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thecreelhouse · 2 months

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tramps like us

Paring: Gator Tillman x Fem!Reader

CW/tags: PTSD, nightmares, language, descriptions of vision loss/ disability, some internalized ableism, descriptions of violence/slight gore, mentions/allusions of miscarriage, grief, angst, hurt/comfort, some fluff

WC: 7.9k

〘 this is a sequel to part time soulmate, full time problem ✧ ⁭series masterlist ✧ series playlist ✧ read on AO3 〙

A/N: this is a heavy one, but I promise it goes up from here (mostly). I rewrote this more times than I’d like to admit. reminder, again, this isn’t canon; I wanted to interpret Gator’s vision loss a little differently than what was implied. as a disabled person I tried to go off my own struggles with interalized ableism, but I am not blind or vision impaired, so if there’s anything in need of correction, pls lmk. tysm for the support on this so far 🖤

chapter 2 ✧. ┊

the ocean grew hands to hold me - the wonder years

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

⋆｡♪ I learned to lean on the people who love me When the sutures start to split I trust in the current to pull you back in.♬ ₊˚.

·········

Moonlight pours through your windows as you stir awake from another heartbreaking dream. You’re unsure if they’re qualified as nightmares, because really, they’re the sweetest dreams of reuniting with Gator.

… Until he disappears, and you’re left with an empty space in bed, a heartbeat that settles into disappointment, and the weight of anxiety all crashing back down, crushing your hopes in the process.

You’re sweating, throwing the blankets off as you duck your face into your hands, letting out yet another nightly wail over the realization that Gator’s not home. He’s not here. He’s—

“Darlin’? Wha’happened?”

Startled, you roll over to find Gator, cozy in bed next to you, arms wrapping around you to tug you closer to him.

“When did you…” You can hear his heartbeat as your head rests against his chest, the heat from his body radiating towards yours, every calm, steady breath he takes as he tries to comfort you.

“C’mon, deep breaths f’me.” He’s fighting the urge to give back into sleep, more concerned about you. You’re weepy, holding his face as you look at him, squinting through the darkness. The moon’s glow only illuminates half of his face from where the two of you lay. You do your best to settle down, breaths falling in time with his. “That’s my girl.”

“Gator…” Your mind is blank and barren, struggling to find somewhere to start. Where was he this whole time? What happened? Why didn’t he text back? Or call sooner?

“I’ll explain everythin’, but you gotta’ be brave for me. Can ya’ do that?” Gator leans in to kiss your forehead softly, lingering for a moment.

“… What if I can’t?”

“You can, promise. I know you. You’re stronger than ya’ realize.”

This is how the conversation ends, every single time, at the end of every dream as you discover this isn’t real. Just as it starts, it stops. You feel numb and sick all at once.

“Gator, please,” You grab onto him tightly, hoping this is the time you hold him securely enough that he won’t slip away. Frantically, you rush out, “Don’t go, you can’t go, you can’t—”

In the blink of an eye, his side of the bed is empty again, and you’re left all alone once more.

You shoot up in bed, panting and sweating, bile rising in your throat. You lean over the side of your bed, snatching the small waste bin you’ve left nearby, for nights like this.

The contents of your stomach empty as you cry, feeling like a disgusting, pathetic wreck as your mind replays the dream.

Gator was so close. So fucking close. You could feel him. You could hear him so clearly. See him even through the darkness. He was here, he was right fucking here.

Searching the room, you see Lovebug still fast asleep at the foot of your bed. At least one of us is getting a good night’s sleep.

Your phone buzzes on your nightstand, jolting you away from your thoughts. Reaching for it, you set the trash can aside, still crying softly; it’s a new message, from Ivy.

Hey, you okay up there? Need anything?

A tiny part of you hoped it was Gator, but you can’t even be upset that your best friend is checking in on you. You didn’t realize you were crying that loudly, but she’s also directly below you on the second floor.

Taking a few deep breaths, you respond quickly to her:

I’m okay, Ives. Just another bad dream, sorry if I woke you up.

You’re about to set your phone aside, but she responds in record time.

Nah I’ve been up. Don’t be afraid to text me if you need, k?

The kindness was always appreciated, but there wasn’t much left to say to anyone offering to listen. Not until some kind of news comes forward about Gator, good or bad.

Replying with a quick ‘thanks’, you toss your phone aside and grab a pillow, screaming into it with all the air left in your lungs, while your hope begins to fade away, just a little more.

·········

The wintery rain mix continues all day, matching your mood with its dreary, grey skies. You’d rather stay in bed, but you still want to help make dinner.

“Hey, kiddo, you don’t have to be doing all of this.” Bea says quietly to you while you help her in the kitchen. You shake your head, but she insists. “Seriously, I know you’re waiting for him, and you’ve been up every night worried sick. It’s okay, we got this, right Ivy?”

Ivy’s rolling out pasta dough like a champ, and your eyes widen, observing how she works so skillfully and at a quick pace. “Please, I can make ravioli with my hands tied.”

Bea giggles along with you. “Okay, Ives, but lemme know if you want me to take over.”

Half frozen raindrops continue pelting against the windows, almost in time with the music from Bea’s playlist, pumping through the speakers in the kitchen. You were just ready for spring, still despising snow, but it was better than this rain that turns the city into an ugly slush puddle; at least snow is pretty when it first falls.

Weirdly enough, you were missing the snow you were whining about last week in North Dakota. Well, realistically, it was more of missing the way the snow kept you and Gator stuck together, in your own little corner of the world.

You pick at your nails, but shake them out when you catch yourself falling into the subconscious, anxious habit. “I should prolly’ keep busy with somethin’ though…” When you’re idle for too long, your mind wanders and spirals into panic, wondering when, if at all, you’ll see Gator again.

“He’s got the address, right?”

You hum in response. “Mhm. Not sure how he’s gettin’ here,” A frustrated sigh slips from your lips; you already filled them in on Gator’s voicemail. “… Y’all will give Gator a chance, right? All of this shit wasn’t him being a dick, there’s so much fucked up in both of our lives—’’

“Kid, you’ve been here long enough to know there’s no room for any judgement in this house. As long as he’s not hurting you, and he’s trying to better himself, he’s part of the family.” Bea’s got a warm smile with her arm around your shoulder, hugging you.

“He’d never. The only time Gator ever hurt me was when we had our fallin’ out, and he still refuses to forgive himself, even though I’ve forgiven him already.”

“Give him time. Plus, Mama Bea’s pep talks always speed that kinda process along.” Ty chimes in from the adjoining dining room as he sets out plates on the table. “She’s a pro at those! Very valuable information and wisdom!”

“You’re not getting the velvet green couch, Ty.” Mama Bea snarkily deadpans, making Ivy laugh loudly, while Ty frowns like a muppet; god, you missed being home.

A dramatic sigh flares out of Ty’s nose as he finishes setting the table. “Can’t a guy give their house mother a five star rating?” He clicks his tongue before coming back into the kitchen.

“Not with ulterior motives, short king.” Ivy teases Ty while Mama Bea ruffles his hair.

“Worth a shot.” He bashfully admits, shrugging. “Still mean it, though. I think we all know I’d still be a clueless little shit on the streets if it wasn’t for Ma’.” Ty looks over at you, “Gator’s in good hands here, you know that, sunshine.”

“I know, you’re right.” You shoot your millionth thankful smile at Bea before admitting, “Honestly, anythin’ is better than whatever the fuck happened before he left home. It makes me feel a little more at ease knowin’ he’s comin’ here. I just want him to be able to finally heal and become his own person, let him decide what kind of life he wants to live without Roy breathing down his neck.”

She slings an arm around your shoulder, tugging you into her for a side hug, “And he will, just gotta give him time, kiddo.”

While Bea’s playlist shuffles on, Born to Run begins to play. Ivy gasps ecstatically, whipping around to Ty, “Ooh, turn it up!” The song plays on softly, too soft for Ivy’s liking.

In the day, we sweat it out on the streets of a runaway American dream At night, we ride through mansions of glory in suicide machines. Sprung from cages out on Highway 9 Chrome wheeled, fuel injected and steppin' out over the line

Groaning, Ty glares at Ivy. “Why do I have to turn up y’all’s old folks music?”

Bea scoffs, “I thought I raised ya’ better, kid.” At the same time you interject, offended, “Bruce Springsteen is not old folks music.” Ivy aggressively adds, “I’m balls deep in pasta dough, Ty. Does it look like I can turn it up?”

Oh, baby this town rips the bones from your back It's a death trap, it's a suicide rap We gotta get out while we're young 'Cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run Yes girl, we were

“Says you, girlie pop.” Ty retorts your way, messing with the volume buttons. You point over to Ivy before defending yourself.

“She says it, not me! I tried tellin’ her we’re too old to keep up with you gen-z kids.” While the banter continues, you can’t help drumming your fingers along to the beat of the instrumentals on the countertop.

Wendy let me in, I wanna be your friend I want to guard your dreams and visions Just wrap your legs 'round these velvet rims And strap your hands across my engines

“Pfffft, kids?” Ty smirks, as if he’s about to make the point of the year, “I’ll have you know I can legally vote, buy cigarettes and alcohol.” Ivy rolls her eyes while humming in time with the lyrics.

Together we could break this trap We'll run till we drop, baby we'll never go back Oh, will you walk with me out on the wire? `Cause baby I'm just a scared and lonely rider But I gotta know how it feels

“Can’t rent a car, though, you’re too young. Still a baby.” Bea quips, pinching his cheek. Laughing while Ty glares, flipping everyone off, Bea adds, “I say it with love, kid. Embrace that youth, it goes by fast.”

I want to know if love is wild, babe I want to know if love is real Oh, can you show me?

The saxophone solo comes in, and Ty mutters, “Damn, that sax goes hard,” hoping no one hears him. Ivy tosses her hands into the air, the flour all over her arms sprinkling down onto you. You giggle while she turns to Ty, “See, I told you!”

With a small smile, you shake your head at them; you silently decide to do dishes to keep your mind occupied, singing along softly to the bridge as you flip the faucet on.

Beyond the palace, hemi-powered drones Scream down the boulevard The girls comb their hair in rearview mirrors And the boys try to look so hard

While pulling a chair from the dining room into the kitchen, Ty ignores Ivy to ask you an innocent, lighthearted question, “What’s the first thing y’all are gonna do when Gator gets here?” He sits next to Ivy, who holds an arm out to keep a good distance between Ty and Ivy’s pasta dough masterpiece.

Ivy can’t resist beating you to the punch, snickering, “Each other.”

The amusement park rises bold and stark Kids are huddled on the beach in a mist I wanna die with you, Wendy, on the streets tonight In an everlasting kiss.

Mid scrub on a coffee mug, you whip around to glare at her, but can’t contain your giggles, “Ivy, shut up!”

“Am I wrong?” She quips back while Ty whistles, joining in on the teasing.

“Y’all better get all of the jokes out now, or I’ll kick your asses later.”

“If throwing empty threats out was an Olympic sport, you’d win the gold every time, babes.” Ty snarks, so you throw a dish towel at him, with the bonus of terrible aim.

The highway’s jammed with broken heroes On a last chance power drive Everybody's out on the run tonight But there's no place left to hide

While the three of you are busy ping-ponging playful jabs at one another across the kitchen, Bea’s attention is caught by something in the foyer; she shuffles out of the kitchen without a word.

“I’ll have y’all know I won a fight once,” You defend yourself, and while Ty cackles, Ivy glares back at you.

“With my help!”

“Okay, okay, fine. Ivy saved the day when some fucker tried gettin’ handsy with me at the bar a few years back.” You shrug as you move onto another dish to suds up. “I’ll give ya’ that, Ives. If she didn’t wear that fuck down, I definitely wouldn’t have got a punch in.”

You expect them to laugh, for one of them to make some kind of smartass comment, but both Ivy and Ty abruptly fall silent.

Aside from the music still playing, the only other sound comes from the foyer. “Hey, sunshine,” Bea calls out to you, and you’re so focused on scrubbing grease off of a pan, you call over your shoulder, “What’s up, Mama?”

There’s no answer.

You turn the faucet off, hands still sudsy as you turn around, glancing through the doorway. “Everything ok— ” your breath hitches at the sight of Gator, sending a small, somber smile your way. Bea gives him a gentle pat on his arm before walking back into the kitchen, while he drops a duffle bag to the floor.

“Looks like someone’s here to see y— ”

Together, Wendy, we can live with the sadness I'll love you with all the madness in my soul Oh, someday girl, I don't know when We're gonna get to that place Where we really want to go, and we'll walk in the sun

The world fades around you in an instant; you’re already rushing past everyone, through the doorway and straight into Gator’s arms. The force of your hug makes him stumble back a few steps, but he’s never been happier to nearly lose his footing. His embrace tightens, shoulders beginning to shake as he cries.

“Sorry m’late, darlin’.” Gator kisses the top of your head, tears rolling down his face, sinking between strands of your hair.

But till then, tramps like us Baby, we were born to run.

“Gator,” You sob into his chest as a suffocating weight finally lifts from your shoulders. He’s here. He’s really here. He’s safe and home. “Oh, oh my g- fuck, m’sorry,” Pulling back from the hug, you realize you got dish soap on him, quickly doing your best to dry your hands on your pants.

With a sniffle, Gator laughs and shakes his head. “Least of my concerns right now,” He teases, unable to let go of you completely.

The joy you’re experiencing begins to vanish as you panic, wondering if this is one of your taunting dreams you had all week. The kind where he comes home but vanishes as soon as relief settles in your veins, and he slips through your fingers like dust in the wind.

”This is… this is real, right? You’re here? For real?” You know how ridiculous you sound, but you’re bracing yourself for the inevitable, cruel ending your mind fools you with.

Oh honey, tramps like us Baby, we were born to run Come on Wendy, tramps like us Baby, we were born to run

“It’s me, I promise.” His voice is soft, gentle, but sounds just as broken as he did on the voicemail he left. “When’s the last time you got any sleep?”

Before answering him, you get a better view of his face, now that you’re not hugging the lives out of one another. Your heart sinks directly into the acid of your stomach.

There’s bruises in the form of fingertips along one side of his face, like he was forcefully held in place. Then, you notice the sunglasses— they’re not his old ones, the ones you teased him for resembling a pair a dad would wear. The frames suit him better, but the lenses are much darker.

That’s when your gaze looks just past one lens, noticing bandaging peeking out from underneath the sunglasses.

Your eyes don’t miss the cast on his arm, either.

Delicately, not wanting to hurt Gator, your hands reach up to remove his sunglasses, heart shattering at how battered he looks. One eye is completely covered by a bandage, and the other has lacerations around his brow bone and bottom lid. Some look deep and miscalculated, like he tried to put up a fight, or get away.

From what, or who, you’re afraid to ask.

You can’t miss the partial clouding across his visible eye; your hand comes back up to cup the side of his face, thumb gliding across his cheekbone with a ghost of a touch, careful not to brush against any cuts.

“Gator… What happened? Are you— ” fuck, that’s stupid to ask. “ — of course you’re not okay. Jesus Christ. Did… did your dad do this?” You dared to ask, and Gator shakes his head.

“He got me in this mess, but I made it worse.” His voice shakes, threatening to break with more tears.

A whirlwind of emotions stir within you; you’re relieved he’s home, you’re heartbroken that he must’ve suffered terribly, but you’re also angry. Livid. Not at him, but that someone would hurt him like this, and that this, whatever happened, would have never happened if he just came with you the night you flew out of North Dakota.

Your face contorts as you try to fight back tears of rage, but your bottom lip quivering gives it away. Gator can’t bring himself to keep eye contact. Like a kettle, you’re about to boil over and whistle shrilly, in three, two, one…

“Why did you stay behind? Do you know how fucking scared I was? I thought you were dead! Gator, I was worried sick!” You’re shouting, not at him, but at this entire situation. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in trouble?”

“‘Cause it happened too fast. I had no way of tellin’ ya’, I swear.” His voice cracks as he wipes his face with the back of his hand, still looking away from you. “I had to keep my promise and come to ya’, but if— look, if you’re afraid of me now, I get it. I look so fuckin’— I feel like a monster.”

Every sliver of anger left within you slips away. This isn’t about me. What the fuck did he go through? He doesn’t need to be scolded like a child. It won’t reverse how hurt he is.

