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macfrog · 4 months

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the sweetest con cowboy like me chapter fifteen

well. this is it. we made it, kids. thank you so, so much for reading for all this time. for all your patience, and kindness, and loyalty. i will carry this pair, their story, and all of your love for them with me forever. love you guys. xx

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: every cowboy deserves his ride off into the sunset.

warnings: age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), lotsa guilt from reader, dreamy love sequence & mention of unprotected piv/creampie, more greys anatomy spoilers, reader's dad is either Bald or has a Receding Hairline (you choose), more sex - this time reader and joel sixty-nine, face sitting, oral (f and m receiving), more (inferred) unprotected piv, making dirty, hot love ALLAT, cursing, a little smut n a lotta fluff n a droplet of angst at the end

word count: 10.8k

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“How the fuck did this take you three minutes? Three?”

“I’m telling you. I’m a genius.”

You snort. “Shut up. You only passed Math ‘cause you were fooling around with that nerd – Thomas? Was it Thomas?”

“Timothy. And you don’t need math to do a sudoku puzzle, loser. You just need brains. Logic.” Anna taps two fingers against her temple, tilting her head.

“Logic,” you murmur, shaking your head.

Sal’s is quiet today. He’s out of town for his father-in-law’s funeral and made the genius decision to leave the two of you in charge. Since opening at nine, you’ve had four customers. The to-do list left for you was completed by ten, and since then, you’ve been hunched over your phone at the cash register, messing around on some puzzle app Anna made you download.

It's a Wednesday. Nothing exciting ever happens on Wednesdays.

Anna’s behind you, tearing apart and flattening the cardboard boxes you spent all morning emptying. “That level,” she clicks her chewing gum wetly between her teeth, scent of mint over your shoulder, “that ain’t even the hardest one. Ooh, no, babe. Three goes –”

“Shh!” You bat her arm away, curving your hand over your phone screen. She snorts and wanders off through the back, wad of cardboard under her arm.

Anna wasn’t your closest friend in high school, and you sure didn’t stay much in touch past the odd Facebook post update when you left. But working with her, and her dad being your dad’s buddy – she’s sort of become one of those people you just can’t shake.

Like a stray puppy. Or…an annoying hangnail.

She’s nice enough – talks a lot of crap sometimes, but she cares for you. You’d go as far as saying you two have grown pretty close since you came home. Still, the acidic sting of resentment sits on your tongue, anytime you think of her involvement in the unravelling of your little lie. Think of your dad calling hers, Hank asking her where you were.

Think of the fact that, if she hadn’t been honest with him – I don’t know where she is, Dad – nothing would’ve gone wrong.

That’s not fair. If you’d never touched Joel in the first place, nothing would’ve gone wrong.

It’s just – she had a hand in pushing the first domino.

The bell above the door jingles and you lift your eyes from tiny numbers and blank squares to meet a familiar pair of hazel. An Alanis Morissette T-shirt under a denim jacket. She tucks her thick, soft hair behind her ears and smiles, then skips around the counter and links her hands at your tummy; her ear flat against the nape of your neck.

“Why so clingy?” you ask, and Sarah straightens up.

“Just excited to spend some time with my favorite person. That allowed?”

Your eyes scan her up and down as she leans against the counter, stealing a gummy from a jar beside the register. “Been staying with you for nearly three weeks now, you ain’t sick of me yet?”

She shakes her head, jaw chewing, cheeks swollen with a grin. “Are you done yet? I wanna make sure we get good seats.”

“We will,” you assure her. “It’s only, like, three p.m.”

“But it’s Barbie,” she says, “and I wanna get some snacks before we head in.” She holds the decapitated gummy worm up, eyebrows high, before pulling it between her teeth until it snaps. She drags the withered red tail over her tongue.

“That thing you just mauled,” you gesture to the masticated shape in her fingers, “candy. Snacks. Just take some of that.”

“You won’t even buy your date movie theater candy? Damn. Mom’s a cheapskate. Wish I could say my dad’s a lucky guy.”

You shove her off, disguising your laugh with a shake of your head. “You are on thin ice, I’m not even kidding.”

Sarah’s laughing, reaching for another worm. “You know what that sounds like?”

“Hm?”

“What you just said.”

“What’s it sound like, Sarah Miller?”

“Something a mom would say.”

“Alright,” you stand, “get out. Get outta my store.”

The door opens when you point to it, Texan heat sweeping in to swarm the one rickety fan you have in here. The brass bell trembles, and beneath it, a man in a tucked shirt and jeans, glum face and tired eyes.

You blink at him and he blinks back, and no words are spoken between you, but your dad understands to move, to keep walking – and you understand to let him.

“Shoot,” Sarah whispers, twisting her gummy around her finger. “That was awkward.”

Three weeks of staying with them – Sarah and Joel – also means three weeks of zero contact with your dad. The most you’ve heard from – or, rather, about him is that, last week, Joel bumped into Hank at the gas station, and the old man mentioned that he and your dad had grabbed a beer the night before.

What’d he say? you asked Joel, dragging a dish towel around the rim of a glass.

He shrugged, flicking his hands dry over the sink. Said the Rangers aren’t doin’ too good. I said, Yeah, that’s cause a’ –

No, Joel. What did he say about me ‘n my dad?

He waited a second to let the offense of your interruption soak in. Took the towel from your hand, replaced the glass on the draining board. Nothing, he said, I don’t think he knows.

It sat with you the entire night. The three of you watched a movie, occupying either side of Joel’s couch, though you’re sure you don’t remember a word of it. The image of him sat center-stage in your mind until you pulled yourself against Joel’s body in bed that night. Sat in his recliner, flicking through TV channels, the only sounds in the house that of Ice Road Truckers, the ticking of the kitchen clock, and his own fucking breathing.

Alone. Not even Hank to talk to about – well.

You’ve done your best not to think about him. And it works, most days, when you’re with Joel. Helps to go do stuff: ride shotgun while he picks up supplies for work or grabs groceries. Helps to play pretend like his house is yours, too. Tidying when he’s not home, lighting candles and sinking into a bubble bath for him to find you in when he finishes. Helps to be at Sal’s, with Anna. Sudoku and her fucking Tinder account to keep you both occupied.

Most days, you forget to consider the lonely shape of your dad at all – but that seems to hurt all the more. Like forgetting to tend to an open wound; instead, letting the infection blister and bubble so that, when you do bump it again, the pain feels sharper. Hissing at you, poison seeping from flesh.

His showing up, waltzing straight into the store – feels less like a bump, and more like a pair of hands diving straight into the gash, tearing it wide open again. Blood and poison gushing all over the checkered floor.

Anna materializes between two aisles, hands on her hips when she stands behind you. “Y’all still not really talkin’?” she asks.

You and Sarah shake your heads. The three of you watch the shape of your dad’s skull over the shelves, bobbing from bay to bay. Door hinges to fence paint. He painted the fence last summer. He doesn’t need fucking fence paint.

“Nope,” you reply. “’s been, what, two and a half weeks now?”

“Yeah,” Anna mutters, the slope of sympathy in her voice. “My dad’s been talkin’ to him about it. They’ve spoken, like, almost every night on the phone.”

“Oh, fuck,” you hiss, head falling into your hands. “Are you serious?”

“Not about you and Joel. Just about the fight.”

Your jaw slowly slackens, eyes thinning as your gaze slides over to your friend, a saddened expression on her face.

Sarah nods, like an accessory sat on the dash of a car. Bobbing bobbing bobbing, until her brows drop and she turns to you, finally realizing. “Wait, what?”

Anna blinks between the two of you. “What?” she asks, lips pressing together.

“You know?” Sarah asks, glaring at her.

Anna snorts. Neither of you break. She quickly quietens and clears her throat, bending to stuff more cardboard under her arm. “Well…” She sucks in a deep breath. “At rodeo night, when you left your phone on the table, me ‘n Kara wanted to leave a bunch of selfies for you to find later. But when I went to grab your phone, you had a text from him. Joel. Something about someone winning you over like he did, or something. I can’t remember. But that was the first thing.”

Sarah’s face sours at the mention of her dad’s flirty text, scoffing as she swipes another gummy from the jar. “Real fuckin’ subtle, Dad,” she murmurs.

You sharpen your gaze at Anna, blurring the brown curls and low brows from your peripheral. “Uhuh…?”

“Then, there was the lying to your dad about where you were. That Monday – you said you were at mine. You weren’t. Your dad called my dad to ask, ‘n my dad asked me why the hell you’d lie. I figured, What a weird coincidence, right?”

You slip off your stool, legs feeling more liquid than bone. “Oh, Jesus…”

“But then…then, I saw how you were when he called on the way to Frank’s. In the car. You were…fucking weird. And then Joel punched that dude – that basically confirmed it. I don’t think either of your dads would do that for me. It felt…it felt personal. He took your hand ‘n dragged you outta there, and it felt like…somethin’ else.”

You’re leaning against the counter, head in your hands. Struggling to even listen to her piece it all together. Were you this fucking obvious, the whole time?

Anna answers for you. “Yeah,” she says, nodding, “I didn’t catch two fucking boyfriends cheating on me, and not pick up some detective skills, babe.”

You stand straight, composure slowly building over shame. “And your dad doesn’t know? My –” you flick your head across the store, lowering your voice, “– my dad hasn’t told him?”

A laugh spurts from somewhere deep in her chest. “Hell, no. Are you tryna give him a second heart attack? No. He just thinks you were somewhere you didn’t want your dad to know – a boy’s or something. Which – well, I guess you were.”

You nod, half-appreciation, half-resignation. Alright. Now shut up about it, would you?

“But listen,” Anna says, apparently not as good at mindreading as she is at secret-revealing, “y’all gotta work on being sneaky. You’re, like, really bad at it.”

“Yeah,” you sniff, “thanks, Anna.”

You grip the edge of the counter and try to draw your eye away from your dad; a little angry that he’s here, and yet, a little more thankful that you’ve had at least a tiny glimpse of him. Desperate for him to come over, to acknowledge your mutual existence in the same room, and yet – petrified that he does.

He keeps his back to you, though you notice him turning every so often, looking at you from his peripheral. Nope – your black shirt and blue jeans are still behind the counter. He turns back to the shelf.

“Hi, sweetie.” A woman in a pink blouse approaches the counter. She lays down a couple pairs of plyers and you ring her up, asking if she found everything okay. Choking a little when you inhale the scent of her perfume.

“Beautiful day for you to be in here workin’, huh?” Her rosy cheeks fill as she hands you the cash.

Oh, yeah. It’s a beautiful day to be stuck selling plyers to pink women in pink blouses smelling of pink perfume, while my dad – still reeling from the revelation that I’ve been sleeping with his best friend, by the way – pretends to peruse the store.

“I’m almost done,” you reply, blunt enough to deflate her expression only a little, sliding the paper bag stamped Sal’s back across the counter.

She nods in thanks and slinks off, suffocating aroma following her. And like a magician, when she disappears off to the side, your dad stands in her wake. A few feet from you, keeping his distance, watching carefully before he dares to move. Waiting for your go-ahead.

When you lift your chin, beckoning him forward, Anna takes Sarah’s arm and yanks her away, shoving some shredded boxes into her arms. “You wanna help me?” she asks the nosy Miller, tossing something of an alarmed glance back at you and your dad.

There’s a funny feeling behind your eyes when he steps up, empty hand resting hesitantly on the counter. “She coverin’ up the smell of a dead body or som’?” he asks.

The air pushes from your lungs, a laugh barreling with it. Your hands clasp on the surface opposite his. A scorch of white heat at the nape of your neck. “Very vibrant, huh?”

“Very.” He clears his throat, shakes his head a little, and takes a deep breath. “I figured this might be as good a place as any to find you. I didn’t want you to think I was…cornering you, or anything, if I showed up at Joel’s.”

“I wouldn’t – I mean, maybe. But, y’know…this is fine.” Your arms cross defensively, the baggy material of Joel’s shirt wrapping snug around you.

Your dad seems to know. Evidence being that it’s you, in a shirt all too big – a shirt he’d likely see his best friend in, too. It forces your arms tighter, sucking in the scent of Joel to combat the dizzying feeling of nerves.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright,” he says eventually, fingers drumming awkwardly. “I just wanted to know you were fine.”

“I am fine. I promise. Just – working a lot.”

He nods, looking down to his feet. Twists the toe of his boot into the linoleum.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright, too,” you offer, the words fluid and spilling from one to the next – something forceful in their nature.

Your dad’s eyes lift at the same time that his cheeks do. Relief. “Thanks, kiddo. I actually – I was hopin’ that maybe we could talk. If you’re free. I don’t know what time you get off today.”

“I finish in ten minutes,” you say, and hope seems to paint across his face – washing away instantly when you add, “but I’m going to the movies with Sarah.”

He’s nodding again, eyes fixed back on his boots. “Right, right.”

“…But maybe once we’re done I can swing by?”

“Oh, well – I’m workin’ late again. I’ll be out by the time…Yeah. Sorry, hon.”

“That’s okay.”

“Late one again tonight.”

“This, uh – what’s his name again? Kel–?”

“Kelman, yeah. Yeah. How ‘bout I call you tomorrow ‘n we can work somethin’ out? You and Sarah, you enjoy your night.”

You lean back from the counter, slowly more confident in your ability to hold yourself upright. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Dad.”

His lips press together in a flat attempt at a smile. “I’ll leave you to it. You mind if I…give you a hug?”

And then you’re the one awkwardly, forcedly smiling. Your teeth gritting behind taut lips. “Not at all,” you whisper, and wander carefully around the counter to where he stands.

He opens his arms and pulls you against his chest, your head tilting to rest your ear on his shoulder. You hook your arms under his, feeling his wrists crossing at your spine. Like two statues, two figures of stone fixing their crumbling bodies in an embrace, suddenly disjointed and ill-fitting. Your heart hurts beneath layers of rock, swelling in attempt to reach for his, shrinking back crestfallen when he feels too far.

He kisses the side of your head, pulls away, and taps your cheek once. “You know,” he says, letting you withdraw from his grasp, “I really miss you.”

You nod. “Miss you, too.”

“Let’s talk soon, alright?”

“Yeah.”

And then he’s leaving, drifting back out into the summer sun, rock disintegrating as the light catches him again. More human, less monster-under-your-bed. He’s just your dad again, just that swaying, bumbling man who used to sprinkle rainbow flakes over your ice cream and double-knot your laces.

The shadows of Sarah and Anna appear at your elbows, the three of you watching your dad sink into his car. You still feel made of rock, splitting somewhere down the middle as you stare at his figure.

“Well?” Sarah asks.

He turns right out of the parking lot, disappears behind a hedgerow.

“Yeah,” you reply, turning in a daze. “We’re gonna…gonna talk.”

“That’s good, right? That sounds…promising.”

You shrug. “I guess.”

Sarah places a gentle hand on your arm, drawing your attention to her kind eyes and infectious smile. “We should probably get goin’,” she says, and you agree.

“What movie are you seeing?” Anna asks, filling your spot behind the counter as you turn, making for the back of the store.

“Barbie,” Sarah tells her.

“Nice. She paying?”

“Obviously. Mom duties.”

You kick the door closed on their giggles.

Two days pass without a word from your dad. No text, no call, no visit to Sal’s when you’re on shift the following day. By Monday, you’ve convinced yourself that the entire thing was a dream, a hallucination conjured up by your imagination in attempt to rid you of some of the guilt still chewing at your heart. Bat it out of your brain, like swatting the rear end of a wild animal let loose indoors.

