximity between you two, the gap is still too big for your liking. You need him viscerally, every part of him on you as if the very concept of distance is poisonous and Eric is your antidote.

“Baby,” he whispers, pulling back with shallow breaths, “the car.”

You end up in the front seat of his car, the seat tilted backward and you in Eric’s lap. One of his knees holds you in place against your back, and his hands rest on your waist. The position is far too intimate that anyone walking by will know exactly what’s going on. Your kisses have turned heady, mirroring the darkness in his eyes and the way you clutch onto the front of his black shirt. You work on unbuttoning his shirt, but Eric distracts you with his tongue swiping across your lips and the way he softly bites when you protest. By some miracle, you finish moments later, and you run your hands down his skin. He shivers, and everything feels like pure electricity between you two the way his fingers press into your sides tighter. 

(It will bruise tomorrow, but you don’t care. You’ll simply shrug on a shirt and try to fight a blush as Eric stares at you from the bed shirtless, a knowing grin on his face.)

His kisses trail down your lips, your cheeks, and your neck, finally finding a home in your collarbone, biting and sucking as if it was his favorite pastime. It probably is, with the way he kisses down your shoulder and tugs the strap of clothing down.

Your fingers trace his collarbone, and you hold his head in your hands as he looks up at you. He’s needy and restless, but he’ll always listen to you when you have something to say.

You may be an insignificant speck in the world, but in Eric’s eyes, you’re the whole universe.

“I love you,” you whisper.

It’s all you have to say before he flips you around, pressing you into the dip of the seat as he slides your clothing down. The air conditioning of the car and the ambient music bring goosebumps to your now exposed skin, but Eric makes everything disappear by resuming his previous ministrations.

He looks into your eyes before pressing a kiss right above your heart. It beats against your chest, heavy, and Eric knows it’s only for him. It will always be only for him.

“I love you too,” he whispers back, smiling against your skin.

“Forever and always.”

#text #deoboyznet #bluesia #eric #eric x reader #eric sohn #tbz #tbz x reader #eric imagines #eric scenarios #eric blurbs #eric sohn x reader #eric sohn scenarios #kpop x reader #kpop #kpop fluff #the boyz #tbz fluff #tbz imagines #tbz scenarios #sohn youngjae

[gleamingyu]

anti-hero.

part II of the midnights series. inspired by taylor swift’s midnights. part I

pairing: music-producer!seungcheol x lawyer!fem!reader [exes-to-lovers]

genre: angst. fluff.

warnings: she/her pronouns for reader (but no specific physical characteristics). a bucketload of angst (i'm so sorry). light cursing. terrible knowledge of law stuff. so much crying yikes. miscommunication & misunderstandings. mentions of drinking and allusions to driving under the influence (do not do that ever!!). reader might seem a bit unlikeable in this chapter, but it's all part of the plot, okay?? she's trying her best. mentions of intimacy and sex (??), nothing graphic tho. slow burn. alternating povs. jihan as my lovely, beautiful, in love babies (yes they're a couple). some petnames (baby, babe). flashbacks are in italics. lower caps intended [if there’s anything i missed, please let me know!]

word count: approx. 8.1k (idk what happened)

notes: finally managed to work on my baby again. i'm sorry for the long wait but i had a lot of shit going on :/ thank you to everyone who showed love on the first part, i love each and every single on of you!! once again, likes, reblogs and comments are more than appreciated :)

summary: seungcheol wants to fix things; you want to avoid him at all costs. one thing is for sure, though. neither of you will have closure until you talk.

four months ago

the silence ringing inside seungcheol’s ears was even louder than the ambient noise of the restaurant he found himself in.

he genuinely couldn’t believe you were doing this to him again. the time was nearing 8 p.m., almost an hour later than when you were supposed to be here, and seungcheol was trying very hard to ignore the pitiful glances the waiters were not-so-subtly throwing him. he didn’t know what frustrated him more; the fact this was the seventh date you were clearly canceling on, or that you hadn’t updated him on your whereabouts in almost half an hour. if you weren’t going to show up, the least you could do is call and let seungcheol know you were gonna meet him at home.

home. funny how the word no longer brought a sense of peace in seungcheol’s heart.

just as he was about to get up and leave, seungcheol felt his phone buzz in the pocket of his pants, and his heart soared when he saw your name displayed on the screen. maybe you were going to make it after all, maybe you could still enjoy the nice evening he had planned, maybe…

“cheol… i’m so sorry.”

you were not coming.

seungcheol could tell from the apologetic tone in your voice. he didn’t even hear the next words that came from your end, whatever excuse you had to offer getting lost in the sound of his heart breaking. the grip he had on his phone was the only thing anchoring him in that moment, his eyes closed as he was trying to push down the tears that were threatening to spill out. he could hear you calling his name, are you there? but all he could offer was an “i’ll see you at home” before ending the call.

there was no part of you that was ready to face what awaited you on the other side of your apartment door.

the day hadn’t gone as you’d planned. you knew seungcheol had plans for the two of you that evening, so you had decided to wake up and go to the office earlier than usual in order to finish what you were working on in time for your date. but when you woke up that morning, you found seungcheol in the kitchen, diligently trying his best at making breakfast for the two of you. you melted at the sight of your boyfriend wearing your peach-colored apron – and nothing underneath but a pair of sweatpants – and you didn’t have the heart to turn him down when he oh-so-gleefully presented you with what could only be described as an admirable attempt at pancakes. moments like these were rare in your lives, with both of your hectic schedules and whatnot, so you sat down and enjoyed the warmth that came from the food, the sun coming in through the curtains, and seungcheol’s smile.

the sense of peace that came with spending the morning with seungcheol quickly dispersed once you arrived at the office and realized you were late, which gave your boss – mr. moon, a pathetic, greedy, and cruel excuse of a man who lived to make the lives of his employees a living hell – the perfect excuse to make you his target of the day. in addition to the case you were supposed to work on, mr. moon decided to dump on you stacks of paperwork that apparently needed to be taken care of by tonight, a task that normally a damn paralegal could take care of – no offense to paralegals.

normally you wouldn’t put up with this type of behavior. you weren’t raised to let people just walk all over you as they damn pleased. but around the office, there was one unspoken rule that everyone learned as soon as they started working here; ‘whatever mr. moon says, goes.’ besides, moon was the only person on the board of directors that could veto promotions in the firm, so until you could see the words senior associate inscribed under your name on the door of your office, you’d have to shut your mouth and take whatever was thrown at you with your head held high.

that isn’t to say that sometimes you wished mr. moon would get hit by a bus, ‘mean girls’ style. today had been one of those days, as the hours trickled by, closer and closer to when you should leave for your date with seungcheol, and yet mr. moon seemed to have a continuous stream of tasks that needed to be done, by you specifically. you realized you would never make it in time to see seungcheol, and so, tonight marked the seventh date you had to cancel because of work.

now, with the time on your phone reading 22:32, you were standing outside your apartment, bracing yourself for the talk you knew you were going to have with seungcheol. letting out a big exhale, you punched in the door code and let yourself in, the quietness of the apartment immediately enveloping you.

for a split second, you thought seungcheol might have gone to sleep already, but the faint sound of glass redirected you towards the kitchen, where you found said man standing by the kitchen island, nursing a glass of wine. you recognized the bottle mingyu had gifted him on his birthday that year, some fancy brand you’d never heard of before. as you stepped closer, the dim light of the kitchen finally illuminating you, seungcheol turned towards you, an inscrutable look on his face.

after four years of learning, knowing, loving seungcheol, you prided yourself in being able to discern what he was feeling at any given moment. but now, standing in front of him, you were scared to admit that you couldn’t read whatever feelings his eyes held. it made you feel uneasy, the way it seemed like he was looking through you, into you, and you wished you could come up with something to say to disturb the uncomfortable silence, but saying i’m sorry seemed redundant in that moment.

“a bit late, isn’t it?” seungcheol spoke up, and your heart clenched at the cold, almost mocking tone of his voice.

“i know, but i couldn’t get out faster. no matter what i said, my boss kept piling up my work and i just… i couldn’t. i’m so sorry… you know i wanted to come, more than anything. i really did,” you said, silently pleading that seungcheol would forgive you.

“i’m sure you did,” seungcheol gruffed, turning his attention back to the wine before him.

“cheol… don’t be like this, please…” you tried getting closer to him, but his body whipped towards you, his eyes narrowing at you.

“like what, exactly? angry? frustrated? sad? disappointed? i can be like that, actually, seeing as this is the seventh time in 3 months you’ve ditched me for work, apparently!” seungcheol spewed, making you take several steps back. your body tenses.

“‘apparently?’ what is that supposed to mean?”

“i don’t know, it just seems very unlikely that you’d have to sometimes spend more than twelve hours at work. i mean, you’re a lawyer, aren’t you? surely, you should know everything about workplace laws,” seungcheol bit back. he’s never spoken to you like this before, ever, the mockery in his voice surely aimed to hurt you. you felt anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach, but you tried your best to stay calm, for the sake of both of you.

“seungcheol,” you said, and you couldn’t help feeling a twinge of satisfaction seeing his eyebrows raise in surprise after hearing you use his full name. “if you have something to say, i’d rather you just do it, instead of insinuating it.”

seungcheol fell quiet for a moment, glancing down at his feet. “i meant it when i said i was held back at work, cheol. why would i lie about that?” you continued.

“for the past two years that you’ve been working there, you know i never once met any of your coworkers? i’ve never even stepped foot into your office, for god’s sake! you’ve been to my studio countless of times, you know the people i’m closest to, i’ve invited you to all the events the label organizes, so i just can’t understand! i don’t understand why you’re dead-set on keeping me away from that part of your life! and it makes me think… it makes me feel like i’m not enough, like you’re ashamed of me–”

“that’s absolutely not true, cheol!” you jumped in. you couldn’t even entertain the thought of seungcheol feeling self-conscious because of you, when it was the furthest thing you wanted. “i think you’re the most talented person i know, the most passionate, hard-working, smart… beautiful… i could never be ashamed of you.”

unshed tears were clinging to both of your lashes, heavy breathing echoing around the kitchen. how could you let things get so bad?

“it made me think there was someone else,” seungcheol breathes out.

the air gets stuck in your throat, the tears brimming in your eyes finally sliding down your face. “cheol… how could… there never was anyone! i swear, all the nights i would come home late, it was because of my work! i swear, i would never… you’re the only person that’s ever on my mind…”

silence fell over you and seungcheol, the words thrown between you slowly sinking in. seungcheol sniffled, taking a seat at the round table in the middle of the kitchen; you wished you could go to him, gather him in your arms, even though he’s too big to fit in completely, but you knew that this was probably the last thing seungcheol wanted from you in that moment.

“why don’t you quit?”

seungcheol looked up to you, the sadness in his gaze so intense it made you look away, knowing you’re to blame for it. “you complain so much about it… the hours, the work, the boss, the people. why can’t you just leave?”

you breathed in, thinking over seungcheol’s words. “because… because i love doing what i do. i feel about law the way you feel about music. it’s just the environment that’s shitty. but it’s something… that’s mine. and the kind of opportunities i got at this firm… people just starting out, like me, don’t come by them very often usually.”

there was a pause as seungcheol mulled over your words. a part of you thought, hoped, that the way the conversation was going would lead to fixing things, but then seungcheol spoke up again, and you knew. there was no fixing, not anymore.

“i was yours, too. and i would’ve never chosen music over you.”

“you say that now, but if you were put in a situation where you had to choose, i don’t think you’d have as easy of a time as you say.”

“i guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

and that was the end of it.

three days after your unexpected reunion with seungcheol, you find yourself back at PLEDIS, ready to tackle jihoon’s case.

the morning had gone on normally enough, with people coming in to give their testimonies regarding jihoon, his work and their relationships with him. as expected, no one had come forward with any potentially harmful or negative remarks about him, everyone applauding him for his tireless dedication to the label and the artists he worked with, as well as marveling at his seemingly innate musical talent and creativity. this was no surprise to you; having known jihoon for almost as long as you’d known seungcheol, you witnessed first-hand jihoon’s mastery of his craft, on multiple occasions. and now, with all the information you had gathered in the past three hours since arriving at PLEDIS, you were starting to feel more confident about winning this lawsuit.

initially, you had no intention of taking on jihoon’s case. the previous weekend, when mr. moon had called you in, you arrived at the firm with your mind set on demanding a break. in the past months, you might as well have changed your home address to the office, seeing as you had been working non-stop on one case after another, pulling countless sleepless nights and taking on extra paperwork as favors to some of your coworkers. and after finding out what the case was actually about, you were even more adamant about turning it down. but all the excuses you offered mr. moon were effectively shut down, leaving you almost begging the man to pass the case to someone else.

before you could use your past relationship with the other in-house music producer working at PLEDIS as an excuse, mr. moon delivered the lowest of low blows. “you know, a high profile case like this could attract lots of new clients for the firm… and put you right on the track for senior associate.”

there was no use arguing anymore after that. moon knew how much you wanted that promotion, and you were honestly not surprised to see him using it against you in order to force you into doing whatever work he wanted you to. so you shut your mouth, took the case, and then went home and cried.

yes, you cried. moving on.

seeing seungcheol again, and unexpectedly so, definitely set you a few steps back in whatever emotional healing you had done in the past few months. and it definitely made you doubt your own abilities as a lawyer. if you couldn’t put aside your personal feelings and instead focus on helping a guy who was being wrongfully accused, were you even meant to practice the law? but you had worked far too hard and sacrificed far too much to let these thoughts cloud your judgment and confidence, so you told yourself that even if you had to be in seungcheol’s proximity for the foreseeable future, your main priority was winning this case. for jihoon, and for yourself.

of course, planning to ignore the obvious feelings you still harbored for your ex-boyfriend was way easier than actually ignoring them. now, as you were gathering your things to meet wonwoo in the conference room he was stationed in, you were also mentally preparing yourself for the off-chance that you would bump into seungcheol again. considering how your luck’s been going in the past few weeks, you think the chances are pretty high.

walking through the halls of PLEDIS felt oddly familiar, and yet strange at the same time. when you and seungcheol first started dating, the label was just starting out, carrying all its business in a measly two-story building on the outskirts of town. you felt a tiny knot forming at the back of your throat, thinking how crazy it was to have witnessed the immense growth that seungcheol went through as an artist and a person, and now, to be walking amongst the fruits of the labor of his work, and so many other people’s, who built the label from the ground up.

as you grow nearer to the conference room where wonwoo was most likely waiting for you, you suddenly catch a whiff of a scent all too familiar to you. musky notes of jasmine and bergamot fill your senses, and for a brief moment, you feel an almost supernatural pull urging you to follow the indistinguishable fragrance.

you know exactly where it leads. but now is not the time.

before you can push the door open and walk into the room, your phone’s screen lights up with a text message. ‘hey honey. can you call when you have the time? she’s not having a very good day…’

you sigh, before dialing your mom’s number.

four years ago

seungcheol always smelled divine.

over the years, you’d heard so many of your friends go on and on about their boyfriends’ perfumes, and how once they found the right scent, they could charm the pants off of them with just the smell of their cologne. to you, that idea seemed entirely far-fetched, because, after all, people aren’t dogs. who in their right mind would base their selection of a partner on something as feeble as smell? even more so, an artificial smell, that didn’t even last forever.

clearly, since a few weeks ago, you haven’t been in your right mind, because you swore there was nothing better in this world than the way seungcheol smelled.

all your friends kept telling you that they’d never seen you act like this before. the honeymoon phase of your relationship had hit you pretty hard, and you were completely smitten with cheol. his smile, his eyes, his dimples, his laugh, his hair, his charm… and his scent, you couldn’t get enough of him. and now, as you were making your way towards PLEDIS together, you couldn’t help but wish you could nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck and stay there forever.

it was your first time seeing where seungcheol worked. you had been wanting to see his studio ever since he had first told you about his job (and proved that he wasn’t one of those wannabe soundcloud rappers or whatever), but considering the label wasn’t exactly in a central location, getting there proved slightly difficult. not to mention that most days, your classes ran pretty late, and seungcheol shared his studio with jihoon, the other music producer at PLEDIS, which meant you couldn’t pop in whenever you had a window of free time, so as to not disturb them.

that night, however, seungcheol decided you deserved a break from your studies, and since your midterms were coming up, it might have been one of the last times you could afford to go out before getting swept up in the craziness of exam season. so after your last class of the day, seungcheol picked you up from campus and drove you outside of town, where PLEDIS stood.