“Honey, I could never be afraid of you. I—” Hushed comments tug you from your thoughts; you spin around to the French doors of the kitchen, glaring at Ty, Ivy, and Bea. Taking the hint Bea shoots an apologetic glance before pushing your housemates out of the door, shutting them to give you and Gator privacy.

“I’m afraid of whatever nightmare you must’ve been dragged through. But to think of you as a monster? What, because of your injuries?” His voicemail replays in your head.

”Fuck it, I ain’t okay. I fucked up.”

Gator looks so disappointed in himself. He feels sick as he huffs out, “I wish that was the worst of it. You’ll want me gone after I tell ya’ everythin’, but I couldn’t break my promise to ya’. Just needed to see you one last time, at least.”

“I’m comin’ home, if you don’t hate my guts again.”

“Gator, I could never. You have no idea how fuckin’ relieved I am that you’re here. Tell me what happened,” You grab his hands, thumbs rubbing along his knuckles, though holding his hand with the cast is a bit of a challenge. “Can— I’m sorry, this is a stupid question, but can you… can you see at all?”

“Uh-huh,” Gator sniffles as you lead him over to the stairs, the two of you sitting on the last few steps. “Y’got no clue how good it feels to see you again, darlin’. I thought I- I was gonna die, and it made me sick to know h- how easily I could disappear, and you’d never know what happened. I didn’t want you to think I left you behind again. Couldn’t think about breakin’ your heart like that all over again.”

Every time you think your heart can’t break any more for Gator, the slivers and shards just continue to shatter into dust with each sickening detail.

“How did you even get here? You said in your voicemail you had a ride—“

Gator’s lips tug at the corners, like he wants to smile slightly, but his bottom lip quivers as he holds back more tears. “Dot offered to take me to the airport, even after I was so rotten to her, and—“

“Dot? Wait, how did she get involved? Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s okay. She’s been through hell though, and a lot of it’s my fault. But she’s okay.” Gator starts crying again, efforts to stop completely ditched. You pull him into you, hand carding through his hair as he sobs on your shoulder. “It’s all a fuckin’ mess. I’ll tell ya’ everything, I promise, but can we— do you mind if we—“

Gently you pull him off of you, already understanding what he’s asking, “Give me one minute, okay?” You kiss his forehead before making your way back into the kitchen.

The room falls silent as you enter, and you shut the door behind you before looking at anyone. Your eyes lock with Bea’s, welling up with tears, “Mama, I know it’s family night, but—“

“Kiddo, you two take all the time you need, and come back down whenever you’re ready. And if not tonight, that’s okay, too. Tell him we’re happy he’s here, and that he’s okay.” She comes over to you, giving you a reassuring hug. “We don’t want to overwhelm either of you right now, so take all the time and space you two need.”

“Hey, tell Gator if he needs his injuries looked at, I got him, okay?” Ivy adds softly.

“Thank you, I- we-“ You stop, mind running blank except with the thought of Gator waiting for you. You repeat a quick “Thank you” to everyone, slipping back out the door.

You grab his bag by the front door, rushing back to the stairs. “C’mon, love,” helping him up, the two of you make the climb back to your apartment. Then, you pause. “Shit, wait, are you gonna be okay with these stairs?”

Gator nods, so you take a few more steps, fingers intertwined with yours, until he drops an emotional bomb on you.

“Yeah, I can still see enough for now,” Saying that out loud churns Gator’s stomach; this isn’t a reality he’s accepting with ease. Really, would anyone accept this with ease?

You stop dead in your tracks.“What do you mean ‘for now’?”

“… Let’s get into your place first before I explain anythin’.” Gator’s tone is cautious, sickened over the thought of sharing the gory details. “Y’might need to sit down for all of this.”

·········

The two of you were exhausted from enduring the past week in your own ways, but you knew Gator needed rest more than you. With his back against your chest, laying between your legs, the two of you were cozy on the window seat; despite you suggesting multiple times to lay in a real bed, he insisted on wanting to look at the city’s lights out your window instead.

“M’not sure where to start…” He murmurs, head resting back on your shoulder. You’ve got one arm around his waist, while the other has your hand running through his hair softly. Lovebug’s asleep on Gator’s lap; he’s already fond of Gator since the two of you walked through the door.

“Anywhere. Wherever you think it’s best.” You kiss the top of his head, cherishing how close he is to you again. “But you gotta be honest, gotta tell me everythin’, okay? I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”

So, Gator does just that, starting with his dad’s sadistic plan to go after Dorothy, what happened with his arm, the break-in on Halloween night, how he tried going after Ole Munch and all of the details with how his greed took priority in his mind, not just with the money, but his greed for revenge, too.

While Gator did his best, sparing you from any gory details so far, it was unavoidable when he had to explain how his eyesight would never be the same. One eye was far past saving, and needed to be removed, while the other thankfully still could see, but only for so long. The scorching hot knife on his remaining eye didn’t do as much damage; somehow Gator was able to miraculously buy time while Munch was distracted; Gator slammed his head into Munch’s, knocking him out for a moment.

“I- I don’t think ya’ wanna know what happened.” Gator shudders out a breath, body shaking slightly. You push your hands out in front of both of you, leaving your palms open and fingers spread; Gator takes the hint, slotting his fingers between yours. You give his hands a gentle squeeze, and it grounds him a little.

“Whether you decide to tell me or not, I’m here for you. Always.” You can feel some of the tension in Gator’s body release as he relaxes against you, reassured by your words.

“If this gets too gross for you, you’ll tell me, right? I won’t be offended.”

“I’ll tell you to stop if it’s necessary, I promise.”

With a nod, he takes a deep breath, “Alright… well…”

With how resilient Munch was, Gator was certain he’d wake up immediately after he slammed his head into his. He’d definitely get a concussion from this, and his head was already engulfed in a searing pain from the brutal way his eyes were practically destroyed. One eye, he couldn’t see a damn thing out of, but the other was blurred from the damage of the knife, with tears and blood blocking whatever visibility he had left.

With that scarce amount of visibility, he was fighting off the edges tunneling in as his ears rang, blood loss and pain making him weak and queasy, trying to coax him into unconsciousness. Still bound and on the floor, adrenaline kicked in as he thought of you. He couldn’t leave you without warning, without answers, all over again.

“Darlin’, do you need me to stop?” He asks softly as you’re unaware of your grip tightening in his.

“Huh?” You look down at your hands still clasped in his, loosening immediately, but he doesn’t completely let go. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m just so… so angry— not at you, I swear. I just can’t imagine someone being okay with doing this to another human being.”

Gator huffs out a quick, humorless laugh. “I deserve it. Not like I’ve been much better to others.”

”M’not excusing anything you’ve done to others, but no one deserves to endure what you did.” You’re firm on your stance, you refuse to let him become consumed by the idea that he would deserve to lose his eyesight, and in such a violent way. “If you’re okay to keep going, I’m listening.”

His hands slip from yours, pulling a blanket over the both of you. It’s the quilt with the constellations that you keep in the window, the one you were wrapped in all week as you watched out the window, in hopes you’d spot Gator on the sidewalk below.

You’re too tired to find the poetic significance of it all, but it’s somewhere in there.

Lovebug squeaks a disapproving meow over the movement, and jumps off of Gator. “Sorry, lil’ guy.”

“He’ll survive,” You joke, patiently waiting for Gator to continue.

“Uh, right, so…”

Gator wriggled across the floor where he heard metal clang against the wood. Outside of his limited vision, he was still able to find the knife that slipped from Munch’s grip, grabbing it with his hands bound behind his back.

The knife was still hot, and sticky with Gator’s blood, two details he forced himself to ignore as he frantically worked the blade under the knots as best as he could. He was glad he remembered to keep his knuckles together when his wrists were bound, leaving the slightest bit of wiggle room to hopefully escape.

Painstakingly, he sawed through the fibers, praying Munch wouldn’t wake up. What only took about a minute felt like hours to Gator, but once his hands were free, he was able to untie the other knots, on his ankles, around his body, and take off into the vast, snowy plains.

Arriving back home, he stumbled upon the Feds, waiting to raid the Tillman ranch. Without hesitation, he gave his dad up to the authorities, never once feeling guilty for doing so after Roy called him completely useless.

With that and complying with questioning and evidence, again, miraculously, he was given immunity.

At first, Gator was embarrassed to let anyone help him make it to Brooklyn, so he started off by hitchhiking. He made it about one hundred miles or so, before panicking and calling Dot, for what? He wasn’t sure, but she was the only person, aside from you, he could trust now.

Calling you next, he was ready to just word vomit the truth, but when he was sent to your voicemail, his mind froze. It was just easier to let you know he was alive, and making his way to you.

Gator wasn’t expecting Dorothy to pick him up and take him to the airport, not after the hell he helped put her through, but he was grateful. The FBI were able to have a guide meet him after landing, helping him make his way here safely.

“And, uh, yeah… that’s … that’s pretty much it.” He sits up, turning to face you, blanket slipping to the floor, while he reaches for your hands again. This was the part he needed you to hear, which was also the part he dreaded telling you. “When I was in the hospital, they told me my good eye has glaucoma now. And even with treatment, it can… it can get worse. They told me treatment will slow the process, but it’s likely I’ll lose most, if not all m’sight over time.”

Gator’s bottom lip quivers as tears tumble down his face. Your hands give his another reassuring squeeze before releasing his, reaching up to his face, gently holding him while your thumbs graze along his cheeks softly.

“You can get glaucoma from injuries?” You ask in disbelief, and he silently nods. “Jesus christ... Gator, I’m so sorry.” You get a better look at his good eye, and it’s bloodshot, worse than yours have been all week. “Honey, m’not tryin’ to change the subject, but you need sleep. C’mon— ”

You remember your bed is on the little loft, with a small set of stairs to reach it. “Fuck. Gimme a second, I’m gonna bring the bed down here.”

Gator frowns, “By yourself? I can handle the stairs, I promise. I can see enough. Don’t break your back tryin’ to bring that down yourself.”

“M’strong enough,” You grumble, and Gator smiles. It’s small, barely there, but he smiles.

“I know ya’ are, but don’t go makin’ major changes just yet, okay? I don’t wanna disrupt your life here.”

“Accommodating your needs isn’t a disruption to my life.”

Gator wants to argue that, but he holds his tongue, too drained to try and convince you otherwise.

“I’ll give ya’ a real tour tomorrow, but I wanna show you around quick, so y’know where things are,” You’re on your feet, holding your hand out to him, but he pauses, staring at your open palm.

“I- I can walk on my own, darlin’. Y’don’t gotta baby me.”

Heat rises to your face, embarrassed. “Oh, I… I didn’t mean it like that, m’sorry…” You pull your hand back, realizing how the action came off, despite just wanting to feel his hand in yours again.

Gator sighs as he drags a hand down his face, “Shit, no, m’sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed that’s what you— fuck.” He stands, reaching out for the hand you pulled back, lacing his fingers between yours. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, this is all new, and frustrating to navigate, I’m sure,” You reassure him softly, tugging on his hand. He waits patiently for you to begin, following along behind you. “Okay, so… bed’s up there.” You point back to the little loft in the back corner of the apartment. “Kitchen’s over there,” You nod towards the kitchenette, near one of the big windows. “Bathroom’s under the bedroom— which is not fun when ya’ gotta piss in the middle of the night, but whatever.”

Gator chuckles, not realizing how much he missed your little rambles until now.

You’re about to ask if he’s sure he’s okay with the bed being upstairs again, but he stops you, already aware of what you’re going to say. “Darlin’, I’m fine. Seriously. I know y’mean well, but I’ll tell you when we need to move that damn bed, okay?”

“Still stubborn as ever, I see.” You tease before waving your arm around the open space, “The rest is like… that open concept bullshit, or whatever.” You’re referring to the dining room and living room in one giant space, along with the window nook, with a messy, overflowing bookcase next to it.

“And like, obviously, this is just as much your apartment as it is mine, so use whatever, do whatever, just maybe don’t set the place on fire.” You smirk back at him, and Gator’s head falls back with an annoyed groan.

“That was one time, and we were like, twelve,” He recalls, remembering the time the oven caught fire when the two of you tried baking cookies, with no parental supervision.

“And now we both know wax paper does not work like parchment paper does,” You’re giggling as Gator pulls you back against him, holding you close.

“You’d ever think this would happen when we were kids?” He asks. “Us, living together, I mean.”

With a dramatic, contemplative face, you pause. “Hm. No, because back then I thought boys had cooties.” Gator snorts, swaying with you in his arms, until something catches his attention.

“What’s that room?” He points to the closed door in the back.

Nervously, you reply, “Oh… that’s, okay, so… uh, remember when I said I had two bedrooms? And if you wanted the extra you could have it?” Gator nods before you continue. “All yours, by the way, but I haven’t cleaned it out yet. There’s a lot I’ve been meaning to get rid of, but I kinda… it wasn’t a priority in the last week.”

Gator smirks teasingly, “What are you hidin’ in there?”

Sighing, you let your head fall onto his chest. “I— I’ll just show you.”

Leading him over to the bedroom, you open the door, revealing a dark room. “It’s messy, sorry,” You sheepishly warn him, flipping the lights on.

A soft glow emits a symphony of green, blue, purple lights onto the ceiling, transitioning into one another seamlessly. Pinprick-sized white lights dot along the colors, resembling stars. Gator figures it’s a galaxy light, and wonders why on Earth you’d be embarrassed about that.

His gaze wanders to the walls, partially painted; where the paint stops, there’s an edge, uneven and jagged. It’s as if someone dropped the paint roller quickly, leaving the paint job unfinished, never to be touched again.

On the floor, painting materials are scattered haphazardly. A paint tray holds the color of the wall, completely dried up and hardened.

The scarce, light neutral-toned furniture is covered by clear painting tarps; there’s a dresser, a rocking chair, and a crib, empty and waiting to be used.

Gator’s heart shatters, connecting the pieces together before looking back at you. You’re leaning against the doorway, arms hugging around yourself, staring at the floor.

“Were you… did you— ”

You’re biting back tears, but your voice still cracks, “Last year. Nearly five months in. I didn’t want to hide it from you, wasn’t trying to… I just didn’t know how to bring it up, y’know?”

He notices the tiny end table shoved in a corner, the only piece of furniture not buried under a tarp, but the surface is covered in a handful of sympathy cards and a bundle of dried flowers— forget-me-nots.

“I— we don’t gotta talk about it, darlin’.” Gator pulls you in, holding you as he glances around the room, hurting for you. “Unless you want to.”

It takes Gator a second look to notice the unfinished baby blanket, crumpled up on the seat of the rocking chair; threads of fiber spill off the ends of incomplete stitches,

still connected to partially full skeins of yarn. After receiving your handmade gift weeks ago, he knows this is one of your ways of showing love, and seeing the abandoned blanket kills him inside.

“Asshole left once he found out, but I didn’t have anythin’ special with him anyway.” You turn your face away from the room, ear to his chest, soothed by the sound of his heartbeat. “I tried coming in to clean it out before you got here, but it was… it’s hard. Then I was more worried about you instead of this damn room.”

Gator’s mind was spinning; how many times can one person experience loss before they completely break? How are you still looking towards the future and what it could bring, when the past was so cruel to you? Neither of you had easy lives growing up, but this was so recent, of course the wounds would still be fresh.

“I can do it, don’t worry ‘bout it,” Gator murmurs, kissing the top of your head. It’s all he can offer, other than sincere condolences, “I’m so sorry, darlin’.”

“Told ya’… you missed a lot since I moved,” You try to joke, but the words choke up in your throat. You pull away from Gator to flip the light switch and shut the door. “I didn’t think I’d be excited, but the possibility of being a— ” You pause, rubbing the tears out of your eyes, forcing yourself to laugh off the emotions, but it comes out so bitter and empty. “It wasn’t meant to be, that’s all.”

The thought of what could’ve been would always hang in the back of your mind. You felt like such a disastrous wreck of a person; your childhood was shit, you lost the one family member that mattered before she could even turn eighteen, you lost Gator for a significant amount of time… and a little one of your own, before they could even arrive.

That’s not counting every moment of suffering in between it all.