Guilt which is only remedied, only soothed by Joel. By the feeling which overcomes your chest when you look at him – lungs faltering, heart leaping. The peace of falling asleep in his safe embrace, the heat from his body enough to keep you comfortable all night, and then waking up tangled in his sheets – the smell of bacon and eggs twirling through the house, the distant sound of his humming drawing you downstairs to his side.

Late nights on the porch, watching the sun bleed heavily into the sky. Your ankles in his lap, a guitar over his thigh. Thumb gentle on the strings, soft timbre of song lulling you to some place far from reality: the same rosy, dreamlike state you’ve mostly occupied since he dragged you through his front door, kicked your shoes and all of your worries to the side, and made you forget that anything bad had ever happened.

The most comfortable you’ve ever felt in your life, the most loved – a world where your every word is heard and weighed, rolling around Joel’s palms and slotting carefully into his back pocket. A world where his lips on your neck as you make dinner, where the crook of his arm catching you as you pass by, is all normal. Where I love you and I love you, too become the last words your sleepy ears hear at night, right before you sink into a shared sleep.

All of it becoming as natural as the pale moon switching for her golden sister at dawn. As instinctive as breathing.

“Have you ever made love to anyone?” you ask him one night, the aftershock of an orgasm still soaking into your skin.

Joel pauses, hips slowing between yours. “Yeah,” after a couple beats, “sure.”

“What’s it feel like?” you ask, honestly. Combing his dark hair through your fingers. “I’ve never…No one’s ever…”

“Baby,” he says. “We’ve done it. I’ve done it to you.”

Your body tenses and then melts around him. One blink and suddenly the world softens, seems to bow into the background – the only sharp object Joel, the twinkle in his eye piercing through the haze like blinking white stars in thick, dark clouds.

You whisper, “Can you do it again? So I can feel what it’s like?”

He pushes himself up, one elbow planted by your ear, the other hand lifting your thigh. Hooking it over his waist, lowering his arm again to cage you under his body. He nudges your chin with his nose, lifting it to line your lips with his, hold every part of your body as close to his as he can.

Deeper, in every sense of the word. Slow, hard. Eyes on you the entire time, watching the way your face contorts and your jaw slackens, holding the shape of your head in his hands, swallowing his own moans and grunts to make space between you for yours.

“Look at me, baby, eyes on me,” he says, and by instinct, your eyes roll forward, focusing or half-focusing on the slick hair at his forehead, the red flush climbing his neck, seeping into the skin under his beard. “You feel it? Feel where I’m goin’?”

And yeah, you whine, you do feel it. Feel him dragging you further away from this world and into the next – somewhere a plain away, somewhere new and different to anything you’ve ever known before. Where physicality is a language, a fluid conversation between the melding of his body and yours; where there are a million words swirling around his pupils, hypnotizing and entrancing and drawing you in until you’re tumbling headfirst into the inky pools.

Where I love you sounds like the groan Joel can’t hold back, feels like the pulsing flood as he snaps between your legs. Where making love is as simple as the squeeze of his hand around yours; the shove of his plate over the kitchen table, offering you the last bite of grilled cheese or simply admitting that it was yours before he’d even taken the first. That addictive laugh of his when you stall the fucking truck for the fifth time: You asked me to teach you, baby, I’m tryna teach you. Foot on the gas, c’mon. You got it. That’s it – now, slow. Slower. Try to feel it. No, really feel it.

Feel it. Really, try to feel it. Can you feel it? Do you know the difference yet? The difference between everyone who was before, and the one who is now? Do you finally get it?

“I feel it,” you cry out, and his frame holds yours together as you fall apart.

It feels like – you.

How did I ever know anything before I knew you?

“That one’s nice,” Joel says, his voice jumping the short distance between his lips and your ear.

You tilt your head, body moving with his when he lifts his hand to swipe through some more of the images. The spacious living room, newly refurbed kitchen, the view of downtown Los Angeles.

He adjusts the blanket draped over your legs. “Washer dryer, walk-in closet,” and then, leaning in closer, whispers, “a balcony. That’s cool.”

“Hm,” you turn to face him, your body shelled by his in the corner of his couch, “I bet you like the balcony, cowboy.”

He smiles plainly in response, squeezing your nose between two knuckles. Yeah. Lots you can do with a balcony.

A sharp gasp from across the room pierces the sweet moment. You and Joel turn in its direction, its owner wide-eyed and blinking at the TV.

“Wait a second,” Sarah yelps. “George is the John Doe?” She gasps again when Meredith announces the same news to her friends onscreen. “Shut – the fuck – up!”

“Language,” Joel clips, chest rumbling between your shoulder blades.

“Oh, like you didn’t have the exact same reaction. George is the…Oh, that sucks. Are you kidding me?” She fishes her phone from the waves of blanket surrounding her, thumbs rapidly typing, eyes shooting from screen to screen.

You snort, turning back to your own phone in your hand, when a text appears at the top of the screen.

Dad: Hey kiddo. Sorry to keep you waiting, work been hectic. Off the rest of today if you’re free to come over.

Your thumb latches onto the message, holding it for Joel to read, too, before letting it disappear off into your notifications.

He tightens his hold on you, burying his nose into the cotton of his own hoodie over your shoulders. His breath pushes heavy and thoughtful across the material. “Still seems as calm as the other day.”

“Too calm,” you admit, “it’s freaking me out.”

“What can he do, you know? You’re here, he’s there. Your dad ain’t an idiot, baby. He knows stayin’ angry about it’s only gonna push you further away.”

“Sure made ‘im feel like an idiot…”

Joel catches the comment and pockets it before it gathers enough weight to bruise. “Well,” he clears his throat, “it’s up to you. I ain’t letting you do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Mhm,” you reply, and wait for more words to fall to your tongue. An answer, a response. A decision that you know you don’t feel equipped or even rightful to make.

“Do you want to go talk to him?” Joel asks.

“I…I want to make things right. I wanna fix it.”

“Okay. And will talking to him do that?”

You turn to face him, frowning. “I don’t fucking know,” you mutter. “Will it?”

He smiles sympathetically. “Wish I knew, darlin’. Would it help if I came? Sat outside in the truck, waited for you? It gets too much, you decide you wanna leave – we leave.”

“You ain’t scared to be near him again?”

He gulps back a laugh, Adam’s apple bobbing awkwardly before he allows himself to answer. “Only thing scary about your dad is the sunlight reflectin’ off his damn head. No, I ain’t scared.”

You study him a minute longer, eyes roaming from the lips you could sketch every score of from memory, the beard you’re sure has forever altered your prints from the number of times you’ve run your fingers over the bristles. The eyes which know every secret, every whisper, every thought behind your own.

You sigh, smiling dumbly as he wraps his arms tighter around you. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Joel pulls up by the curb, parking politely at the end of your driveway rather than alongside your dad’s car, like he usually would. Like he used to.

You crane your head, looking past the shape of him to survey the unassuming house. Quiet, still. No sign of hurricane or earthquake, no tremors of rage or words like rocks raining down on the truck roof. Your thumb plunges into the buckle of your seatbelt, the webbing whipping over your shoulder.

“Sure you’re okay?” Joel asks, watching your fingers lift to the door handle.

“Mhm,” you reply, distant. “’s just my dad, right? What’s the worst that could happen?”

His eyebrows lift, agreeing. He takes your hand in his and holds it to his lips. “Whatever it is,” he mumbles into your fingers, “if it happens, you come straight back out here, you hear? I ain’t moving.”

The urge to stay exactly where you are and let him carry you off back to his place overwhelms you for a brief second. To stay in the safety of the truck cabin, stay within touching distance of Joel. And as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone. Overcome by the memory of that stony hug in Sal’s, the vacant, lonely eyes boring into late-night TV.

A sharp chap over your shoulder shocks you back to life. You twist in your seat, looking down at a face wrinkled by curiosity and wisdom, sheen of lipstick curved in a mischievous grin. You roll the window down, mirroring her smile.

“Joel Miller,” Rita calls, lowering her ring-adorned fist and pointing over to her car. “Help me with these groceries.”

“Afternoon to you, too, Rita,” he calls back, and she raises two thin, penciled eyebrows. His sigh trickles into a chuckle as he snaps the door open, leaning into you. “I ain’t moving,” he mutters, swinging out of the truck.

“Sure looks like you’re movin’,” you call back, letting Rita pull on your door to let you out.

“How are you, darlin’?” she asks. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

You hop down beside her, helping her tug the shawl around her arms back over her shoulders. “Yeah, I’ve, uh…I’ve been busy.”

She nods, and then her eyes drift to somewhere behind you. “They go in the kitchen, son.” She points to her house. “I’ll come help you unpack ‘em.”

Joel’s face twists, eyes wide, hands outstretched. You swallow back a laugh when he looks to you, an almost teenage expression which asks, You seein’ this? as he turns back to the Nissan.

“I better go,” Rita says then, giving your arms one last squeeze. “You take care, now. Tell your dad I’m askin’ after ‘im.”

“I will, Rita.” You turn on your heel and saunter around Joel’s truck, giving him one last twirl as he hoists two bags under his muscled arms, rolling his eyes as you spin.

You pull the weight of yourself up your drive, passing past versions of yourself as you near the front door. She’s stumbling towards her dad’s car, a bucket of soapy water sloshing around between her knees. She’s sat on the curb, waiting for Joel’s truck to roll up, praying she never hears another Marty Robbins song again.

She’s naïve, still. Knows no better, knows no worse. Chasing a high, chasing the thrill of being caught and the thrill of nobody ever knowing. A relationship built entirely on lies and deceit. A love woven with dark threads of shame and anger, a tattered mess in one corner where the edges fray and loosen.

And you think: you’ve never felt more jealous of anybody your whole life.

The front door clicks open easily, like the building welcomes you home with a relieved sigh. You follow sunlight into the hallway, feeling it easier to walk through than before – less dense, less suffocating. Less guilty. An honest thief, back to return the bleeding heart she dragged out the door with her.

Secrets like shards of broken glass on the floor, debris from that day. And as if he hears the crunch of your footsteps, your dad appears at the bottom of the hall.

“Hi, hon.”

Eyes wide with a misplaced shock, you say, “Hey.”

“You okay?”

“’m good.”

“Good. Come in, come through.” He beckons you forward, a smile only half-forced on his lips. “You want a drink or anything?”

You follow him into the kitchen, politely accepting a glass of water when he offers it.

He turns with two steady palms on the island, watching as you drag a chair free and sit at the table. “How’s Joel?” he asks, swallowing roughly.

The words come delayed, your open mouth lying in wait. Your body selfishly trying to hoard the information, protective the second the image of that six-foot, two-hundred-pound man crosses your mind. “He’s fine. He’s out front.”

It sounds like a warning, though you don’t mean for it to. Just conversation. He’s helping Rita with her groceries. She’s asking after you, by the way. But your dad seems to sense the natural amber tone of it – the sparking of a flame, daring to catch. He’s waiting for this to go south.

He nods, accepting the fact of it. His own failed attempt to separate the two of you only drove you closer together. Only made you want Joel more.

But then he’s nearing you again, pulling out the chair opposite yours. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says, settling with a sigh. “Glad we’re…we’re talkin’ again, at least.”

Your head angles. “Are we?”

His body jerks, flinching from the sting of the question. “Well,” his head wobbles, jowls quivering, “I sure hope so. I was takin’ it as a good sign that you’re here.”

“I’m here,” you repeat, “but that doesn’t mean I’m staying.”

“No, I know. I know. Joel’s out front, ‘n all that.” He looks down at his hands, clasped in his lap. Holds his tongue behind his front teeth, waiting for the next turn of conversation.

You lean forward, elbows on the table, softening your voice. “Dad?” you say, and he looks up. “This whole entire thing – I think…I think we oughta try and understand each other, a little better. Hear each other out.”

“I am tryin’, hon. I’m really tryin’. You dealt me an awful lot to hear out ‘n understand.”

You rock back, sinking against the hard chair. Tracing the wood grains in the table, nails digging between. Shame coiling like a snake beneath your tongue, taking up too much space in your mouth. Its venom dripping between your teeth, acrid and sour; tendons in your neck jumping with the bitterness of your dad’s tone.

He sighs. “Be honest with me a second.”

“Huh?”

He waits a beat, watching you carefully. Opens his mouth, pauses, and then speaks. “Who instigated it?”

Your finger pushes harder into the surface. Digging new divots. “Um…kinda both of us. Was sort of a two-way thing from the get-go.”

His lips twist, almost imperceptible. He looks behind you to the patio outside. You can’t read what’s in his eyes. It makes you say more, say things you reckon you’ll regret later – but something to fill the silence between you. Something to let him sink his teeth into.

“There was flirting. Lotta flirting. And then it…it just sort of snowballed.”

“Snowballed.” He looks uncomfortable, lifting his hands to cup over his face. “I just didn’t take him as the type,” he says, muffled into his palms.

“As what type?”

He drops his hands, hitting his thighs with a slap, and looks you dead in the eye. Sad, almost. “Arthur Kennedy type.”

“He’s not.”

You say it instinctively. Your ears hear it at the same time your dad does. He looks at you blankly.

“He’s not,” you repeat, a little looser. Less hasty. “Look,” you sigh, “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but…everything that we ever did, I wanted to do. I already told you. There ain’t nothing we did that I didn’t ask him to. I swear to you.”

You think back to the cookout, how angry Joel was at the thought of Arthur Kennedy hanging over you. How pissed he’d be, hearing your dad line him up against that old leather boot of a man. Comparing, contrasting. Here’s how you measure up, son. How much of a phantom Arthur Kennedy has been, your whole life, and how much of a sanctuary Joel is in comparison.

Your stomach twists at the thought. A tight knot, wound by a desperation to clear the name of a man whose worst offense was doing exactly what your dad would’ve told him to: leave.

“This whole thing,” you go on, “it’s a mess, alright? It’s – totally fucked. And we shouldn’t’ve lied, shouldn’t’ve been keeping things from you, but then…what did you expect?”

Your dad cuts in like a bullet: “I expect the two of you not to do what you were doin’.”

“No, I know that. But we did it, right? It’s done now. I meant, did you really want us to sit you down in the living room ‘n say, Hey, Dad – guess what?”

He grimaces at the thought.

“Didn’t think so. We didn’t even know what it was. We had no idea what it’d turn into. But you gotta hear me out: it wasn’t just…some fling, or whatever you’re thinkin’. I swear, Dad, it wasn’t.”

He still doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t lift his stare from the table. You feel like a little kid, desperate to make him love you again. Desperate to make him listen. The space between you fills with the bored tick tick tick of the kitchen clock. Each second hurting a little more than the last.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry I let you down, but…I’m not sorry that I did it. If I could go back, knowing everything I know – I’d do it all over again.”

The words roll across the table to him like billiards. You lean back again, watching them as they rattle from his side to yours – your sentence delivered back into your ears. You nod, a sure thought in your mind.

I’d do it all over again. All the covering, all the hiding. The aching, the wishing and wanting. Staring at Joel’s empty hand, dying to slot yours into it. Dying to put any part of yourself near him; your head under his chin, your arms linked around his waist. Knowing you two would feel, knowing everyone else would see, just how perfectly you fit together.