“are you absolutely sure it’s alright for me to be here? i don’t want you to get in trouble with your… superiors, if that’s what you call them,” you said, walking up the stairs closely behind cheol.

“i already told you, it’s fine! besides, you’re not planning to steal any confidential information and spread it online, are you?” he teased, stopping in front of a door that you assumed was his studio.

“hmm, i don’t know… what makes you think i’m not secretly working for one of your competitors?”

seungcheol chuckled, shaking his head, before looking back at you. “oh, baby, you and i both know you like me too much to hurt me so,” he said, finally unlocking the door and letting you step inside.

well, he wasn’t wrong.

to most people, seungcheol and jihoon’s studio might not have looked like much. it held all the standard recording and mixing equipment one would expect to find there, along with personal touches from the boys, like pictures with their friends, some posters, a couple of cd racks, as well as a couch and two huge leather desk chairs. one the other side, inside the recording booth, you could see a keyboard, a couple of guitars, and a drum set, as well as some microphones, of course. to someone who’s never stepped foot in a recording studio before, like you, the place was amazing. and not just because cheol worked in there.

“i know it’s not a lot…” seungcheol mumbles, moving besides you, his arm stretched out in a way that said you could walk around.

your hands grazed the equipment on his desk, holding yourself back in fear of breaking something. “i like it, cheol. it’s homely, and cozy. definitely a good space to get those creative juices flowing,” you gave him a genuine smile, which you could tell instantly put him at ease from the way his shoulders visibly relaxed. he grinned at you, pulling up next to you by the sound board.

“you wanna see how the magic happens?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. you couldn’t help but groan, rolling your eyes.

“cheol, that was so cheesy… but yes, i do. please,” you said, giddy smiles taking over both of your faces.

“okay! come here,” he said, pulling you into his lap as he sat down in his desk chair. you felt your cheeks heat up at his actions, so natural and nonchalant, totally unaware of the effect he had on you. how could he be so oblivious, and quite literally torture you so? being so close to him now, his cologne starting to overpower your senses, you were sure to go dizzy.

“i’m gonna use one of the demos i have here, but for the record, i did not play anything for you while you were here, got it?” seungcheol said, opening an audio file on his laptop.

“yes, sir!” you gave him a wink, his ears turning red. cute.

for the next couple of minutes, seungcheol gives you a rundown on the soundboard, showing you what goes into recording and mixing a song, and even letting you play around with the different settings for pitch and autotune. even though it was all very interesting, nothing compared to just watching seungcheol’s excitement and passion while talking about music. every time your conversations would somehow turn towards music, his face would light up like a kid’s on christmas morning, his whole body animatedly gesturing while he rattled on about his favorite artists and composers, whatever new album came out that week, and even why a song with a good bass line is guaranteed to become a hit (yes, that was an actual discussion the two of you had once). seeing the obvious love he harbored for this art form made you ten times more enamored with him. you could already tell his passion and hard work were going to take him places, and you couldn’t wait to see it all.

“cheol? how did you know you wanted to do music?” you asked, turning to look up at your boyfriend.

“oh, wow, we’re going for the deep stuff, huh?” he laughed.

“you don’t have to share if you don’t want to, i was just curious… you always talk so passionately about it, i could just tell it means a lot to you.”

seungcheol sighed, leaning back into the chair. “it’s alright. i really don’t know how i got here, to be honest. i’ve always been interested in music, and found myself writing and experimenting with sound. one day, i just knew that i couldn’t really picture myself doing anything else. so i focused on that and worked my ass off, i guess.”

“well, clearly?! we’re sitting in your own studio! i’d say you’re doing pretty great,” you exclaimed, smiling at seungcheol’s blushing cheeks. “you should be proud of yourself, cheol, really.”

seungcheol can’t even look at you right now, too overcome with giddiness at the onslaught of compliments you’re suddenly throwing his way. instead, he shoves his face in the crook of your neck, mumbling a quiet ‘thanks.’

“is it hard to come up with new music?” you continue, playing with the strings of the hoodie he was wearing.

“hmm, it depends,” his voice is muffled, and you flinch at the ticklish feeling of his breath fanning on your neck. “there are days when i can put down a whole song and melody at once; sometimes it takes me weeks to be satisfied with a song i’m working on. but lately i’ve been feeling more… inspired than usual, so it’s been going pretty well.”

you turn your face towards him, a teasing smile stretching across your lips. “oh, really? how come?”

seungcheol returns your smile, his fingers pressing slightly harder into your skin where they sat on your waist. “just someone i met recently… they’re really nice and beautiful and funny and smart,” now it was your turn to grow shy, feeling your cheeks and chest grow warm at the implication of his words. “but i think jihoon is growing tired of all the ballads i’ve been writing.”

you both fall into a fit of giggles, your faces so impossibly close, your noses brush. “poor jihoon… whatever will he do?” you whisper, and before you can breathe in again, seungcheol’s lips fall against yours.

the air in your lungs dissipates in seconds. your entire body is ablaze, and you swear your hearing no longer registers the music playing from seungcheol’s laptop, instead becoming attuned to the sound of cheol’s soft sighs. you want this moment to last forever, to melt into his embrace, ingrain yourself into his very existence. his lips grow more and more fervent against yours, and you swear your mind goes blank, the only thought even going through your head in that moment a chant of his name. cheol, cheol, cheol, cheol…

later that night, once you’re home, getting ready for bed, you catch a whiff of seungcheol’s cologne again, the scents of his perfume imbued into your sweatshirt. you can’t help but smile like an idiot.

you didn’t wash that sweatshirt for a week after.

no matter how much seungcheol loved his friends, he couldn’t go on another second hearing jeonghan and joshua discuss whether they should choose lilies or hydrangeas for their wedding (because the good ol’ rose is too much of a cliche, apparently, according to joshua).

an exasperated sigh escaped him, his whole body slouching from the weight of the gloom he was carrying. jeonghan and joshua, who had been animatedly bantering over wedding preparations, suddenly go quiet, their heads snapping up to look at their friend. if this was a cartoon, they swore you would see a huge, gray cloud hanging above his head.

“alright, you gotta tell us what’s got you all pouty and gloomy, because this? this is just sad, cheol,” said joshua, gesturing at seungcheol’s crouched figure.

he sighed again, but straightened his back this time. the truth was, nothing particularly bad had happened today. but the day hadn’t gone as seungcheol had initially planned.

that morning, seungcheol had arrived at work determined to talk to you. seeing you again earlier that week had broken down the walls seungcheol had put up in the months following your breakup, and all the emotions he had tried pushing behind those walls – anger, sadness, frustration, yearning, love – were slowly, but surely, seeping back in. there was no point denying it anymore; seungcheol was not ready to let go just yet.

taking jihoon’s advice to heart, he decided to ‘grow some balls’ and initiate a discussion with you, one that you probably should’ve had before any of the shit that went down between the two of you could’ve gone down. seungcheol knew, deep down, that you were hiding something, and thought that once both of your cards were out on the table, you could either work on fixing what’s been broken, or you could both gain some closure and move on with your lives.

seungcheol was desperately hoping for the first option.

either way, whatever plans seungcheol had made were quickly put on hold when he arrived at his meeting and only found your colleague, jeon wonwoo, waiting for him in the conference room. he’d made himself look like an idiot, bluntly asking about your whereabouts, disappointment clear on his face at your lack of presence, which only got him an inscrutable look from wonwoo (who made a mental note to check in with you about this little outburst, for safety reasons). wonwoo hadn’t mentioned anything about you throughout the interview, which in retrospect, seungcheol realized, was more than normal, considering wonwoo probably had no idea that the two of you even dated before. if anyone at your firm would’ve known about your previous relationship, he imagines you wouldn’t even be here, working on this case. conflict of interest and all.

in the end, seungcheol had no idea whether you were even at PLEDIS at all, and didn’t even have time to ask around for you, having a number of recording sessions planned for the rest of the morning. it wasn’t until jeonghan called and invited him out for lunch with him and joshua, that seungcheol left his studio again. when his friends greeted him outside the restaurant they decided on, they held back from commenting on his sulky expression.

seungcheol didn’t tell them that he had half a mind to turn down their invitation when he heard where the couple wanted to meet. IL GRATO was your favorite place in town (you used to say because it was where seungcheol had taken you on your first date), and the restaurant held plenty of the many happy memories you and seungcheol had made over the years. obviously, seungcheol wasn’t particularly keen on revisiting them today, but he didn’t want to seem more pathetic than he already felt, so he shut up and pretended everything was fine.

that didn’t last long, evidently.

“why don’t you just call her? she’s obligated to answer, now that she’s working on jihoon’s situation, right? ask to schedule a meeting with her or something,” jeonghan said, sipping on his glass of prosecco.

“and what reason could i give her for a meeting? that jeon dude already asked me anything he could about jihoon, so i can’t use anything about the case,” seungcheol mumbled. “and saying i wanna discuss the clear unresolved feelings left between us is guaranteed to get her to hang up on me.”

joshua, who had been intently listening to seungcheol’s whines, suddenly perks up, grabbing seungcheol’s shoulder. “cheol, didn’t you mention jeon said he still had some interviews lined up after lunch time?”

seungcheol frowned. “yeah? what difference does it make?”

“well, dumbass, if Y/N was in fact at PLEDIS all this time, that means that she’s probably in one of the conference rooms on the same floor as him. and since most staff clock out at 5 p.m., i’d say you still have about half an hour to go back, find her, and talk to her. like you said you wanted,” joshua explained pointedly, giving seungcheol a look that screamed you have to do it or else i will hurt you.

joshua was right. how could he have been so stupid, to completely overlook what wonwoo had mentioned off-handedly at the end of their meeting. he hadn’t even considered the possibility that you and wonwoo had split up to cover more ground in collecting testimonies, and now he was at risk of completely missing his chance to see you, unless he hauled ass to PLEDIS immediately.

seungcheol shot up from his seat, quickly gathering his things and throwing his credit card on the table, before dashing for the front door. “you guys are the best! lunch is on me!” he shouted, before taking off running.

jeonghan and joshua look at each other, before bursting into giggles. jeonghan sighs, “i need them to resolve this issue before the wedding, really. i won’t be able to handle it if seungcheol mopes around during the whole ceremony.”

joshua cooed, rolling his eyes. “you simply can’t rush love, babe,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to his lover’s cheek.

jeonghan rolled his eyes, turning his attention to the spreadsheet full of wedding prep details laid out on the table. a mischievous glint gleamed in his eyes, as he turned to look at joshua. “so, my dear joshuji, how about lilies for the flower displays?”

“JEONGHAN, I SAID NO!”

nine months ago

when you and seungcheol arrived at IL GRATO, jeonghan and joshua were already inside, patiently waiting at the table they had booked for your party of four, wearing two oddly calm smiles on their faces.

to say you and seungcheol weren’t suspicious at all would be a lie.

jeonghan had called earlier that week to invite the two of you on a double date that weekend – which wasn’t unusual, since the four of you had been going on dates like these since forever  – but what had put you and seungcheol on edge was the ‘news’ jeonghan mentioned he and joshua had to share.

you and seungcheol had been going through a rough patch in the past two weeks, and this fact wasn’t unknown to your group of friends. the two of you were not the type to air out your dirty laundry, so for your friends to notice the growing tension between you meant that things were truly going badly. even though neither you or seungcheol had verbalized this to each other, you were both worried that tonight’s double date was just a cover up for an intervention, aimed to make you and seungcheol work through whatever it was bothering you two. jeonghan and joshua were seungcheol’s oldest and closest friends, and they never shied away from confronting seungcheol (and you, after you were welcomed into their friend group), especially when it came to his well-being, both physical and mental. you had been preparing your defense all week, just in case they decided to bring the situation up (and you also realized how desperately you needed a break from work).

after settling in and exchanging common pleasantries about your lives and work, the four of you put in your orders (jeonghan ordering the most expensive bottle of champagne on the menu, much to yours and seungcheol’s surprise), and after the waiter brought the drinks along, you decided to bite the bullet and ask the question that had been bothering you all week.

“so, you two said you had some news to share, right?”

jeonghan and joshua exchange a secretive look, and you only just notice the blush that seems to grace their faces. they looked like teenagers in love. you couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of envy.

“i guess there’s no reason to beat around the bush…” joshua said, looking again towards jeonghan.