Gator has his own losses, too. He has his fair share of pain and suffering, but you don’t see him as a wreck, rather a survivor of trauma no one should ever experience.

Everyone has their own pain, their own losses; the bad plays just as much of a role in our individual stories as the good, right? Maybe the hurt is just part of the experience of living any life at all.

As you start up the spiral staircase, he follows close behind. “That doesn’t mean it wasn’t meant to be.” You’re quick to busy yourself with getting changed for bed, keeping your gaze away from him.

“Gator, I appreciate that, I do, but…” You’re leaning against the dresser as you murmur, “I think I need to stop talkin’ about it, for now, at least. Someday I’ll tell you. Promise. Just not now.”

He crosses the room, making his way to you, with a hand reaching out to hold your face as you finally make eye contact. His voice is soft, barely above a whisper, “Take all the time you need.”

·········

The two of you are unable to keep your hands off one another, not so much in a sexual way, but just grateful to be reunited and within arms’ reach. Fighting sleep, catching up, and comforting one another, and finally in bed, at least. Lovebug wedges his way between the two of you, but favors Gator’s side of the bed more than yours.

“Traitor.” You giggle as Lovebug headbutts Gator’s hand every time he attempts to pet him.

“Oh, we’re gonna be best friends, huh?”

Teasingly, you glare at the two of them, “First you steal my heart, and then my cat, what’s next, Tillman?” Gator’s smile has been growing little by little since he arrived, and it’s so relieving to see. Reeling your focus back to the conversation, you ask, “Sorry, what were you sayin’ about the sunglasses?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Gator pulls his attention away from the cat to answer you. “They’re a lot darker ‘cause sun exposure can speed up vision loss. I’m gon’ do anythin’ they suggest to slow it down. Y’got no clue how relieved I was that they could save this one as much as possible.”

Listening intently, you’re taking in the information as you silently remind yourself to do more research tomorrow.

“It’s fuckin’ scary bein’ told I could go completely blind, but it’s got me sick knowin’ someday I won’t— I- I might not be able to see you anymore.”

For everything Gator endured in life, the last thing he deserved was to lose his eyesight. This isn’t the way either of you imagined his second chance at life playing out. You want to give him even an ounce of hope, but you don’t want to force the positivity, that could be just as toxic as dwelling on the negatives.

“Maybe—“ You stop yourself from offering to research stories of others in a similar fate, and how they’ve still made the best of life, or succeeded “despite” their disability. The last thing he needs is some corny inspiration porn. Those stories usually serve as a way to make able bodied folks feel better about their own struggles.

It’s difficult to find the right words; you want to promise Gator you’re here for him, you’ll help him with anything he needs, but you don’t want to infantilize him. It’s an unfamiliar space to be in, where you don’t want to push discussing the gritty details of accommodations for his life, but it’s not like this is a situation to be brushed off for another day.

Then, you remember what Gator asked of you, the night he decided he’d come home with you. He asked you to hold him accountable if he fucks up as he strives to unlearn toxic, ignorant mindsets.

While it’s not exactly the same, you repeat the sentiment, “I’m with you every step of the way through this, but if I say or do something you’re uncomfortable with, or feels ableist, please tell me. Call me out. I’ll do my best to research everything, but if I fuck up along the way, please don’t be afraid to tell me.”

Gator’s voice cracks with a simple, “Thank you.” You’re about to tell him he doesn’t need to thank you, or anyone, for basic respect and empathy, but he blurts, “If y’get sick of me, of this,” He points to his eyes, “Tell me. I deserved this after all the shit I’ve done, all the people I hurt… I brought this on myself.”

“Gator, none of this changes how I feel about you. Not a single detail of all of this could change how I see you. I can only imagine how terrifying this is, and you’re allowed to mourn the life you had, and what you thought would be. You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel about all of this. But you don’t deserve this.”

“No, I shoulda’ listened to you the night y’called.”

To hear Gator talk so lowly of himself is hard when you know right now he’s inconsolable. Still, you tell him, “You can’t beat yourself up over this.” But it’s much easier said than done.

“Am I wrong? If I came home with ya’, I’d be able to fuckin’ see all of this, all of you. I… I know I was gettin’ ahead of myself, but I thought if I got that money back to save aside for us, for whatever might come in the future, it’d all be worth it.” Gator looks and sounds defeated. “Now I’m not sure how much time I’ve got until everythin’ goes dark.”

You sit up, leaning on your elbow as you run a hand through his hair. Lovebug isn’t a fan of you invading his space with his new best friend, so he moves to the end of the bed, giving the two of you the briefest comic relief. You move closer to Gator, holding his face the way he did with yours earlier.

“Then we make the best of the time that’s available, and if that time ends sooner than expected, it won’t change whatever’s meant to happen in the future. If everything goes dark sooner than later, I’m still by your side every step of the way.”

He hates to ask this, but he needs to know, “What if we fall apart?”

“Gator, at this point, I’m stuck to you like a damn curse. Even if things were to end between us, I’d still be here for you in whatever ways you’d be comfortable with.” You answer his concern with no hesitation. He searches your features for any doubt, but there’s none to be found. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“I’d do the same for you, y’know.” He takes your hand off his face, lacing his fingers between yours before giving a reassuring squeeze. Jokingly, he adds, “I’m probably a worse curse to shake than you’d ever be.”

“You said it, not me,” You roll your eyes with a snort, catching a glimpse of the tattered friendship bracelet still on your wrist. Pulling your hand out of his, you untie it carefully to secure it back onto Gator’s wrist. His face lights up at the small gesture. “Kept it safe for ya’.”

Smirking while he tries ignoring the warmth flushing across his face, he asks, “Can I kiss you already?”

Leaning closer, nudging your nose into his with a smile, you respond, “I guess, if we have to.”

“We have to, I owe ya’ one, ‘member?” His lips are barely touching yours, teasingly pulling back right before you’re close enough.

“Tillman, if you don’t kiss m— ” Your words are muffled by his lips on yours as he smirks through the kiss. He pulls back, just enough to see you. “Oh, it’s gonna take a lot more than just one kiss to make up for lost time.”

Gator laughs as he tugs you towards him, the two of you tangling yourselves up in one another while he peppers messy kisses all over your face. You’ve missed this. You’ve missed him, and though things won’t be easy, he’s finally here, he’s safe and sound. He’s home.

Settling down, the two of you easily drift closer to sleep, and you murmur, “Welcome home, Gator.”

Just as sleepily, he slurs a reply, ”S’good t’be home, darlin’.”

#gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x you #gator tillman x fem!reader #tramps like us #part time soulmate full time problem #my fics

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andreafmn · 1 year

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In the Heat of the Moment | Epilogue

Word Count: 1.9K

Pairing: Jake Sully x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader, Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Story Description: Every month female Omatikayans go through their heat whilst men go through their rut. It’s a time for mates to engage in the most animalistic desires. But when one of the two is gone, it can be a rather painstaking endeavor. With Neteyam gone on a hunting trip, (Y/N) has to go through her heat alone for the first time. Or does she?

Warnings: All of the feels

A/N: read at the end of the story 😬😬 I lied like a liar, I wrote too much and there's this short epilogue. This is the real last part that i didn't make y'all wait for 💖 also, I really tried with the songchord song but it was really hard. I took most from Neytiri's songchord. Hope you enjoy, and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts to support me and my love of writing or buy me a coffee

Dedicated to every single person that read, liked, or reblogged this story! It was such a joy to write and I will miss it💖

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In the Heat of the Moment | Epilogue

It hurt.

That was all that (Y/N) could process.

Her baby was ready to make their journey to their earth and all she could think of was how much it hurt.

“Okay, (Y/N),” Mo’at said. “I can see the child’s head. When the next contraction starts, I’m going to need you to push with everything you’ve got.”

“I can’t,” she cried. “I can’t do it.”

“Yes, you can,” Neteyam cooed as he wiped away the sweat from her forehead and the tears from her eyes. “I know no other woman as strong as you. I know you can.”

“It hurts so much, Nete.”

“And how I wish I could take it away,” he comforted. “But I know you can do this, baby. I know you’ve got it in you.”

“One moment of pain, my child. For a lifetime of happiness.”

She wasn’t sure if she could do it. Not even with the support of everyone around her. The pain was incomparable, almost indescribable. During the months of her pregnancy, there had been some pangs here and there, some strong enough that they worried even the experienced healer. But, it was nothing like what she felt at that moment.

From the woman in the village, she had only heard only the beautiful parts of pregnancy. Creating a life inside her womb, cementing the legacy of her family, the magical moment of having the child for the first time in her arms. But none of them had told her that it would be a blood-filled battle to reach the finish line. It made her ears stick to her head and her tail swoosh hardly on the mat.

“Another contraction’s coming,” (Y/N) announced as she felt the lightning-fast pain clutch at her stomach. “Oh, Great Mother, it hurts!”

“Alright, (Y/N). I’m gonna need you to brace yourself and push,” the healer said. “We need to get the baby’s head out.”

With an ear-piercing scream, the girl grabbed hold of Neteyam’s hand and pushed as if her life depended on it. At the instruction of Mo’at, she kept pushing and pushing and pushing. She continued until she felt like she wasn’t in the tent anymore.

The only thing that brought her back was the sound of a baby’s cry.

“Congratulations, ma (Y/N),” Mo’at beamed as she placed the baby on her chest, gifting the young couple the biggest smile. “You have a beautiful and healthy baby boy.”

“Oh, he’s perfect,” the girl cried. “I can’t believe he’s finally here.”

After placing a kiss on her temple, Neteyam held out his hand to the child, the newborn instantly wrapping his little hand around his finger. “He truly is perfect,” he smiled. “As perfect as his mother.”

“Have you chosen a name yet?”

“Yes,” (Y/N) smiled. “We will be announcing it at the celebration.”

After a quick moment with the child, the delivery of the placenta, and a clean-up of the birth, the rest of the Sully family trickled into the tent – all but one. Kiri and Tuk cooed at the baby, admiring their new nephew. Lo’ak tried to remain indifferent, but soon enough gave in to the cuteness of the tiny baby. Meanwhile, Neytiri congratulated her daughter-in-law on her beautiful son, the woman’s first grandchild.

Long gone was the guilt, (Y/N) felt when she was near the woman. In the beginning, she could barely look Neytiri’s way without feeling a gut-wrenching shame for what she had done. But, with the help and support of Neteyam, she was able to put her turmoil to rest and walk alongside the woman in her pregnancy journey.

The only person they steered clear of was the same person that was not present in the room. Jake had made sure to keep his distance. He told himself that it was because he wanted to respect Neteyam’s position. But the reality was that he couldn’t bear to see (Y/N) happy with his son. That she had chosen and would continue to choose him for the rest of their lives.

His envy had been laid to rest, though, alongside his anger. Those days, all he felt was misery and sadness for a life he could’ve had. A life he was supposed to already possess. It didn’t matter how irate he had been at his son, ultimately it had been the girl’s decision, and she had always been clear about who her heart belonged to.

So, he went by pretending. Something he had learned to do perfectly when he had been human. Pretending he was content with his life, pretending his heart wasn’t shattered and unmendable, pretending he didn’t wish he was the one standing by her side. She had told him not to, but he just couldn’t help himself from praying that one day she would magically change her mind.

But, she never did.

Then, nine months had passed, her belly growing with their –his– child, and she never did. Her son and she remained as together as ever. And suddenly, the child was here and they were preparing to celebrate the new heir of the Omatikaya clan. The child that, after their father, would lead the tribe.

Everyone had gathered in the village center, eager to meet the new baby. Music and excited chatter filled the air. In a matter of minutes, a new life would be presented to the village. Another life that represented hope and prosperity for the clan.

“Are you ready, my love?” Neteyam asked his wife as they prepared to leave the tent. He was dressed in his ceremonial attire, all feathers and headdress. “You look as breathtaking as ever.”

She wore the intricate necklace Kiri had done for this special occasion, a magnificent artwork of beads and stones. Her hair had been done by Tuk just moments before, and no one would have guessed that she had just gone through an arduous labor.

“With you by my side, I am always ready.”

Silence fell across the tribe as the entrance of the tent opened. The crowd parted as Neteyam led his family, his sights set on the cleared space at the center. (Y/N) followed close behind, covering her son from sight. No one would see him until his father raised him to the skies.

As they walked, the clan started humming in prayer, blessing the new life that would now be a part of their tribe. They blessed the child’s parents and they thanked Eywa for allowing a safe delivery. It was a communal chant of love and thankfulness.

Tears welled in the corners of (Y/N)’s eyes as she felt the love of her people. Even though the baby had been created at an unfortunate moment, he was their miracle. He was the product of their love, a testament to their union.

The new family of three stopped once they reached the cleared area where Mo’at was waiting for them. She smiled at her grandson and his wife before she turned to direct herself to the rest of the tribe members.

“Brothers and sisters,” her voice boomed. “We gather here today by the grace of Eywa to welcome new life to our clan. We have surpassed great sorrows and we have been granted the blessing to see the light of a new day.

The birth of a child is a miracle given by our Great Mother. A beacon of hope in our darkest moments and a testament to her generosity in the lightest of them. Today, the Great Goddess has expanded a piece of my own family and my granddaughter-in-law has given birth to a healthy baby boy, the next heir and Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya clan.

Now, I leave my grandson, Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan, to bestow upon us the name of his firstborn.”

The woman stood aside, joining the rest of the clan as they linked to each other with their arms, the soft hum of their shared player a beautiful melody for the moment. They were all witnessing how Neteyam took his son from (Y/N)’s arms before placing a soft kiss on her lips, their faces illuminated by their big smiles.

“Brothers and sisters, it is my greatest honor to present to you today the future Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya clan; the fruit of the love between me and my wife, (Y/N); my firstborn, Eytukan te Suli Neteyam’itan. Named after a great man, husband, and warrior.”

The crowd broke out in cheers as Neteyam lifted little Eytukan to the sky. Mo’at and Neytiri hugged (Y/N) and thanked her for honoring their husband and father, respectively.

Once the baby was back in his mother’s arms, the girl stepped forward, her songcord hanging from her hand. Neteyam stood proudly behind her, his eyes never leaving his family. Then, she began to sing about that monumental part of her life – the birth of her firstborn child.

“Irayo [Thank you]

Oe lu nawma Sa'nokur [I am blessed, Great Mother]

Fa nga, oeyä nìʼawve'ongokx, Eytukan. [with you, my child, Eytukan]

Atanti ngal sìlpey, [You bring hope]

Mipa skxom, mipa tìloho. [New chances, new surprise]

Lawnol a mì te'lan. [Great joy within my heart]

Ngaru irayo seiyi ayoe [We thank you]

Tonìri tìreyä, [For the nights our life]

Ngaru irayo seiyi ayoe [We thank you]

Srrìri tìreyä, [For the days of our life]

Ma Eywa, ma Eywa. [Oh Eywa, oh Eywa]

Zola'u nìprrte', ma Eytukan. [Welcome, my Eytukan]

Ngati oel munge soaine. [I bring you to the family]

Nga meuia si nawm tutan, nawm tìrey. [You honor a great man, a great life]

Nga awngeyä parul, nga mip atan. [You are our miracle, our new light]

Lawnol a mì te'lan. [Great joy within my heart]

Ngaru irayo seiyi ayoe [We thank you]

Tonìri tìreyä, [For the nights our life]

Ngaru irayo seiyi ayoe [We thank you]

Srrìri tìreyä, [For the days of our life]

Ma Eywa, ma Eywa. [Oh Eywa, oh Eywa]”

Once she finished her song and the crowd had cheered once more, Mo’at led them all through a prayer to Eywa to watch over little Eytukan. Overwhelmed by the love and the joy, (Y/N) couldn’t help but look over her people. She smiled at their closed eyes and their melodious chant, her heart swelling with pride.

Until her gaze fell onto yellow eyes that she knew too well.

Jake had stayed back in the crowd, watching as his son played the part of father better than he ever could have. He couldn’t bring himself to stand with his family, so close to the girl that held his heart hostage. And when her gaze met his, they glazed over with a mix of sadness and happiness. He was glad that she was happy, even if it wasn’t with him.

Then, she gifted him a smile that told him everything. She was grateful for this gift and she was sorry for his pain. There was no pity or disdain toward him. Her smile was an invitation. Whenever he was ready, his whole family was waiting for him.