The chasing your own tails: Did you lie well enough? Do they suspect anything? Did we leave any evidence? Disturbed sheets, a collar still upturned. Can they hear us? Have they noticed we’re missing? We’re always fucking missing.

You’d do it all over again. You know what it cost, now, sat directly opposite the price. His polite smiles like veneers over rotten teeth. The tremble in his lip when he opens his mouth to speak.

And it was worth it. Joel. He was worth it all, in the end.

All over again.

“Do you know that every time I look at you, there are…probably four versions that I see?”

You frown. Did he hear what you just said? All ov–? “What?”

Your dad laughs to himself. “When you walk outta that door, I see a little pink backpack over your shoulders. Gym bag in your hand, maybe. I see missin’ front teeth, I see those little clip-on earrings you used to love so much.

“And – and when you’re mad at me, when we fight, I see you at fourteen. Growing pains, y’know? I still remember you slamming your bedroom door in my face, all ‘cause I wouldn’t let you go to that girl Molly’s birthday party.” He looks up, smiling at your perplexed expression.

“I don’t even…remember that, hardly.”

“Long time ago now. My point is,” he continues, “you’re twenty-three. You’re grown. And I just can’t figure out how to make those other versions…grow with you. You still feel like my kid. Still that little girl with the pink backpack.”

“But,” you clear your throat, trying to swipe her from your own memory, “I’m not. I’m not her anymore, Dad. And I think maybe you gotta give me the space to be someone different, now.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, nodding. “I know, I know. I just didn’t think this new version of you would…y’know. Be with Joel, ‘n all. That is something I did not see comin’.”

“You think I did?” You spit a laugh. “If you told me when I came home that this is what was waiting for me…that I was gonna fall…”

Your teeth close around the sentence, dropping your dad’s eye. But it’s too late.

He stares back at you like the sun. “…Fall in love with ‘im?”

And you cower. You wince, almost. The last secret. The last thing he doesn’t know. “I don’t…I don’t know, I –”

“You love him. You do, don’t you?”

Your thumbs run circles around one another, fingers locking until your knuckles hurt. “I don’t know,” you mumble, wishing for the tenth time since you sat down that Joel was beside you, in front of you, around you.

“’s what Anna seems to reckon.”

Your eyes flit up. “Anna?”

He hums. “She is her father’s daughter. A damn meddler. She called here, last night.”

“Oh, Jesus,” you groan, head falling into your hands. “Ignore her, please. Ignore all of it. She doesn’t –”

He holds a palm up. “Now, hold on. You don’t even know what it was she said.”

You huff a sigh, twisting your hand in the air. Go on.

“She reckons you do love him. Reckons he loves you back. More, if that’s even possible, she said. Told me all about the way he stepped in front a’ that boy at Frank’s. About your face when he picked you up from rodeo night, how ecstatic you were. The difference she sees in you.”

“Difference,” you scoff, glancing out to the backyard. “What difference?”

“Same difference I see, probably. Same difference Bill said he saw, too: you’re happier. Even I can’t deny it, hon. It’s damn hard – you never make nothin’ easy on your old man – but…but I am willing to try.”

The hurt begins to slowly fizzle away. Cooling, washing from your skin like foamy waves. Curiosity left to shine through.

“You may not understand this ‘til you have kids of your own – if you have kids of your own – but there ain’t a thing in this world that I love more than I love you. And when you love somethin’ that much, you’ll do anything to stop it from getting hurt. Anything. That’s all I want you to know.”

A silence falls between you, thoughtful and waiting. The clock’s ticking grows sharper again. It seems to consider the same as you: there should be more to this. More to be said, to be convinced. More yelling, even.

But you arrive at the same conclusion, at near enough the same time: there is nothing more. Cards flat on the table, eyes pouring all over them. To question it, to second-guess any of it, would be to tempt fate.

“Anyway,” your dad sits forward, clasping his hands on the table, “tell me what’s goin’ on. What’s been happening in your world?”

You shrug. A little, shy thing. “Work. Been hanging with Sarah a lot. And I, uh, I had a job interview last week.”

“Oh, yeah? Where?”

You shift awkwardly in your chair. “For, uh…that one in LA. They called to offer it a couple days ago.”

A smile pulls across his lips. Growing, growing, growing until he’s grinning back at you. Pride, little bit of surprise. Whole lot of amusement and joy. “You take it?” he asks, figuring he knows the answer already.

“Not yet,” you reply. “Think I’m going to, though. ‘s too good to say no.”

He lifts his eyebrows in agreement, looking down at his hands. Shoulders lurch some under the weight of your news. “There goes that little backpack,” he mutters to himself, and you smirk.

“Can’t hold her back forever.”

“I never had a hold on her in the first place. You were walkin’ on outta that door the minute you found your own two feet.”

You snort. “Good! Good for me. Let me go out into the big ol’ world; let me go fuck it all up ‘n come home for dinner once I’m done.”

“I intend to,” your dad says, nodding along to every passionate word you say. And then he asks, “How’s Joel feelin’ about it all? About LA?”

Your shoulder jerks in a half-shrug. “He’s fine, I guess. Says he’ll miss me, but then – we haven’t exactly had the most typical relationship up until now. Survived a lot I reckon would break any normal couple…”

It’s the first time you think you’ve ever said it. Couple. You’ve thought of it – flicked through the words you might use to describe him. Your boyfriend, your partner. None of them seem to fit exactly who he is to you. None of them strong enough to carry the weight of what’s shared between you. He’s Joel. He’s your Joel. Nothing will ever come close.

Your dad hears it, too. The newness of it. The crisp shape of the word, not yet thawed to this new world. Your tongue still learning how to pronounce it, how to pair it with the image of Joel.

“Guess he can fly out ‘n visit whenever, right?”

“Yeah,” you swallow, “and I’ll be back here, too. Christmas ‘n all.”

Your dad smiles. Relieved, assured. Light slowly returning to his eyes.

“We’ll be fine,” your chest swells, “so Joel says. I trust ‘im.”

You both quieten, sitting back in your chairs. What once felt like a room ablaze, flames tearing the skin from your body as you dragged your heels through it – now feels like a gentle warmth. Waves wrought with enough power and force to destroy you, now seeping off with the change of the tide. Bumps on the horizon.

“Speaking of,” you say, making to stand, “I should probably get goin’.”

“Yeah. Yeah, hon.” Your dad follows, arm on your shoulder as he walks you down the hall.

The sun intrudes, tosses herself into your arms as you pull the front door open. In her golden-rayed wake sits that dark truck, same as always. The same dark tee, the same dark-speckled-gray hair. Arms folded, stood against the body, waiting. Eyes on the house, on your figure as you step down onto the doormat. Joel straightens when your dad follows you out, chest sucking in a ragged breath.

They look at one another, and that’s about it. Something of a nod from Joel – not quite returned by your dad. You figure that might take some time to come back around. And that’s okay. You can make peace with it.

You turn back. Your dad’s looking down at you, hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun.

“You know,” you take a deep breath, “the only times he’s ever hurt me, are the times he’s left. The times I haven’t had him around.”

And then you step back, the magnet in your chest telling you it’s time to return to its partner.

In high school, your English teacher tasked the class with writing a short story. Any genre you wanted, any word count up to two thousand. The boys mostly dicked around, wrote action-packed, blood-and-guts garbage. One girl wrote something you’re sure you’d seen in a Hallmark movie before.

But you – you spent two weeks straight, writing. Awake until all hours of the night, hunched over your laptop, sunbathing in the blue hue of an open document. Fingers hammering rapidly into your keyboard.

A man and a woman meet in Central Park. She – hair the color of rust, spilling down her shoulders and lifting at the ends, twisting around the fingers of the blustery wind. A red glow around her third finger where gold once lived. Sat on a bench, alone. Hiding, perhaps. And he – sharp suit and tie, clean-shaven, a steel-blue gaze that might cut glass. Missing the city traffic by taking a walk through the park on his way home. Fleeing, perhaps.

He notices her trench coat first. Bright red, a poppy swaying in the breeze. A little hopeless, a solemn wilt to it. The quickly dampening fire of her hair in the rain, the opaque sheen of polish chipping from her nails. And he thinks he recognizes the constellation of freckles painted across her cheeks. Thinks he might’ve mapped them, once, in some kind of past-life.

She looks up and realizes she recognizes the cut of his gaze. Piercing through her, splitting her in two. Thinks she might’ve felt it before, the opening of her soul to someone who looked just like him – a little more baby-faced, a little more spirited. In some kind of past-life, too.

She stands, and he slows, and they meet somewhere in the middle. Words exchanged; body heat transferred through hugs. Is that really you? You look so different. It’s been years. He doesn’t ask about the lack of jewelry on her third finger. She doesn’t ask about the gray circles beneath his eyes. Just, You wanna grab a coffee? and, Yeah. Yeah, I do.

They sit at the window, watch the yellow taxis and the black umbrellas and the trembling traffic lights. They talk about life then, life now, and silently agree to forget about the part in the middle. They look at each other the same way they must have before they lost one another, before life and love and everything else got between them.

They agree to meet again in a week. They swear that they will not fall back in love.

They know as well as each other that they’re really promising to do just that.

Love – twisted and turned over and over, until it’s a different shape altogether. We started as one thing, and we watched it shift into something completely different. Clay in the potter’s hands. Didn’t you think it might fall apart? There was a moment I thought the heat of the kiln might break us. I’m glad it didn’t. I’m glad we’re made of tough stuff.

I’m glad I found you again, in that park. The pissing rain and the wind so strong I felt it lifting the sense from my mind. In that hardware store, in that bar filled with weed and bad intentions. I’m glad you split me open, glad you could see the good that was still inside. I thought I’d lost her for a minute. Thought she’d forgotten her way home.

Let’s go get a coffee. Let’s pretend it’s always been this way.

Let’s fall in love. The rest will take care of itself.

It takes three weeks in total to properly pack up your things. Two days after you accepted the job, you bought boxes and tape, and began to dismantle the identity you’d spent twenty-three years creating for yourself, a little bit at a time. Taking apart the pink-walled museum of your life, artefact by artefact.

Joel has helped as much as you’ve let him. Laid back on your bed when you’ve dismissed him one too many times, raised his eyebrows and laughed with you whenever you come across some old, forgotten piece of memorabilia. Something ceremonial to it, something innocent and fun. Like a little graduation for all the parts of yourself.

Soon, as the last of the summer sun dampens outside, your room lies vacant. Empty of any real evidence of your being here. Bedsheets and pillows folded, packed away; framed photos and posters unpinned from the wall and wrapped up safely. Drawers and closets barren, left with a selection of your less-loved, less-worn clothes. A wardrobe built from stuff you’ll only ever wear when you come back home to visit, if even then.

Joel’s sat on the bare mattress, looking around your room. You’re stood opposite, leaning against your half-empty dresser. The sun filters feebly through your turned shades, averting her eyes.

You look over at him. Golden, like the sunlight outside. Warm, like the breeze through the trees. Yours. Yours yours yours.

“What?” Joel asks, his eyes having finally found their way back to you. He smiles at your focused expression.

“Nothing. I don’t know. Just…”

“Talk to me. Tell me.”

“You are – this is…” You sigh. “This is good. I think it’s good. Not just all the stuff we did. But you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you tell him. “You’re good for me.” You grip the wooden lip tighter, swaying nervously when you add, “But I think it was always gonna go this way, wasn’t it?”

He sniffs. Shoulders jerk in a weak shrug. “Yeah, I think so, baby.”

Your eyelashes flutter, soothing the prickling feeling of tears forming. “I don’t – I don’t know if I want it to.”

“Yeah,” Joel says through a groan, pushing himself up, “you do.”

You shake your head as he approaches, and his hands cup your cheeks.

“Hey,” he whispers, pulling your body tight against his. Your face buries in his chest; your tears wet on his shirt. He shushes you, rocks you gently back and forth with a hand on the back of your head. “Listen to me.”

“Joel –”

“Listen to me.” He pulls you back, swipes the tears from your cheeks as quickly as they fall. “We’re fine. We are going to be fine.”

“I don’t want to leave you –”

“I know, I know. But you want to go do this. And that’s okay. Both of ‘em, at once.”

Your head shakes again. Like an instinctive reaction to the thought of being separated from him.

Joel smiles softly. “I am going to miss you like hell. You got no idea. But,” he pulls your head back to face his, tucks your hair behind your ear, “I want you to go. You gotta go after this. Right?”

“I know,” you whisper, lungs lurching for breath. “I just – wish it didn’t mean leavin’ you.”

“Darlin’…” Joel coos, pulling you in again. “You know how much I love you? What do I keep tellin’ you? We’ll be alright. It’s you ‘n me, right?”

You nod, salty tears slipping between your lips onto your tongue. When you look up, you notice the same expression on Joel’s face. He blinks his own away before they fall.

“’s you ‘n me,” you repeat, and he pulls your lips together.

You roll your tongue onto his, letting him taste you – all of you. Your mouth, and your thoughts, and your tears, and your pain. You let him take it all, let him hold it for this moment as you breathe him in, let his body fill yours in every way.

Your hands are in his hair, your chest pressed against his; he’s every thought on your mind and every beat in your heart. He’s the blood thrumming through your veins, he’s the oxygen filling your lungs; he’s the words between your teeth and the flesh around your bones.

And he pulls you, and you follow, his shirt in your fist, over to the bed where he lays you gently and falls on top.

“When’s he get back?” he asks, taking your bottom lip between his teeth.

“Later,” you mumble, your fingers picking at the hem of his shirt.

He pushes back, letting you tug it up up up over his shoulders at the same rate he peels your tee from yours, both tossing each other’s clothes to somewhere else in the room. Jeans undone, shorts dragged from your hips, underwear discarded until you’re naked under him, and he’s naked over you, and there’s nothing and no one between.

Joel cradles you, holds you close as he presses a palm roughly against the underside of your thigh, opening your body to him in a way only he’s mastered. In a way you only would, for him.

His hand cups your sex, fingers nudging between your folds, pushing in when your jaw slackens and a wanton moan echoes from your throat across Joel’s tongue.

“Yeah,” he coos, wrist jacking between your legs, “’s my girl. Gotta get you warmed up, huh? Get you nice ‘n wet.”

Your back arches, arms linking around his neck to pull him closer, pull him deeper. Hold him tight enough to you that your bodies feel one, feel connected at the meeting of Joel’s hand and the most intimate part of you; the meeting of your tongues between teeth.

And you gasp, the nudging of his fingers against the deepest part of your body, the messy circles of his thumb on your clit. The shape of him, solid and warm against the seam of your thigh.

You reach down for him, wrapping your fingers around his cock, and his breath hitches. Teeth bump into yours. You’re fucking irresistible to him.

“Darlin’,” his voice is low, daring you to keep going, “you wanna cut this short ‘fore we’re even started?”

You breathe a laugh into his jaw, hot and needy. “You get to play with me,” you whine, “I wanna play with you, too.”

Joel growls, seizing his movements, leaning back in what you take as him granting full access to his body. But then he says, “Turn around,” in a strict voice you’ve come to know as meaning one thing, and you pause.

You peel your eyes from his dick to blink up at him. “Turn –?”

“– around, now.” He takes your waist, hoisting you up until you’re straddling him, holding you inches above his body. “Turn.”

“What the fuck are you –?”

“Many times do I gotta tell you? You said you wanted to play.” He twists your waist until you follow his movements, swinging one leg over the other. He grabs your hips, tugging you back towards his face. “So, play,” he mutters, lowering your cunt down to his lips.