“we’re getting married!” the other continues, leaning back into his seat to throw an arm around joshua, grinning from ear to ear.

silence falls over the table, as you and seungcheol drink in jeonghan’s revelation. you jump out of your seat, genuine excitement and joy overtaking you, as you walk around the table to hug and congratulate the two men. a string of high-pitched ‘oh my gods’ leave your lips, gaining the attention of a few other restaurant patrons, but you honestly couldn’t care less, too happy for your dear friends to pay attention to them.

as you make your way back to your seat, holding tightly onto joshua’s hand, you notice that seungcheol was eerily quiet, silently watching his friends, his eyes wide and unblinking. you lay a hand onto his arm, squeezing. “cheol… aren’t you going to say something?” you whisper.

that seems to snap him out of his daze, a gasp escaping him, before his hands come up to cover his face. you, joshua, and jeonghan exchange a concerned look, completely blindsided by seungcheol’s unexpected reaction, since he was as one of jeonghan and joshua’s loudest supporters (he had been betting on the two of them getting together since they were teenagers). but before either of you can say something else, seungcheol looks up, unshed tears swimming along his lash line.

“i’m sorry, i just…” he pauses, as if trying to find the right words. “i just can’t… believe… that neither of you told me! you traitors! you were planning to get engaged and i just find out at the same time as everyone else?” seungcheol pouts, his dramatics leaving the rest of you in tears.

“hey! what is that supposed to mean?” you tease, trying to calm your laughter down.

“no offense, baby, but me and the boys? we have history,” seungcheol winks, before turning back to his friends. “which means i should have priority to all life-changing news in your lives!”

the table falls into laughter once again, before jeonghan and joshua proceed to give you and seungcheol all the details he was claiming they had been keeping away from him. the rest of the evening goes like this, drinks and food shared around, and you almost forget about whatever problems your own relationship has been having, too busy reveling in the love radiating from the couple in front of you.

that night, on the drive home, you and seungcheol fall into comfortable silence, a first in the past weeks. you don’t know if it’s the buzz from the alcohol you drank, or the crooning voice of whatever singer was playing on the radio, but you can’t help but look over to seungcheol’s side, your eyes glancing over the side of his face. he was so handsome, cheeks blushed and hair messy from tonight’s laughter. you wanted to lean over and run the tips of your fingers over the edges of his face, pour everything you couldn’t say into just one touch. please forgive me, just trust me…

“what’s the staring for?” seungcheol speaks, and you whip your head around, looking out the window on your side.

“ah, i wasn’t staring!” you mumble, feeling your face grow hot. “was just thinking… about tonight.”

he smiles, briefly glancing your way. “me too,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

a beat passes before seungcheol speaks up again. “when we get married, what would you want our wedding to be like?”

your heart swells when you realize he said ‘when’ instead of ‘if,’ but you can’t help but tease him a little bit. “‘when?’ i haven’t even said ‘yes’ yet, cheollie,” you smirk, turning your face towards him again.

evidently, seungcheol catches onto your little joke, but he plays into it. “emphasis on ‘yet’, baby. now answer the question!”

“okay, okay,” you chuckle. “well, i think i’d like something small… just our closest family and friends… maybe somewhere outside the city, like in the countryside, something like that,” you say decidedly, already daydreaming about all the possibilities.

“what about the beach? i think a beach wedding would be so cool… do you think your mom would let us have it at her beach house?” seungcheol says, an excited glimmer evident in his eyes.

he completely misses how your face falls at the mention of your mother, but you quickly mask it by nonchalantly agreeing with him. “i don’t see why not, she would probably love that…”

the rest of the drive goes by fast, the two of you bantering over silly wedding things like flowers, color palettes, and music selection (obviously), before you finally arrive home. inside, you both move lazily, drunk on love – or the leftover champagne in your systems – slowly undressing, stealing kisses, exchanging giggles and tantalizing looks… for the first time in weeks, you feel a sense of peace cover you, a quiet voice in the back of your mind assuring you that everything was going to be alright, and you embrace the feeling, falling into seungcheol as he whispers sweet nothings into your ears.

just as you’re about to fall into bed, your phone starts ringing from the floor of the bedroom, and at first you ignore it, too caught up in the feeling of seungcheol’s mouth against you, but the noise is insistent, and cheol detaches from you with a groan, urging you to see who’s bothering you in the middle of the night.

seungcheol can’t see the name on your screen, but when you tell him it’s your mom, he motions for you to take the call – she wouldn’t call this late unless there was an emergency, after all – but much to his surprise, you shuffle to find a shirt to put on, before you leave the room to take the call. from the bedroom, he can only hear muffled snippets of your conversation, and the tone of your voice is too ambiguous for him to guess how the talk is going.

when you come back, he doesn’t bring up the fact that you’d never gone to another room to take a call before. ever.

as soon as the clock on the wall reads 5 p.m., you bring the final interview you had scheduled for the day to an end, and as you say your goodbyes to the woman from the marketing department, wonwoo walks into the conference room, struggling to balance a stack of papers in his hands. you rush towards him, picking up part of the papers.

“woah, are these all the testimonies from your part of the staff?” you question, marveling at the size of the stack wonwoo brought in.

“yeah, crazy, isn’t it? i still can’t believe so many people came forward for this guy,” wonwoo replies, setting down his shoulder bag on the table. his shoulders seem tense, a whole day sitting at a desk clearly taking a toll on him.

“well, he’s clearly appreciated. everyone who i talked with only had good things to say about him,” you say nonchalantly, flicking through the papers, trying to pretend like you weren’t already aware of jihoon’s stellar reputation. each piece of paper seemed to be a reformulation of what the previous person mentioned, everybody mentioning similar qualities and compliments regarding him.

after you and wonwoo go over the information you both collected today, making a game plan for the next steps that needed to be taken, you both gather your things to finally go home for the day, exhaustion setting in. although the day hadn’t been particularly stressful, the possibility of bumping into seungcheol had caused you much more anxiety than usual, and you honestly couldn’t wait to get out of here and finally be able to breathe normally.

as you wait for the elevator – which seems to be taking its sweet time, moving in slow motion to the seventh floor – you hear wonwoo mumble under his breath, before he lets out an “oh, fucking hell.” ever the proper gentleman, he catches himself, and swiftly apologizes for his choice of words.

you chuckle, waving your hand to dismiss his unnecessary apology. “what’s wrong?”

“i’m missing some documents… i think i left them in the room i was in this morning, i’ll go after them. you go ahead and get going, i don’t want to hold you back any longer,” he explains, already turning around to head for the conference room.

“are you sure? i don’t mind wa–”

“i’m sure! go, you deserve to rest,” he shouts, disappearing around the corner of the hallway.

you sigh, shaking your head, but appreciating the gesture nevertheless. the elevator bell dings, and the doors open to reveal an empty cabin. you breathe out a sigh of relief, thankful for the silence. you press the button for the ground floor, and close your eyes, leaning against the back wall of the elevator, hoping to ease the sting that came from staring into a computer screen for a whole day.

your peace and quiet is short-lived however, as the elevator only manages to go down to the sixth floor before stopping again. you sigh, preparing yourself for the onslaught of tired employees who were most likely rushing to get home as well. however, when you open your eyes, there’s only one other pair staring into yours, and you feel all the air inside your lungs dissipating, leaving you breathless.

seungcheol is standing in front of you, wearing an equally speechless look on his face. the two of you stare at each other, almost as if you’re scared to move, in fear of disrupting the karmic force that brought this moment upon you even more. you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole, feeling completely unprepared for this situation. you’d thought you were finally out of the woods, that you’d be able to go home in peace and not think about the case, about cheol, about anything anymore, at least for tonight.

clearly, the universe had other plans for you.

seungcheol seems to snap out of his daze when the doors of the elevator start to close again, his arm shooting out to stop them and finally stepping inside. as the doors close behind him and the elevator resumes its course downwards, you suddenly feel like the cabin is ten times smaller than it was a few moments ago, your body instinctively moving to one of the corners of the elevator. seungcheol naturally takes over the corner opposite from you, and you can feel his eyes on you with every step he takes.

you can’t fucking breathe, and you can’t believe he still has such a hold over your body.

“hi.”

“hi.”

you both say it at the same time, and under different circumstances, the two of you might’ve erupted in giggles at the coincidence. in this moment, however, the tension between you is so palpable, it’s almost constricting.

���how’s jihoon’s case going?” seungcheol asks, and you feel almost grateful for him taking the initiative to fill the silence.

“it’s good, yeah. we had a productive day, gathered a lot of info,” you say, clearing your throat. why were you being so goddamn awkward?

seungcheol nods, humming, silence filling the space once again. you dared to sneak a glance in his direction, noticing his furrowed brows and pursed mouth. four months could not erase everything you learned about cheol in four years, and you immediately recognized his ‘i’m trying to find the right words’ look. you sigh, knowing exactly what’s inevitably coming, so you decide to put seungcheol out of his misery.

“seungcheol,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. your eyes meet in the quiet of the elevator. “just ask me. just ask me what’s bothering you. at this point, should we even beat around the bush with each other anymore?”

seungcheol opens his mouth, then decides against it. he shakes his head, sighing, before looking back at you. “i’m not ready to let go yet,” he murmurs.

your voice trembles as you try to keep your tears at bay. “cheol… why are you doing this? i mean, why are you doing this to yourself?! things haven’t been working out between us for months, and i– i was terrible to you! you should let me go, why can’t you just… leave me alone?”

seungcheol’s eyes widen, an almost crazed glint appearing behind them. “leave– leave you alone? are you fucking kidding me?” his voice rises in volume, as he takes a few steps closer. “i can’t leave you alone, because i gave you four years of my fucking life, yeah? and in those years i learned all there is to know about you. unless everything you’ve ever told me was just an act, i’ve learned how to tell when you’re lying, and i’ve learned how to tell when you’re struggling, and you know what? you’re doing both right now!”

your hands start shaking, frustration bubbling inside your chest. “i don’t need you looking out for me, alright? i can take care of myself! and i’m fine, for your information!”

“bullshit! you’re not fine, and you know why? because for three years, everything was perfectly fine with us, and then all of a sudden last year, something happened, yeah? i don’t know what exactly, because you won’t fucking tell me, but something happened that made you squeamish around me, distant, paranoid, and– and careless! you stopped caring about me, about us!”

“i didn’t stop caring!”  you croaked, your throat raw from holding back your tears. seungcheol’s eyes softened slightly at the sight of your tears finally let loose on your cheeks. “i just… i…”

seungcheol closes the last of the distance between you, standing right in front of you now. “Y/N… baby… if you’re in some sort of trouble, please… just tell me. there’s nothing you could say that could scare me or drive me away. i know you can take care of yourself, but you don’t have to! please, just… no more lies, please…”

your eyes meet his, the sincerity and love swimming in them bringing even more tears to your eyes. you could just tell him right now, let everything that’s been weighing down on you for the past year spill out all at once… but you can’t. you would never forgive yourself to come in between seungcheol and his work, his dreams… your burdens couldn’t be his burdens. you just can’t allow it.

“cheol… i ca–”

“okay, i need you to take five steps away from her, or i will physically remove you, hyung. no matter that you are older and stronger than me,” comes a voice from your right. in your fight-induced stupor, neither you nor seungcheol had realized that the elevator had reached the ground floor, the doors opening to reveal one of your favorite people on earth.

thank god for boo seungkwan.

#📁 lexie.works #🌙 midnights #choi seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #svt au

[lenixsocial]

Watcher (and why nothing matters anymore):

So, in case you've been locked away under a proverbial bridge for a few days, Internet personalities Steven Lim, Ryan Bergara, and Shane Madej (known as Watcher) have elected to begin their own streaming service and ditch YouTube.

On the surface, that mightn't even seem like news at all.

After all, this sort of thing seems to happen all the time: The Try Guys left Buzzfeed to create their own company, Rhett and Link took the dive and diversified into paywalled entertainment a few years back with Mythical Society. Both of which however still rely on YouTube itself to generate views on the main channels, which funnel viewers into a FOMO type situation where "you can't miss" a special airing on the app (Mythical Society) or Patreon (Try Guys).

Watcher, in its infinite wisdom (stupidity, carelessness, unparalleled greed - take your pick) has decided that YouTube is pointless, and has moved ALL their content behind a paywall, claiming that the service was amping up to provide "TV quality programming", leaving only old content and the first episodes of the new shows up on their YouTube page as a subtle tease as to what you could get for $6/month.

It's now quite apparent from reading the comments section of their (now infamous) YouTube video, their official subreddit, and the tag on X that the fans were...not thrilled. The fingers began to be pointed within minutes. Name calling soon after. Then this blossomed into dissertations on why this was a horrible idea.

Then we found out that there was no app. Just a website. So you're paying for website access. Not a full blown streaming service to rival Netflix. Oh, and they don't even have their own servers, the videos are hosted by Vimeo. The deeper the comments section dug, the nastier the attacks got. Steven soon became the whipping boy. His past, his interviews, scanned and mercurially dug up for juicy tidbits (although all anyone gleaned from these was he's rich, was born rich, drives a Tesla in LA, likes fancy food, and has friends whom he values who are racist and possibly sexist and will not sever ties with them).

Then came the cries of incongruity. Shane Madej repeatedly said to "Eat the Rich", and here he was schilling for a platform that cost $6 a month. The cries began to pirate all of the new Watcher content because maybe he was under duress and was secretly telling them to do so. Fact is, I don't know if he was or what, but I'm certain he's under contract and wants his job.

Then came the videos from other internet users analyzing the video, and comparing this to the Try Guys situation with Ned a few months back. Both are disasters, each in unique ways with different players, and such like but here's the vast difference: none of this will even matter in a month.

Let me explain: We are in the total free fall stage of Watcher's Internet Streamer Service. What they do in the next 24-48 hours is crucial. If they revert back to their YouTube channel and apologize, they'll be fine. People will probably poke fun at them, but they'll be forgiven, eventually. But if they don't and they keep on, ignoring the fans, dousing the haters, and make it a month, I doubt we will see any resistance outside of a terse article or two.

Why? The collective memory span in this day and age is extremely short, many have likely already made judgment in their head and have passed said judgment. Therefore, they'll avoid the channel, and the streamer and will be blissfully unaware of any changes. Those who have joined up and paid will remain members, and those who have elected to remain subscribed will likely remain so and will watch the free content until they can afford the $6/month.

The thing is like it or hate it, if they decide to do nothing and ignore the public at large, they most likely will be fine. Maybe they will not have the hugest subscriber base, but people will forget about this. Something else major that is more salacious will spring up in the months ahead. Will there be lingering anger? Sure, but like I said before, these people have already passed judgment so they're already gone.