Neteyam smiled at his wife once his grandmother had finished, calling for the food and the music to fill the air. He smiled at his son, that had not come from him, but still had his blood. He kissed Eytukan’s temple and he kissed (Y/N)’s. “I could not have asked for a more perfect family,” he beamed. ““Oel ngati kameie, (Y/N).”

“Oel ngati kameie, Neteyam,” she smiled in reply.

THE END

Taglist: @uwunuggetchan @ellabellabus07 @sweetllamaparadise @crazy4books1 @jake-sullys-whore @saltedcoffeescotch@laylasbunbunny @atxara

A/N: Thank you for following along with this story and supporting it all the way through. To all the people that were here from day one to the ones that joined on the way, thank you from the bottom of my heart for liking this story. It was very fun to write and I loved every second of it. This story truly fanned the flame of my love for creation and it really inspired me to continue with my craft (especially through all the community support it got). It honestly means the world to me that people enjoy what I write, and it brings me so much joy to know that there are people out there that have met me through my words. Hopefully, I can continue to share this passion with you all, and maybe someday you'll have a book written by me sitting on your bookshelf. 💖

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illneverrecover · 1 year

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make it right - epilogue | kth & knj (M)

➛pairing: Kim Taehyung x reader ft. Kim Namjoon x reader ➛summary: He had offered to be there with you when you read it, which you had considered. He has always been supportive of you and your emotions, and you knew you could rely on him to be your rock through this, too, should you need it. But there was a little piece of you that felt it was important to be willing to face this alone; willing to face the consequences and fallout of your actions without the crutch of your current love. ➛genre: starting out musician!AU, smut, angst. SMANGST. ➛word count: 5327 ➛rating: explicit/mature ➛warnings: mentions of previous infidelity, mentions of mature situations, a lot of talk about healing and self reflection, also about self growth, cursing, previous installments contain smut. ➛notes: Well this was a long, long time coming. If you’ve stuck around this long - I appreciate you more than you will know! Many apologies for the wait, but damn, was life being a bitch for a hot minute. This was very cathartic for me to write for many reasons, and I hope you enjoy! Just to be clear, this series isn’t here to romanticize infidelity, or make light of it -- but instead show how things aren’t always so black and white in real life. In reality, there are numerous, messy shades of grey, and things can become complicated very easily. This is barely edited and completely unbeta’ed, as I’m trying to be more authentic and less of a perfectionist when it comes to my writing as a personal goal in 2023. It’s been holding me back for far too long, and I’ve missed being creative. Be gentle, and let me know what you think! (P.S. - if you pick up on the TS reference, pls know I’m giving you a forehead kiss) ➛song: everythinggoes (with Nell) - RM, NELL & Girl of My Dreams (with SUGA) - Juice WRLD, SUGA, BTS ➛tagging: @jimins-ass-eater, @thatlongspringnight ➛Chapter 1 ➛ Chapter 2 ➛ Chapter 3

Everything, everything, everything goes

Time passes. Despite change, despite everything moving and falling apart and rebuilding again, time always passes. It is unavoidable, it is necessary. It is healing simply in its existence.

Namjoon sees that now more than anything.

It’s hard to believe it’s been a year – a year since you walked out, since everything changed. Since his actions and inactions had finally caught up to him, and so had the consequences.

He wanted to blame you. It would be easier to do so, he thought in the beginning, considering how everything fell apart. But it wouldn’t be honest, and it wouldn’t make him feel any better. He thought himself a good man, after all, and good men accept the fallout from their misdeeds. They dig deep and do some introspection and maybe see a therapist, and they try to be better.

He wanted to be better.

It wasn’t easy. Looking into the depths of his mind and soul and inspecting his worst flaws is a raw, painful thing at any time, but especially after what had happened. He meditated more, channeled his feelings into his writing in the studio, and continued to work on himself. His relationship with the new producer, Mina, continued to blossom, but this time without the tainting of his indiscretions, without the shame and guilt. Namjoon found what grew between them was more beautiful this way; tending to the soil and ensuring proper watering allowed him to be his sincere, natural self, giving way to a love that came easy.

It was hard when Yoongi left the studio, though Namjoon would be lying if he said he didn’t see it coming. It was on good terms, thanks to both of them being pragmatic despite their friendship, but it still stung. Another consequence to his transgressions, another person affected by his shortcomings. Yoongi had told him he was thinking of opening his own studio for a while, but Namjoon was almost positive the incident (and the aftermath) is what accelerated his timeline and had him leaving a few months later.

Taehyung’s resignation had been less surprising, though equally professional. He offered to finish out his contract or to leave immediately – not wanting to leave the studio hanging, but also knowing the position this was putting Namjoon in. Namjoon could appreciate the gesture, even through the betrayal, and allowed the younger man to finish up some tracks and part ways amicably. It wasn’t long before Taehyung’s name was being released as Yoongi’s first talent, and though it felt like someone had punched him in the chest, Namjoon couldn’t help but be proud.

He would always support them, even if they didn’t know it.

He poured himself into his work, into his music. His first passion, his first love. She always welcomed him with warm arms, always gave him confidence and solitude to work through whatever melodies and cacophonies were clouding his mind. And as he worked through self reflection and discovery, she was there to help him work through the tougher emotions, the painful feelings, until he had a full fledged album. A raw and new piece of his soul, ready to share with the world, whenever Namjoon was ready to be vulnerable.

So much had changed in a year. He isn’t sure if this present version of himself would even recognize the Namjoon from before, the person that he was. But he knows he wants to continue to impress that version of himself, and make him proud.

He was ready to share his music — and himself — with the world, but before he could, he needed to do one last thing.

Taehyung wasn’t sure why Namjoon had wanted to see him.

His mind began racing the minute he received the text, saw the name that he hadn’t had the guts to ever delete or block from his phone. It had been almost a year since he had last been in communication with the man, when he had put in his notice at the studio.

So much had changed in a year. He had signed with Yoongi, worked extremely hard in the new studio, and was making music he was really, really proud of. And to top it all off, he was doing it with you by his side, out in the open, for the world to see. No longer having to hide his love was one of the best things to ever happen to Taehyung, and he’d never tire of basking you in it.

But Namjoon had asked to meet for coffee, and Taehyung couldn’t think of a reason to say no. If anything, he felt like he owed his old friend - his hyung, his brother - the time and space to say whatever it was he wanted to him. It was the least he could do, considering.

Taehyung doesn’t regret loving you, but the guilt still gnaws at him from time to time over how things went down with Namjoon. It was you who would always reassure him that if anyone was to blame, it was you, and would help him work through his feelings.

He had thought about reaching out to Namjoon in the months following the aftermath – to apologize, to explain where he was coming from, how genuine his feelings were for you, that he never meant to hurt him – but realized that this would only be to assuage his own shame and guilt, not because it would be anything that Namjoon actually needed to hear. That didn’t seem fair to put on him, after everything else, and so he vowed to keep his apologies to his journal for the time being. Resolved that if Namjoon wanted closure, he would let him know.

Taehyung hopes that’s what this meeting is about, if he’s being honest with himself. He has run this scenario through his head a million times, and out of all the conclusions he could reach, it would be the ideal one. Certainly, Namjoon would have every right to ask him to meet up if only to have a chance to give him a solid sucker punch in the face, and Taehyung wouldn’t be able to fault him for that.

But despite knowing that things will never be the same, he would at least like for there to be peace between the two of them, for your sake if nothing else.

The coffee shop is spacious, well lit by the copious windows adorning the front of the building, and fairly quiet, considering its size. Mismatched plush couches and chairs decorated the room alongside coffee tables of varying shapes and forms, surrounded by walls lined with bookshelves stuffed to the brim. It is a very Namjoon place to pick, Taehyung thinks, deciding to peruse the menu and order before searching for his friend.

He finds Namjoon in a back corner, tucked in an alcove that is built into the bookshelves, the only booth in the entire shop. He has one hand cupped around a mug of hot liquid, the other scrolling his phone, not seeing Taehyung approach.

Taking a deep breath, Taehyung slides himself into the booth opposite him.

“Hey,”

Namjoon’s eyes flick up, surprise on his face quickly melting into a familiar grin. “Hey, Taehyung. How are you? You look well,”

Taehyung lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his shoulders relaxing at the elder’s tone. “Yeah, I’m good, I’m doing well. How about you? You look great,” he compliments, realizing that he means it. Namjoon has more life and color in his face than Taehyung remembered seeing in years, a new softness in his eyes that makes him seem lighter, more free. “You look happy.”

“Thank you, I’m getting there,” Namjoon chuckles, a shy smile on his face. “It’s been a lot of work, but it’s been worth it.”

For a moment, they just smile and nod at each other, a comfortable and familiar silence stretching between them. There’s so much that Taehyung wants to ask, that he wants to say, but he follows Namjoon’s lead, instead sipping on his hot chocolate while he waits for the other man to speak.

“So, there’s some things that I need to say to you. And it might be a lot, and I’ll probably talk for a stupid amount of time, but I’m asking for you to listen ‘til the end, if you could,” Namjoon pauses then, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he winces. “If it’s too much, or if you don’t have the time for this, then I understand completely, but–”

“No, of course I have time, it’s okay. I want to hear what you have to say.” Taehyung reassures, giving him a nod. “Whatever you need.”

Namjoon smiles, taking a deep breath.

“When I first met Y/N, she was… the brightest light,” he looks down at his drink, face softening. “So bright that she drew everyone to her like moths to flame. I was so drawn to her, so attracted to her light. That first night at the karaoke bar, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. She was shining so bright, and everyone was watching. I normally wouldn’t approach someone in a bar, but it was like I couldn’t help myself. I knew I’d kick myself if I didn’t go over, or if someone else did first, so I finally went up to her. Told her some corny joke, and she laughed hysterically.” He laughs to himself, and Taehyung smiles. That sounds like the you he knows, too. “And the moment she laughed, I was instantly hooked. I asked for her number, about floating out of that bar when she kissed me. We became inseparable. Spent all of our time together, and the rest happened quickly. I’m sure you know how she is – it’s so easy to get wrapped up in her warmth, her fire.”

Taehyung dips his chin, his lips curling into a smirk against his volition. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Namjoon’s jaw flexes at those words, otherwise he seems to have no reaction, swallowing before he continues.

“After she moved in, things were good – comfortable, a little predictable, but good. I felt safe and confident, knowing that she was always there, always around when I needed a bit of that light. And eventually, that comfort became complacency.” Namjoon shakes his head, drawing another breath. “I started taking advantage of the fact that she would be there when I needed. I got wrapped up in my music, and instead of trying to bring her into that with me, or share that piece of myself, I shut her out. Told myself she wouldn’t understand. Convinced myself that it would be okay once my hard work paid off and she could see the final product. But looking back, it was all excuses to be selfish and to do whatever I wanted, knowing that she loved me enough to put up with it.”

“I’m not proud of myself for that. There’s thousands, millions of different ways that you can kill the person you love. The slowest way is not loving them enough, not giving them enough of your time – but not having the strength to let them go. She tried talking to me, telling me what she needed from me, begging me to spend time with her, and instead of being strong enough to let her go, I kept making promises I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep. It was fucked up, what I did. I just- I wasn’t ready to lose that fire,”

Taehyung didn’t trust his voice, so instead he nods, easily empathizing with the older man. He intimately knows that fire that Namjoon spoke of, understood its siren call, the unbelievable warmth it is to be loved by you. But at the same time, he realizes how much Namjoon’s admission gets under his skin – knowing that you were in that much pain, remembering seeing you suffer, watching you fall apart and try to hide it from everyone – it angers him, hearing Namjoon own to the fact that he knew he was hurting you, but didn’t walk away.

He must not be schooling his face as well as he thinks, because Namjoon sighs as he rubs his face with his hand. “I get it. Trust me, I know it wasn’t okay. But when you’ve been in the dark for so long, finding someone like Y/N – you want to be loved by her, want just a piece of that for yourself. I’m not justifying my actions, but hopefully explaining where my mind was at the time,” he continues, taking a sip of his drink. “I was already not being the man she needed, already not meeting her expectations. And when Mina started at the studio, and started helping me with some of the tracks… I hate to say it, but it was easy to let myself get distracted. I was so wrapped up in myself and what was going on with me, I didn’t see just how far away she had slipped - not only emotionally, but physically, intimately. It seemed like it went from incessant texts about when I was coming home, begging to spend time with me, to… nothing at all. She went radio silent, started going out of the house more, started hanging around you guys more. I remember thinking to myself, ‘Well at least it seems like she’s found something to entertain herself, now she won’t always worry about me’. How clueless could I be? So fucking stupid, and selfish.”

Namjoon gives the younger man a moment to process his words before he continues. “After everything went down, I… I’m not proud of this, but I got drunk one night, and I kinda begged some information off of Jimin,” Namjoon winces again, casting his eyes down. “It’s not Jimin’s fault, I think he honestly just felt bad for me, so please don’t be upset with him. He really didn’t tell me much, but he confirmed that… the two of you,” he gestures with his hands towards Taehyung, “ started… being together on her birthday.”

Taehyung feels his heart drop in his chest, his pulse racing at the admission, unsure of why the fact that Namjoon now knew this piece of information makes him feel a bit more ashamed.

“Which means, it started way after she had ‘the talk’ with me, way after she began to pull away and I just let her go – hell, encouraged it, even. When she showed up at the apartment the day I found out, Y/N kept telling me it didn’t matter what happened, or who’s fault it was… that we had both done hurtful things and it was time to move on. And I think even with her saying that, even as she was breaking things off with me, she was still trying to protect me in a way. Still trying to shoulder all of the blame, especially because of the affair. But the truth is, I don’t blame her for any of it. I blame myself.”

He meets Taehyung’s gaze straight on. “I may not have physically cheated, and sure, she may have been the first to step out, but what choice did I leave her? I abandoned her long before she got together with you. I don’t know when or how it happened, but I woke up one day and I stopped choosing her, and started only choosing myself. And the worst part is, she fought to try and fix things between us, and it was like I had blinders on. I still couldn’t stop choosing myself. I was so damn cocky, so sure of myself…” He swallows thickly. “She still fought, still chose me over and over, so it never crossed my mind that she would cheat. But honestly, I don’t blame her. She wasn’t being taken care of the way she should, the way she deserved.”

Taehyung is surprised to see tears welling in Namjoon’s eyes; the sheer amount of emotion he is willing to share in front of him shocking overall. Namjoon always keeps things so close to the chest.

“And then you swooped in and saved the day,” Namjoon continues, giving the younger man a wry grin. “Again, I get it. I can understand why you were drawn to her, why you were drawn to each other. I was mad, at first. Jealous mostly, if I was being honest with myself, but that’s because I’ve always been a bit possessive. But the more I sat with my thoughts, the more I realized that I was… relieved. Relieved to know that she had someone during that time, that she was being taken care of in all the ways that I failed to. Relieved to know that it was with someone that I know and trust to truly have her best interest at heart. That if it was anyone, it was you.”

Now it’s Taehyung’s turn to have his smile turn watery and soft. “Namjoon, I-”

“No, you promised to let me finish, remember?”

He doesn’t wait for confirmation before speaking again. “I know it sounds crazy, but that's why I asked you to come here. I wanted..” he trails away, hands fidgeting in his lap until his eyes snap to Taehyung. “I wanted to thank you, for taking care of her, for loving her. The way she should be… the way I couldn’t.” He doesn’t hide his tears this time, instead letting one trail down his cheek. “And if it’s alright with you, I have basically written down what we spoke about today, and I would like to give this letter to her - along with the offer of a meet up, if she’d like. Before the album comes out.”

That gets Taehyung’s attention. “What do you mean? Is there something she should be worried about, or-?”

“N-No! No, not at all, nothing like that,” Namjoon waves off the concern with a hand. “But there are some emotional songs that I worked on after the break up, and it feels like the right thing to do would be to give her the chance to hear them first, before everyone else.”

There is nothing that comes to Taehyung’s mind that would be a good argument against that - Namjoon is right, it is the courteous thing to do, to allow her the privacy of that moment before the rest of the world had a chance to dissect it into a million pieces.

“And I didn’t want to reach out without talking to you first, out of respect for you both. It didn’t feel right approaching her directly… again, I want to give her time to process, you know?”