You gasp, falling forward and hitting the mattress between his legs. “J– fuck me. Are you s-serious?” You moan, hips rocking against the feeling of his bearded chin at your clit. “You’re like – a fucking – horny teenager. Oh, fuck.”

Your head falls forward, hands splaying out over his thighs, before your eyes refocus and you notice the hardened shape of him, tip oozing precome all over the hair-spattered plain of his groin. Your hand lifts, shakily taking hold of him again, and you lean down.

Elbows hooked over his thighs, you bring his tip to your lips, letting a thick bead of saliva fall and drip down the length of him, meeting your closed fist to be dragged up and down.

Joel’s hips almost buck. He holds it, manages to catch it, but you spot it. You’ve done this too many fucking times not to notice the reaction you draw from him.

“’s good,” you whisper, circling your hips on his face, tongue slipping across his cherry-red tip. “Feels so good.”

He responds in the form of a deep groan, rattling from his chest through your clit, shocking like lightning up your spine until the very same noise is thrown from your lips. You push down, tongue molding around every vein and the slow curve of his cock until your lips meet the thick brush of hair at his base, his tip kissing the very back of your throat.

Your throat which jumps, jolts at the feeling of something intruding – before you’re retreating again, pulling him from your body, warm, wet spit linking the two of you when you come up for air. And then you sink back down, head moving up down up down up down as his stomach tenses beneath your chest.

Joel’s palms keep a heavy hold on your ass, his tongue lapping between your folds like they’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted – like he might die if he doesn’t get his fix of you. And you think, they are, and he might, as your cheeks hollow and you bow down over him again.

You establish a rhythm, two waves swirling between one another: your hips rocking, Joel’s lifting ever so slightly as you suckle on one another. Your hand fisting the parts of him you can’t quite reach, not without choking; Joel holding you fixed to his jaw, letting the tip of his tongue hook around your swollen clit, then dragging it down until he’s letting you ride the wet muscle.

The approach of your first orgasm, a tiny spark catching to life in the pit of your belly, incites you with a need to open up further for him. Your throat taking more of him, your thighs slackening as you drive your cunt harder against his mouth.

“’m so close,” you whimper, lips curving around his cock. “So – fucking – ah, keep doin’ that. Right th-there.”

His hands hook around your thighs, tongue darting across your clit. His nose nudges somewhere between your folds, quickly becoming coated in the slick you’re leaking all over him.

“Joel,” you say, fists pumping his cock. Your voice a warning: it’s coming. You’re gonna – Fuck, you’re gonna come.

His voice is looser, more of a shrug of the shoulders when he pulls away from you. He inserts two fingers, curls them like before, like he knows drives you fucking insane. “Let go, babygirl,” he murmurs, lips immediately returning to position. And then, muffled and rough: “Come all over me.”

“Fuckfuckfuck,” you pant, hands squeezing around his cock, feeling that same spark ignite into flame, your entire body bursting with heat.

Your high rips through you, battering through each vein in your system, each nerve electrified. You collapse between his legs, his rough pubic hair sticking to the sweat on your chest, hips rutting wildly against the sharp cut of his jaw.

The mattress absorbs most of the desperate moan which streaks across your tongue, nails digging hard into the flesh of Joel’s thighs. And you hear the deep sound of his voice, the thud thud thud of a chuckle against your clit: the cocky fucker laughing to himself as he unravels you for what feels like the thousandth time.

“Alright,” Joel says, more to himself than to the fucked-out shape of you between his legs. He sits up and shifts you carefully down the bed, settling you face-down on the mattress and lifting your ass to meet his hips. “Okay?” he asks, kneeling behind you.

You feel his tip between your legs, slotting happily somewhere in your opening. Waiting for your response. A response you don’t feel able to give, as much as you’d like to; your lips puffy and confused, words jumbling behind them in a tangle of bliss and love.

“Baby,” Joel says, hand slinking down your back, pressing gentle circles into the nape of your neck. “You okay?”

Your head lifts, glancing over your shoulder to see his hairy torso, his thick arms caging over you. He lifts your chin with two fingers, cranes your neck up until you’re looking into his eyes, heavy lids blinking dumbly.

“Just fuck me,” you whisper, and Joel slips his tongue into your mouth.

You used to dream of coming back home. A few years away, doing whatever you wanted, wherever you wanted. Dreaming things up and then chasing them until they happened. Tiring yourself out, lungs gasping for breath and eyes always searching, always looking for a new target to pin up. But always coming back.

Austin, Texas. Its jagged skyline, the streets lined with a vibrant glow and star-spangled bunting. The river like a silver-bellied snake slithering through. Home.

You dreamt of living out your days here, once your blood had slowed and your mind settled. A quiet life in the country, a big wooden house with a wraparound porch. Two little rocking chairs, so you and whoever your husband turned out to be could sit and watch the sky fade from red into orange into white and then dull gray into deep blue.

Breeze kissing your cheek, his lips kissing your knuckles.

Joel.

Home.

You tell him, and he smirks. “That so?” he asks, wrapping his arms a little tighter around your naked body.

You nuzzle your cheek into the palm of his hand, breathing in the sweet scent of sweat and sex sitting in the air. “Mhm. You could play guitar until the stars come out.”

He hums in agreement. “Sounds like a pretty good dream. Tell you what: you go to LA, do what you gotta do. By the time you come back, there’ll be a big ol’ farmhouse, wraparound porch, rollin’ fields for the dogs. Coffee ‘n sunsets. How’s that sound?”

“And you’ll be there?”

He smiles. Scoops you in one arm and rolls you onto your front, chest to chest with him. His fingers ghost down the curve of your shoulder. “Baby,” he whispers, “I built the damn thing.”

It forces a laugh from your chest, something you’ve gotten used to by now. Joel and his ability to steal a giggle from you, the dumbest moments seeming the funniest. “You’re gonna build me a damn house?” you ask, chin resting between his pecs.

“That what you want?”

Your head rocks left to right, considering. “I just want you. That’s all.”

“Then you got me. I’m all yours.”

In his hazel eyes lives every moment you’ve ever shared. Every conversation, every kiss, every fight. Every minute he’s spent looking for you or at you, every minute you’ve spent looking back at him. It’s all in there. You see it like a movie reel, frame by frame.

It lands like a slot machine on that first night. Cleaning up after pizza. Shoulder to shoulder by your kitchen sink. You wish you’d just kissed him. Even with your dad right there. Wish you’d lifted your heels and put your lips on his, just for the fucking hell of it. Just to condense all of it, every second of longing and hurt and pain into one fleeting moment.

Wish you’d pulled him into you, against you, the weight of his body like an old friend. Welcomed it with open arms, like you’d spent your entire life missing it, waiting for it to come back to you. Let yourself feel your own heart, peeling between the cage of your ribs, reaching out for his. Always reaching for him.

Wish you’d looked him in the eye, tears softening the tufts of graying hair, vignetting the smirk only you can tell is there. Looked at him in that knowing way, that language only you two know; the glint in your eyes translating a thousand messy words into three. Just three – the simplest, lightest words you’ve ever known.

I love you. Let’s skip to the good part.

#welp i didn't cry when i hit post. me? no. no way #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller smut #cowboy like me

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starkwlkr · 11 months

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Hey, I love your work, can you please do an Instagram au with Mick Schumacher dating Ayrton Senna's daughter, who was born after his death and the world finds out.

Thank you<3

who would’ve thought? | mick schumacher

faceclaim alanis guillen

liked by gina_schumacher, jackdoohan and 479,940 others

mickschumacher 🤍 y/n.sg

y/n.sg 💋

f1miaaaa I’m emotional 😭

alonsotheabbastan who would’ve thought that michael schumacher’s son and ayrton senna’s daughter would start dating?🥲

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liked by lewishamilton, mickschumacher and 1,489,467 others

y/n.sg hi! i know a lot of you didn’t even know i existed, but i have decided to make my account public so you can get to know me so here’s the two people that gave me all the love in the world (mick, i love you more than anything but you already know that💋) after my father’s crash, i was raised by adriane and she decided to keep me out of the spotlight. i am extremely grateful for her and everything she has done to protect me all these years. 🤍

mickschumacher i love you ❤️

y/n.sg i love you more 🥰

lydialovesf1 if you don’t mind me asking, how did you and mick meet?

y/n.sg during the 2021 brazil gp. the one time i go to a gp and i end up with a cute guy 🙃

schumacherlegacy fun fact: ayrton senna met adriane galisteu during the 1993 Brazil gp so i just find it cute that his daughter also found the love of her life at the Brazil gp 🥰

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#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #anon #f1 x you #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher #mick schumacher one shot #f1 instagram au #mick schumacher instagram au #senna!reader

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topguncortez · 1 year

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G baby, can we get 32 or 54 with Jakey? 🤤

pairing: Jake "Hangman" Sersesin x Female!Reader warnings: possessive Jake makes brain go. . . BRR, suggestive, a bit of Floydshaw (blink and you miss it), cursing, jealousy Hangman Masterlist | Main Masterlist 3 fucking K celebration

It was a beautiful day in San Diego, and a rarity that the Dagger Squad had not a single thing going on. It was Rooster who had sent out the text message about meeting at the beach by the Hard Deck for a game of Dogfight football, their new favorite sport to play. You weren't going to pass up the opportunity to get a tan and watch your favorite aviator run around half naked with sweat dripping down his perfect body.

The beach wasn't that crowded when you and Jake arrived. He decided to take his jeep today, taking the sides off of it to soak up the rays. You made a joke that he didn't need anymore things going to his head, his ego was big enough. He carried the beach bag down to the area that the rest of the team was at.

"Oh, is Y/N finally going to be playing today?" Javy joked, putting his arm around you.

"Does it look like I'm a going to be playing?" You asked, "I'm not sure what possess all of you to want to run around in the hot sun and tackle each other, but I will be enjoying it from over. . . there," you pointed towards a spot a little ways away from where the daggers were.

"You can join when you want," Jake said, hitting Javy's arm off of you, and putting his around your waist, bringing you in for a kiss, "Although, I'd love to see your sweaty body-" His hand went to your ass squeezing it. You squealed and slapped his chest before walking away from him.

Jake watched as you grabbed your beach towel from the bag, and laid it out on the sand. You could feel his eyes on you as you undid you jean shorts and pulled them down your legs. Jake was trying to think of anything and everything besides how good your body looked right now. He wasn't sure what swim suit you put on, but he was expecting a cheetah print two piece that hardly hid anything.

"Enough eye fucking!" Rooster yelled and threw the football at Jake's head. Jake winced as the ball hit him.

"Oh, it's on Bradshaw!" Jake yelled and threw the ball back.

You weren't paying an ounce of attention as the Daggers were deeply versed into their game. Occasionally you'd look up when you heard loud cheering and would see one of them peacocking around. You rolled your eyes a couple times at Jake who was putting on one hell of a show. He looked great, his tan, toned abs glistening with sweat and water. He knew that you were looking at him, and made sure to flex a bit for you.

"Two can play this game, Seresin," You said to yourself.

You were laying on your front, and you knew the perfect way to get Jake's attention. You whistled as you adjusted a bit, your fingers going to the strings behind your back. With ease, you tugged the tie and felt your top loosen. You giggled to yourself as the top fell down your arms and landed on the towel. Your chest was still covered with the way you were laying and holding your book in front of you.

Jake hadn't notice your little costume change, as he was too focused on the game. They daggers took a break, catching their breaths, some of the running towards the water to cool down, others grabbing bottles of water from a cooler Payback brought.

"God damn, Bagman, your ol' lady is fine," Fanboy said, and Payback smacked him upside the head, "What!? She is! Look at her."

"I know my girl is hot," Jake said, a smirk on his face as he drank his water, "I don't need you to me-" He turned around and looked where you were laying at, "What in the hell is she doing?"

"By the looks of it, sunbathing," Bob said and Jake glared at him.

You weren't paying attention, hearing the sounds of Alanis Morissette's 'You Oughta Know' blaring in your ears as you flipped through the pages of your book. You did notice the sudden shade looking over you, and you tilted your head up to see your boyfriend standing over you.

"Hi sweetheart," You smiled.

Jake gave you a fake smile as he laid down in the sand next to you, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Getting some sun," You said, and stretched your arms out in front of you. Jake quickly grabbed a spare towel and threw it over your head, "What are you doing!?" You giggled.

"Stopping you from flashing what's mine to all of North Island," Jake said.

You lifted your head from the towel and looked at Jake, "Yours, huh?"

Jake nodded and climbed on top of your back. You grunted dramatically and Jake rolled his eyes. He held himself up with his hands and leaned down, gently placing a kiss on your bare shoulder.

"Yes, mine," Jake growled in your ear, "You're mine , understand? Mine!"

You somehow maneuvered yourself so you were now on your back, the towel and Jake's body covering your chest. You ran a hand down his sweaty torso.

"If I am yours. . . Why don't you take me home and show me who I belong to?"

"You're funny if you think we're making it that far," Jake said. You squealed and clutched the towel tightly as Jake picked you and your swimsuit top up. He put you over his shoulder and you giggled as he carried you towards his truck.

"They're gonna bang aren't they?" Rooster asked.

"I would say so," Bob shrugged, and then tossed the football to Rooster, "Round 2?"

"Right here. . . on the beach?" Rooster smirked and Bob rolled his eyes, walking back to where the team was getting ready to start the next game.

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freak-accident419 · 2 months

Text

Isn’t it Ironic?

Mike Schmidt x GN!Reader

Summary: You attend an old friend’s wedding that you were surprisingly invited to. One downside—it was raining when everybody least expected it. Lucky that the whole ceremony and party were indoors, the event prospered, and you meet someone during the reception.

Word Count: 2.8k

Content: fluff, a lot of banter, you two are very awkward, gender neutral reader, references to Y2K, literally just one mention of pot, wedding, non-gendered descriptions of clothing for reader, you have a thing for Alanis Morissette’s “‘96 hit” Ironic, takes place a year before the events of FNAF, kissing

A few months ago, you were surprised to receive a wedding invitation in the mail from an old friend of yours. It’s been several years since you’ve spoken with him, but you two still kept each other in mind, which explains why you were even considered as a guest in the first place. Simply, you were close enough with him to attend his wedding.

There was one small problem, however.

It was raining.

This wedding was planned quite intricately, yet nobody ever expected it to rain heavily. The forecast barely gave any warning or prediction about rainfall, so there was no doubt that people, especially the bride and groom, were apprehensive. However, it didn’t matter too much, because the venue was in a nice, fairly large ballroom that was completely indoors. While this event’s relation to Alanis Morissette’s ‘96 hit remained uncanny and undesirable, the ceremony still went graciously well. You never expected such elegant vocabulary from your old friend as he said his vows, which was actually a refreshing listen. You watched the couple kiss after hearing the officiant say ‘you may now kiss the bride’, and the room erupted in joyous cheers and applause.

It was now the reception, as you sat down at a round table, a thin, white cloth draped loosely over it. And as you tapped on the surface, fidgeting with some of the silverware, your eyes scanned the room, trying to find the man you had just recently met.

Earlier today, you were prepared exquisitely for the wedding. However, as you changed into your best attire, you began to hear soft tapping on your window. At first you thought nothing of it, but with time, the tapping transitioned into violent spatters against the glass. Finally looking out your window, it was raining hard. Like, it was pouring.