In an era of "nothing fucking matters" when your choices are sometimes entirely out of your direct control and are (at best) two sides of the same coin, it should be of absolutely no surprise to anyone that there is a fairly good possibility even after all that has transpired that nothing bad will happen. Lest we forget that old adage: "there is no such thing as bad PR".

Personally, I feel $6 is a tad much for a non-app based web streamer with little to no content. It was disingenuous to announce its launch internationally where even more people can't afford it, and some can't even view it. Steven wasn't upfront with who was in charge and now it really does seem like he's using the subscriptions to fund his international gallivanting. It's clear nobody wanted TV-show quality Ghost Files to take place in another country, nor did they want an old show revived with votes when you pay the first month's dues. They say it's a case of Watcher "not reading the room".

#watcher #watcherfiasco #opinion

[fernweh-writes]

Bo Sinclair x Fem!Reader Part 1

You decide and up and leave your hometown after feeling trapped and wanting a new start. You end up driving until you can't any longer. Unfortunately for you, and luckily for Bo, you end up stopping right in the middle of Ambrose.

Minors DNI 18+:This story has dark themes such as kidnapping and also slight non con

You had driven all day long and late into the night without any specific destination in mind. In fact, it was nice to just drive around exploring new roads and not thinking about anything but a fresh start. However, the once tranquil backroads had turned eerie in the late hours of the night. The previously beautiful forests were now reaching out to engulf you in their dark clutches. Without any streetlights, the roads felt darker than possible, your brights doing little to keep the night at bay.

Glimpsing down at your dash, you felt the anxiety overwhelm you, your stomach suddenly feeling heavy with dread. Your gas light had been on for awhile now, the gauge looked like it was already pointing to E.

It had been what felt like forever since you had seen a gas station much less a town or any sign of civilization in fact. Of course it was also just your luck there was no signal on these roads. You were in the middle of nowhere.

Refusing to stop now you continued to slowly ease down the road that seemed to keep getting rougher and rougher. It seemed as though you kept getting further and further out into nothing. The current road had long since needed to be paved, filled with potholes and lacking any painted lines.

Finally, you saw the far off glow of town lights in the distance and you huffed out a sigh of relief. You could already spot the bright flourescent glow of a gas station. Pulling up, you realized there was a mechanic shop right next door. Although it seemed to be all locked up the pickup truck outside and lights illuminating within made it seem like someone was working late. Aside from that the rest of the town seemed to be dead and you couldn't seem to shake that eerie feeling.

Doing your best to ignore it you quickly set up the gas pump and sat back inside your car, locking the doors. Digging for your phone, you checked it. No calls or texts but still no service either. Tossing it back down you looked towards the gas pump, nearly jumping out of your skin when you came face to face with the man standing beside your car.

You saw him grin as your hand came up to your chest to cover your racing heart. Throwing his hands up you watched him mouth sorry. It seemed he was the mechanic from next door. He wore oil stained coveralls and the hands at his sides similarly bore black stains.

Cautiously, you rolled your window down while making sure your door was still locked.

"Sorry about that ma'am, didn't mean to scare ya." His voice was a thick southern drawl. Something about it made you relax slightly along with the playful grin he bore. "Just wanted to let you know, ain't no gas in these pumps. Unfortunately all the folks traveling through have seem to create quite a high demand our little ol' town ain't quite used to."

You frowned at that. Cranking your car, sure enough it hadn't budged from E.

The stranger clicked his tongue seeing the disappointment on your face. "Not to worry, I keep some cans in my shop right over there. Though I'm afraid it's gonna cost ya. After all, the town mechanic can't run out of his own supply."

You smiled, although you're sure it came off as more of a grimace. "No, I understand. I appreciate you even being out this late to help me out." Unlocking your door you climbed out of your car, the stranger standing so close you could smell him. He smelled of cigarettes and oil along with a hint of cologne. Something about the combination enticed you.

The two of you made your way into the shop as you chatted. The more he talked the more at ease you felt. Bo didn't fail to notice either. Once inside, Bo pointed at a chair, "You can have a seat if ya like. So, what's a pretty thing like you doing out here at this hour, huh?"

You blushed at the casual compliment. "Just needed to get out I guess. Sometimes it's nice to get away from everything." The stranger nodded in understanding. You decided to ask a question of your own. "What's your name?"

The man chuckled, "Sorry, I'm not used to introducing myself. Living in a small town does that to you considering you always know everybody. My name's Bo, and you are?"

"I'm y/n," you told him. "Well, it's nice to meet you Bo. I really do appreciate all your help."

He gave you that mischevious grin again as he grabbed a gas can. It made you smile back at him. "It's no big deal. Can't leave a pretty girl like yourself stranded out here all alone. Take it from me, there are some creeps around here I would hate for you to have to deal with. Sure is a good thing I found ya before they did. Now you just wait right here where it's warm and I'll go get you fueled up and on your way."

Relaxing back in the chair until the door to the shop chimed, letting you know Bo had finished up. "Alrighty you're good to go on your way. Be careful out there in the dark, make sure to watch for deer."

You nodded and thanked him once again. Before you could walk out the door he offered you his hand. His shake was firm and his hands were warm despite the chill outside.

Climbing back in your car with a warm fuzzy feeling you almost felt sad to leave this small town and charming stranger. He was standing in the doorway of the shop, leaning against the frame. Turning the key in your ignition that warm fuzzy feeling faded. Your car wasn't starting. You tried once more and nope nothing.

Bo walked out to you, the frown on his face showing his concern. You stepped back out of your car as he turned to. "It won't start, I'm not sure why I've never had a problem before."

He placed his hand on the small of your back and you couldn't help but lean into the warmth of his hand. Bo had to fight to hide his smile, keeping up his concerned facade. "Unfortunately it's a little too late for me to take a look at it now..." You began to panic as both his arms snaked around you holding you tightly against him. "Looks like you're gonna have to stay with me pretty girl."

#bo sinclair #house of wax #slasher x reader #slashers #slasher x you #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x you

[xiaq]

How is Denver so far compared to Austin?

I quite prefer Denver, but I'm biased for a few reasons.

Austin makes me sad. Austin now is not the Austin I grew up in/the Austin I loved. And nostalgia for a place that no longer exists while still technically existing leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Did you know that the greenbelt and all its trails and climbing walls used to feature a creek that never dried up? The level might fluctuate, but it ran all year round, fed by springs from the aquifer. You could climb until you got overheated and then go sit in the water for a bit to recover. Now, after years of extreme heat, persistent droughts, and people pumping water out of the aquifer, it's just miles of dry rock with small trees growing in it, that occasionally floods when it rains. I can't climb there without feeling...I don't even know how to describe it. Like I'm walking over the corpse of an old friend.

Denver gives us a community. In Denver, we live in a walkable/bikable community within 2 miles (or much less) of our grocery store, restaurants, a gluten-free bakery, coffee shops, our climbing gym, and several friends. I've seen more people in person in the last three weeks here than I did in the previous 3 months in Austin. One of my friends jogs by every afternoon. Others live at the park I walk Deacon to in the mornings. People just...drop in to see us/how house renovations are going spur-of-the-moment because they were literally walking by/on their way home. Community is so important to me and I have that here in a way I didn't in Austin.

Terrain. Texas is so damn flat. I get a thrill driving to Home Depot here because I can see mountains in the distance. Our rooftop deck looks at the mountains. I can be in the mountains after a less than 30-minute drive. I had to drive for hours to get to a hill in Austin. Here, mountains are just...present in a comforting way.

The seasons. Austin doesn't have seasons. Here, we have gorgeous sunny weather most of the time but the trees change color in the fall and we currently have snow! Deacon LOVES snow. Probably even more than me. There is something so delightful about taking a walk while it's snowing. When the whole world is quiet and white and still. Even after living in one of the snowiest places in the US for a year, snow is still so novel to me. Big fan.

Travel. I can walk to the train station from our house, which will take me to the airport in 25 minutes. And Denver is a hub for Southwest which means tons of direct flights at low costs (to places like Austin!). I also have a companion pass for Southwest, which means I can take B (or anyone else I please) with me for free on any Southwest flight. Which is very handy. B's mom has already visited us twice (coming again this weekend) because there are quick direct flights from Phoenix she can take advantage of. The negatives are the cost of living and the fact that the homeless population is large and the city doesn't seem to have the appropriate resources (or perhaps willingness) to address it. But those are both issues that plague Austin as well. The only thing I miss about Austin is the ability to see my parents whenever I want. My mom is coming to visit in two weeks and we're hoping to coax my dad out when it warms up a bit (and we have the guest rooms ready), but I definitely miss them.

#austin #denver #texas #colorado #x moves #this got longer than i meant it to #lol

[hoodharlow]

Premium Aíre

AN: fun fact despite her grandpa being a mechanic, Miriam doesn't know anything about cars and car maintenance. It's loosely nased on this tiktok but it's not a prank lmao

Requested? By @nattinatalia bc we were tic talking and it came up so I wrote this blurb lol

Warnings: Miriam gets scammed and Jack gets mad, mean words were exchanged, a happy ending

Word Count: 1.6k words

Jack set his headphones out and walked out of the studio. He and Miriam were in Atlanta for a few days before they headed out to Aspen for a few weeks to enjoy the last of the snow. They were going to drive up to Colorado so they were taking his Jeep since it was built for that. It had been a few months since he got the car an oil change. He was going to take it to his go-to mechanic, but someone asked him if he was willing to get on a verse with him. 

Miriam offered to take his car while he was at the studio. She and Daisy didn't have anything planned for the day. Jack was hesitant at first because Miriam doesn't know much about cars. He was still traumatized from when she was driving her Audi without getting any maintenance check. But he agreed for her to take his car. What put him at ease was that she was going to his mechanic. Miriam has gone with him beforehand when he took his Jeep and months later when they took her Audi so it wasn't like she was new to the auto shop. 

He pulled out his phone and texted her, knowing she would be home by now. Or at least out shopping at Target and buying random shit she would find that apparently they needed. The most it takes is an hour

M 🍒🍑: I'm at a coffee shop waiting for your car

Jack read her message over, confused. There weren't any coffee shops near the auto shop. Not to mention she texted him three hours ago when she arrived at the mechanic. He checked her location and saw she was nowhere near the auto shop, so he facetimed her. 

"Hey," she said, propping her phone against the napkin dispenser.

"Where are you?" He asked, cutting to the chase. He glanced down at her chest, admiring her cleavage when she bent down to get her airpods. 

"I'm at this cute coffee shop. Like the aesthetics are everything." She flipped the camera and showed him her little corner where she sat on a mauve velvet couch with her book and almost empty mug. 

"Why are you there?" 

"Well I'm not gonna wait four hours while the mechanic changes your oil and stuff." Miriam shrugged. 

"Miriam, it doesn't take four hours to change the oil of a fucking car." He said in an eerily calm voice.

"I know that, I'm not stupid." She laughed to herself. "Jared asked why I needed an oil change so I told him now we're driving to Aspen and stuff. So he offered to check your car and for like another two thousand dollars he's gonna–"

"Who the fuck is Jared? Where's Tito?" 

"Oh Tito was closed so I went somewhere else." She said, reaching for her mug. She smiled at him. "Aren't you proud? I took initiative." 

"Why didn't you call me? I would have told you to take it to the dealer instead." He rubbed his temples. 

"Why don't you just take it to the dealer in the first place?" Miriam asked, confused. 

"Because they're more expensive." 

"You're a millionaire, I don't think twenty-five hundred dollars is gonna dent your bank account." She said in a duh tone. 

"What do you mean? Did you pay that much for an oil change?" Jack looked at her incredulously. 

"No, silly." She rolled her eyes. "Jared told me about this tire service that costs two thousand that helps the car drive easier in the snow. They have premium air for the tires too." 

"I'm going to say this with love, but are you hearing yourself? You just got fucking scammed. You can't be this clueless about this shit." He snapped at her. 

Urban looked at Jack, nodding what was wrong. Off camera, so Miriam wouldn't see, Jack motioned to him that he'll explain later. 

"I don't fucking appreciate your tone right now." Miriam said as tears rolled down her cheeks. 

"Seriously, why are you crying?" 

Miriam didn't respond. She simply ended the call. Jack sighed and pocketed his phone. 

"What was that about?" Urban asked. "You sounded rude as hell." 

"I was not rude." Jack said defensively. 

"No you're right. You weren't rude, you were patronizing." His best friend said. 

"So now I'm the bad guy because Miriam got scammed while she took my car to get an oil change?"

"No you're the bad guy for being a dick to her." 

"She got fucking scammed!" Jack repeated himself. 

"That doesn't mean you should be a fucking asshole to her. She was doing you a favor and made a mistake. Instead of finding a solution or where she messed up, you talk down to her and make her feel like shit." Urban explained. "She comes from money of course she's not gonna know shit about that. But that doesn't give you the right to be a dick. You've done some dumb shit at events and she's politely corrected you so you don't look dumb. She's never once made you feel inferior to her or anyone." 

Jack stayed quiet. Urban was right, he reacted poorly and made Miriam feel like crap. He decided to call it a day at the studio and ordered an Uber. He and the guys mostly brainstormed and wrote here and there. There wasn’t anything that needed to be recorded. 

The ride to the auto shop from the studio wasn’t that far. In less than five minutes the driver pulled up. Miriam was sitting in the waiting area reading her book. Jack thanked the Uber driver and got out. He made his way to her and sat next to her. 

“What are you reading?” he asked her, breaking the silence. 

“A book.” she answered, turning the page. 

“Look Miriam, I’m sorry–”

An older looking man in dark blue coveralls came out to the counter and spoke to Miriam in a language Jack didn’t recognize. Miriam got up and talked back to the man in the same language, smiling. The man handed her the car keys and said something else, making her laugh. 

“Thank you Mr. Stavros and we’ll definitely go sometime.” Miriam told the older man. 

She tossed Jack the keys and put on her coat while Jack packed her book in her tote. She took the bag from him and walked out to where his car was. Jack opened the door for her and closed it for her. 

He drummed the steering wheel and turned to her. “Look, I’m sorry for how I reacted. It was uncalled for and you don’t deserve that.”

“It’s fine Jack.” Miriam said, shrugging off her coat. 

“It’s not and you know that. I was an asshole and made you feel like shit.”

“Yeah you did.” she said in a quiet voice. “But I got it resolved.”

“You did?” he asked, curiously as he got into the street.