Taehyung nods in agreement, appreciating the foresight. “Thank you for that, I think that will mean a lot to her.”

“So you’ll give it to her? The letter?”

There is a part of Taehyung that didn’t want to, if he was being honest, didn’t know if it’s worth reopening the old wounds that you had worked so hard to close. That chapter of your life was something you worked hard to move past, and though you made it clear you wished Namjoon well, you hadn’t asked to meet up with him in the year since the split. There really hasn’t been a need to, once you got your things out of the apartment and moved into Taehyung’s place.

But if he makes that choice for you, would it be any better than what Namjoon had done? Would he be any better?

“Of course. I can’t promise she’ll want to meet, but – I’ll give it to her, I promise.”

Relief sags Namjoon’s shoulders, and he lowers his head in gratitude. “Thank you, that’s all I ask. And thank you again, for meeting with me today. I promise my only intention here is closure, and respect.”

“Does that mean I’m allowed to say something now?”

“Taehyung, you really don’t have to, there isn’t anything to say–”

“Just let me get this off my chest, please,” Taehyung begs, a hint of desperation in his gaze. “I know this probably doesn’t mean much, and I completely understand why… but for the record, I am so sorry that I hurt you. I wish it hadn’t come to that.”

“Come on, Tae, like I said-”

“Let me finish.” Taehyung raises his voice slightly, just enough that Namjoon knows he’s serious. “I sincerely mean that. I don’t regret being with Y/N, and I won’t pretend to. I really do love her, and your words and… approval,” he chokes on the word, as if the marvel of it isn’t lost on him, “mean more to me than I think you can understand. But I really hate that you were hurt in the process, regardless of what was going on at the time.”

Namjoon waits, taking another sip of his drink to ensure Taehyung is finished before speaking again.

“Apology accepted. I appreciate you saying that, really. But I mean… what would you have done differently? No matter what choices were made, the outcome was inevitable. She was never going to tolerate my shit forever, and it was the catalyst. Considering I wasn’t exactly innocent in my behaviors, either, I get it. It wasn’t okay, what any of us did, but I get it.”

The world is never as black and white as we would like it to be, never as quickly and neatly explained as the human brain would prefer. There are many shades of the foggy grays and dark misty blacks and every level of fading ink in between, a messy cacophony of varying gradients. If anyone can understand that, it’s Taehyung.

“That’s probably the best way to put it. It wasn’t okay, but I get it. What you did, what we all did. But I do think people are capable of change, if they truly want it. And it sounds like you’ve come a long way,” Taehyung gives a wide grin then, feeling the lightest he has in a long time. “ I wish you nothing but luck and success in your journey - both with your love life and with your music. I genuinely mean that, Joon. We’ll always be rooting for you.”

Namjoon matches the younger man's carefree smile, any remaining tension easing away from his posture. “Thanks, bro. I’m always rooting for you guys, too. All of you - Yoongi included. If you ever need anything, even just some ears or a hype man, I’m here.”

More pleasantries and gratitudes are exchanged before Namjoon is standing, pulling Taehyung into a quick embrace before gearing up to leave the coffee shop, holding up a buzzing phone in explanation. “Sorry, I gotta take this - thanks again!”

Everything changes, and everything stays the same.

You aren’t sure how long you stare at the letter before you decide to open it. It must be a few hours at least, because Taehyung had given it to you in the bright light of early afternoon, and now the sky was turning faded pinks and oranges, sun ready to rest for the day.

He had offered to be there with you when you read it, which you had considered. He has always been supportive of you and your emotions, and you knew you could rely on him to be your rock through this, too, should you need it.

But there was a little piece of you that felt it was important to be willing to face this alone; willing to face the consequences and fallout of your actions without the crutch of your current love.

Your friends had rallied around you after the initial fallout, surprisingly, and though you weren’t sure you had deserved that, you certainly appreciated them for it. They gave you the confidence to keep moving forward, to battle with your demons, and you would always be grateful to them for showing up in your time of need.

You are stronger now, more healed than you were when you had last seen Namjoon a year ago. Not fully healed, because healing isn’t linear, but you are working on it and yourself. An excellent therapist had been the start of the self love journey, and it was with her help that you were able to confront some difficult truths and soothe old wounds, feeling more secure in your skin than you had in years.

You had even started working on your music again, though you could say that was Yoongi’s fault if anything, since he kept saying he was tired of you lounging around his studio for free. He had practically shoved you into the booth one day, asking for you to warm up and lay a raw track for some backing vocals to earn your keep, and you had complied easily. It wasn’t the worst thing he could have you doing there, and it soothed you to be able to work with music, even in a small capacity.

And Taehyung.

Taehyung had been amazing through it all; your grounding peace during the storm, your home in the form of a person. His devotion and endless understanding and love was more than you could dream of, more than you ever thought you would know, and you can’t help but to feel like the luckiest person in the world to get to experience it.

Picking up the letter, you take a deep breath, centering yourself before folding it open, eyes quickly scanning the words awaiting you.

He wasn’t mad, wasn’t angry. Instead, he was apologizing, giving explanations for his actions while telling you not to blame yourself, offering to meet up to talk things out if you’d like. Or if you didn’t want to talk, to at least get a copy of his new album so that you could listen to it before it dropped, since there were some personal songs included that he thought you may want to hear in private.

Overall, it was a short note; but kind, considerate. A softer side of the Namjoon you used to remember, from the early days.

You didn’t need to think about how you wanted to proceed, instead picking up your phone and sending a text to your ex-fiancé.

It had been you that insisted on meeting some place outside, wanting to keep the encounter quick and pleasant. You weren’t sure how he was going to reply to your text letting him know that you were willing to meet for the album, but not to talk, but in standard Namjoon style, he didn’t seem bothered. Taehyung told you he supported your decision no matter what, which you knew would be his response, but you truly didn’t feel the need to continue to hash this out. You had both apologized and moved on, and the past was in the past.

You certainly appreciate his dedication to his own healing, and can empathize with the need of writing a letter for closure, but that was enough for you. You didn’t need anything else in order to forgive him.

You had forgiven him long ago.

You and Taehyung made plans to listen to the album together, knowing that you would want his warmth and comfort both physically and emotionally during, and you let that thought comfort you as you walk towards the meeting point, eyes scanning the park for the taller man.

A tap on your shoulder has you turning, peering up at a dimpled grin.

“Hey,”

You give him a shy smile. “Hi, Joon.”

He has a small manila envelope in his hands, your name scrolled in black sharpie on the front, and his fingers tap against the material a few times before he thrusts it towards you.

“Well, here it is. It’s a USB, but it has all the songs plus the album concept art. I hope you like it, but uh, even if you don’t, I thought it was only right to let you hear it before everyone else does.”

His awkwardness makes you want to giggle, but you stifle the urge, not wanting to make him feel self conscious. Taking the parcel from his hands, you slide it in your bag before glancing back up at him. “Thank you, I really appreciate that. I’m sure I will like it. Your music has always been amazing.”

The tips of Namjoon’s ears start to redden, and he scoffs bashfully. “Ahh, you gotta warn me before you say nice things to me, I’m not prepared.”

You laugh then, his deeper chuckle joining in after a few moments, and it felt good to laugh so carefree with him again. Something you didn’t think you would ever have the chance to do.

“Well, it was good to see you, Joon. Thanks for this,” you tap your bag twice, “I’m excited to listen.”

“Thanks. It was good to see you as well, you look great. Really h-happy,” Namjoon stutters over his words, the sentiment rushing out, “It’s what you deserve - to be happy.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest, a piece of your soul healed by the words you didn’t know you needed to hear out loud.

“I am really happy,” you confirm, unable to hide your smile. “Like, almost disgustingly happy, it’s pretty annoying.”

You laugh, but this time he doesn’t join you.

“Good.”

And before you can think of how to reply, he’s gone, faded back into the bustle of the crowd like he was never there.

Taehyung already has your favorite wine opened by the time you arrive home, a glass placed in your hand once you walk through the door. He’s all easy smiles, nonchalant as he asks about the meeting, steadfast and attentive as he listens while putting the finishing touches on dinner.

He’s made one of your comfort meals, and you spoon it into bowls before carrying them into his office-slash-studio, cozying up on his lounger before putting the thumb drive into the computer. He queues it up, sliding the mouse closer to his reach as he settles beside you, pulling a blanket to cover your laps.

You hand him his bowl, and he pulls you in for a kiss. It’s quick, but there’s heat underneath the gentle pressure of his mouth.

“Are you ready?”

You look into his warm gaze, the affection evident in the soft way he drinks you in. He has one hand cupped around his bowl, the other on your thigh under the blanket, giving reassuring squeezes as the silence ebbs on.

It’s not that you were afraid of what you would hear, or that you thought Namjoon would do anything to hurt you. But you know hearing your previous relationship's downfall from his point of view could bring up some lingering pain, and you wanted to be able to process and work through it so you could continue to heal.

It’s what he deserved, what you all deserved.

The old version of you wouldn’t be able to handle this, certainly not next to someone like Taehyung. Wouldn’t be able to bear the vulnerability, or having a witness to the potential flood of emotions that could come at any moment. But over this past year, you’ve learned that you are worthy of a love that makes you feel safe enough to be your authentic self - and in turn to allow your true self to be loved.

You knew that you were safe, here under the blanket on the loveseat in Taehyung’s cozy little studio, next to the man you love.

“I’m ready.”

Just like the night leaves and the morning comes The spring leaves and summer comes, but Just like the flowers and summer sunshine Everything must be hurt Breathe the world The air in my lungs is full of cold air I want to run away From long hours of pain and dullness

Everyday I pray (everyday I pray) That I may become a slightly better adult And everyday I stay (everyday I stay) People die with their pain one day We can not be eternity in dream Words like "Cheer up" can not be real Instead of plausible words It hope it goes like a wind (Everything, everything, everything goes Everything everything else goes)

#taehyung fic #taehyung x reader #taehyung scenario #taehyung smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #namjoon x reader #namjoon fic #namjoon scenario #kim taehyung #kim namjoon #taehyung fanfic #my writing #fic: make it right #fic: mir #fic: make it right epilogue #overly affectionate demon #bamjoon

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thatdesklamp · 7 months

Note

WAIT OMG-

been reading intrinsic warmth for a WHILE and your writing is top tier!! i always wondered to myself every time i’d read a chapter why the writing just STICKS, yk? i’m a MAJOR book girlie, i read 24/7.

AND THEN IMAGINE MY SURPRISE WHEN I READ ONE OF YOUR TAGS THAT YOU PUT UP ON ONE OF YOUR POSTS WHERE YOU WERE ANSWERING A QUESTION FROM ANOTHER LOVELY READER AND I SEE THAT YOU TOOK AN ENGLISH A LEVEL?

first of all (not 100% sure on this) but i’m pretty sure only british ppl take gcses, a levels, etc. YOU’RE BRITISH?

i feel like i’ve met my other half rn over something so tiny but yeah. IT LITERALLY EXPLAINS WHY YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD:

i could point out the NUMBER of times i’ve seen juxtaposition, symbolism, foreshadowing in your fic to someone if they’d asked me to point it out for them. at first i thought you might’ve done it unknowingly, and then i decided that nope, bc foreshadowing is such a BIG writing technique that it simply couldn’t have been by accident.

it’s one thing to know about a writing technique and another to actually be able to SUCCESSFULLY incorporate it into your writing. if it isn’t clear enough, i’m saying that you did it AMAZINGLY. you’ve got a natural talent and i’m envioussss (in a supporting way ofc 😭).

you should really look into making your own book, and i think you EXCEL at the supernatural aspect of plot in stories. your writing is so unique and different yet so warm, it reminds me of autumn (my favourite season).

idk how to end such a long message, ultimately i don’t have a reason for typing this up and shit. ik you have tons of people probably saying the same thing and it might just get repetitive for you, but i wouldn’t feel comfortable not being part of said bunch-of-ppl-probably-saying-the-same-thing.

oh! and take your SWEET TIME updating. it’s your story, your fic, your writing. the ONLY thing we readers can give you as a payback and thanks is time, patience, and understanding <3333

RAHHH BRITTANIA 💪💪💪💪

Agh. Yes—I’m British (English to be precise, sweet sweet caroline etc), hence the use of ‘u’s in words like ‘colour’ and ‘humour’, and also why everyone’s parents are their ‘father’ or ‘mother’ and not mum/dad. ‘Mom’ feels too American but ‘mum’ feels too rah engerland, yk? I’ve mentioned previously that I’m looking forward to writing fics where the characters are actually from England and where I’m actually allowed to write them the way I talk, mostly. Good lord am I excited.

And yes lol I took English for an A-Level. Bloody smashed it too, if I get to brag, mwahaha. Didn’t take it any further (I’ve also previously said that I’m a # woman in stem uni student, which is true), but I still write a killer essay imo. Give me 10 minutes to do a refresher on ‘Othello’ (it’s been a while okay) and I can talk for donkeys about his tragic fall and how much of a wanker he is. Which he is! I’m a Desdemona defender for life.

You say ‘natural talent’. PLS. No!! God no. Not at all. I wish—that would’ve made it a lot easier, but whatever I can do rn is down to bloody years of toiling away on my shitty little laptop, I promise. I’ve got another anon ask that asked about some writing tips so I’ll do the bulk of them there but my number 1 will always and forever be to practise. Whatever skill I have now has been earned over the many years. You don’t even want to see some of the stuff that will never grace my ao3 page (atla had me in a chokehold through covid and I have never been the same).

But you are genuinely so complimentary: this is so so lovely of you. Thank you?? It’s really weird being someone who writes and also someone who enjoys analysing literature; you’re right, half of the ‘techniques’ are intentional (the number of times I’ve flicked through some chapters’ drafts and thought, ‘fucks sake none of this makes sense, I need to add some decent foreshadowing or none of this will make sense in two chapters’), but also so much of my writing is just thinking, ‘hmm, this doesn’t really feel right. No no, I don’t like the vibe of this. I want this to feel more GRAAHHH and less lalalala. Lemme change this up a bit’. Whether that leads to the whole, short sentences->speeds up the pace of the reader when reading the section->increased tension, mimics actual fight encounter, etc etc (all the stuff you blag on about in eng lit), then maybe that counts as intentional? And maybe not.

Making my own book? That’s lovely of you to say but I also really don’t have any ideas for anything non-fanfic’y! Lol. I love a good bit of canon compliance, that’s my issue. That being said—hey, another eng a level reference—I’ve made multiple references here to being the world’s #1 ‘Atonement’ hater. Unfortunately, it also lives damn rent free in my head and I’ve got the bare bones of a WW2-era, perhaps epistolary, longform fic buzzing around. (Fandom: Marauders. I’m a disgrace but here we go). I’ve written nothing for it and maybe I never will, but that’s one of the only things I can see as being more standalone from original canon. Anyway: it’s the fanfic life for me. Ali Hazelwood’s life is but a distant dream.

But anyway! Thank you again for your lovely words. The next IW chapter will take a very long time, I have to be frank, so thank you for the reassurance that that’s not absolutely disgraceful lmao T_T Thanks again!! <3

#intrinsic warmth #I hope I have not accidentally hidden my englishness #the biggest event of this month isn’t Halloween or 1989tv — it’s the switch from bst to gmt babyy

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shysneeze · 2 years

Text

Dating Nancy Wheeler:

-> a random disorganised list of what it would be like

warning: kissing, nancy is a coffee addict, nightmares, gn!reader

nancy has been through so much, and it's made her little… stoic, perhaps, is the word

so it takes her a while to open up to you, but soon your one of the people she trusts the most

i refuse to believe that nancy is anything but the cuddliest of girlfriends okay? will spend hours in your arms, talking in whispers or just in comfortable silence

she loves just having you near

you like to sit with her whilst she writes her articles, lying in her bed whilst she works until she eventually crawls up beside you

“all done?”

“no, just need a break”

(she falls asleep ten minutes later)

actually, nancy has a habit of falling asleep on you quite regularly, she feels so safe around you that it's nice to get to put her guard down like that

kissing her forehead every time she falls asleep on your shoulder

(your friends find out about you during movie night when she slumped onto your shoulder and you kissed her forehead gently upon instinct - steve teases you for it but its one of the cutest things he's ever seen)

reading with nancy!!!