The forecast, weirdly enough, never expected any rain. And for this unnatural and abrupt weather to be on the day of the wedding was quite painfully ironic—again, an uncanny resemblance to Alanis Morissette’s song (that you found delightful to reference). And so, with this, you made sure to bring your umbrella.

Getting out of a taxi, you noticed that the front of the venue building was crowded with people trying to get in, several umbrellas protecting their heavily expensive formal wear. As you made your way to the front, you noticed that, with all the people walking around you, there was one person that caught your full attention.

It was a man walking without an umbrella, having to hold his blazer above his head, leaving him in his white button up and lampblack skinny tie. You immediately felt bad, and rushed over to him, holding up your umbrella so that you two were both protected under it.

“Oh! Um, thank you,” he smiled softly, a bit awkward in his mannerisms. “Did you, um, know it was gonna rain?”

“No, um,” you began with a chuckle, shaking your head. “I don’t think anybody knew. It was, like, completely unexpected.” He nodded at your reply.

“Kinda, uh, reminds me of that one song—”

You interrupt him eagerly. “By Alanis Morissette?”

An low, amused chuckle escaped his lips as he looked down, then up at you. “Yeah.”

You weren’t much of a romantic, or someone who believed in fate, but his acknowledgment towards the ‘96 hit by Alanis Morissette nearly convinced you that he was your soulmate. Yet, you shook off the feeling.

“So, uh, how do you know the… the newly weds?”

“Oh, uh, I was friends with Quinn in, uh, high school,” he answered as the two of you approached the venue’s entrance. “You?”

“I met Emmett also in high school,” you say, “Through, uh, mutual friends at the time.”

You two finally got inside the venue, closing your wet umbrella and finally being able to see the man more clearly. He was pretty decent looking, maybe even above average, at that. There was something so charming about his big brown eyes, brown curls and stubble that made you feel… flustered, you suppose. “Uh, I guess I’ll see you around,” you offer a kind grin.

“Oh, yeah, um definitely. Yeah.”

The encounter was a bit awkward, but there was also something there, you felt. You weren’t really sure what exactly it was, but you were determined to find out more about this man.

Which led you to this very moment. You watched the groom and the bride’s first dance happen in the very center of the venue, a sweet, classical song being played by a live band, and the deep, loving eye contact the newly weds shared.

Then, when your eyes drifted away from them, you finally saw him across the room, sitting at a table, and noticing you at the exact, same time. The man from before.

***

“Do you believe it?”

“Oh, h-huh? Believe what?”

You shrug. “That the world is ending next year.”

He looked confused.

“You know? Y2K? People believe that next year, the whole, like, all of computer systems will crash because code can’t read the year two thousand and the glitch is going to cause an entire apocalypse.”

You two sat at the same table after he joined you, in which he came over quite awkwardly, resting his damp blazer on his chair, placing his plate of cake on the table, and then finally sitting down. And now, you two were just conversing about random topics while eating cake and drinking mediocre beverages.

“O-oh, yeah, I think I, uh, heard of that.”

He was a bit awkward. But it was nothing you couldn’t handle.

“So? Do you believe it?”

“Um… No, actually. It’s too… theatrical. I know a lot of people bought so much flashlights and candles because they assumed that the whole bug will cause everyone to be forced to camp, but… It’s just a bit ridiculous,” he answered, taking a sip of the champagne.

“Right,” you agree.

“And you?”

“Huh?”

“Do you belie—”

“Oh, no, of course not,” you chuckle lightly. “I, uh… It’s ridiculous, as you said, but… sometimes it’s kinda fun for the world to panic over dumb shit together… It… reminds me that we’re all just humans, trying to live and survive, experiencing the same thing everyone else is, just co-existing.” You looked at him for a while until your eyes widened suddenly. “Sorry if I got too, I don’t know, serious abou—”

“No, no, um… I agree. You’re right,” he smiles softly and you return it.

You clear your throat. “Do you, uh, actually like that stuff?” You ask, pointing at his tall glass of champagne, then looked at your own.

He pursed his lips. “I mean… It’s okay, I guess.”

You scoff. “It tastes like hand sanitizer. Like, you’d think this expensive ass wedding would have better drinks, you know?”

He paused. “How would you know how hand sanitizer tastes?”

“It’s just a feeling. Like—I’d imagine bar soap to taste like white chocolate,” you say.

A small chuckle leaves his mouth, which you seemed to admire heavily. You wanted that to happen again. It was a sweet, wide smile, his tired eyes growing bright, and his soft laugh entrancing you completely. You wanted to take out every lame joke of your shitty humor book stored in your prefrontal cortex to see him chuckle like that again.

“Shit,” he grumbled, his face contorted in discomfort as he attempted to look down under the table.

“Are you okay?” You asked, raising an eyebrow and trying to see what was bothering him.

“No—I mean—Yeah, I am, it’s just… I’ve never been to something formal in a long time, and I never got to buy new shoes so… They’re kinda tight,” he explained, moving the table cloth slightly to see his shoes in view under the table.

“Oh,” you reply.

“Doesn’t help that the rain made my socks wet too.”

“Ugh.”

He paused, then looked at you. “Should I take ‘em off?”

Your eyes widened. “Wh—Seriously? Are you insane?”

“It’s not like anyone could see it. C’mon, my feet are really aching,” he complained.

“Dude, look at what the bridesmaids are wearing! Look at those damn heels, you’re really gonna complain about your own feet when they have to wear those the entire day?!” You exclaim, but you couldn’t help but laugh softly. He liked your laugh.

“I’m taking them off.”

“No!” You giggle. “What the fuck are you thinking?!” Your voice lowers in a murmur, ensuring that nobody else hears you.

“I am taking these guys off.”

“Dude, no! If—If Quinn finds out, she is going to be pissed,” you urge.

“Hey. You knew the groom and I knew the bride. Meaning that I know the bride more than you. And I would know, that if she found out—”

“She’s gonna kill you,” you interrupt.

He paused.

“Yeah, she’d definitely kill me.”

You both laugh softly, enjoying each other’s presence. “You know, weirdly enough, I think my feet hurt even more when they’re all stiff. Like, walking doesn’t hurt as much as them being still.”

“Seriously?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah—”

“You’re not just saying that so you’d have an excuse to dance with me, right?” You tease, letting a playful smirk appear on your lips. “Because that logic literally makes no fucking sense.”

His eyes went wide, and you swore you could see his face flush red, and he began to stammer over his words. “N-no, I—I mean, that wasn’t—uh…” It seemed as if he gave up. It truly wasn’t his intention to dance with you, but he was too flustered to even state his case.

You stood up, walking in front of him and took your hand out. “You don’t have a date, do you?” You ask, raising an eyebrow with a gentle smile.

“Um, no. Why-why would I—”

“Okay, good,” you nod, “Then may I have this dance?”

He looked up at you in surprise and parted his lips to respond. “I—I don’t know how to dance—”

“Anybody can dance. Anyways, wouldn’t it be ironic if there was a wedding without any dancing?” You inquire.

“I mean, yeah, but, like… I’m not saying that dancing shouldn’t occur, I just… Me? I just can’t, I don’t think I—”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “Just take my hand, dude.”

He places his hand in yours, and before he was given the chance to completely stand up, you hastily dragged him to the dance floor.

Despite all that, you smile at him warmly, giving him a sense of comfort and safety. Your hands held onto the back of his neck, and he placed his hands on your waist. “Can’t dance, my ass,” you mumbled playfully, which brought a stifled laugh from him.

The two of you swayed with the soft music, looking profoundly into each other’s eyes. You couldn’t take them off each other if you tried. You only knew him for a few hours, and you just met him today, but you felt like his soft, deep hazel eyes told you his whole life story, engulfing you in solace and intimacy.

And then it hit you:

You didn’t even know this man’s name. And he didn’t even know yours.

“Hey,” you chuckle, your voice only widening his present smile.

“Yeah?”

“It has just occurred to me that I don’t know your name.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Wait, seriously?”

“Wh—yeah—”

“So we never told each other our names in the past hour we’ve met?”

“Hm, no, I guess not,” you giggle.

“Damn,” he sighs pleasantly. “Um, do you wanna go first?”

“Does it matter?”

“No.”

“Should we do rock-paper-scissors?”

He scoffs in delight. “Seriously?”

“You’re right, that’s ridiculous… It should definitely be a thumb war.”

He laughs. “What?”

“Or maybe I’m thinking of a number between one to fifty? I mean—”

“I’m Mike.”

“Y/n,” you say immediately after him.

You two smile at each other, and it was apparent that you were trying not to laugh.

“Ow—” You hiss abruptly.

“Shit, sorry,” he breathed. ‘Mike’ stepped on your foot.

“It’s okay, it’s fine,” you giggle.

“I told you I can’t dance,” he frowned.

“But you’re doing it right now,” you retort.

“Not doing it very good,” he corrects.

“But you can admit you’re dancing,” you smile.

He chuckles. “Yeah, I guess I’ve proven myself wrong.”

You two share a look, a very particular one that communicated adoration and captivation for each other.

“What number would you have said if I did get you to choose one from one to fifty?” You ask out of curiosity.

“Hm… Maybe… maybe si—?”

Mike cut himself off once the lights suddenly shut off, all of the electricity in the venue failing simultaneously. A few panicked gasps and even screams escaped several people’s mouths as the entire venue was black. You couldn’t see anything, and you held onto whatever was closest to you, seeking comfort in a warm embrace.

A man called out the explanation, saying how it was the rainstorm that caused the power outage, and only a few seconds after that was said, the lights all switched back on.

Your eyes adjust, only to realize that you were pressed against Mike, you two holding one another against each other. Your hands, which were on his shoulders, dragged back down to his arms as you pull away slightly, the two of you exchanging awkward chuckles and smiles.

The two of you spent most of the wedding day together. You both didn’t really know anyone else that well enough, so you relished in each other’s company.

You found an empty, unoccupied room in the venue, another small ballroom, you presumed, that wasn’t used for the party. You and Mike sat at the edge of the short stage, giggling after making a few jokes to each other.

“Um… You met Emmett in high school, so, like, does that mean you’re from Pennsylvania?” He asked after the laughter had died down, his sweet grin still remaining on his lips.

“Oh, um, yeah. But, uh, I live here now, y’know, we had a small friend group and decided to go to the same college together, or at least state, and we all ended up in Minnesota,” you answer. “Why? Would you have been disappointed to find out that I’m just visiting?”

He shrugged, but smiled amusedly, never tired of your antics. “Kind of, yeah.”

“Kind of?” Your raise your voice playfully, placing your hand on your chest in offense.

“Okay, okay, the truth is, I would’ve been devastated to know that you didn’t actually live here,” he says, chuckling.

“Devastated, huh?” You smirk, taking out a pen (that you kept on yourself after finding it before the reception because you did plan to give your number to him tonight) and a clean napkin you had from earlier. You began to write down your phone number, then handed him the completed note. “Don’t hesitate to call.”

“And if next year does result in the failure of all technology?” He raises an eyebrow, making you scoff, taking back the napkin and scribbling more down.

“Then don’t be afraid to be old fashioned and write me a damn letter,” you grin, handing him the napkin once again. It had not just your name and phone number, but your house address as well.

Mike smiled to himself, knowing that his awkward, yet cheesy ass would send you flowers at your doorstep one of these days. What a total pansy.

“I had a great time tonight,” you tell him quietly, looking into his sweet, brown eyes.

“I did too,” he nodded, smile only widening.

“Never thought, uh… This sorta, um, ‘thing’ would happen to me during someone else’s wedding. They weren’t lying when they’d say romance is in the air, huh?”

“You sure it’s not just the gas leaks?”

You chortle. “Mike—”

“Or Emmett’s grandmother’s unnecessarily strong perfume?”

The two of you laugh hysterically, and you add on yourself. “Or the shitty pot that Quinn’s sister snuck in?”

And as soon as your laughter died down, you found yourselves kissing each other deeply, your hands cupping his face as you feel his soft lips against yours. There was no specific, long quiet moment that led up to the kiss, it just… happened. There was a mutual understanding between the two of you, in which you both had the urge to press your lips against each other.

You two look into each other’s eyes silently once you pulled away gently from one another’s lips. A smile rose at both of your faces as you began to giggle with him sweetly. His laugh was addicting, as you observed from before, and his face even more enthralling, with his pretty smile and big bright eyes.

Your thumb was still under his chin as he waited in anticipation, for your lips to come in contact with his again. The two of your eyes had been half-lidded ever since the first kiss, and they completely closed once again as your lips crashed onto his again, the kiss done much more confidently than before.

“Take me out next week, will you, Mike?” You pulled away, raising an eyebrow.

“Y-y-yeah, sure. For sure,” he replied, making you two laugh together again, attaching your lips together once more.

#mike schmidt x reader #Mike schmidt x gn!reader #Mike schmdit x you #Mike schmidt #fnaf movie #fnaf #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson x you #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt fluff #fluff #josh futturman x reader #clapton davis x reader #peeta mellark x reader #gender neutral #gender neutral reader

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hanasnx · 1 month

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diff anon but what fandoms did you meet your close moots through? i don’t know if that counts as indy lore

that counts! more under the cut. i wanted to talk about all my mutuals

@its-clockwork-princess one of my best, oldest, and dearest friends. years and years of friendship, roleplay, fanfiction, writing. every time i see a duo on screen or in any media my first thought is always her and my second thought is always “us.” we went through a thousand different fandoms and i can’t remember our first but we definitely bonded heavily over fandoms like marvel, dc, and fnaf at the very early stages of our friendship. her dad was actually dating my mom for a long time, which gave us plenty of time together. literally cant even summarize everything we’ve gone through together, everything we’ve built, seriously been friends for a decade and i plan on staying that way for the rest of my life. i cant imagine my life without her, how bleak and colorless it would’ve been. i’m honored to know such a generous and kind person, and someone who helped shape me into who i am today. a love truly unconditional.

@ohgodmyeyes loved his takes on anakin, thought he was so real and so down to earth even though he could stand to be more egotistical considering how talented he is. i think about a certain post he made about anakin -> vader's dick literally once a day. i'm not even exaggerating at all when i say it was my roman empire. in just that small amount of time i was taught his quiet confidence, his exquisite way with words, and his unapologetic thought process. i maintain a distance from him because i'm playing the long game and from what i've seen on his personal posts i feel like he might be overwhelmed if i come on too strong, as i often do. but that doesn't stop me from grinning every time i see him in my notifs and i get to think, "this message was approved by ohgodmyeyes." very proudly.

@somuchfrstardust we talked in the comment section of anakin edits on tiktok i feel like and then i was like "hey wanna be friends" and we haven't talked in a while but that's totally cool, that's just how i am. i still consider them my friend i think they're a rly cool person.

@banakinbabygirl was one of the first anakin/hayden blogs i followed, i love how they write smut. it's a very emotional way of writing, very heavy on the descriptions and realistic reactions that drew me in and kept me there.

@starmanskywalker is one of my favorite writers in general. anything on her masterlist is an instant recommendation from me, instant like, instant reblog, instant indy review. i'm such a jealous person in general but the way i feel about alanis' writing is beyond jealousy. it's admiration, it's fondness, it's awe. i don’t feel envious i feel fulfilled. i was very proud to become her mutual, her friend, be on a first name basis with her, and write fanfiction with her. we have a collab we've been working on for a while but because we're both so busy and it's such a big project it takes a lot of time and a lot of love, but i'm still so excited for the day it's finished and can be published.