“Yeah, I called Beto after you made me cry because he’s the one who takes my cars in for maintenance and when I told him how much I paid he called me a dumbass. I cried more and I left the coffee shop. I overheard Mr. Stavros speak in Greek so I asked him ‘are you Greek?’ in Greek and from there we just started talking. I told him how this felt very familiar because my grandpa is also Greek and owns a car shop, but in LA. Then I casually brought up all the services Jared, who I’m assuming is his son because they look alike, charged me for and is doing it. He got mad and cursed Jared out then he gave me a refund. I felt bad that he had to redo what Jared did, so I paid him five hundred.” 

Jack hummed in response. Miriam pulled out her book and kept reading while he drove. He heard her stomach growl, so he made a stop at chickfila. She was so focused on her book that she didn’t notice him get out and get food for them. By now she would have been dipping her fries into her oreo shake. 

Truthfully Miriam was still mad at Jack. He knew that one of her biggest pet peeves is when someone questioned her intelligence and made her feel like she’s incompetent when she wasn't. Sure she got scammed out of a lot of money, but she was able to fix it. She was more embarrassed that he was able to see that she got played and instead of reassuring her that it’s something that could happen to anyone, he scolded her. 

Jack reached over and shook her shoulder. “We’re home.” he said. 

She nodded and put the receipt in her book to save her spot. She got out and followed behind him. The ride up the elevator was silent; they were on their phones. When they reached the floor to his place, Miriam went straight to the living room, but Jack caught her arm. She looked up to his apologetic blue eyes. 

“What?” she sighed defeatedly. 

“I am sorry for how I responded. It was shitty of me to talk down to you as if you were a child. You don’t deserve that and I apologize.” 

Miriam couldn’t hold back her tears and teared up immediately. She turned away, but pulled her to his chest. She wrapped her arms around him and cried. Jack rubbed her back, letting her cry until she felt better. 

“I’m sorry for acting like a baby.” she said quietly. 

“You shouldn’t have to be apologizing. You're not the one who acted like an idiot.” Jack reassured her, leaning down to kiss her. 

“Honestly, if your car got messed up I would have just bought you a new one.” she said, pulling away to get her milkshake.

Jack smirked. “With what money? You spent it all on premium air.”

“You’re not getting any tonight.” she deadpanned. 

He feigned offense, pouting he asked, “Then how am I supposed to make it up to you?” 

“Figure it out, Mr. I have solutions for everything.” 

Taglist: @cherryxcreme @heavyhitterheaux ​ @carma-fanficaddict ​ @youngharleezyxo @youngharleezy ​ @babyharleezy ​ @that-90s-girllll ​ @alinaharlow @whywontyoulovemecami @meyocoko @harlowcomehome @nattinatalia @webinurcloset @gassyandsassy1 @jackharloww @awhore4moree @noescapricho-essentimiento @a-moment-captured @neon-lights-and-glitter @purecinnamonextract

#jack and miriam #jack harlow #jack harlow smut

[slasherscream]

Can you do some more until dawn characters (yandere please) like you’re trying on clothes at the mall and ask their opinion?

YANDERE UNTIL DAWN CHARACTERS + READER IS TRYING ON CLOTHES

A/N: thank you for reading my until dawn content! it's such a small fandom these days, comments/reblogs/anon reviews/asks are appreciated as they let me know people are still reading these. 

- Josh has an excellent eye for aesthetics. He may not know all the words/names for the types of clothes you look good in but he recognizes them right away. He’ll try and describe something you should get, give up, wander off, then come back with examples of what he meant while you’re in the dressing room. If the shopping trip is under four hours he can remain locked in the entire time. This is the strength of will and character that comes with being the big brother to two little sisters who got his driving license first. He’s spent entire lifetimes at the mall hyping up the twins. He knows what to do. Overall helpfulness: 8/10.

- Sam loves spending quality time with you. Quality time is one of her preferred love languages, in fact. She picks you up for your shopping day with your favorite coffee shop order in hand, from the best place in town. She’s good with little details like that. You can always count on her to give you her honest opinion on what you pick out. She’s gentle about it, but she’ll never let you wear something she thinks is unflattering. She’s also mindful of waste consumption. With Sam’s help you wind up picking things you love, are comfortable wearing, and that you’ll actually use. Not a penny wasted, no matter how much you spend. Overall helpfulness: 10/10. 

- Chris could not possibly, in any version of reality, fix his mouth to give you a criticism about any of your choices. Let alone choices about how you will go about decorating your body. He’s lucky he gets to look at you. It’s an honor! Thank you for honoring him! Every time you step out of the dressing room you will get the exact same answer, very enthusiastically, in the same tone: “That looks GREAT, babe!” You’ll be ready to kill him thirty minutes in. Absolutely worthless feedback. You’ll have to get help from the salespeople who work there for opinions. If you want a ‘yes man’ this is your guy! Overall helpfulness: 3/10. 

Hannah is another sap. She’s more helpful than Chris, but only by the slightest margin. If something doesn’t look good she’ll be able to stutter her way around to it…. eventually. She’s nearly petrified at the thought of upsetting you. Never-mind the fact that you’ve asked her how the top looks on you five times now. “Well…. I mean… how do YOU think it looks, Y/N?” As if you’d be asking if you could come up with an opinion yourself. You’ll wind up leaving with only a few items. You’ll have to come back with a friend in a few days. You may need a new wardrobe, but if you need help picking it out, you’ll need a different set of eyes. Overall helpfulness: 4/10.

- Emily is going to be honest to the point that, yes, it will hurt your feelings a little… if you’re lucky. Mileage may vary. If you’re particularly sensitive she’ll hurt your feelings a lot. But god forbid you start trying to take someone nicer shopping with you. She’ll throw the hissy fit of the century when she finds out. Yes, when, and not if. Emily manages to find out everything you try to keep from her. Everything. On one hand you’ll wind up looking the best you’ve ever looked. Your entire wardrobe suits you perfectly. She even buys/picks out things that you’ll like, in your style, even if she finds the style personally distasteful. That’s how much she loves you. It just has to suit you, or else she will say something, and the way she says it is never very nice. You’ll look incredible, but at what cost to your mental health? Overall helpfulness: 8/10. 

- Mike isn't very enthusiastic about the activity, but likes the good boyfriend points it garners him. Thus, he will come along whenever you bid him to do so. He’s only got about two and a half hours of shopping in him though, so try and have an idea of what you want to get in your mind. Before you arrive at the stores, please. If you take a long lunch break he can go back for another two hours but this is his hard limit. Knows well enough what you already look good in. Or when something looks downright awful on you. He does struggle a little to help if you’re wanting to try a completely new style. He’s as lost as you. The more underground/alternative/particular the style you want to try is, the worse the advice gets. If you’re just doing a wardrobe refresher this is your man. Overall helpfulness: 6/10. 

- Beth makes shopping relaxing. You’ll stay as long as you need in order to get everything you need. She probably had you make a Pinterest board before you guys went out so that you’d be able to refer back to it. She knows getting into the stores can wipe your mind clean of what you needed/wanted to get. She’ll have you guys stop for lunch as well, but then you’re right back at it! She likes seeing your style evolve and change. Her feedback is honest, but gentle. It won’t ever feel like a criticism of your body, just the clothing. You walk out satisfied and always happier than when you came in together. Overall helpfulness: 10/10. 

- Jessica is in her element here. Honestly, Jessica drags you shopping with her more than you’ll ever drag her shopping. Spending time together means a lot to Jessica. She never takes it for granted. Thus, she always tries to make any activity, but especially repeat ones like shopping, fun. She probably has a shopping playlist she made for the two of you. You both wear one wireless earbud and get to movie montage with each other. Watch out if the Princess Diaries songs or something Hip-hop comes on, she’ll start dancing to make you laugh. Her feedback is upbeat and positive, but honest. She hypes you up like crazy when you come out wearing something that makes you look really hot! Wolf whistles and everything, your face will be burning up as you flee back into the safety of the dressing room. “Baby, come back! You look smoking!” Overall helpfulness: 9/10. 

- Matt knows absolutely nothing about fashion. He tries his very best to help, but he’s at a loss. Only if something very obviously doesn’t suit you will he be able to veto it for you. “I dunno… maybe it’s a little awkward in the arms or…. something?” You’ll have to take a few breaths. However, if something looks good, he can absolutely be a hype man! His eyes light up, he takes your hand, makes you do a spin. All the attention is enough to make you kick your feet and giggle. He can compliment you all day long. To his credit, he can compliment you specifically enough on what looks good. Even if it’s still a little vague. “The color of this makes you look really… wow! You know?” You’ll be able to figure out he means jewel tones make your skin look glowy one of these days. For now, at least you know your boyfriend thinks you’re gorgeous no matter what you wear. Overall helpfulness: 5/10.

#josh washington x reader #mike munroe x reader #sam giddings x reader #emily davis x reader #matt taylor x reader #chris hartley x reader #beth #hannah washington x reader #jessica riley x reader #yandere until dawn #until dawn #until dawn imagines #josh wasington imagine #black!reader

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for effectively banning my roommate from bringing over a certain friend just because I find him annoying?

So I (20F) met my friend, S (20NB) in highschool and they fairly recently started living with me and my family. We sometimes have little watch parties with our friends where we all dress up, eat food, and watch movies all pertaining to a certain theme. S wanted to do a John Wick watch party and invited A (19M)

I met A when we were both in the drama club and we got along at first but I eventually just started to find him really annoying. When S and I were both in AP art, A would constantly skip his classes to hang out in the art room without any consideration for the fact that we had to focus on our projects. He never took our art seriously and destroyed my friend's sculpture that was part of her portfolio. Ik it's petty to still hold a grudge over this, but it really thoroughly pissed me off. (This isn't the only thing he did to piss me off but it's one of the most prominent in my memory)

Anyways, fast forward, S is having their watch party. A doesn't drive and he was trying to figure out a way there and asked if I could drive him. Since he lives 30 minutes away, that's 2 hours of driving to pick up and drop off someone I don't even like. I said I'd do it for $100, mostly as a joke to make it clear I didn't want to and he texted S "Is she r*tarded?" (He didn't censor)

That was kinda the last straw and I wasn't willing to do anything to help him after that point. He took an Uber over and then at the end of the night, he failed to realize that Ubers would cost more, and didn't want to pay the extra fee, so the two options were that he could stay until the price went down or I could drive him. I made it clear to S that I didn't want him to stay, but I also said that it was ultimately my parents' choice since this was their house. They said yes and he stayed until the next morning.

Later, S asked why I didn't like A and I dished everything out, including how mad it made me that he called me the r-word. I really didn't hold back with my rant.

S was very understanding and admitted that they hated hosting the watch party and so A wouldn't come over again. I tried to insist that I'm not gonna bar them from seeing their friend, but they just insisted that they would invite A over again. It wasn't my goal to ban A from the house, but I also know that my ranting and making it clear how much I dislike him that I effectively told S not to bring him over again.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #slur cw

[jmdbjk]

Bangtan Weekly Report...

So a lot happening in here in the last 24 hours. Joon's appointment took everyone by surprise. Seems legit significant and I wondered if this will affect his military service... not in the fact that he would be exempt because of it... not implying that at all. What I'm wondering is after he completes his basic training, would he just go ahead and shift into some kind of position where he is also associated with this particular activity in the military? Stationed at whichever areas are doing this activity and such...

I think for sure it will definitely add to his future opportunities and influence in the public arena. It’s so exciting for him!

Also: Yoongi headed to Japan. I love that shirt, vacation vibes. I hope he was able to rest a little bit and get something to ease his coughing though. I know he keeps saying don't worry, he's not sick, but something is up because you don't hack up a lung like that after walking a few hundred yards for nothing.

Also today: Tae headed to Japan Spain! He looked dressed for an island party. It's been a while since we've seen him wear earrings. Or, I should say an earring since its only one. AND THE HAIR! I'm not a big fan of the frizzy perm but he is squeezing all he can out of his 20s before enlistment with the ash blonde hair moment again!

How does he even see where he's going? How did anyone recognize him? That hat reminds me of a woven straw basket I used to have in my dining room.

TAKE TWO!!! A new OT7 song coming!!! Soooo excited!!! Maybe we'll get a teaser! Produced by Suga and written by RM and Hobi!!!!!

!!!!!!! NEW GROUP MUSIC!!!!!!!

Also today: someone now pointing out that Kookie discreetly moved a small object out of camera view during his garbage disposer repairman live on Feb. 27 ...

How did I not notice him doing that when I watched the live... so now someone is saying it resembles a car key fob... for a Porsche...hmmm, who do we know that drives a Porsche? ... ummm.... I don't know... it could be, or not? It's got a reflective chrome button looking area on it. It's white and car key fob shaped...

Of course, it could also be a vaper or his own car key fob or something else... a tube of lube (Kookie... please put stuff away after you use it, I know its handy there but still... TMI you know?) ... I need more visual info.

Also today: I see people grumbling (outright bitching) about the commercialization of Festa/BTS... commercialization = selling out...

This is my take on all of that (and probably an unpopular opinion, but anyways...):

People are all for their "sold-out" king when a random t-shirt or shoes they are wearing or an insulated mug sells out, but our guys don't see a penny of that.

And now you're saying official BTS merch would be somehow unsavory... a money grab... even though money from the sale of THAT DOES go into their pockets?... please think through what you are saying...

And commercialization in the form of sponsorships is not good? How is it not good?...Sponsorships are great!

Here's the deal... money makes the world go round... so that exact thing is what will help perpetuate the longevity of BTS, those sponsorships will give BTS a shit ton of money in return for licensing/promotion and underwriting big ticket projects.

It keeps BTS alive in the public eye and keeps the income coming in order for them to do first class work and endeavor to promote themselves and give us great events. Fabulous purple fireworks shows are not free. Sponsors help underwrite the cost of that. And because these events are happening will also indirectly help the many small businesses in those areas because of the influx of visitors to these events.

Turning the city purple creates excitement about BTS and reminds locals that BTS are global cultural ambassadors. Army should be hella proud of that.

What other kpop group is getting news coverage for their 10th anniversary? None.

Deep pockets allow BTS to book stadium tours, so the more chance more of us can see them in-person.

The day the money stops flowing will REALLY be the day BTS retires.

If we are who we say we are and intend to support BTS no matter what happens... IF WE ARE IN THIS BANGTAN SHIT FOR LIFE ... and what we are given right now is merch and purple corndogs, then I will buy a keychain or a book or eat purple tteokbokki, or whatever, along with whatever music is released. If you really are against it, then don't buy anything but don't act like what they are doing is disgusting.

Anyway, its been a full day. We are headed into Festa season for the next two weeks and beyond. The timeline seems focused on positive things. Or maybe that's my imagination. I am going to enjoy it while I can.