(you guys are gonna get so sick of me integrating reading into every headcanon but the idea of reading with a so means the world to me so bite me :))

sitting between her legs with her hands around her torso, holding the book open to read together, aloud or in silence

nancy is prone to nightmares and she feels awful when she wakes you up but you’re just glad you can try and help, either holding her close until she falls back asleep, or talking through them with her

nancy is full of surprises, one being that she loves to kiss you in her car and often times dates consists of long drives that inevitably end with making out in the back seat

or: dates that are secretly a cover for going crazy investigative journalism trips that you pretend bug you but seeing nancy in her element is both impressive and hot, and is a great excuse for getting to make out in her car

“so really you needed a stake out buddy, not a lovely evening with your partner.”

“the joy of this is that i get both at once- and don’t pretend you didn’t know.”

clearly, this means a lot to me

nancy is so stubborn that arguments over the dumbest things can last for days before one (or both) of you apologises

theres not really much space for jealousy of steve or jonathan whom she is still close friends with: steve is your biggest supporter (he has no idea how everyone he’s attracted to ends up liking women but thats not your problem) and jonathan is just happy for nancy in the end

mrs wheeler loves you: she has a sneaking suspicion about the nature of your relationship, but shes just glad to see her eldest happy

you have a talent of making nancy laugh, even when shes in a bad mood, you can make her smile

nancy one hundred percent drinks way too much coffee, like to a worrying degree

especially when she’s trying to make important deadlines and the caffeine winds her up so much you’ve got to ease the mug out of her hand and sit her down before she crashes

you try getting her into calming teas but she is one of those weird people that actually enjoys the taste of coffee

“i love you, but i don’t respect you right now.”

“my love, you are literally drinking lavender tea right now.”

domestic fluff yes pls

nancy just loves you to absolute bits (gross tea and all)

a/n: plan to do a general one for robin and joyce too :)

tag-list: @woahhhfidget @lesbiihoenestt @robinbuckleyluvr

#nancy wheeler imagines #nancy wheeler headcanons #nancy wheeled imagines #nancy wheeler x reader #nancy x reader #nancy wheeler fic

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daechwitatamic · 2 years

Text

Chapter 9: Really Sure || KTH

(banner by @itaeewon)

Title: What Was Hidden (Masterpost)

Rating: explicit, minors DNI pls

Genre: college!au, angst, eventual smut, strangers -> friends -> lovers -> idiots -> lovers

Pairings: Taehyung x female reader, MYG x OC

Summary: This is how it all starts: Taehyung is flunking Western Lit. You’re assigned to tutor him. His paper on Strindberg’s The Ghost Sonata could pass or fail him for the semester. As you and Taehyung slowly become friends, then more, you learn that there’s a lot more to him than you originally assumed. Together, you navigate your own experiences with the play’s themes: one’s “true self” versus one’s “shown self”, darkness behind the facade, and how people can be quite literally haunted - and it has nothing to do with ghosts.

In which Taehyung takes you on an actual date.

Chapter Warnings: language, kissing, groping, explicit sex including: fingering, unprotected sex with bc (this is fiction pls be safe in ur real lives!), penetrative sex, consent king Kim Taehyung

Note: I wanted to take a second to seriously shout out Pauli (@/kookstempo - if I tag her the post stops showing up in searched tags bc tumblr is the worst platform to exist) for her help with this chapter. My brain is full of angst and longing so when I get to these happy scenes, I tend to draw a blank. The entire Christmas festival is due to her - she talked me through every single moment and came up with a lot of the ideas in the first place. If anything you see is sweet, fluffy, or makes you feel warm and fuzzy…. credit her.

Second note…… this was my first time writing smut, ever! It was challenging and honestly a little scary so pls read with forgiving eyes!

Word Count: 5k

I saw the sun and thought I saw what was hidden The Ghost Sonata | Scene III August Strindberg

Chapter 9: Really Sure

Wednesday, December 12th

At tutoring on Wednesday morning, Taehyung works on his The Cherry Orchard paper.

“I think the easiest theme is the one about societal upheaval and accepting change,” you tell him. “You can fill pages with that, no problem.”

Taehyung considers this, tapping his fingers against his lips. “I was thinking about the pattern I see with love,” he tells you.

You give him a look and he smiles your favorite smile, the one when you catch him at something, the one that starts with a flash of uncertainty and then it grows sideways from one corner to the other, like he’s relieved that you find him funny.

“Seriously,” he insists. “You said to look for patterns. Ravensky’s all hung up on her dude in Paris, Barbara’s waiting for a proposal, Dunyasha is trying to get with what’s-his-face -.”

“Yasha,” you supply. Taehyung snaps his finger and points at you, grateful.

“Also the guy,” he continues, referring to the character Peter. “He thinks he’s above feelings, and love, but he’s hot for Anya.”

“So what’s the theme?” you press him. “Their stories and situations are all different. What’s the connection, or message?”

He frowns. “That love comes for everyone, like it or not?”

You frown back. “I don’t think I agree with that as a general statement, but if you think you can provide enough textual evidence to support it, be my guest.”

“You’re Peter,” he tells you, giving you an amused look.

“Does that make you Anya?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow. “I don’t know how I feel about that.”

He laughs. “You’re right, now it’s weird.”

“Besides,” you say, a little defensively, “I don’t think I’m above feelings. Or love.”

“You just want to pretend you are for a minute, because it feels safer,” he says.

“Alright, that’s enough Chekhov for you today,” you joke, but you’re unsettled. Taehyung sees through you - he has from the beginning - and it’s something you’ve never experienced before, not with anyone.

“That’s wasn’t a shot at you,” he tries to explain. “That was kind of a… ‘universal you’ thing. We all do that.”

You’re grateful he’s letting you off the hook, but now he’s got you thinking about it. “After you’ve been hurt, it’s hard not to.”

“That’s true,” he says graciously. You have a feeling you could change the subject now, but something in you presses on.

“Have you?” you ask cautiously.

“Which part?” he says, setting down his book and looking at you. “Been in love? Been hurt? Tried to pretend it wouldn’t happen again?”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

He shrugs. “All three.”

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, meaning it.

“That’s life,” he says. “You get up and you try again.”

“That’s a very healthy outlook,” you observe. “Not everyone has that strength.”

He gives you a smug, knowing look. “That was a very nice compliment.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, yeah, you’re welcome.”

He glances at his phone. “Three minutes left,” he informs you.

“Okay,” you say. “You’re good on the paper? Do you think you can have some of it done before our session tomorrow night?”

He smirks at you. “As long as someone doesn’t distract me too much later.”

You roll your eyes, again. “I’ll stay on campus tonight, then.”

He pouts. “That is not the response I was going for.”

“Sorry,” you tell him. “I have a paper to write, though. I really do need to stay on campus.”

“Fine,” he says, still mostly pouting. “Hey, do you have plans for Saturday night yet?” There’s something in his tone that you can’t name.

You think about it. “No, I don’t think so,” you decide. “Are you guys having a party?”

“I’m not sure what the rest of the guys are doing,” he says, “but I had an idea for you and me.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Oh, you did, huh?”

He gives you that smile again, the one that grows. “I was thinking I could take you to the Christmas festival in town?”

Your whole body feels suddenly warm. You’ve loved hanging out with Taehyung; you’ve loved the deep talks you’ve had, the easy way you can joke with each other, the fluttering in your chest when he smiles at you. But until now it’s been… unnamed. Casual. Safe.

“Okay,” you say, even though your stomach is in knots. What you don’t want is to hurt his feelings over nothing, over your own silly fears.

“Yeah?” he asks, perking up. “That fancy hot chocolate place will have a food truck there that night. We can just walk around, check out the stalls, talk…”

This makes you smile. “Okay, fancy hot chocolate sounds really good,” you admit.“ Okay then,” he smiles, packing up his laptop, and you know exactly what he’s going to say. “Then it’s a date.”

Saturday, December 15th

You agonize over what to wear, a fact that is not lost on your roommates. You want to look cute as hell but you also don’t want to freeze.

“I vote thick tights under a skirt or dress,” Bridget offers.

“That would look cute with the boots,” Kiko agrees.

You flop backwards on your bed in defeat. “I can’t do this. I’m tagging you in, Bridg. Go be cute and charming in my place.”

“How is this any different from going to hang out at the house?” Bridget asks. “You don’t freak out over that.”

“It’s very different,” you insist. “There’s all this pressure.”

She purses her lips at you, looking annoyed. “Because he’s telling you he expects it to be absolutely perfect, with choirs of angels singing and wedding bells in the distance?”

You frown. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course not.”

She points at you. “Then it’s all internal. You’re putting the pressure on yourself. And that means you have the power to stop it.”

You and Kiko exchange a glance, and Bridget presses on, all worked up.

“It’s a date, it’s one night. Your future doesn’t hang in the fucking balance, so lighten up.”

“She’s scolding me,” you complain to Kiko.

“She’s right though,” Kiko says. “Where was all this knowledge when I was panicking over Yoongi?”

“We didn’t know you were panicking,” Bridget points out flatly.

“I definitely didn’t,” you agree.

“I thought it was pretty obvious,” she says, voice small.

You shake your head. “You can’t expect people to know how you’re feeling or what you’re thinking if you don’t tell them,” you say gently.

She goes silent, lips thin.

Bridget is looking at you.

–

When Taehyung picks you up after dinner, he’s got Christmas music playing in the car.

“Setting the mood, huh?” you ask with a smile.

“I heard you like Christmas,” he says, giving you a sly sideways smile.

That’s something you’ve really learned about Taehyung - that guy pays attention. He may not seem like he’s listening, but he is, and he’s retaining information. When had you mentioned liking the Christmas season? You try to remember. You’d said it once, to Kiko, at the bar a week ago.

After parking, you walk side by side towards the entrance. The whole block is barricaded so cars can’t come up or down, and people walk freely down the street. The street is practically ablaze with strings of lights, and they continue into the adjacent park. At the end of the block, a small stage has been erected, and a trio of people are singing indie covers of Christmas songs.

Taehyung leads the way to a semi-circle of food trucks and stands at the end of the longest line.

“I believe gourmet hot chocolate was promised,” he tells you.

“It was,” you say seriously. You try to stand on your tiptoes to see the truck’s menu board. Taehyung pokes your arm to get your attention and hands you his phone, where he’s pulled up the menu himself.

“Oh,” you say, taking it. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he murmurs, looking down at you. You decide on peppermint and pass the phone back to him.

“I’m thinking salted caramel,” he says, eyeing the screen.

“I was thinking about that one,” you tell him. “It sounds amazing.”

The line moves slowly, and you find yourself shivering slightly, since you’re just standing still, not walking.

“Are you cold?” Taehyung asks you, glancing over. It reminds you of the night at the trail, the first time you’d kissed.

“No,” you lie.

He makes a face, clearly onto you. “You’re shivering,” he says flatly.

“I’ll be fine once we start walking,” you say, feeling defensive.

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head good-naturedly and reaches an arm around you, pulling you closer. He is warm. He rubs his hand up and down your upper arm, trying to dispel the goosebumps.

When you reach the front of the line, Taehyung buys your drinks and the two of you head towards the park, where there are giant light displays. People mill around you in both directions - large families with a bunch of kids, other couples like you, even some people who seem to be enjoying the displays in solitude.

The displays are huge, so tall, depicting so many different things, all so bright and colorful. Lights adorn the trees, wrapped around the trunks and up into the branches. Where the trees reach across the walking path, overhanging the cement, it feels like you’re in a tunnel of red and gold lights. Off the path, strings of lights are twisted and tied to form trains, dinosaurs, beach scenes, and of course, lots of Santa and reindeer. You and Taehyung meander down the concrete path, following the flow of foot-traffic, stopping at each display to admire it.

You stop to admire a display whose lights flicker and move in time with music playing over speakers above you. It’s so bright and beautiful, but you find yourself turning to look at Taehyung; his face shines in the glow of the lights, blues and greens moving across his face just to be replaced with gold and white. All those sly glances and careful faces are gone - his expression is just open, honest, delighted. A tiny smile rests on his lips as he watches and listens. Something swells in your chest - you feel like you could touch the spot it blooms from, right above your diaphragm. It makes you want to be closer to him, part of his infectious joy.

You reach over, your fingers finding the side of his hand. He turns his wrist and takes your hand without looking, fingers lacing with yours. He gives it a tiny squeeze and says, “Look, they have that dragon up there breathing fire!”

And then he’s pulling you along, eager, already grinning.

–

As the path through the park leads you back to the street, Taehyung leads you by the hand to the side of the street lined with vendors and stalls. You walk, still hand in hand, peering in at each booth. You pass a lot of artisanal foodstuffs - organic honey, jams and preserves from the local farms, fancy teas and coffee beans, a handmade fudge stand (this one gets your money).

There’s also a healthy showing from local artists - one booth is full of landscape paintings, and you spend quite some time standing, looking at each one, marveling over them. There’s plenty of knit and woven goods - hats, mittens, scarves, socks, sweaters. Taehyung eyes a black and white scarf, playing with the material for a minute before letting it drop back to its spot. You stop again two booths down at a little pottery stand. The artist displays vases and bowls, and shelves of handcrafted mugs, each one sporting different colors and designs. “No two alike!” the sign proclaims.

You gravitate towards a few mugs that are clearly not identical, but must have been painted on the same day - they sport the same deep blues and an almost silvery grey, swirled like rainy puddles on a sidewalk. You pick up two, turning them in tandem, looking at each angle. Instead of protruding handles, they have smooth divots where your fingers should fit as you hold them.

“Those are nice,” Taehyung says, looking over your shoulder.

“All my good mugs are still at my parents’ house,” you tell him.

“Let’s get two,” he suggests, reaching over your shoulder to pick up another blue mug, turning it over in his hand. “You pick one and I’ll pick one.”

“So we match?” you tease, already starting to look for one that stands out to you.

“You can think of me every time you use it.” He gives you a teasing wink so you’ll know he’s mostly kidding.

“It is pretty,” you say, putting back the one you’d been eyeing and reaching for another. “I like the blue. And I like the finger-grooves instead of a handle.”

“Come on,” Taehyung says decisively. “Pick one, let’s get them.”

The potter bags them separately for you so you don’t get yours mixed up with Taehyung’s, and you continue down the road. You’re heading in the direction of the band, the music growing louder as you approach. The indie trio seems to be taking a break, and jazzy instrumentals come through the speakers instead. Some older couples dance together in the space in front of the now-empty stage, hands locked.

“Come dance with me?” Taehyung asks quietly, setting down his little bag with the mug inside under a nearby bench, reaching for yours too.

“Doesn’t really look like a young people scene,” you observe, but you hand him your bag when he reaches for it.

“Do you care that much?” he asks, and there’s something challenging in the way he says it.

“I guess not,” you allow, and he grins, starting to swivel his hips to the trumpets, reaching a hand for you to join him. You can’t help but laugh - he’s so freaking silly, and he really gives no shits, and you kind of love that about him.

He spins you slowly, one hand on your waist, and you’re somehow surprised that he’s a good dancer. He leads you well, and you let yourself be in this moment as best you can: the taste of peppermint in your mouth, the lights around you glowing golden, your heart beating in time with the harmonies of the brass instruments, Taehyung’s body solid and warm against your as he holds you tight.

–

When the indie band returns, the jazz covers fading down to nothing, Taehyung leads you towards the little creek that winds through the park. This area isn’t technically part of the festival, and people aren’t really walking here. The Christmas lights and decorations don’t extend this far into the park either, but the path is lit by lanterns on posts along the side of the path. Taehyung leads you onto a small bridge and leans his elbows on the railing.

“I like this spot,” he tells you. “When I was starting to walk a little after my accident, I’d come here. It’s not too far from the parking lot and it felt… peaceful, I guess.”

You look at him, listening. The creek runs below you, the sound soothing.

He turns to face you, and you close the gap willingly, leaning up to meet his lips, knowing they’re coming.

There’s some ferocity to his kiss tonight; you don’t know if he’s just tired of holding back, if he’s keyed up from dancing together, or what, but something is different. He tangles a hand in your hair and tightens his fingers, his other hand pulling you flush against him by the small of your back. Your mouth opens on a tiny noise of satisfaction, and his tongue strokes yours immediately.