@xstarkillerx is so much more than a person i met on the internet. truly one of my best friends, and i can’t imagine not having him in my life. there’s so much i can say that i have actually already said on this blog before. donnie has a way with seeing the world i just love to hear about. i’ll ask his opinions and experiences on everything simply to hear what he, specifically, has to say about it. when we have conversations inhibitions are left at the door for the both of us instead of just me. i feel skinless, muscle-less, body-less with donnie. an entity obsessed with him on discord as we write novels to each other, sonnets about how we view the world and its fictions. donnie is my bread and butter, and i’m so glad i found him and stalked him and forced him to be my friend and now he’s reliant on me just like i want.

@weixuldo such a sweet person and very understanding of me and my boundaries. i first found wei’s blog through their fanart of darth vader which i loved so much i sent every single one of their posts to my best friend who i mentioned at the beginning of this post. i still go back to look at those works every so often to brush up on my love for them. such a talented artist i’m very happy i’m worthy of a follow back, and that we enjoy each other’s content.

@mcondance i met through hobie brown back in june 2022. i loved how they kept luring me to their page by mentioning me and my hobie works they kept reading, i swear they were using my vanity as bait and it worked. they are, genuinely, so fucking funny. i only have friends that are funny don’t get me wrong, but there’s something about jupie that when i’m talking about them to other people, that person is like “omg jupie is so funny.” like. jupie just transcends my sense of humor to other people’s. they’re funny to the masses. i’m very bad at texting, but jupie is a person i try to reach out to so they know i’m virtually loving on them. they like the attention. another writer i’m so pleased to be mutuals with when they’re so skilled at the part of writing i always feel like i’m most wooden at. the side of smut writing that takes feeling and sensation and even an edge of genuine horniness, jupie is so good at translating that onto a page.

@murdrdocs is another mutual i gained from the height of the hobie brown era and i believe i saw her content through jupie’s page. now we don’t get to talk too much but that doesn’t mean i don’t think she’s not a super cool person. i don’t read much, but the things i do get to read specifically on icarus’ page make me very proud to be her mutual. not only is she an accomplished and gorgeous writer, but her blog designs are always envy-inducing. she shifts her aesthetics so seamlessly—even tho i know how changing a theme can be draining and time-consuming—and it’s always easy on the eyes. her navigation is especially creative and i’ll never forget her newspaper clipping themed announcement for last kinktober.

@princessbrunette another writer i’m constantly in awe of. i met her through her anakin works, and invited myself onto her kinktober taglist when she was still a relatively new blog that’s how much i was instantly attracted to her work. her style is so distinct and so refined, i can overlook non canon work because hers is just that good. she’s also very funny, and has a gifted silver tongue. i’m always impressed with how she’s able to paint a picture in her pieces using nothing but the most concise and visualizing words. it’s not often that i watch something because a friend watched it, but i watched obx for her so i could still enjoy her work that’s how much i love it. our universes we create in our dms are so special to me.

@empiresheir was someone i met through their anakin one-shot about order 66 which i’ve reblogged several times and it’ll never be enough. it was such a good piece i gave live updates to my best friend who was reading it too. i sent those screenshots to her orc cos she deserved to know what i had to say. she was also an essential help when i was writing my kinktober project, kind enough to read my pieces and give me line by line feedback just like i like so i wouldn’t go crazy from lack of attention on pieces i couldn’t post til october. not only another talented and powerful writer (capable of dropping my jaw at how insanely good she is at wording things), but such a sweet person to talk to. and though she’s not active in the fandom anymore i think of her fondly and i hope she’s having such a good time with baldur’s gate.

@darthvvder had a collection of anakin drabbles that i found on wattpad of all places and i was amazed at what i read. thoroughly impressed by the physical reactions her works were eliciting in me. got me to care about smut tropes i hadn’t cared about before simply bcos she was so good at writing them. i posted about a line that gripped me and she commented that it was her, i followed and the rest is history.

@jarebare99 is my boyfriend :) he gets an honorary mention. i wrote him an entire book of poetry and my thoughts on him so he can read that if he’s feeling left out from everyone getting paragraphs. i met him in irl not through a fandom but idc.

@ddejavvu was someone i’d see in my notifications including my inbox every so often and she was very recognizable. i really can’t remember how us being mutuals happened? i’d like to say i somehow discovered she wrote and wrote well and once i began noticing i consistently liked her content then i followed and lo and behold she was following me too. mei is very respectful of my space and i like that she texts me without expecting an answer back bcos i like to read her updates and don’t always know what to say. i have some of her inbox messages i gatekeep and i go back and read them every so often and think about how diabolical it would be if i answered them and floored the world, but i have yet to be ready to share the genius.

@anakincentric technically through anakin. even though we don’t talk much bcos both of us have really similar no-contact ways that doesn’t mean i don’t think she’s real sweet. i like when she pops in, drops a banger, and then peaces out. like a disney cameo appearance.

@harrisonbrainrot i wanna say han/indiana. i feel like i was already following his blog because i got to read some of his stuff when i was in a han mood and was like, “yea, this guy gets it.” and then when we reconnected in the comments of someone else’s post, i told him i was a big fan which was true, and then wham bam thank you ma’am mutuals. i have no idea if he knew who i was before or if he was following me, but he’s cool asf. not only is he hot and chill, he’s also really kind with me about not texting. a very generous soul who let me use his crunchyroll to watch jjk out of the goodness of his heart, which i am kissing him for. one of the rare writer’s on here who’s unapologetic in the shit they say, which i always admire and prioritize in who i choose to follow. love his han characterization, so when he’s reblogged a han work of mine, i believe it’s been christened by the harrison ford pope.

@anitheus tagging this blog bcos it’s what i followed first but i also follow her other account @silxani because i love her art style. i love how she draws anakin every time. her spider-sam fanart, and her nsfw anakin works are my favorite, as well as the fanart she made of us for my birthday. gorgeous art style i could look at all day, and i like her personality when we text.

@ivysangel i wanna say it was dc comics but i can’t remember the character, might’ve been jason todd. she came for the dc, and stayed for the other stuff including my general tomfoolery. she flatters me with kind words about how i’ve influenced her, which always makes me soft. we have a lot in common, which is always so much fun to compare, and i love that she watched batman beyond when i recommended it even though i wasn’t expecting her to a) do it and b) love it. she’s aware and respectful of my boundaries when it comes to sharing my ideas which i appreciate, and i love seeing her in my inbox. we haven’t had enough time together for me to nail down everything i like about her, but i will.

@loveliestlovelygirl eloise caught me by surprise bcos it’s not often i get instantly hooked, or at least it hasn’t been that way for a while. i haven’t been in an anakin mood for a while, but i still reblog her works instantly so i can get to it later because i know i’ll like it even though i haven’t read it. idk much about her, but her theme makes me bonkers jealous. it’s so beautiful. like her chapter HTML for her fallen angel au makes me drool.

@psuedosis newest mutual. her reaction towards me made me instantly endeared, and i loved her jet works. some zuko pieces as well! hit at the right time bcos i just finished atla animated. very excited to get to know her more.

boom. indy lore and extensive thoughts on tumblr mutuals.

#indy shoots the shit #thanks for the msg!!#anon #indy lore

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tobyislame · 6 months

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if you haven’t gotten this question yet, whats your take on toby having a crush on someone? like im talking completely infatuated like head over heals like twirling his hair and kicking his feet while giggling and thinking about her/him type of sh

like the type of crush to make him somehow listen to taylor swift

you know?

i think toby's the type to be really prone to obsessiveness/possessiveness . it'd be cute at first, he'd be like "oh wow this person makes me feel weird in my chest" accompanied by getting all jittery and awkward around them, fleeting glances, y'know looking away the millisecond their eyes happen to meet and acting like he totally wasn't just staring although the red on his face says it all, haphazardly trying to fix his unfixable hair the moment he notices they're around, very clearly having a sort of soft spot for them because they're the only person he ever talks to out of his own volition, not taylor swift but they'd make him listen to alanis morisette or jewel or whatever, stuff like that

but it'd get real messy real quick . suddenly he's got a weird feeling in his chest of another, uglier nature when he sees them interact with anyone else . suddenly the idea of them making anyone else feel the way they make him feel puts this awful burning hatred in his chest that just turns his heart to fucking cinder . suddenly he can't help but worry so bad he makes himself sick when they're apart . suddenly he can't help the way his hands ball up so tight they turn white when anyone else makes them smile, suddenly he can't help the way his nails dig into his palms when they look at anyone else but him, but it's not HIS fault he feels this way it's THEIRS for making him fall for them, it's THEIRS for putting him in this position .

so essentially the minute this man starts crushing put him in a straitjacket just save everyone the trouble

#hes so find i wont him #dream guy #ticci toby #toby rogers #ticci toby headcanons #creepypasta #tobyhcs #anon

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deathblacksmoke · 5 months

Text

Dramamine—Part 1

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Nick Ruffilo

Series Summary: Cynical, brooding bartender Nick meets too-earnest, pretty boy singer Noah when The Rabbit’s Foot starts hosting an open mic night.

CW: Descriptions of a panic attack, vague angst, Nick is kind of a dick (but we love him anyway!)

*Content warnings will be updated by chapter*

Word Count: 1.2K

Taglist: @concretenoah / @ladyveronikawrites / @circle-with-me / @darksigns-exe / @xxrainstorm / @monotoniscreaming / @agravemisstake / @iknownothingpeople

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future fics!

Author’s Note: Thank you @darksigns-exe for planting this seed, thank you @ladyveronikawrites for the beta, thank you @concretenoah and @circle-with-me for allowing me to talk about this shit constantly. This series, to me, is a big bad scary thing. I’ve been mulling it for a while. Feedback is appreciated but please be gentle with me 🤍

dividers by @cafekitsune 💐

“Tuesdays are our worst nights. We don’t even have a stage.”

When Jolly had floated the idea of an open mic night 2 weeks ago, Nick had thought it was a joke. Open mic night, sure, perfect idea for a Tuesday night in an almost-failing dive.

Bud thinks it’s a good idea, he’d said. Bud hasn’t been into the bar on a Tuesday in months, hasn’t shown up at all in almost as long. He has no idea what a ghost town this place can be—always is on Tuesday nights. Nick had agreed, but he was clearly being funny. Can no one sense his tone anymore?

“We moved some tables. It’ll be fine,” Jolly says, and Nick just has to laugh. Moved some tables. “Not so empty tonight, is it? Look around you, Nicholas, we’re full. Gavin’s turning people away at the door.”

He can’t imagine why anyone is being turned away—in front of him, he only sees mostly empty bar stools and a couple of unoccupied tables. A little busier than their typical Tuesday night, sure, but he’s still not impressed.

“Gavin’s a fucking idiot.” Nick says, shaking his head, resigning himself to the idiocy that is this night. “These fucks better tip cash or I’ll deck someone.”

He doesn’t know how many more Alanis Morrissette covers he can handle. The spoken word is worse. The Bob Dylan impersonator was unbearably painful. The recorder felt a little bit like a joke, and if it was, it was his favorite performance of the night.

He hates open mic nights. He took the job here 8 years ago specifically because it’s the exact type of dump that doesn’t buy into this shit. He hates it when he’s proven wrong. He’ll demand he be able to pre-screen everyone for next week, if god forbid Jolly allows this to continue.

He does have to admit the tips have been good—he may even be able to fill his tank—but when Folio comes out of the back with a glass full of offending green leaves, Nick has to take a deep breath to keep himself from losing his mind.

More changes. More tiny, stupid changes that won’t do anything to actually improve the direction that this bar is heading. All of Nick’s perfectly-reasonable suggestions have gone ignored, but sure, mint will revive the place.

“What are you doing with mint?” Nick scoffs, and Folio has the nerve to laugh at him.

“Jolly said that Bud wants us to be able to make mojitos. The new crowd brought in by the open mic night might want them.”

“This is a dive bar. I’m not making mojitos.”

“No one even orders—”

Nick’s attention is taken elsewhere when a soft-looking, long-haired, too-tall, pretty-faced boy with a guitar shows up on the stage. Rather, the special spot of the floor where tables used to be.

Nick’s first thought is that he doesn’t belong in a place like this. He’s off-put by the buzzy feeling in his tummy about it and pushes it away. He can’t focus on that. When the boy introduces himself, painfully earnest, Nick is too zoned out to catch a name. Instead, he’s focused on the way his pretty lips move dangerously close to the microphone.

The first chords played take him out of his thoughts.

The melody bubbles up a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time. 706 days, not that he’s counting. When he starts singing, Nick’s stomach drops and his head spins.

Traveling, swallowing, dramamine—

He’ll be sick. He can’t see anything. He can’t breathe.

“Folio, watch the bar. I’ll be—” Nick starts to storm off, “—just watch it for me, okay?” he yells, not bothering to wait for an affirmative or consider the fact that Folio couldn’t make more than a Jack and Coke if he tried. He has to get the fuck out of here.

He slams through the front door to see Gavin in front of a short line of people, flirting with a girl who can’t be 21 years old. He should have gone out back, but he can’t bring himself to even scoff, taking a hard left and slipping into an alleyway.

His legs give out beneath him—he slumps against the brick wall, hard against his back. He can’t catch his breath and his vision is blacking.

He can still hear the song playing through the walls, cursing the fact that of course the better sound system last year was Nick’s one suggestion that actually went through. He closes his eyes and he sees hers. The only thing he can focus on as he gasps for air is keeping his eyes open.

He remembers what that useless therapist told him about breathing into a paper bag. He thinks now that it sounds ridiculous, but he’s going to lose consciousness and he has a $20 in his wallet that he really can’t afford to lose.

He finds a nasty, grease-soaked bag on the ground by his feet. He pushes thoughts away of any diseases he could contract when he closes the opening around his nose and mouth. Normal breathing. In, out. Thank god the music has stopped. In, out, in, out. 12 breaths. He feels foolish, but a little less like he’s going to die on the ground of this alley tonight, and his vision is clearing.

He sits for a moment and really laments the fact that he can’t go back in there. He can’t go back in there and pretend he wasn’t breathing in someone else’s old burger on the wet ground of an alleyway, but Folio can’t make a drink and he needs those tips.

“You okay, man?” Folio asks, clapping him on the back when Nick sneaks back in behind the bar.

Every once in a while, the sunshiny persona of the barback Nick never asked for nor needed almost has the ability to bring a smile to his face, but right now it takes all his might to not cringe away from the touch.

“All good, Folio, thanks.”

He shifts his eyes to see Jolly putting the mic stand away, moving tables back, and table after table of unfamiliar faces leaving the bar. No more tips tonight, but he’s grateful for the impending peace and quiet of a now normal Tuesday night at The Rabbit’s Foot.

He sees the singer approaching the bar and he finds it difficult to make eye contact.

“ID,” Nick says, without so much as a hello. He can tell he’s old enough but he wishes he’d caught his name, and this way he doesn’t have to ask. Noah Sebastian Davis, he reads. Brown eyes. 6’3”. 1995. Too pretty. “What can I get for you?”

“Can I have a mojito?” Noah asks, cringing when Nick barely tries and ultimately fails to hide his scoff.

“No mint,” he says, but Noah points to the little container Folio had brought out earlier. Nick picks up the dish, handing it off to Folio. “Little prank. It’s spinach.”

Noah narrows his eyes. Too pretty.

“I’m not making you a mojito, pretty boy. It’s after 11, you can have a beer. Cash only.”