#rant over #BTS Festa #BTS 10th anniversary #festa 2023 #bts take two #blonde tae #keeping the lube handy are we? #or jimin leaves his car at kookies sometimes #or all the time #who knows? #how did i made this about jikook? #i'm a genius thats how #bangtan weekly report

[not-alien-girl-v]

Begging for some Ross fluff pls :)

warning: sappy being in love stuff probably language idk

note: rossnation this one’s for you

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

“will you hurry up? please?” there’s nothing he would like less than to raise his voice at her, but she’s been in the bathroom for an hour now, and it’s not like his plans for the two today are on a timed schedule, but he would like to leave his house before his hair starts to gray.

there’s a loud thump, followed by noises of objects clattering to the ground, and he sighs, knowing he’s going to have to rearrange that later, but that’s the cost of inviting his girlfriend over to hangout.

then, the door swings open, revealing the girl wearing blue denim jean shorts, a tight cropped tank, and the necklace with a silver ‘r’ she received from him last christmas.

“how do i look? be honest, don’t lie,” she spoke to him like a pre-scold, as if she already knows he would always lie to spare her feelings, even if she put on a burlap sack, he would say something cheesily romantic that would make her want to rip her hair out.

“you look pretty.”

she narrows her eyes at him, as if that’s ever worked before. he just widens his happy smile. she breaks first, walking out to the kitchen to grab her purse off the back of his dining room chair. she knows he follows.

he opens the front door, holding it open to her to walk through first, and follows closely behind, locking the door of his apartment.

she walks fast, wondering if she can get to the car before him to open her door for herself, but he walks faster, he always does this. it’s just one of his things, ever since she started dating him, she can’t recall a single door she’s opened on her own.

he doesn’t sprint to his car, though some could argue his fast-paced walk is more of a jog, but he easily opens the passenger’s door, holding it for her as she approaches. “m’lady.”

“mhm.”

all jokes aside, she can’t argue the fact that all the silly stupid little things he does for her make her feel loved. he’s good at that, putting emotion into a million tiny little actions, sometimes it seems like an entire language that he is fluent in.

he start the car the moment he’s settled into the driver’s seat. when she doesn’t immediately reach to hold his hand, he settles his palm onto the bare skin of her thigh, idly rubbing. it’s routine, all of it.

he sends a text at midnight, saying something again, ‘stupidly romantic’ like he ‘misses the curves of her skin’ or ‘craves the proximity of having her in his arms tonight.’ something real dramatic and sappy that makes her feel ridiculously guilty for being at her own home, feeding her cats, keeping her roommates company. she pays rent for her space there, it feels like a waste of money, the way she’s never home.

she comes over the moment she wakes up, lets herself into his place around 8ish in the morning, and 9/10 times he’s still asleep, so she crawls into bed with him, sleeping for a few more hours until he wakes. this all happens everyday, the opening of doors, idle thumbs on thighs, him always driving as if she doesn’t have a license (and car) of her own.

she’s more than used to it by now, all the little things, but the fact that they come from him, from that sweet mind of his, the fact that he does all of it purely out of his love for her, it’s something she’ll never get used to.

it’s been a few minutes of comfortable silence, listening to his gentle breaths and the humming of the engine, they’re nearly approaching the strip mall. as she stares him up and down, gaze fixed on all things ross.

“what are you thinking about?”

“you.”

“thought so,” he speaks innocently, but she snickers at him. “didn’t mean to sound so cocky, sorry, love. just pretty obvious when you’re thirsting over me.”

she rolls her eyes, albeit playfully, “you’re my man, i’m allowed to thirst over you.”

“if you say so, love.” they finally pull into the fast-food drive through.

“two burgers please, one plain with only cheese and ketchup, and two small cokes,” he orders, not even hesitating a second.

she doesn’t say anything about the action, he already knows what it means to her. his hand only ever leaves her thigh to reach out the window to pay and grab the food, then it’s back in its place, a loving pat placed on the skin of her leg before his palm settles back once more.

the sun is just beginning to set, and ross pulls the car up to the beach. living on the west coast, the sun always sets into the ocean, and his plans tonight take advantage of that.

he backs the car into a parking space, and as he does, he reaches his arm on the back of her seat to look behind him, and she can’t begin to comprehend the feeling it sets in her stomach so she doesn’t begin. he parks the car, walks around to the back, and pops open the trunk.

he looks at her still in the front seat, “are you coming? bring the food, darling.”

he doesn’t need to repeat himself, she’s already letting herself out of the car, placing the food down on his lap, and jumping up to sit next to him where he resides, legs hanging off the back of the open trunk. the sun begins to touch the horizon.

they both chew their food, primarily in silence, but it’s not enough for her. she lightly kicks his shin with her shoe, creating a swinging rhythm with her leg, bouncing back and force and ricocheting off of him. he pays no mind.

eventually, she begins to nudge his knee with her own, craving the contact with him.

with enough casual contact and needy nudges, he finally breaks his calm façade, turning to look at her, “what! what do you want, lover?”

she snickers, “lover,” she speaks it as a tease but she does enjoy the way it sounds coming from his mouth. she shrugs. he sighs. they do this a lot.

he knows what she needs, though. he throws an arm around her shoulder, tugging her into him, rubbing up and down her bare shoulder, “there’s my girl.” she sighs into the almost hug.

but soon, she’s up again, crawling back through the trunk of the car to the backseat, plugging her phone into the aux and playing a song. fallingforyou, a cliche for a moment like this and she knows this.

he groans from the back of the car, “really, can’t you choose anything else?” he doesn’t often like to listen to his own music in his free time, but she does not care one bit about it.

“nope. we’re listening to this. get used to it, honey.”

by the time she’s crawled back to him and attached herself to his side, he’s finished his dinner. he wipes his hands on the napkins, she likes the way his veins on his hands pop out when he does that. she likes everything he does. she leans her head onto his shoulder and he blindly reaches down for her hand, patting the space of her thigh until she reaches for him too, intertwining their fingers.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

tags: @indierockgirrl @milkluvr8 @americanangel

[karahalloway]

Mission:Cordonia - Hard Drive

Fandom: TRR x Mission: Impossible II

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series: Mission: Cordonia

Synopsis: Drake drives after Harper and things get wild, in more ways than one...

Word count: 3,700

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing, road rage, all kinds of dangerous driving do not try this at home)

Chapter theme song:

A/N: So, I apparently had too much fun writing Game of Thieves, so after I finished it, my mind decided that it would be great idea to create a follow-up exploring the car-chase scene from Drake's POV. So, here we are! There will probably be two more parts after this.

A/N2: The clip (for anyone who hasn't seen the movie, or doesn't remember) is below. Enjoy!

Hard Drive

"Dammit..." I cuss under my breath as she drives off.

As asset recruitment went, that had crashed and burned like the Hindenburg.

Not that I strictly know why I need to recruit her in the first place.

Apart from the very clear directive I received in my mission brief.

...you may select any two team members, but it is essential that the third team member be Harper Gale. She is a civilian, and a highly capable professional thief. You have forty-eight hours to recruit Miss Gale and meet me in Stormholt to receive your assignment...

In and of itself, such an instruction — while rare — isn't that left field. Because even though IMF prefers to operate in the shadows, there are times when the mission parameters call for third-party assists. To gain access. To throw off suspicion. To provide specialist expertise.

So, over the years, I've found myself teaming up with all manner of civilians — from world-renowned scientists, through morally shady politicians, all the way down to your entry-level gang-banger in order  to get a mission over the line.

But Gale isn't any of those things. She's a common thief. Admittedly a drop-dead gorgeous and bitingly sassy thief who's quick on her feet... but a common thief nevertheless. And those are a dime a dozen. In both IMF, and the underworld.

So, that doesn't explain why The Secretary has gone to such pains to single her out as a mission-critical part of this assignment.

Which means that he obviously knows something I don't.

But I'm not gonna find out what by standing on the Beaumonts' drive like a moron.

"Hey, Pete," I call, turning back around. "One more for you."

The valet manager deftly catches the token that I toss to him. "Right away, Mr Dallas."

"Thanks," I acknowledge as I pull out my phone.

One of the upsides of having had to pretend to be the Beaumonts' external security consultant over the past couple of days is that I'm now on a first name basis with most of the staff.

Which definitely pays dividends when you need something done quick.

Like I do now.

Unlocking the encrypted device while Pete radios through for my ride, I tap on the tracking app and enter the number that I pulled off her phone while waiting for her to crack the safe.

Because somehow, I'd known I'll end up in this exact situation.

After a few moments' calibration, the software throws up a map with a flashing red dot in the centre.

I feel the corner of my mouth twitch. You can run, but you can't hide, girl...

"Your vehicle, Mr Dallas," advises the valet, pulling up in front of me.

"Perfect timing," I grin, pulling my wallet out to extract some notes to stuff into his breast pocket as he exits the car.

"Oh, th-thank you, sir," he stammers, clearly unaccustomed to receiving a healthy tip for his services.

"You're welcome," I nod, getting behind the wheel of the Porsche 918 Spyder.

Besides the fact that the average Joes manning these kinds of events made fuck all money while the guests drank champagne costing several grand a pop, it always paid to cultivate goodwill with the staff. Not just from a common decency point of view, but also because you never know when you’re gonna need their eyes and ears.

So, parting with a couple hundred Euros, or a favour, in exchange for potentially priceless intel down the line is always a fair trade in my book.

"Have a wonderful evening!" enthuses the still star-struck valet as he closes the driver's side door 'round.

"Yeah. We'll see about that," I mutter under my breath as I slot my phone into the cup holder at the top of the centre console.

The evening hasn't exactly gone to plan so far...

But, as The Secretary likes to say, this was Mission: Impossible, not Mission: Difficult.

Which means that even though Gale would probably like nothing more than to shoot me on sight, I have to go after her. And somehow convince her to change her mind.

Otherwise, I'm gonna be up shit creek with this mission...

...and with The Secretary.

And neither of those things is something I'm particularly keen on letting happen. Now, or ever.

So, pressing my foot down, I throw the car into drive and take off with a throaty roar as the naturally aspirated 4.6-liter V-8 kicks the 608 horses under the hood to life.

And, despite the height of the stakes, I feel a grin spread over my face.

Fuck, this car's something else!

Thanks to the less-than routine nature of my work, I frequently find myself behind a wheel. Planes, trains, automobiles — I've driven them all. But I can still count on one hand the machines that have simply taken my breath away.

And the 918 is one of them.

Because despite the fact that it doesn't come with the covetous price tag of a Koenigsegg, or the iconic lines of a Ferrari, the 918 is still a work of art. Not only does it go like shit off a shovel, but it also handles like a dream. Which means you're not crapping yourself every time a high-speed corner comes around.

And for these unlit, backcountry roads that I'm about to drive, that is critical.

Reaching the end of the gravel-lined drive, I spin the car out onto the main road and open up the throttle.

Gale is already a good few miles ahead of me, and — based on the way she hightailed it off the estate earlier — has no intention of slowing down. So, I'm gonna have to step on it if I want to keep pace with her.

As even though I have a lock on her carrier signal, her phone could be a burner — she could decide to turn it off, trash it, or leave it in a dumpster somewhere. And I'm up against the clock, so I don't have time to play hide-and-seek across the width of the continent with her.

Probably shouldn't've told her about the alarm...

But, hindsight's always 20-20.

Not that that necessarily would've changed my decision.

Because despite the fact that I need her professional skill set, I couldn't let her swindle the Duke out of his priceless heirloom. For one, it had merely been convenient bait. And for another, next week's auction is all that stood between the Beaumonts and bankruptcy.

And while I may operate in the shadows, I'm not a complete ass.

Plus, I'd wanted to be up front with her. From the very start.

Because nothing sinks a team like secrets and bad blood. And I'd much rather deal with any potential fallout now, before the start of the actual mission, than smack, bang in the middle of it when a lack of trust has the potential to claim actual lives.

And — if I'm being honest with myself — I kinda like the chase. It makes the eventual win taste that much sweeter.

Especially with a woman like Gale.

I swallow an inadvertent groan as my mind falls back to the feel of her pressed up against me in the tub, her eyes flashing with defiance, and a hint of—

I shake my head. Focus, Walker.

But the Beaumonts' unexpected interruption had been worth it. Because it'd convinced me that despite her civilian status, she has exactly the right combination of brains and balls needed to not only stay alive, but actually be an asset on this mission.

But, I don't have her yet. And if I'm gonna finish reeling her her, timing will be key.

So, as I spot a pair of Mercedes tail lights in the darkness, I ease off the gas.

Because her emotions are already running high and I don't want to spook her further by making her think that she's being tailed.

Especially not on these blind-spot riddled roads, in the middle of the night, where one moment of inattention could easily become your last.

And what I definitely don't need right now is my mark ending up in the ER — or worse, the morgue — because I let the heat of the moment get the better of me.

Best that I just hang back, let the dust settle, and re-engage upon arrival at our destination. When she's hopefully calmer.

Key word — hopefully.

Because let's face it. I'd be pretty pissed off too if some asshole'd fucked me out of a six-figure payday.

So, I can't exactly blame her for her explosive reaction.

But, unfortunately for her, there's a lot more at stake here than a jewellery heist gone wrong. Like stopping an IMF agent-turned-rogue operative from unleashing a virus so deadly that it makes Ebola look like a common cold.

Better pray she's got a conscience...

Rounding the bend, we come upon the lights of the town of Ramsford.

But, despite the fact that we're entering an urban environment, Gale blows past the 50 km/h speed limit sign like it doesn't exist.

"Christ, girl..." I grumble under my breath.

And even though I told myself mere minutes ago that I was gonna hang back and give her space, as I see her whip the roadster 'round a narrow corner at breakneck speed, I find myself throwing my original plan out the window as I press pedal to the metal to keep pace with her.

Because while I don't want to lose her, I also know that engaging in a midnight drag race through the streets Ramsford's only gonna result in one thing — the cops coming out of the woodworks to breathe down our neck, and Gale even more pissed off at me than she is already.

So, I need a Plan B.

Skimming my thumb over the controls on the steering wheel, I pull up her number and hit dial...

...and pray that I can talk some sense into her.

The ring of the pending call echoes out from the Spyder's infotainment system once... twice... thrice...

She finally picks up after the fifth ring. "Hello...?"

"Would it kill you to slow down?" I ask dryly.

I see her stiffen as her gaze flies up to the rear view mirror in disbelief.

I flash my headlights at her in response.

"How the hell did you get this number?" she demands as she manages to find her voice again.