He tastes like caramel, he smells like a man, and your head spins as he presses your body against the bridge railing, fingers still lodged in your hair. You press yourself against him, wanting to feel as much of his body against yours as you can, winter coats be damned.

You want to be as close as possible, you want to feel every part of him, you want to - even if only for right this second - let him in in every way. You can’t put it into words, even in your head, so you try to put as much of it into your kiss as you can; you grip his jacket tight between your fingers and pull him against you, relish the feeling of him hardening against you, drown a little in the contented grunts he makes when you move your mouth down his jaw and towards his neck.

He releases your hair and grabs your ass with both hands, helping to increase the friction you’re both creating, and you release the skin of his neck long enough to let out a sigh, resting your forehead on his shoulder, sucking in air. He half-grunts, half-growls and nudges at your forehead, trying to get you to lift your chin so he can kiss you more.

“Taehyung,” you breathe, looking up to meet his eyes.

“What is it, baby?” he murmurs, hands still tight on the meat of your ass. “What do you need?”

You.

Somehow, this is true.

“Take me home?” you ask, hands still holding him in place by his jacket. “Not campus,” you clarify quickly, when his eyes widen a little.

He wraps his arms all the way around you and pulls you in tight, pressing his lips to your forehead quickly before letting you go.

“I’ll take you wherever you want to go,” he whispers. You let go of his jacket and reach for his hand. This time, you lead him through the park, aiming for the parking lot.

As you pass back through the festival on your way to the car, you notice the long line of families waiting to take pictures with Santa.

“I didn’t get to sit on Santa’s lap,” you pretend to pout.

“I’ll give you a lap to sit on,” he quips, and you laugh out loud, shocked at his audacity.

He laughs too, actually covering his mouth with his spare hand. “Sorry,” he says through his giggles. “That one should have stayed in my head.”

In the car, Taehyung drives with one hand on your thigh, his thumb tracing circles on the thick fabric of your tights. You don’t talk much, but you keep your eyes on him, steady, as his face comes in and out of view as you pass under streetlights and then continue into darkness again. Every now and then he glances back at you, and when he meets your eyes he gives you a tiny smile, almost like he thinks it's funny that you’re still looking.

At the house, the living room is empty, and after you hang your coats on hooks Taehyung leads the way upstairs, shutting and locking his door as usual.

You sit on his desk chair and unzip your tall boots, placing them carefully under his desk, out of the way so no one trips on them in the dark later. When you’re done, you look back up at him. He’s standing with his arms crossed, watching you carefully. He’s kicked off his own shoes; unlike yours, they lay in the middle of the room, discarded.

You rise, walking over to him gingerly, and he takes your face between his hands, kissing you sweetly. Too sweetly. You want to kiss like you did on the bridge. You take over, kissing him more aggressively, humming into his mouth when he takes your ass in his hands again. Right where you left off, you think.

He lowers his hands as you kiss him, skimming the sensitive underside of your ass, hands slipping beneath your dress. His fingers caress the backs of your thighs, just once, and then he’s moving them back up, searching for the hem of your tights. When he finds it, he crumples the material in a fist, pulling you against him again, and then gently slides his thumbs under the waistband. He peels your tights down your body tantalizingly slowly, his eyes locked on yours the whole time, giving you plenty of time to object if you want to.

You don’t.

You step out of your tights as they hit the floor, and Taehyung gathers up your skirt in one hand, caressing your bared ass with the other, pulling you in to kiss you again, breathing in so harshly as he does that it’s almost like he’s breathing you in. You silently thank Bridget for reminding you to wear something lacy tonight.

You reach up and start unbuttoning his shirt from the top down, tugging it off of his shoulders and running your hands up his toned arms and back down his chest. He exhales sharply, fingers tightening on your butt as you trace lines up and down his stomach, wanting to touch everything.

He reaches behind you to find the zipper on your dress, struggling a little with the hook and eye at the top. You feel the cold air hit your back as he drags the zipper down, and then he mimics your earlier motion, tugging the shoulders off of your arms.

He takes a second to look at you as your dress falls to your ankles and then he’s kissing you again, hands roaming as if he can’t decide what to touch first, what to touch longer, as if his hands miss one part of you the second they stray to visit somewhere else.

He unhooks your bra and you toss it sideways, then your hands go for his belt buckle. He kicks his head back and huffs out a breath, trying to maintain control as your hands deftly undo his belt and loosen it.

“God,” he groans, fingers twitching, as if not touching you for these two minutes is taking all of his self-control. You love him like this - like he’s barely keeping it together, like he’s seconds aware from losing it and tearing you apart.

Part of you hopes he does.

You unzip his pants carefully, then glance up at his face before pulling them over his hips. He watches you evenly, but his breathing is anything but even. You take in the sight of him as his slacks fall away and he uses his toes to push off the socks from each foot, leaving him only in boxer briefs. They hug him tightly, showing the curve of his fantastic ass, the swell of his trapped cock.

You let out a shaky breath as Taehyung pulls you close again, and then he pushes you backwards towards his bed. You land on your back and scoot up as he crawls over top of you, kissing you again. You clutch at his upper arms as he runs a hand from your hip up to your chest and back down again. Then his fingers brush the lace edge of your underwear, and you know he’s asking for permission.

“Go ahead,” you breathe, and he slides his fingers under the material, seeking what he wants.

“Oh, my god,” he groans, pressing his warm length against your leg desperately, as he circles his fingers in your wetness, not even having to press inside to find it. His hair swings a little with each movement he makes. “You ready for me, baby?”

You let out a breath like a laugh. “Apparently,” you tell him, smiling as you kiss him again. Then, he pushes in two fingers at once, sinking them into your heat until they can’t go any further. You gasp at the intrusion, but it turns into something guttural quickly because the feeling is divine. God, his fingers are long.

“Mm, Taehyung,” you murmur, shifting to give him more room as he begins to pump his fingers out and in again, thumb reaching for your clit. You take a shuddering breath, closing your eyes, enjoying the feeling, but it’s only a minute later that you’re reaching for him, trying to tug his briefs off.

He lifts up so you can slide them down his hips, kicking them off the end of the bed. He hisses and closes his eyes when you wrap a hand around him, tugging a few times, eyeing his girth.

“Do I need -?” he manages to ask, voice raw, eyes flickering to his nightstand.

A condom. “I have an IUD,” you tell him. “And I know I’m clean. You?”

“Definitely clean, I promise,” he tells you, reaching down to tug at your panties, the final article of clothing. Once he tosses them towards the end of the bed and comes to rest fully over top of you, he pauses to kiss you again, sweet and deep. His member slides along your slit and he can’t help but move a little, slicking himself up along one side. You groan, half tempted to shift your hips and just take him, no warning.

“Y/N,” he whispers, pausing his movement, looking at you carefully. “You’re sure, right?”

You want to kiss him again, just for asking. God, what did you do to deserve how sweet he is to you?

“Yeah,” you whisper back. “I’m really sure. I want you.”

He closes his eyes at these words, resting his forehead against yours for a second, and then he’s reaching down to position himself at your entrance, pushing forward slowly. He keeps his eyes on your face and you breathe slowly as you adjust to him. He pauses when he bottoms out, giving you a second.

You give your hips a few experimental circles, feeling the stretch. “Okay,” you whisper. “Move? Please?”

He kisses you quickly and acquiesces, starting a steady, quick pace. You both groan, drowning each other out, as he moves. He touches you as he keeps this pace, tweaking a nipple, kneading your ass, smoothing down your hair.

“God, you feel good,” he murmurs.

“You, too,” you assure him. He slows his pace, pulling out and entering with excruciating slowness; you can feel every single ridge positively drag along your walls. You try to take it, try to let him toy with you. But it’s so fucking much, the sensations building to the point of being overwhelming, you can’t possibly hold him tight enough, you can’t bear it.

“Go faster, please,” you beg, voice broken almost to the point of a sob.

“Jesus,” he gasps, and then does as you ask, beginning to snap his hips at a bruising speed. You can feel your pleasure building, your thighs shaking and then calming, then shaking again. Taehyung adjusts his angle, using both hands to lift your hips a little higher, pulling you against him with each thrust, and you keen out his name.

“Tae, there -!”

He smiles at you wickedly, brows furrowed with effort and concentration. He locks in the angle and ups his pace, eyes roving your body.

“Ah - Taehyung - I’m -,” you gasp, screwing your eyes shut.

“Close?” he asks, voice so low it makes your toes curl.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Tae…”

“Yes, baby,” he hisses, hips slapping lewdly against your own. You reach down to rub your clit, feeling the mounting pressure snap and crest, white blooming behind your eyes. You come with a whine, and he fucks you through it as you pulse and clench around him, shuddering beneath his hands.

“So pretty,” he tells you with a whisper as your muscles relax again, stilling his hips long enough to give you a quick kiss on the lips. Then he’s grabbing your ankles and pressing them together, lifting them to rest on his shoulder. He bends you practically in half, leaning his weight on his hands, pounding you into the mattress until your eyes roll back. You can’t even make words at this point, only whines and whimpers as you screw your eyes shut.

“God,” he growls. “Fuck! Y/N, can I -? Inside?”

“Please,” you cry, your heart still racing from your own climax, “yes, do it.”

His thrusts speed up but get sloppier, his earlier precision falling away as his hips jerk and stutter, his breathing ragged in your ear.

“F-fuck,” he gasps, pushing further into you, seeking more heat, hips slowing until they still. He breathes for just a second, and then rolls sideways, reaching over to grab a towel from the back of his desk chair. He hands it to you to let you clean up, waiting patiently for his turn. Then, he throws it in the general direction of his hamper and rolls to gather you in his arms, still breathing heavily.

“Hi,” you say, giggling a little. He smiles back, and you can feel how fast his heart is racing.

“Hi,” he says back, trying to steady his breathing. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you tell him, snuggling up against his side as he rolls to his back, the oxytocin flowing. “You?”

“Fucking fabulous,” he tells you with a laugh.

You both lay there quietly for a minute, cooling down. Then, he turns to look at you.

“Y/N,” he says, “I just want to make sure you know… if we’re doing this… it will be only you, for me. Okay? I’m not… just… it’s only you.”

This is the truth: in your heart, you don’t believe him. Maybe he means it right this second - in fact, you’re sure he does. But this is what you know about love and relationships: things change. Just because someone means it today doesn’t mean they’ll mean it in a week, or a month, or a year.

“I appreciate that,” you say. It is sweet of him to reassure you, especially considering what he knows about your past. You’re glad, too, that he kept it vague - doing this. What was this, talking? Fucking? Dating? Whatever the answer is, you feel better not putting a name to it. “I prefer one at a time, too. It’s just… less complicated that way.”

For you, it’s true. That’s the only thing you’re really sure of.

*innocent whistles*

Thank you for being here! I appreciate every single like, reply, dm, ask, or reblog!

HUGEST thank you to Pauli for basically writing the entire date and for beta-ing!!!

#taehyung x reader #dailydaegu #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #s2l #taehyung angst #college au #f2l #bts fanfic #bts fic #fic: what was hidden #taehyung smut #bts x reader

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onsunnyside · 2 years

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Hi besties !! I just want to say a final thank you for all the birthday love 🥹 I’m so incredibly grateful for all of you and honoured that you enjoy my slutty little blog 🥰🫶 I got so many messages and sweetness these past few days, I can’t answer them all but please know I read (and cherished) every single one in my inbox and did, in fact, save the emails of the asks (bc I’m sentimental and want to read through them again). [*] My birthday was on the 9th so the asks (tagged #sonny turns 21) are all from then !!

Compared to my terrible, terrible last birthday (yes it was really that bad), this was better than I could have imagined !! You’ve all made me feel so loved and appreciated 🥰🥰 this has truly been the best birthday I could ever ask for. You’ve all made my year !! 21 here we go !! Thank you everyone for all your love, support and just about everything 🥹🫶 pls take all these kithes 😚😚😚

#sonny speaks #sonny turns 21 #(on august 9)#need to remember to change my age in my bio 👁👁

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bibbykins · 2 years

Note

-Hi, hello my love 💕 I hope you and the misses are having a great weekend☺️💕 I was wonderinggggg (I’m not sure if you’ve posted this before, if you have, my bad🥲) if you’d be able to make a list of series recommendations to read? ☺️ I’m curious as to what YOU find interesting and attention worthy! Aaaaaand I’m running out of things to read while we wait for your next addition 🥲😂

Hello my dear!! And the weekend is going well!! My gf had a stressful week at work but it all turned out okay and I've been finding writing a little easier as we go!

Also thank you for asking! I think I did post something a loooong time ago and I literally cannot find it anywhere nor do I remember what I put on there, so I'd be happy to make another!

I will preface this by saying I am going to miss a ton of writers, bc I'm doing this one real quick and I'm quite dumb lmaoo I hope to make a whole fic rec blog but I keep getting busy :( so this list is not all-inclusive but just what comes to mind and I encourage y'all to recommend me stuff too!!

The bulk of this list is just going to be authors whose masterlist I plow through regularly but if I have a specific series of theirs I like the most I will try to link it! (Also sorry to anyone Tumblr doesn't let me tag correctly!)

I'm also lucky enough to have a lot of people on this list as mutuals which I'm super thankful for!! I appreciate all of you (mutuals or not) so much for sharing your talents in the form of beautiful works!

@rapline-heaux comes to mind first, pls read their stuff OMG!! The College Au and Possess Your Heart is beautiful and she's also super great in general!

@purpleyoonn is someone I just started reading from and Petrichor is nothing short of life-changing!! I'm making my way through her masterlist rn and ugh I LOVE IT

@bebejungkook is also someone I just started reading from and the talent!!

@jjungkookislife is someone I rediscovered and they are unbelievably talented also their new series Envolver has me by the throat lmao

@minniepetals my OT7 queen!! Not only is she super sweet she's super great at making you fall in love with all the characters she writes!! I cannot pick a fav series it's like picking a fav child lmao

@btsydtrash is another talented writer that I cannot pick a fav series for because OH MY GOD she is so talented I love her whole masterlist

@chummywchimmy I have reread both parts of Toska several times it is foul how much I love it!

@jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue you all already know how much I love Blue, it is and will continue to be soulmate behavior the way all of their fics have me in a chokehold! I just finished their Office hybrid au and am salivating for the third part but their whole masterlist has me on my KNEES

@scribblemetae is settling back and I'm really happy to see someone so talented taking the break they need and writing on their terms! Everything they write is gold so please show your support!!

@lonelyhobi is another extremely sweet and talented writer who I seriously admire!!

@bangtans-apollo Literally don't talk to me until you've read the Fanclub series like ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! I am kept continuously fed and am forever grateful!! Everything they write is amazing like ughhhhh

@worldwidemochiguy I have no words other than the one begging you to read their fics pls do thx bye

@ninetailedfoxmanchi am in love with everything they post!! I'm running out of words but pls believe it's all amazing!

I'm getting tired so I'm going to end it here but I know in my bones I am missing a ton of talented people so hopefully I'll get the energy to add to this but in the meantime, enjoy!