Noah rolls his eyes but smiles anyway. It’s a little too toothy and it makes Nick’s stomach swoop. “I have cash. Yuengling is fine.”

“That I can do,” Nick says, pushing away the butterflies when he hands the bottle off and their fingers touch.

#bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #nick ruffilo fic #nick ruffilo fanfiction #nick ruffilo rpf #nicholas ruffilo fic #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo rpf #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian rpf #noah sebastian x nick ruffilo #noah sebastian x nicholas ruffilo #deathblacksmoke works #fic: dramamine

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rosewaterandivy · 9 months

Text

won me over in spite of me

summary: after having met at the 2020 rock n' roll hall of fame induction ceremony, eddie munson will not leave you be. keeps going on about this guy who'd be perfect for you, but you're not interested in another set-up.

a/n: long live rockstar!eddie and his meddling ways!

🎶 you are the bearer of unconditional things, you held you breath and the door for me, thanks for your patience 🎶

“I’m so sorry,” you say, badly covering yet another yawn. “I don’t know why I’m so tired today.”

A lie. Of course you knew, how could you not?

“Something keep you awake?” he asks, voice soft against the crashing tide.

You’re walking side by side in the fading light, the salty breeze tickling your nose. He’s holding your boots in one hand, insisting that they’re too nice for you to resign them to the sand, your socks tucked into his back pocket.

An amber glow cuts across his face, making him even more handsome, impossibly enough. You bite your lip, looking quickly away when his eyes meet yours— mossy green and flecked with gold.

“The jet lag, probably.” You huff and laugh, turning to watch the sunset.

He hums in thought, “We could’ve rescheduled.”

“What? like we haven’t done that several times over already?”

His bark of laughter is loud and brings a smile to your face. Steve Harrington, the talented and in-demand actor, laughing at your motor mouth. Who would have thought?

Well, Eddie Munson, for one.

“Eds,” you growl picking up your phone, “It’s 4 in the fucking morning.”

“… shit, sorry.”

You roll over onto your stomach, wedging the phone between your ear and shoulder.

“Well, what is it? What couldn’t you possibly wait to badger me about?”

He sighs down the line, you can almost hear him rolling his eyes. “Remember how you were drunkenly lamenting the lack of decent men in the dating scene?”

“I told you that in confidence, Edward.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off, “And apps are the worst, even if they claim to have a screening process like Raya— that’s not your scene.”

“Can I go back to sleep now?”

“Will you just lemme,” he lets out an exasperated huff. “I am trying to you a solid girly.”

A brief consideration.

“You know how I feel about set-ups.”

“Okay, but it’s me? I’m not gonna set you up with some creep who has like, a collection of Furbies or some shit.”

“Long Furbies or normal Furbies?”

“Was any Furby truly normal? More like demon spawn— but that’s beside the point.”

You sigh, smooshing your face into the pillow and mumble out something unintelligible.

“C’mon sugar, use your big girl words.”

God, you could kill him.

“I said,” you enunciate pointedly, “I’ll consider it.”

“Hell yeah!” he crows directly into your ear. “Only a year of bugging you and you finally see reason.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, Munson.”

He ends the call by promising to send you the details. so, after your set in Munich you read through a few emails— put out a few fires your publicist expressed concern about, and check your texts.

eds: steve harrington

you: i’m sorry who?

eds: … are you fucking with me?

you: no??

eds: omg 😆 he’s gonna love that

you: the guy you’re trying to set me up with gets off on people not knowing who he is? not really selling it to me here, munson.

eds: no, that’s not— i’ll send you a pic

you: if there is a whisper of dick, i am throwing my phone into the isar river

eds: [IMG]

“Really?” you greet once he picks up, “That’s the pic? How is that supposed to be helpful?”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Shut up, nerd. I know you don’t sleep. Just answer the question.”

“Ah, you caught me,” he laughs softly. “It’s his contact photo in my phone— whaddaya want from me? You said you didn’t want a dick pic.”

You take a deep breath, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Eds, why would you have seen this guy’s dick, much less have a photo of it?”

“Truthfully, it was an accident, both times.” You can hear him shuffling across the line. “But there is nothing wrong with dudes checking out each other’s rigs.”

“I—" your mouth is gaping open like a fish. “I need to drink myself to oblivion to forget this conversation.”

“I mean, it’s noice, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he says unhelpfully.

“GOODBYE Edward!”

Thankfully, he calls not long after the disastrous text exchange. You were doing fuck-all lounging around the house since finishing your festival circuit. Technically, this was supposed to be a writing day, but the muse had not been kind to you lately. Studio time was booked for a few weeks out, and you were struggling to come up with the motivation to finish the last few songs for the album.

The buzz of the phone provided a needed excuse to pack it in for the day. Shutting your journal and tossing a pen onto the coffee table, you answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Uh, yeah. Hi." He cleared his throat briefly, "M'glad you picked up, considering how much of an idiot I was. Sorry, by the way."

Steve's voice is low and raspy, but warm and inviting. You lean back on the leather sofa, sinking back into the cushions suddenly not so nervous.

"Well, I'm a nice person, second chances and all that."

He laughs at that. "Very gracious of you."

"Though," you say, "You never did confirm that this is, in fact, Steve Harrington that I am speaking with."

"No?"

"Nope," you pop the 'p' for emphasis. "So, I'm gonna have to ask for some sort of proof because Eddie was less than helpful."

He scoffs, "Typical Munson."

A moment later your phone pings with a notification: s.h. sent an image. Opening it up, you compare it to the images that pop up when you Google his name, and, sure enough, that's him.

"Better?" he asks, after giving you a moment.

"I suppose it'll do. Not like I'm about to suggest facetime," you sigh, running a hand through your unkempt hair. "Especially when I'm rocking writer's retreat chic."

"Mmm," he hums, "Sounds comfy. I'm jealous."

"Yeah?" you laugh, "They not let you roll up in sweats and bleach-stained shirts for your shoot today?"

His laughter greets you, "Y'know, oddly they don't?"

The conversation flows easily from there. He tells you what he can about his current project and you regale him with tales from life on the road, including special appearances by one Eddie Munson. Steve is easy to talk to— effusive and funny, which you hadn’t expected.

You hate to admit it, but Eddie may have been onto something.

“And then he—" Steve stops short, mid-story about a prank gone awry onset of his last project, muttering an apology and you can hear him open the door.

"Mr. Harrington, they're ready for you on set."

Trying to ignore the sour pull of your gut, you heave yourself off of the couch determined to do at least one productive thing today. He had to get back to set, you needed to get something done today, and the conversation was coming to a close.

The door closes with a soft click, quickly followed by Steve's sigh. "So, I gotta get back to work."

"Yeah," you clear your throat. "I guess I should too."

"I, uh, I'm really glad we got to talk." His voice was softer now, "C-could I call you later?"

"Oh, sure." You swallow the nerves creeping up your throat and ignore the kick of your heart in your chest. "I'd like that."

"Yeah?"

You screw your eyes shut, feeling yourself growing hot. "Don't get a big head about it, Harrington."

He laughs, breath blowing in huffs down the line. "Might be too late for that honey."

Numerous phone and FaceTime calls, messages, and several reschedulings later, you were going on a date with Steve. A first date at that, and you couldn't recall the last time you'd been on one of those. His assistant and best friend, Robin had called to confirm with you and promised to drop a pin of the place in Malibu where you'd meet him.

You were lucky enough to fly relatively under the radar most of the time, but since releasing and touring with your sophomore album, it was becoming more difficult to pull off. Not that you didn't like being nominated and winning awards or receiving feedback from your peers— you did, it was just a cosmic catch-22.

Steve completely understood when you'd mentioned not wanting anything especially public for the date. Just said he'd take care of it and for you not to worry about a thing.

But here you were, doing just that staring at your closet trying to find something to wear. In a panic, you'd called Eddie who was currently rifling through your dresser and tossing things behind him. The only thing you'd been able to agree on were the denim shorts, laid out on the bed awaiting the rest of your outfit.

"Aha!" He tossed a red top onto the bed, turning back to face you. "Those," he gestured to the shirt and shorts, "With your boots— the Docs or Blood—"

“Blundstone.”

"Right," he nods, "S'what I said."

You appraise the articles of clothing warily. "Okay."

"Now the lingerie situation is where it gets interesting."

You scoff, "Absolutely not." And begin herding him toward the door, "Consider your services done for the evening."

Shutting the door to change, you hear Eddie talking indistinctly in the hallway. Tieing the hem of the shirt into a knot, you let Eddie back in to assess.

With a nod of approval, he ends the call. "What's up, hot stuff? Harrington's not gonna know what hit him!"

You smile and walk to the mirror in the bathroom to see what can be done about your hair and makeup.

"Speaking of which," Eddie trails after you. "That was him on the phone. Fashion emergency, would you believe?"

"Uh huh," you roll your eyes. "Okay, Miranda Priestly."

"Anyway, I gotta run." He gives you a quick peck on the cheek and a smile. "You're gonna knock 'em dead!"

And he's off.

"Hey," Eddie shouts from the first-floor entryway. "Keep your hair down and do a red lip with that, sugar!"

Steve meets you at the beach. He’s dressed down in jeans and t-shirt and a red bomber jacket— you try to hide the smirk creeping its way across your face; Eddie purposefully curating your respective sartorial choices to match. What a little scamp. You park the car, a vintage cream Mercedes convertible and give yourself a final look in the mirror— hair voluminous and wind whipped (shout-out to leave in stylers), red lip matching your top to a tee.

Well, here goes nothing.

“Hi,” he greets you, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. Steve opens the door for you, allowing you to step out and put your sunglasses on.

The door shuts with a soft click.

“Hi,” you reply with a small smile, willing the nerves bubbling in your chest to stay at bay. You nod to the bundle of flowers, “Those for me?”

“Oh, right.” As if he’s just remembered them. “Yeah, your assistant said these were your favorite so.” He extends the hand holding the bouquet toward you, almost hesitantly.

“They are,” you say, fingers brushing against his as you accept the flowers, paper and cellophane crinkling in your grasp. Bringing them to your nose, you breathe in the fresh fragrance of the flowers. “You did good Harrington, thank you.”

He ducks his head and smiles, one hand coming up to run through his hair. “Uh, you're welcome. I’m glad you like them.” He jerks his head toward the beach, “We’re set-up a bit further down. You don’t mind a walk, do you?” You can feel his eyes on you, even as you look away to the shoreline.

A shake of your head, skin warming from the sun overhead and excitement at the possibility of this new thing between you and Steve. What might it be like? To put yourself through it all again, with someone new?

“No,” you answer, jarring yourself from any further lines of inquiry. “I don’t mind at all. Lead the way!”

He slows his pace to walk beside you, sunglasses hiding his gaze. You hold the flowers in your left hand, leaving your right— the one closest to Steve, free. He walks on the right, keeping the damp sand of the shore from you. It reminds you of something your grandmother said way back when you had started entertaining thoughts about dating for the first time: A gentleman always walks on the outside of their date, it’s a sign of chivalry and respect.

Your hands brush a couple of times, pinkies grazing one another. Steve is quiet, more so than you’d been accustomed to— he’s a regular chatterbox on the phone and a texting fiend, more often than not. Maybe he’s nervous? He certainly wouldn’t be the only one. Hands bumping against each other once more, you take it upon yourself make the first move.

“If you wanted to hold my hand so badly,” you laugh, twining your fingers together, “You could’ve just asked Steve.”

He looks at you, pink flush on his cheeks and a beatific smile. “Sorry,” he says with a squeeze of your hand, “Guess I’m a little rusty. And nervous,” he admits shyly. “You’re just so—“

“Intimidating? I get that a lot.”

Steve stops short, looking at you once more. “No— I mean, maybe to some but,” he pushes his sunglasses up into his hair. “You’re … beautiful.”

It’s an interesting phrase and you notice that it’s not the usual you look beautiful. But instead he’s said it as a declaration of fact— you are beautiful. Not in the way that relies on your looks or the clothes you’re wearing. And it’s nice— it’s sincere because that’s just how Steve Harrington is, as you’ve come to quickly learn.

“Sorry, was that—“

“Don’t apologize,” you say, when you’ve found your voice again. “I— thank you.” You duck your chin to hide your stupid grin. “You’re beautiful too, Steve.”

The walk resumes, both of you more at ease now. The conversation flows easily between you— work, friends, schedules— and you allow yourself to relax. First-date jitters subsided with the cadence of his voice and the warmth of his hand engulfing yours.

Maybe, just maybe this could become something real.

And, if so, Eddie Munson would never let you hear the end of it.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfiction #modern!actor!steve #Spotify

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simdolls · 4 months

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The Palmer Family 🌴

Meet the newest arrivals of San Sequoia, Sena (25) and Alani (6m). Hailing from Brindleton Bay, Sena works as a Teacher's Assistant, with hopes to own a classroom of her own someday. Meanwhile, Alani spends most of her days in her mother's warm embrace, without a care in the world.

#palmer*#simdolls #my sims #ts4 #s4 #the sims 4 #the sims4 #thesims4 #the sims #sims 4 #sims 4 community #the sims community #showusyoursims #show us your sims #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 maxis match #simblr #sims 4 simblr

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zoomzooomfast · 3 months

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So one of many parts of me explaining my sims HC's of how the sims universe is

Part One The Timeline

So Sims 3 is messy in the timeline because different worlds take place at different times so that will be noted when needed

The Sims 4 is similar in difficulty but also different because" it's an AU" so the Sims 4 is taken lightly on the timeline with parts that will be built upon later in explanation posts

the baseline of years are also based of the constant characters of the goths and the fact that sims 2 came out in 2004

-Sims 3 Twinbrook- between 1900-1910(The Curious brothers grandfather was a toddler)

-The Sims 3-Late 1950s-Early 60s

-Sims 3 Monte Vista, Roaring Heights -Late 60s-early 70s(The Montys and Capps are still young and growing a there families)

-Sims 3 Midnight Hollow, Lucky Palms, Moonlight falls-Mid 70s-early 80s(The Summerdreams are young adults, The Dreamers are young adults, Nervous Subject is a toddler)

-Sims 3 Aurora Skies -Some time during the early 80s (The Beaker siblings are alive and Loki is a child)

-The Sims 1- the late 80s-early 90s(The goths are adults and Cassy is a young child with out her brother Alex)

-Sims 3 Sunlit Tide-between 1986-1988( I know this is really specific but if the pleasant twins are between 14-16 in 2004 they had to be born between 1988-1990 and Mary-Sue and Daniel are on their honeymoon in Sunlit Tide. This also takes into account the theory that if The Sims 1 had a teen life stage Daniel would have been a teenager.)

-The sims 4 Horse Ranch and Cottage Living-Mid 90s-Late 90s (I put these two together earlier than The Sims 4 because Mortimer's aunt Agnus and her "Dead Husband" are elders)

-Sims 3 Dragon Valley-Mid 90s(John and Jennifer Burb are unmarried and Lucy isn't born yet)

-The Sims 2- 2004-05 (This is the baseline year with Bella being abducted in the Summer of 04 and then I am guessing the events of The Sims 2 take place between Summer 04 and then Summer 05 given the handful of pregnancies we know of and the fact that Seasons start in the winter with the exception of the Greenman who start the next spring)

-The Sims 4- the 2010s-Present ( Look at the game and tell me you don't think it takes place in the 2010s it might just be the fault of the game being stuck in 2014 in style)

-Sims 3 Lunar Lake- 2020s ( I just feel like its the vibe of Lunar Lakes plus if Mathilde Goth is the third goth child that would have had to be born after Belles abduction in the 2000s she would be a young adult now pretty much )

-Sims 3 into the future-"New World Hundreds of Years into the Future" (this is a direct quote from the back of the Disc)

Parts I want to but somewhere else on the timeline but I am not sure where I would

The Sims 4: My Wedding Stories- In My Wedding Stories Arnessa Thebe talks about how she misses her Aunt Queen and Uncle Eetion. And how her and her dad{Queen's Brother} would visit them time to time when she was a kid. So this just creates a wired gap I have yet to figure out yet.