"You got your tricks, I got mine," I tell her simply, easing up on the gas slightly as I pull up behind her.

"Yeah, you're a regular David Copperfield," she snarks down the line.

"I prefer Darren Brown, personally..."

"Hmm..." she purrs. "Then you're really gonna love this trick."

The call goes dead.

I shake my head with a scoff. 15-Love to Gale.

But the match ain't won yet. And I'm not backing off that easy.

So, hitting redial on her number, I wait for the call to reconnect...

...but all I get is radio silence.

"You wanna play it like that, huh?" I say under my breath as I swing the Spyder out into the oncoming lane.

Luckily, at this hour, the roads are deserted. But that doesn't means that they're gonna stay that way for long. Which means the time for games is up.

Opening up the throttle, I force my car up alongside hers. Raising my voice so that'll carry over the roar of the engines, I shout, "Pull over and listen to me, will ya? Just listen!"

"Yeah!" she scoffs in reply. "'Cause that worked out so well for me last time!"

"You walked away, remember?" I remind her. "Can't guarantee that'll be the case next time 'round."

Her gaze snaps defiantly to mine. "Is that a threat?"

"It's simple maths!" I tell her. "You can't evade the law forever! Especially not with a Red Notice hanging over you. But if you help me, I can make all that go away."

"Go aw—?" Her eyes suddenly widen. "Holy shit! You're a spy!"

I answer her with a self-deprecating shrug. It paid the bills.

She recollects herself to throw me a sly look. "Prove it!"

Without warning, she rams her Mercedes into me.

"Jesus fuck!" I cuss as the Sypder lurches to the side from the impact, it's rims scraping the curb.

Flipping me the bird, Gale punches the gas to dive back in front of me, whipping her car 'round a tight bend.

Spitting profanities under my breath, I yank the Spyder back onto the road.

She wants to play rough? I'll play rough.

Throwing the engine over to sport mode, I reach for the seatbelt over my shoulder and click it into place as I throw the car after her, the rev counter on the dash going mental as the engine doubles down.

And despite the adrenaline-fuelled chase, I can't help but grin.

This girl's definitely something else...

And she's sure as hell determined to make me work for it. Or — at the very least — give me hell for the way I screwed her over back at the Beaumonts.

Either way, she's got my blood pumping, and she knows it.

Which makes me even more determined to catch her.

We hit a round-about, and Gale looks like she's going straight over...

...but at the last second, she slams her car hard to the left to take the third exit instead, tires smoking as they battle for traction on the cobblestones.

"Shit," I cuss, twisting the wheel hard over to keep pace with her, the Porsche's Pirellis screeching in protest.

Exiting the roundabout, the road in front of us cuts suddenly to the left. Slamming on the breaks, Gale skids her Mercedes 'round the bend, the force of the manoeuvre kicking the roadster's tail out. Very narrowly missing a lamppost, she manages to right the car at the last second to barrel it down the start of a tight switch-back that led to the centuries-old bridge on the edge of the town.

"Sweet fucking Jesus, girl..." I gripe under my breath as I speed after her.

There's being cocky. And then there's being reckless. And the way she's driving, she's definitely tempting fate. Because there's only so many times you can luck out before your luck actually runs out.

Which means I have to figure out a way to stop her before she runs herself off the road.

Depressing the gas pedal again, I search for an opening that I can use to dive in front of her and force her to slow down. But she seems to anticipate my plan, and closes off the gap before I'm able to make use of it.

Grabbing the e-break, I rip it upwards, forcing the Spyder’s tail out as I skid the car 'round her, looking for a gap on the other side.

She rewards me for my efforts by ramming into me again, nearly sending me into the flimsy metal railing that lined the edge of the asphalt.

I feel my jaw tighten at her antics.

First time? Kinda funny. Second time, not so much.

Especially since there were only a grand total of 918 Spyders ever made, and I damn sure don’t want to be responsible for taking one out of commission.

So, I make the reluctant decision to back off again, biding my time until the road opened back up.

We hit the bottom of the switchback, engines blaring and tailpipes sweating, and she immediately punches it towards the old stone bridge that spans the Rams river.

"Better luck next time, Walker!" she calls over her shoulder.

But my attention isn't focused on her. "Watch the road, girl..."

She whips her head around at the last second to clock the rickety Fiat that had just pulled out from behind the blind corner, straight into her path.

Instinctively knowing that she isn’t gonna avoid a collision, she ditches the breaks to try and swerve the Mercedes 'round the hazard instead.

But her momentum is too great, she's forgotten to account for the oversteer...

...and she descends into a tailspin.

"Fuck..." I curse under my breath.

All rational thought evaporates as my adrenaline spikes and my faculties give over to raw instinct.

I gotta save her.

Barrelling the Spyder after her without any semblance of a plan, the only thing I'm focused on is stopping her before she hits the bridge... or worse, the river.

The nose of her car whips past me, and I wrench the wheel to the right, clipping her bumper.

The off-the-cuff interference is enough to change the course of her trajectory, helping prevent her getting wrapped around the stone pillar at the foot of the bridge.

But the Merc's still freewheeling out of control.

Jerking the Porsche 'round, I slam it into the side of her car, trying to use the weight of my vehicle as a ballast to counteract her momentum.

But we're still going too fast.

We go flying down the narrow concourse of the bridge, like a pair of buzzards locked together in a high-stakes dance, speeding towards our fate.

The force of the impact whips her head around. She catches my gaze, and despite the low light, I see the sheer terror in her hazel-green irises...

...and the world around me condenses down to a single point.

Her.

The bridge, the cars, the entirety of my being fades to inconsequence in the face of the nakedness of her vulnerability.

I'm barely even conscious of my actions as I battle against the inevitable, trying to keep a lock on the steering wheel that’s threatening to jump out of my hands, feathering the throttle with a mix of reflex and dogged defiance in an attempt to alter the course of our trajectory, to slow us down, to narrowly avert disaster.

Because even though I know in the furthest recesses of my mind that I'm engaged in a fool's errand, like Icarus, I'm too much of a stubborn ass to back down.

Especially when I know that I'm literally the only thing standing between her and death.

The Merc hits the curb and slams into the low stone wall lining the side of the bridge. The centuries-old mortar crumbles under the weight of the impact, falling away into the ravine below.

But — whether by the grace of God or blind, dumb luck — the red roadster somehow catches itself on the mess of granite and skids to a stop, suspended over the edge of the bridge.

Only... there's no Gale in the driver's seat.

Throwing the seatbelt off, I leap across the seats into the Merc, where I find the driver's side door flapping over the darkness with Gale hanging on for dear life.

"Ahhh...!" she squeaks, scrambling for non-existent purchase as she tries to maintain her hold on the elbow rest...

...but I can see she's slipping.

Knowing that we're fast running out of time, I throw myself forward, reaching for her.

"Harper!"

Her eyes snap to mine, and I can see the fear and desperation welling within.

Latching onto the top of the door with one hand to anchor myself into place, I snap a hold around her wrist with the other and heave her back up.

"I got you, girl..."

Clearing the side of the car, her free hand shoots out to tangle into the material of my shirt as I pull her toward me. She crashes against me with a sob of relief, knocking me backwards into the seat.

She lands on top of me, trembling, and I wrap my arm around her, holding her to me, heart hammering as I stare up into the night sky, trying to catch my breath.

Her quaking form sink against me as she buries her face in the crook of my neck, fingers still latched onto my shirt, our hands still entwined.

Sweet Jesus, that was close...

"You okay?" I ask, running my hand over the arch of her back questioningly.

"Yeah," she nods shakily, not quite meeting my eye as she quickly wipes the wetness from her cheeks.

"Hey," I say softly, reaching up to cup her face in my palm. "It's—"

"I feel like such an idiot..." she grumbles.

"Well, you're the one who decided to Mad Max it through Ramsford like a—"

"Shut up!" she reproaches, smacking me on the chest.

"Christ! I save your ass twice and this is the thanks I get?"

"I didn't need saving!" she counters, laying into me again.

"The evidence points to the cont— Ow!"

"The only reason I'm in this mess at all is because of you!" she cuts in heatedly. "If you hadn't shown up tonight I'd—"

"Probably got caught anyway..."

"Fuck you!" she shouts, giving me a shove. "And then instead of taking 'no' for an answer, you decide to chase after me like some—"

"For fuck’s sake..." I grit, grabbing her by the back of the neck to yank her towards me.

Her eyes widen, but before she has a chance to protest, our mouthes have crashed together like cars in a freeway pile-up — violently, hazardously — the unexpected brush with death and the heart-thumping chase beforehand having already kicked both our pulses into overdrive.

And as our lips meet, that pent-up tension explodes like a flash-bang.

Her teeth scrape against mine with an intensity that's almost feral, even as I feel her body press into mine, her nails raking over my shirt.

My tongue thrusts past hers forcefully to claim the coveted warmth of her mouth, coaxing a soft moan from her as my free hand glides down her body to clamp onto her backside, pulling her to me hungrily as I throw every rule I'd ever been taught out the window.

Never get involved.

Well, too late for that.

Because I'm sure as shit involved now.

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Picture credits:

Drake - Porsche - Harper

#harper gale #drake walker #the royal romance #game of thieves #hard drive #mission: impossible #mission: cordonia #mashup #Spotify

[truthseeker-blogger]

*I thought it was time for an update*

Matt has been going to physical therapy twice a week since two weeks after his surgery.

I can talk about it now, but he had a hypertensive crisis on the operating table, his blood pressure was at 278 over 148, which could have caused a stroke or something much worse.

The nurse told me to get a blood pressure cuff and check his bp hourly and if he started slurring his speech or not acting himself, get him to the emergency room asap.

So, first the deck tried to take him out, then the operation itself, which took over an hour longer than normal. We were told usually it is just two pieces of the rotator cuff to put back together, but he had four that had to be stretched to bring together and drilled into bone, this I had not known about the procedure.

The doctor in his 35 years of doing this type of surgery hadn't seen anything like it. More than likely, someone with such a brutal traumatic injury never made it to need surgery.

Neither of us are comfortable with him getting surgery on the other shoulder. We are thankful and grateful he made it through this first surgery. The cortisone shot has helped tremendously on the second shoulder, and crossing our fingers it heals on its own.

Matt went back to work in a limited capacity several weeks ago, and as of yet, hasn't seen a paycheck, due to the fact we back owe Blue Cross/Blue Shield, as well as being in the hole for sick/vacation time, as well as only working 2 or 3 hours a day.

He has been sent home several times also, due to the fact, once the work he is capable of doing at the moment runs out, he can not be sent to another department, where he would be lifting heavy bucket and letter trays of mail.

He wants his doctor to release him to full duty, but I am against it, even though we are against the wall at the moment.

We both have had our moments of depression being in this new environment, be it the inconvenience of several people needing the bathroom, kitchen sink or stove at the same time.

Only having canned goods to eat, lack of water, since the water from the tap is undrinkable in our community. People do not realize what it is like to be without water, which costs money.

We are once again trying to find things to sell, though we have practically sold everything we possibly could.

But we are blessed to be here, the alternative would have been living in our vehicles.

I have enjoyed working with the local school system, attending to small children on the school bus daily.

Every day, a child makes a comment that makes me smile. I engage conversation with several, actually all of them, that wish to speak with me, especially the troubled ones.

I let them know I care, and it has settled down those that would otherwise be would be looking to cause problems on the bus just for attention.

Even though there is only 3 weeks left of school, unfortunately, I need to find another job, as the pay and hours are minimal.

I just do not want to let the children down, as they have gotten used to me and I them.

I realize things I say or do, will be a part of shaping these children in their lives. Knowing that makes me pleased I can be part of their growth. It's a role I do not take lightly.

Another bus monitor left and children have asked me what happened to her, I know change is difficult for them.

What do I say to them? Change is inevitable? Even though they are not my children, I do want to insulate them for some reason from something I can control.

On another front, our lawsuit can not proceed until we know to what degree hubby is able or unable to work to support himself and I, so it continues to be a wait and see.

So, we continue to hunker down and support one another and know God will see us through this time in which continued patience is a driving force.

I wish to thank those who continue to pray for us as well as messaging me to let me know you are thinking of us.

This means so much to us! It's amazing to know we are not forgotten, it makes my heart smile!!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!

[apprenticestanheight]

pls a Mark hoffman x male reader where him and the reader get cozy in a bookstore while it's snowing

Snow- Mark Hoffman x male! reader

ALLL right!! In the spirit of the fact that I am determined to get my requests under control coupled with the fact that a snowstorm blew through my province sunday night through midday yesterday, this request is a little holiday-happy-feely. It's also what I hope to be the beginning of a prosperous week--I have energy drinks, coffee and finally finished editing something I actually finished working on last week, so the goal is that I can focus on other things now and get stuff done lol.

Thank you for sending this in--I truly don't write for hoffman enough and I just knew, from the minute I read the request, that it was gonna come out really sweet. I love me some tooth rotting fluff and writing this was an absolute joy!

Fic type- fluff!!

Warnings- this is unedited (I was trying to finish it before the motivation went away and editing it hardly occurred to me bc editing is never motivating ever--but I did read through as I went to make sure the grammar and stuff wasn't TOO funky. Apologies if it still is tho)

You were standing in the bookstore a close friend owned, watching the weather forecast from a TV in their backroom while they finished up with customers when you first got the news of a very intense oncoming storm.

Jersey, as a whole, was looking at a median half a foot of snow over the weekend. Locally, though, two feet were the expectation. You had the thought to get home and make sure to turn the heat on so the pipes didn't freeze, but your phone was dead and you'd agreed to meet Mark at the bookstore and then grab a cab home together, so it wasn't really worth it. Plus--the snowfall in the first four hours wasn't expected to be too terrible. Driving conditions would be fine until midnight, at the very latest, which gave you plenty of time.

Your friend decides to close the bookstore early, and when Mark comes in fifteen minutes after they've decided to close, he's a sight for sorer eyes.

Your friend, having watched the snowfall to see just how inaccurate the newscaster had been, was setting up their backroom in case you all needed to spend the night there while you brewed up some coffee from the machine left somewhere to the right of the counter, right next to an advertisement stating that coffee, hot chocolate and tea all costed the hefty price of two quarters.

Mark is somewhat covered in snow--he shakes it from his hair and shoots you a happy, loving smile as he idly dusts it off his coat. Your friend greets him and Mark says his hello, running a hand through his hair as Quin--your friend--goes back to the backroom to finish setting it up.