P.S. I'm sorry to my mutuals I'm so bad at interacting with my mutuals I'm extremely awkward and terrified of bothering people but just know ily!! I'm just too chicken to slide into your dms :') mentally I'm there though I promise lmao

#ask #fic rec

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sohmiya · 2 years

Note

Hello lovely! Tokyo rev anon here!Hope your day is going well and that u r taking breaks. I was wondering what some of ur favourite tropes are. I'm personally a suckered for anything either friends to lovers, the pining and will they won't they feeling just gets me every time, itd too good to pass up. I also love anything with gangs and time travel as well as . Your oc headcanons were so much fun to read. Hopefully we will be able to hear more about them in the future! I'm loving your blurbos (OCs). Sending u virtual hugs all the way from the Mediterranean and I hope u have a great night/day. Also I've just watched the jjk 0 movie and it was so good. I've also rewatched the whole of jjk at first I didn't like gojo on my first watch but on this rewatch he became my favourite character. I still stand by the fact that mahito is kind of pretty... in his own way. I can't stand geto though but apart from his personality that man is fine as hell I must say, he's on the same ranking as mahito for me in terms of favourites XD. But Nanami is still one of my favourites. Anyways lemme stop rambling , sending u love and support through my screen ♡♡♡♡♡♡

wait are you the same anon in my sideblog??? i’m just asking so i can use your tag there too shsjsj but HELLO i’m so glad you love my silly girls they’re so precious to me i’m happy to know you enjoy learning about them. thank you 🥹

as for tropes: friends to lovers. always. and you are so right for liking it too. the chemistry that’s already there. the casual intimacy but for some reason an accidental hand touching sends them stuttering and there’s the awkward silence. the pining. nights where they can’t sleep thinking about each other, grinning at a stupid joke the other person said. and when people ask “are you guys dating?” and they’re just like “noo haha we’re just really good friends lololol” then the amplified tension after that because deep down they long for each other and they have no clue it’s mutual. and the confessions can never go wrong. whether it’s the blurted out “i’m in love with you” in the middle of an argument or a whispered “i really like you” “i can’t stop thinking about you” PLEASE friends to lovers is a gift that keeps on giving. it’s not just a trope it’s my SUSTENANCE. i love that shit so much <333 and !!! found family. i don’t think that trope has ever let me down. it’s always so fun seeing different dynamics within the group but they all mesh so well <33 also that trope in anastasia where they thought they’re complete strangers only to find out they’ve met when they were kids and they go “that was YOU?!” i am not immune

omg i always forget to watch jjk 0 sjdnejssk and i planned on reading the manga from where the anime left off but i realized how barely i understood their power system so i gave up LMFAOOO i might rewatch it but yes ugh gojo and kento are so sexyyyy i need them 😩😩 pls all the jjk men are so pretty like pretty privilege is a good thing if it’s them <33 ALSO totally unrelated idk if you’ve heard but tokrev only has five chapters left :(

i’m sending you back lots of love!! i just had lunch and it was one of my favorite dishes so i’m in a good mood. i hope your day is going well too 💞

#tokrev anon #nikka answers

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cream-and-tea · 3 years

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[ID: A digital drawing of two teenage girls standing and facing away from each other with sad/resigned expressions. The one on the right has brown skin, straight black hair jaggedly cut to her chin, and stands with her hands on her hips. She is wearing a red cropped t-shirt with a wide yellow stripe down the middle, black high-waisted shorts, tall black socks and red and yellow oversized high-top sneakers. She stands on a triangle of red that stretches in front of her like a pathway, or a shadow. A thin red circle floats behind her head with smaller red lines radiating out of it, like a miniature sun. The girl on the left has pale skin, platinum blond hair and stands with her hands crossed across her chest. She is wearing a white shirt with a high collar, a cropped black and gray jacket, high-waisted gray shorts with a thick brown belt, black knee-length leggings, frilly white socks and black and gray running shoes. She also stands on a triangle of red that stretches in front of her like a pathway, or a shadow. A thin red circle floats behind her head with a single red line cutting through its middle. In the blank space between the two girls a quote from the song “No Children” by the mountain goats reads “i hope it stays dark forever, i hope the worst isn’t over, and i hope you blink before i do, and i hope i never get sober.” END ID]

just two lonely kids on the road to hell heaven together...

uh oh i caved and posted Hungry Dogs content i have been set loose now there’s nothing holding me back. snapped off my leash.

for those unfamiliar (so everyone. literally everyone.) Hungry Dogs is my low fantasy/post apocalypse/road-trip/unholy count of monte cristo and shakespeare mishmash from the gates of hell/dystopian wip i have yet to formally introduce in any way. i think i talked about it all of once back when i first introduced myself,,,,, but back then it was hard sci-fi and much less of a trainwreck. they grow up so fast.

this is just a sketchy thing of my two main characters, Dani (on the left) and Mercedes (right), extremely bitter and angry former childhood friends (in case you’re wondering the amount of undiluted baby gay pining that was going on definitely didn’t help with the whole falling out) now forced to finally confront each other in the long-con (literally) cutthroat game of killing one of their societies living gods in order to achieve immortality.

there are probably weirder ways to have to deal with your emotions,,,, but this is pretty high up on the list.

#this is VERY messy #this is a sketch i promise i can do polished drawings i stg–#the halo things have Worldbuilding and Symbolism(tm) i promise i’m just very tired right now #no thoughts head empty #mercedes colour scheme is what i like to calm monochrome and mayonnaise #colours are for people who HAVENT accidentally committed war crimes #xoxo #and just so you know #when i say mishmash from hell i mean #that mercedes is...well... mercedes. but she’s also brutus and macbeth and ophelia and #iago and fernand mondego and juliet #and dani is edmond dantes and caesar and macduff and hamlet #and othello and romeo #these bitches got LAYERS #y’all are lucky i haven’t been able to shove greek mythology into this thing as well (yet)#creme does a art #wip: hungry dogs #it is very very late #i’m probably going to regret this in the morning #if you’ve read through all these tags pls know i love and support you #have a flower: 🌸

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allisonlol · 3 years

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Third time the charm.

Hi, I'm back. Back again-

I would like to request Fyodor, Ranpo and Atsushi with s/o that meow whenever they see (or something reminds them) a cat.

So, it kinda looks like it's just random meowing but it actually isn't.

a/n: wait omg i do this too?? i be trying and failing to communicate with any cat i see-

warnings: none

(Atsushi, Ranpo, Fyodor)

Atsushi

so let's set the scene

you and atsushi were walking home after spending the day together

the two of you are walking in a comfortable silence until out of nowhere

you meowed??

atsushi just looks at you like 🙂 ???

before he can ask you why you'd just done that, you're letting go of his hand and running down the sidewalk towards something

you turn down an alleyway and atsushi is just sprinting after you calling your name worriedly-

he rounds the corner into the alleyway to find you crouched down in front of a stray cat

breathes a sigh of relief bc you practically gave this poor boy a heart attack

"is that why you meowed, y/n? because you saw a cat?"

you look back at him, nodding happily before turning your attention back to the kitty

from this point on, whenever atsushi hears you meow, he's immediately on the lookout for anything feline related you might have spotted

does this mean you do the same when he uses his ability? heh

Ranpo

ngl he probably does the same thing lmao

it’s like a secret code between you two. whenever there’s a cat around (or anything cat related tbh) one of you will meow to alert the other

ranpo is definitely a cat person...it’s canon bc i said so

therefore whenever he hears you meow he gets all excited and looks left and right for the kitty you’ve spotted

on this day in particular, you and ranpo were in the office after hours finishing up some paperwork

well, you were the one doing the work. ranpo was just there for “emotional support purposes” as he called it

you glance out the window for a second and then do a double take when you spot a black cat sitting down on the sidewalk

you smile to yourself, meowing softly

this catches ranpo’s attention fast

hops up from his seat and runs to the window

“y/n, there’s a cat! we’ve got to go get it!”

“we can’t just snatch someone else’s cat...” you laugh, but ranpo doesn’t hear because he’s too busy booking it out of the building

you’re quick to follow and the two of you burst out onto the sidewalk

effectively scaring the cat away...

you both watch as it runs off, sighing in disappointment

“next time try to stay more calm, ranpo-san...”

Fyodor

another one who’s most definitely a cat person

not that he really cares for animals tho...because he doesn’t lol

however, fyodor is aware of your liking for cats and will tolerate them for your sake

on this day, you and your boyfriend were taking a night walk through the central park

the second he hears you meow under your breath he knows it’s because you’ve seen a cat somewhere

fyodor always picks up on your little quirks without you even having to tell him

creepy, but not surprising

“spotted something, my love?” he’ll ask

you nod and point to the bushes where a small black cat is hiding

fyodor will warn you not to approach but you’ll ignore him and let go of his hand to run over to it

he slowly trails behind you until you both reach the bushes

you grab the cat instantly and start hugging it like- pls don’t do that it could be a stray !!

luckily it’s not tho and has a collar with a tag on it

“it’s a lost cat!” you say as you read the tag, where it states to call a certain phone number if lost

immediately you pull out your phone to call

fyodor just watches this whole scene play out in amusement

you’re so cute sometimes. you’ll have no problem mercilessly killing enemies but yet, will become so eager to reunite a lost cat with it’s owner

it’s called having priorities, fyo

whenever fyodor hears you meow out of nowhere, he’ll just sigh knowing he’s gonna get dragged around to another cat lmao

#bsd x reader #fyodor x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x y/n #fyodor x y/n #fyodor headcanons #fyodor x reader #ranpo x you #ranpo x reader #bsd ranpo #ranpo edogawa #atsushi x y/n #atsushi nakajima #atsushi headcanons #atsushi x you #atsushi x reader #ranpo headcanons

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nishisun · 3 years

Text

tomorrow can wait.

(dorm buddies special chapter) (reposted)

summary: it’s the last day of your honeymoon so you and tsukishima took advantage of it.

warnings: thigh riding, edging, unprotected sex, riding, fingering, oral (female receiving), dacryphilia (?), clit spanking (like once), idk if i’m missing anything

dorm buddies masterlist

It had been a tedious day for you and tsukishima, you both tried to visit as many places in the foreign city before going back home tomorrow. it was your idea of course, tsukishima would rather stay at home and cuddle, but he couldn’t say no to you.

you’re finally back from the the touring, now inside your luxurious (and very well air-conditioned) hotel room. you both had just finished showering since it was pretty humid outside, now laying down comfortably on the king-sized bed with tsukishima scrolling through his phone and you laying on top of him.

let’s just say one thing lead to another.

now straddled on one of tsukishima’s thighs, rubbing yourself back and forth on him, all clothing discarded somewhere in the room. both of tsukishima’s hands were placed on each hip, controlling your movement, causing you to whine.

“look at you,” he breathed gently, “desperate to get off my thigh. you that needy?” he mutters, you barely registered anything he’d just said, you can’t even bother to ask because you were too focused on gaining your release. your face is heating up a lot, though. the way his voice rasp in your ear makes you even needier.

“c’mon y/n,” he whispers tenderly, mouth pressed against your ear, “i know you can give me a better answer. be a good girl and use your words.”

“hmm, yes, kei.” you gasp when he spanks your ass quickly and speeds up the movement of your hips. “hah! i’m close!”

he removed his hands from your hips, now leaning back with the support of his arms.

“why?” you nearly yell, you were so close to achieving your orgasm. why did he suddenly stop? “why’d you stop?”

he tilts his head to the side before getting up, causing you to stumble onto the floor. “lay down on your back.”

doing as he asks, or rather, demands, you lay on your back, legs spread perfectly where tsukishima can see your glistening pussy.

he wastes no time moving down your body, leaving a wet trail of kisses on your skin. he carefully wraps his arms around your thighs, placing a kiss on each one. he looks at you for a brief moment, kissing every place except for the place that needs to be kissed the most, causing your hips to buck every now and then.

he finally stops teasing a licks a long stripe along your pussy forcing your head to throw back.

“hah!”

tsukishima’s fingers make their way up to one of your breasts, gently grazing his fingertips on your nipple as his tongue massages your clit, gently sucking the tiny bud.

“kei, please.” you sob. tsukishima looks up at you with a smirk on his face as he observes you writhing against him.

“please what, baby? what do you want? hm?” he unlatches his tongue from your clit, replacing them with his fingers that gently ghost over your slit.

“fingers, please.”

“aw,” he coos, resting his head on one of your thighs “you’re so polite”

“only for you,” you whine.

“where do you want them? want my fingers inside you?” he’s obviously taking advantage of how submissive you’ve gotten. he only knows you get like this when you’re extremely fucked out.

“Hah! Yes please!” your legs are visibly shaking, there’s tears falling from your face and it solely makes tsukishima harder. seeing the way you squirm under his hold makes him want to fuck you until you beg him to stop. he continues rubbing his pointer finger against your slit, causing your hips to buck against his hand.

“no.” his hand lands harshly on your clit, making you loudly sob in response. “if you do that again, i’m leaving you like this.”

“i’m so sorry!”

“it’s okay, baby. i know it was on accident. here, let me kiss it better, okay?”

you nod, as he immediately sucks your clit, he can feel your legs tensing under him, trying your absolute hardest not to buck your hips into him. you just don’t want to upset him.

“you’re doing so good. taking it like a champ, right baby? such a good girl.”

“y-yeah.”

he places one hand in your hip as he slowly plunges one finger inside your hole. he doesn’t move it, admiring the way your pussy flutters around it. you whimper when he finally moves his finger, curling it up just the way you like it.

“you needed this, didn’t you? it’s been a while since i’ve gotten to play with your pretty pussy. i’ve missed it.”

“mmm,” you let out a moan, “‘s missed you too.”

tsukishima chuckles, he loves the way your words slur when you’re like this, you probably don’t even notice how fucked out you sound.

it doesn’t take long before he adds another finger, stretching you out while his tongue laps your clit.

“God, ’m so close.” your hands grip his hair as you grind against his tongue. his fingers pump into you at the same speed, more forcibly making you gasp for air.

“i’m c-cumming!” one hand flies to your face quickly to cover your mouth, preventing yourself from loudly squealing as you violently cum on his fingers.

he slowly withdraws his fingers from your cunt, unlatching his mouth from your clit.

he leans toward to kiss you, tasting yourself, when he slides his tongue into your mouth. you pull away shyly, facing the opposite direction.

“please, don’t tell me you're shy.”

“do you ever shut up?”

“you’re one to talk. i’m pretty sure the people walking by our room could hear you.”

he chuckles when you instantly cover your face.

“i’m not done with you.”

tsukishima pulls his boxers off, placing one hand on each side of your head, moaning when you feel his tip come in contact with your clit.

you’re overwhelmed by his senses, his flushed skin on yours, the way his hair is now rough due to all the tugging you were doing earlier, and the way he softly nibbles on your neck.

you begin grinding your hips absentmindedly with the slight friction you’re receiving, causing tsukishima’s hands to instantly fly on one of your hips to stop you.

“needy, huh? and so disobedient.” he scoffs, squinting at you before sitting up. “c’mon. come ride me.” he leans on the head of the bed, patting his leg gently. you quickly nod, crawling over to him. he places both hands on your sides smirking.

“what? can’t do it?” he challenges.

“fuck you.”

you slowly sink down on his cock, the both of you moaning in unison at the contact. you firmly place both of your hands on the side of his shoulders as he gives an experimental thrust, causing you to yelp.

“don’t do that!”

“sorry, baby. i can’t help myself when it comes to you.”

once you’ve gotten used to his size, you slowly move up and down his shaft causing him to groan in pleasure.

“fuck.”

hearing tsukishima moan gave you the confidence to pick up the pace, grinding your hips and moving up and down as tsukishima’s hand moved to toy with your clit. he’s grunting with every move you make and your head falls back while you continue to ride him.

“you’re doing great, baby.”

“shut up. i’m trying to concentrate.”

he moves his other hand off your ass and brings it back down harshly, cause your whole body to jerk foward.

“Haah!”

he smirks when you don’t attempt to pick yourself up, laying on his chest as both his hands land on your hips thrusting into you at a brutal pace.

“shit,” he drags, “look at that, baby.” you don’t look, your mind is entirely too hazy, your head continues to rest on his shoulder. at this point you’ve gone limp.

he looks down to where the both of you are connected, slowing down his movements so he can watch the ring of your milky white cum on his cock get bigger in size every time he takes a thrust. after one thrust, he’s seemed to discover your special spot that makes you clench around him dangerously tight.

“shit, relax baby.” he groans, you let out a pathetic moan in response. “you really are a pillow princess, huh? making me carry out all the work. all bark, but no bite.” his lips ghost along your ear, you’re too fucked out to even form a sentence, the sole thing coming from your lips is a whimper.

“kei, i’m gonna cum.”

“yeah? you’ve been a good girl. cum for me.”

so you do.

your orgasm triggers his, he cums hard and deep inside you, his dick pulsing inside you. you fall on top of him, unable to move any of your muscles. tsukishima is quick to wrap his arms around you, both of you panting messes.

“you did so good. i love you.”

“hmmm,” you hum, “love you more.”

— i put this on queue for 6:00pm and it posted at 2 something........... so i reposted

— if you get tagged again PLS FORGIVE ME🙏🙏 tumblr is acting up

— i was reading the last chapter of dorm buddies and then i realized i forgot abt yams😢

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