"They said it wasn't supposed to be that bad," Mark notes as he approaches you in the dimly lit bookstore. "Strahm was a dick about it, though--sounded like he was sixty, complainin' about how storms in Jersey always seem a bit random. Perez had the graces to wish me luck, where Strahm just said to enjoy my walk. Don't think he likes me all that much, if I'm honest."

You shrug, passing him the mug of coffee you'd just made. "He's the new guy, Mark. Take it a little easy--not everyone sees the charm in Jersey, babe. Especially not with some serial killer on the loose. Maybe he's worried he's next for smoking cigarettes or something."

Mark laughs. Your heart swells.

"Think we'll get snowed in here?"

You laugh, starting another cup of coffee by placing a new K-pod into the Keurig. "I love Quin, but I really do hope not. As someone who studied for their college degree in that staff room, sleeping on that couch is not for the weak. I'm pretty sure it's old enough to drink, actually. I helped him move it in when he bought the place."

"Well, we'll figure something out."

You nod, grinning as Marks lips press a kiss against your cheek. "We always do, Mark. How was work?"

"It was work," Mark shrugs. "Shitty roads, more investigating, all of the fun stuff that comes with workin' at the precinct. How was work for you?"

"It was a day in the life of marketing," you shrug, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Numbers, people, crappy coworkers and slow computers. I can't wait for my week off on Monday--I will sleep in and for an entire seven days, I won't have to hear about Carol and her bunions or David and his grandmother. I hate the office I work in but the coworkers make it so much worse. Their incessant gossiping makes it hard to focus."

Mark laughs, and you laugh a little too while the coffee finishes pouring. You make it to your specifications and burn the roof of your mouth drinking it, but it's worth it because it tastes damn good.

Quin shows up with a defeated smile from the back room. "Hey, lovebirds," he greets. "You've got four hours before the roads start sucking ass to drive on, but from what it looks like, cab companies aren't going to let their drivers drive anyone home after ten. You're welcome to stay here and browse for a bit, drink coffee and Mark, I'm sure you'll have an excellent time while Y/N looks at the classics section that he loves so dearly, but I'll be leaving round ten thirty so I'd say it's best to be leavin' at nine thirty. That is, of course, if you have any hopes of getting a cab before companies start threatening to cut the wages of anyone still out and driving after the cut off."

You nod at Quin. "Thanks for the tip, Quinnie," you say. "We'll be out of your hair by nine thirty, we promise."

Quin shakes his head, waving a dismissive hand. "No worries, Y/N. Have fun with Detective Lip Filler."

Mark quirks an eyebrow while you laugh, shaking your head as if to say "don't ask, mark," and interlacing your fingers with his own.

Mark lets you lead him off, down one of many winding corridors in the bookstore. While you browse the shelves you and Mark talk--Christmas plans very quickly become a point of discussion, seeing that it's two weeks away and neither of you really know what the plan is just yet.

You know that Mark doesn't much talk to his parents--they're in their seventies as it were and subscribe to more...conservative points of politics and worldviews. Aside from them, he's not really got anybody and hasn't since his sisters death.

You figured he'd spend it with you, unless work got in the way as it had last year. Your tradition was simple--spend Christmas Eve at home, order Chinese takeaway, watch whatever crappy Christmas movies happened to be playing on the channel that was devoted to them during December and laugh at the bad acting.

Wake up Christmas morning, make cinnamon buns and bake a tray of brownies to take to your parents as you were always in charge of dessert. Make sure the gifts you'd bought for relatives were in your car and then drive the half an hour to your parents place. Spend the day there, leave with a quick hug to your parents and a promise to come around again around the new year, and then go home and smoke a bit of weed to relax and hit the hay early.

"You don't have to," you murmur, grabbing the penguin edition of Shakespeares 'Hamlet' and glancing the cover over. "It's just a suggestion--it's Christmas, Mark. Might be because I was raised with neighbors popping by for Christmas dinner, but Christmas is a shitty holiday to spend alone."

Mark nods. "I was hoping I'd get to spend Christmas with you anyway," he says, taking a sip of his coffee. "Will we have to act like we're just best friends, though? Or are your parents unopposed?"

"They know I have a boyfriend at present," you answer. Your relationship isn't new--it's been three years with him, but Mark has been busy with work and trying to keep a level head as things with Jigsaw have continued, so you've never really had the chance to introduce him to anyone in your family. "They also know what your name is--first, not last. And that you're a detective, and that you're really handsome. I promise, I haven't told them anything that would make them hate you. My mothers been eager to meet you since I brought you up, though. My exes were horrendous, according to her."

Mark laughs, and you let yourself grin. "I'll do my best to impress, then," he says. "We'll have to get them gifts, though."

"I've been meaning to do some Christmas shopping anyway--we'll go once the storm has cleared," you say. "And at this point, I think my parent's won't care about gifts, really. They just really wanna meet you."

You put Hamlet back onto the shelf and grin as Marks arms wrap around your waist after he's set the coffee mug on an empty shelf. You do the same and let your arms wrap around his shoulders, and silence settles.

You close your eyes for a second, listening.

"Can you hear it?" You ask after a minute, maybe two.

"Hear what?" Mark asks. "It's completely silent in here, Y/N--there's nothing to hear."

"The snow, Mark," you answer. "It might just be because my ears are good, but I can hear it hitting the windowsills."

"How?"

"I dunno," you shrug. "Just been able to since I was a kid. I knew it was snowing right when I woke up some days."

"I will add that to the catalogue of random things that've come to light at random times," Mark grins as your eyes open again. "Among the fact that your favorite color was green until you were twenty four, and the fact that you once got bitten by a stray cat so bad that you had to be put on antibiotics during your college days, and the fact that you've never liked daisies."

You laugh, shaking your head. "You love me and my randomness, Hoffman."

Mark nods. "That I do," he says.

The two of you end up sitting at one of the desks by the windows, drinking coffee and chatting until nine, when you leave to grab a cab home just to sit by your windowsill and watch the snow until you grow bored of it.

All in all, for a night in the middle of December, while the beginnings of a snowstorm rages on outside, it's a pretty good night.

#mark hoffman x male! reader #mark hoffman #saw franchise #saw posting

[moregraceful]

(1) how did keats come into your life?

(2) what did you eat for breakfast today?

(3) favorite museum?

thank you for these great questions!!

i got keats in the worst possible circumstances. DO NOT DO THIS. tw for sucidality. what happened was i had been the main caretaker for my dad through hospice and was in crisis mode through his illness for 9 months straight. when he died, my entire world collapsed. i was suicidal, getting like two hours of sleep a night. i wanted to die constantly because i had gone from hyper-competent crisis mode for 9 months straight getting like 5 hours of sleep a night to having literally no reason to get up in the morning. "i need something to care for," i thought one night at 3am on my second week of fighting off the urge to end it all. "i need something to give me life. i should get a dog." i was in no fit state to adopt a dog. i probably should had gotten a cat. but in that moment my options were either get in a car and drive it off a cliff, or look at adoptable dogs on the internet. went on the website of a shelter my uncle volunteered at and looked at two dogs: a 10 year old normal-looking white yorkie and a 6 year old semi-hairless black and brown yorkie who looked like he crawled out of a dumpster. very next day went to the shelter and said, show me your yorkies. i want the old one. they looked at me and went, we are showing you the 6 year old yorkie. met keats, fell in love, adopted him that day, and because my uncle is a very beloved volunteer there, they waived his adoption fee, did zero placement interviews, and i took him home the next day. and now it's been seven years with this fucking nightmare ass dog who has cost me thousands of dollars in vet bills. it was a kill shelter and he'd been there for 3 weeks so i probably saved him like he saved me. i will probably yeet myself off a bridge when he dies. /end tw for suicidality

this is so embarrassing but i love kodiak protein waffles. this month i decided to try the kind with chocolate chips and it doesn't really add much to the experience of eating something that feels like you're eating handfuls of sand, however it has been a treat in a stressful first week at my new job. so two chocolate chip kodiak waffles and a cup of coffee. i was going to add peanut butter to them but someone moved it and i was too sleepy to find it so it was just butter and syrup.

favorite museum oh good question!!! i feel like i always see something that fucks me up at the san jose museum of quilts and textiles. fiber artists scare the shit out of me. it took me a while to come around to the de young but eventually i had to cave to the fact they consistently are crafting these really interesting exhibitions even if their permanent collection is incoherent. and just so it's not all bay area, the best thing i did the one time i visited las vegas was go to the nevada state museum. fuck casinos. fuck cirque du soleil. always hit up the local state museum if you're in the area, you will learn something fascinating. dude i learned so much about nevada's history and dinosaurs in nevada. my family was so annoyed at me for making them to go to a history museum but EYE loved it. they had an ichythyosaur hanging from the ceiling!!

thank you for asking, sorry the tone of these asks is all over the place!!!

#cage replies #anon #tw suicidality

[phillippadgettwrites]

Sybarite

Rated X / 1244 words / Posted on AO3

“Mulder, this is too much.”

It’s at least the fourth time today that day she’s said it. He stopped arguing with her after the second. After all—this was precisely his goal: to go so over the top that she’s rendered speechless. Repeating the same sentence over and over is about as close to speechless as he imagines Scully can get. 

First there was the drive up the coast, then lunch and wine tasting. Next was a massage and facial at the resort spa, followed by a swim in the ocean. The secluded table for two on the otherwise deserted restaurant patio had cost him a pretty penny, but the look on her face was entirely worth it. Steak and lobster, more wine, and a sunset walk along the beach would have been the perfect end to the perfect night, but he wasn’t done. Far from it, in fact. 

Scully walks around the three room suite with one hand at her mouth and the other trailing reverently along the back of the ornate settee and the proud mahogany four poster bed frame. She comes to the chilling champagne and chocolate-dipped strawberries and throws him an almost dirty look, like he’s been keeping secrets beyond the dexterity of his fingers and the stamina of his tongue. 

“It’s too much,” she says again, making her way onto the balcony where the salted ocean air and the crash of the waves tell the story of what lies beyond the opaque dark of night. 

He follows her out, stepping up so close that he can feel her ribs rise and fall with her breaths. One arm snakes around her waist, pulling her flush against him and making her startle. 

“I’ve got two words for you,” he says hotly against her ear. “Jacuzzi tub.”

He draws the bath, pouring in half the bottle of bubbles, and fetches her champagne and a glass of water. For a while he sits on the ground beside her, feeding her strawberries while she eyes him suspiciously. 

“I’m not buttering you up for anything, I promise,” he finally says with a smile, and her eyes only narrow further. 

“Get in here,” she commands dryly, and he obeys, disrobing with record speed and displacing enough water to send it pouring out over the sides of the tub, making her laugh in a way that he likes to think is only for his ears. 

A half hour later she is warm and pliant on the bed, outfitted in only black cotton briefs, tipsy and happily humming as he rubs concentric circles into the flesh of her back. He runs his palms along her sides and she squeals, squirming away from his touch. 

“I don’t like that, it tickles,” she murmurs, settling as he turns his attention to her hamstrings. 

“Sorry,” he says with a smile in his voice. There is a beat of silence before he asks, “What do you like?”

“Hm?” she asks hazily. 

“What do you like that I do?”

“...What do you mean?”

“You like it when I kiss your neck,” he offers, and she hums in agreement. “You like it when I tease you. What else?”

She is quiet for a long beat, and he thinks that she may be abstaining from his little game. 

“I like it when you take my panties off,” she finally says, and he feels his cock jump. “Not just take them off,” she elaborates, her voice low and thick with champagne, “I like it when you kind of tear them off, like you can’t wait.”

His hands move from her legs to her hips, the heels digging into her sacrum. 

“I like it when you go down on me,” she continues. “When you’re excited about it, when I can tell that it’s turning you on.”

He’s half-hard, and his mind is racing with a million ideas. She likes it when he’s desperate for her, which he always is. He’s carefully restrained his enthusiasm in an effort not to overwhelm their fledgling relationship, but perhaps that is no longer necessary. Perhaps it was never necessary at all. 

He climbs over her, resting his body on top of hers and bringing his mouth to her ear. He nips and sucks at the lobe, grinding his erection against her ass through both of their underwear. 

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispers, then pushes up on to his knees and flips her over forcefully. 

She looks up at him hazy-eyed and surprised, her nipples puckering as they are hit with the tepid air in the room. He climbs back over her, his knees resting on the bed between her legs, and kisses her hungrily. Her mouth, her cheeks, her neck, her breasts. He bathes her with his lips and tongue, slipping four fingers beneath the gusset of her panties and gathering the fabric in his fist. He sits up and tugs, dragging them down her legs and then pushing her thighs open wide before he presses his face to her vulva. 

“Oh,” she breathes, threading her fingers through his hair. 

He licks and sucks, plunges his tongue into her slick heat. He grips her thighs and pulls her to him, suffocating himself with her cunt. She whimpers and gasps, her hips flexing and following his tongue like a moth to a flame. He licks her in long, repetitive strokes from her opening to her clit and her body tenses. 

“Oh,” she says again, but with some measure of surprise. 

A low moan pours from her lips and a hot spurt hits his chin, running down to the bed. His cock stiffens further and he grinds it against the mattress. He’s seen this in porn, but he’s never made it happen before. 

She relaxes, catching her breath, and he places several sweet kisses to the insides of her thighs before going right back to that same motion, slipping repetitively up and down, in and over, and she starts to pant with overwhelm. 

“Oh my god,” she whimpers, her voice almost pained. 

Again she stiffens then breaks, and he slips his tongue over the spot where she is flowing hot and wet, sweet like honeydew. He can’t resist doing it again, and is delighted when he elicits the same response. Three times. Four. Five. Eventually she reaches for him, pulling him up to kiss her breathless mouth. 

“What are you doing to me?” she asks with wonder, and he smiles unabashedly against her mouth. 

“One more time,” he pleads, and she allows him to return to the soaked crest of her thighs. 

Six. 

“Please, I want you inside me,” she begs, and he pushes his boxers off hurriedly. 

She is every kind of wet, and so tight he has to pause and let an almost immediate orgasm fade before he can fuck her properly. One of her legs hitched over his shoulder and then two, and in short order she is coming, her face a mask of sweet agony and her cunt strangling him until he can’t hold back any longer. 

Damp, sated, and sleepy, he strips off the soaked comforter and fetches a clean blanket from the closet. He wraps her up in his arms and kisses a path from her neck to her shoulder. She pulls in a deep, contented sigh and relaxes against him. 

“Too much?” he asks playfully, and she smiles with her eyes closed. 

“Perfect,” she mumbles, then drifts off to sleep.

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #xfiles #xf fanfic #xf fic