Princess Cordelia Thebe- So still being on my Thebes issue. In the sims 4 in text it suggest that Princess Cordelia lived at least 100 or so before the events of the sims 4. But Arnessa is referred to as her Descendant which to me suggests more than 5 generations But I think that maybe Arnessa is like her great-great granddaughter. because in 100 year you don't really get decedents you get great-great grandkids. Maybe Cordelia never got to meet if she was older and had a kid or two.

If you read this whole thing WOW. If your wondering what I am on to come up with this much of a sims everything timeline my answer is hyperfixation and Cherry Slush Alani. I think its wild this is just my like baseline timeline to without any like actual headcanons besides estimated ages.

#The sims #ts2 #ts3 #ts4 #headcanons #god it sounds like I am losing it #i probably am

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french75studios · 6 months

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Meet the nicest guy in town

Follow me on instagram Check out my website

Illustrated by Tatyana Alanis

#art #artists on tumblr #artwork #illustration #digital art #illustrator #illustragram #illustrators on tumblr #art dump #art on tumblr

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withlovewriting · 1 year

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Mixed Drinks and Smoke Rings 27: If Tomorrow Starts Without Me

Chapter 27: If Tomorrow Starts Without Me

I wish I met you further along, Gave you my older heart, still and strong, But I wouldn't have a fire like I do today, Oh, it burns for you babe, You got nothing on my tendency to be led astray, Oh, it took a blindside hit to show me the right of way.

Summary: New to town, you didn’t need a friend, you needed a dealer. Thankfully, a girl from your Narcotics Anonymous meetings knew just the guy.

Characters: Fezco (euphoria) x Non-descriptive Reader

Words: 4,234

Chapter Warnings: Usual warnings for mentions of drug use. Just take this whole chapter as a warning.

Series Warnings: Addiction, sexual themes, cursing, abuse (various), smut, drug use, teenagers being fucking idiots. 18+ only, minors DNI

Previous Chapter:

Masterlist

taglist: @iamasimpingh0e @chelseagirl77 @zeida @f8talism @alanis-altair @purplebtsmagic @fuckrigthoff @slytherinambitious @wand-erer5 @thickchicksstuff @xoxokiaraaxoxo @caloetta

"I won't be long. Save me a seat, alright?"

Sending Fez a tight lipped smile, you nodded. Putting on his white button up, still warm from when Faye had just finished ironing it, he didn't even think to question why you'd left the flowers and card that you'd just finished signing for Lexi on the side.

Nor did he second guess the backpack on your shoulder, heavy with creased clothes that had been haphazardly thrown in during your hastened rush once he was in the shower.

Your chest felt heavy as his hand caught yours, stopping you before you could pass him, "You sure 'bout this? We can always stay home."

"No... No. It's fine. I'm fine. We should go. For me as much as Lexi."

Swallowing the guilt the scratched at your throat, the acidic taste burning in the cuts it left behind, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, watching as his cobalt blue gaze softened, accepting your unknowing deceit without hesitation. Even after all this time, Fez's trust in you remained steadfast, resolutely unwavering in the belief that you were a good person, despite all of your shortcomings and weaknesses. A faith that not even your parents seemed to have in you.

He left one last kiss on the back of your hand before you made your way toward the door, halting for just a moment as you inhaled deeply.

You would be back. Once you were better. If you ever got better. Because whilst addiction was an illness, it was chronic. It didn't pass like a cold, or the flu. You would feel the temptation lingering for the rest of your life. That much, you'd learned from the abysmal amount of NA meetings you'd attended.

You would never be cured. But you didn't want to flit between addict and recovering addict for the rest of your life. Because for once, that life seemed to have something worth staying around for. And it wasn't just Fez.

Your life as a child had been privileged. Much more so than others, and you had realized that whilst you could understand where your issues stemmed from, you couldn't blame the difficulties of your past and allow them to be your excuse for your future. You wanted to be a better person.

You wanted to be clean. Recovering. You wanted to be you again, even if you had absolutely no idea who that was, anymore.

Feeling a pair of eyes burning into you, your head darted round quickly, meeting the dark coffee colored eyes of Ash. Silently, he watched you with an unrecognizable expression, and for a moment, you panicked, almost positive that he could read your mind.

A mournful smile fell on your lips, watching as his eyes fell to your bag. "I'll be back soon."

His dark eyes remained on you, but you could feel them relax a little, even from the distance across the room, and the boy simply nodded, his intense gaze finally dropping and allowing you to leave.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you tried fruitlessly to keep your tears at bay, knowing that if you let even one fall, the whole charade would crumble, and you'd end up back under the security of Fezco's bed sheet, relying on a man who simply didn't have the capability or expertise to help her. And why would he? He was a 21 year old, running two family businesses whilst bringing up his brother to the best of his ability. On top of taking care of his grandmother.

You were just another layer of stress that he didn't need. Not right now.

"Ay, you good?" The familiar voice of Custer made you flinch, hazy memories from a night that felt so long ago pushing at the brink of your consciousness and leaving a taste of how good forgetting could be.

"What're you doing here?" You prayed your voice didn't sound as meek as you were sure it did. Whilst you didn't particularly want to be rude to the guy, you also had no intentions of giving him any sort of pass. You didn't like him, and you didn't trust him. Even if Faye did.

"Seeing my girl. Where you off to?"

Furrowing your brows slightly, you watched as his fist clenched before his fingers fiddled with the bottom of his shirt, as if they couldn't stay still for even just a moment.

"Out. To uh... See a friend."

"Cool, cool. Your boy home?"

You wanted to tell him no. Tell him that nobody was home and his journey was a waste of time. But he knew damn well Faye didn't leave the house -- you weren't even certain if he knew she often frequented the store -- and there was at least some excuse for his appearance. So instead, you simply nodded, a forced smile on your lips as he passed, watching as he rounded the corner, out of your sight.

Your phone buzzed, causing you to jump and fumble to retrieve it out of your pocket, your heart settling as you recognized the name.

"You on your way?"

Clearing your throat, you nodded before realizing they couldn't see you, "Uh, yeah. Just left."

"Sure you don't want me to come get you?"

"-No, no. It's fine. I could use the walk to uh... clear my head. I'll see you at the church, though. I won't be long."

The voice sighed, and you knew they were hesitant, as if you would run off into the sunset instead, "Alright. Well, I'll be outside waiting when you get here."

"OK, cool. And Ali?" you heard him hum through the phone, awaiting your next few words, "Thanks. For all of this."

"Yeah, yeah," his warm laugh could be heard down the phone, "see you soon."

You placed your phone back into your pocket and took a long, deep breath in, ignoring the city air and trying to focus on steadying your heart. This would all be worth it.

Two letters had been left next to Lexi's card.

Sure, Fez might've understood, but you knew his ocean eyes would've stopped you leaving, even if his words would've told you it was OK, maybe even insisted you went. Helped you pack a bag that you didn't have to hide away.

But you would've stayed. In his apartment. In a rut. In and out of an addiction that would inevitably kill you.

So a letter would have to do. It needed to do.

You passed by the closed store, eyes downcast as you refused to look in, despite knowing Fezco wasn't there, and didn't stop your pace until you were stood outside of a familiar house, the car in the drive way causing your palms to sweat.

All you had to do was drop off the letter. Put it in the post box and fucking run. You knew Rue wouldn't be there. She too, was at Lexi's play. But it wasn't her you were nervous to see.

Swallowing down your nervousness, you crossed the street and opened the old mailbox, heart pounding in your chest as you tried to exit as quickly as you'd arrived. A voice from the front door stopped you in your tracks.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Taking a deep breath, you retrieved the letter, trying your best to not scrunch it up in your hands as you turned to the woman who somehow made you feel even more ashamed than you did every time you caught your own reflection.

"I'm sorry, I was just..." holding out the letter pathetically, you quickly stepped back as she approached you, her speed surprising you as she made it to you within a few strides.

"You need to leave before I call the damn cops."

"I know Rue isn't in, I'm not here to see her. I just wanted to give her-"

"Don't you think you've done enough damage? I don't give a damn what you want. You come within 10 feet of my daughter, and I swear to God-"

"Mom," a voice desperately called from the house, and you recognized Rue's little sister watching you both with a furrowed brow, disquiet evident on her face.

"Gia, baby, get back in the house. I got this."

"Mom, please. Come back inside-"

"I'm sorry. I just-"

"You're sorry? You're sorry? No. I'm the one who's sorry. Sorry that I ever allowed you to stay in my daughter's life once I found out how you knew each other. Once I found out what you are."

Unable to hold eye contact, your eyes settled on your dirty converse, "I'm so sorry, Leslie. I know, I fucked up and-"

"Don't you dare. I don't want your apology. My daughter doesn't want your apology. We just want you to stay the god damn hell away from us."

Leslie turned, storming back into the house, calling after Gia, but the young girl remained, large brown eyes boring into yours, unsure of her next move. Eventually, she peaked over her shoulder before closing the door behind her, her steps much smaller and slower than her mothers.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she intently watched your every move. Every breath.

"She has a chance of getting sober for real," Gia's voice was soft as tears collected along her lash line, "I know that it's not as simple as just... stopping. But... She has a chance, and I'm not gonna let anyone ruin that."

Nodding, you felt your chin wobble. Not for yourself, and not even necessarily for Rue, either. But for the damage her addiction had caused those around her. This was the fallout of her self-destruction. And you had only aided that.

You'd helped crumble the buildings that were crushing everyone who loved Rue.

"I know I have no right to ask you this but uh..." sniffling, you wiped your sleeve under your eyes, almost angry at the small tear that had fallen, "Can you give this to her? You can read it first, if you need to, but I uh... I need her to read it. To know that I'm sorry. For everything."

Gia released a sigh, watching as you held out the crumpled letter, arms still wrapped around herself.

"Rue was an addict long before you came along, and she would've relapsed with, or without you. I know you didn't help, but... You didn't cause it, either. Rue... She's not been good for a long time. Almost as long as I can remember. Ever since our dad..."

"I know. Well, I mean, I don't know, but... I know she's been through a lot. And I know she's a good person, and I don't wanna hinder that anymore."

"I'm sorry for what my Mom said. She's just-"

"No, not it's fine. I get it," you sent her a meek smile, as you nodded. Sometimes people need to get their feelings hurt.

Only once Gia's fingers had gripped the envelope, did you turn and leave, hoping the tears would at least hold off until you got to the end of the road.

An apology. To the people you'd hurt. That was what Ali had told you. He was going to help you learn how to forgive yourself, but in the mean time, he had told you to learn to seek forgiveness in others. Whether or not they forgave you, whether or not you believed they should forgive you. All you could do was apologize. What they chose to do with that was out of your hands.

So once Fezco was sound asleep -- his body cloaking yours in a warmth that you'd struggled to draw yourself from -- you settled at the kitchen table, a school notebook open as you racked your brain for the right words.

A simple Sorry I fucked up your life didn't seem adequate enough, it barely scraped the surface of your feelings, but the longer your eyes bore into the lined page, the more you were able to sit with your emotions. And once you'd started, the words just didn't seem to stop.

You'd started with Rue. An apology, for doing what all addicts seemed to do and use her to get a fix. Sure, she was using just as much as you, and said she'd had no intentions of remaining sober, but you felt guilt regardless.

Your appearance couldn't of helped. Rue, who was used to using in secret, by herself, now had a friend to play with. One that was just as willing and as reckless as she was. It was a temptation that she couldn't decline. You knew you wouldn't have been able to, either.

You wanted Rue to know that she was a good person, and a good friend, despite her bad habits. But that they didn't have to define her. That she was so much bigger than this. That she deserved to be bigger than this. She just had to keep trying.

You wanted her to know that if some other alternate reality existed where neither of you had faced the challenges that led you down the paths you had taken, and you'd have still managed to find each other, you would've been friends. And even though you couldn't be sure whether that ending would ever happen in this reality, you could only wish your circumstances were different. But if you no longer being involved in Rue's life aided her sobriety, then so be it.

The next letter was addressed to Ash. Not only apologizing for turning his life upside down since your arrival, but for him feeling like he had to protect you. Whether he liked it or not, he was a kid, and he deserved to have the life that was so tragically torn away from his brother.

You asked him, pleaded with him, to remain kind to Fez. And whilst you knew the eldest sibling would need his support, you only hoped Ash would also seek the sanctuary that only his big brother could provide.

You'd never seen the type of loyalty that the brothers held for each other before. Never felt that loyalty, until Ash had shown you the night of Mouse's death. Of course, you never mentioned that in the letter -- you weren't stupid enough to incriminate either of you in regards to the drug dealers death -- but you hoped he knew how appreciative you were of him, despite the inner turmoil that he'd felt the need to protect you in the first place.

Faye's letter was much shorter, but you had to apologize for putting her in the position you had a few weeks earlier. You didn't know how she felt bout it now, but you'd seen her lingering, sorrowful glances as she passed you, your body curled up on the bathroom floor drenched in sweat and soaked in regret.

Fez's letter.

Well... that was much harder.

Buzzing in your pocket, you phone pulled you out of your pity party. Wiping the few tears that had trickled down your cheeks away, you didn't even bother to look at the caller ID.

You weren't too far from the church that held your NA meetings, and you fully expected it to be Ali, ringing once more just to double check if you still wanted him to pick you up from there or not. Especially now it had started to drizzle.

"What?" You sighed, voice trembling a little more than you'd liked. the voice sounded calm enough down the phone, and you felt a little guilty for answering so bluntly.

"Now?" Pulling your phone away from your face to check the time, you still had the best part of an hour before you had to meet Ali, "Yeah. Sure, fine. But I gotta be quick."

Finally arriving at the apartment building just off Kemper street, the door opened before you even had to knock, the seemingly sweet woman's smile faltering slightly as she took in your appearance, "Oh, you're soaking. Come on in. I'm sure I have some spare clothes somewhere."

"It's fine, really, Laurie. I have extra." You motioned toward the bag on your back, causing her eyebrows to raise slightly,

"You're not going somewhere, are you?"

Watching as she sat down on the couch, you tried to swallow down your discomfort.

"Oh, uh... No. Not really. Just staying with a friend for a while."

"Trouble in paradise?" She smiled before quietly thanking Bruce Jr when he placed some folded up clothes beside her.

"No, nothing like that. Just a uh... change of scenery, I guess. Look, I really do have to get going-"

"You can't walk around in those clothes, you'll catch your death. Change into these, and I'll get yours into the dryer. Bathroom is down the hall."

"I have to meet someone-"

"-It won't take a minute to dry. Then Bruce will drop you wherever you have to go. C'mon. I don't bite."

Knowing that the easiest way to get out of here would be to entertain Laurie's fussing, you allowed her to help you, making your way toward the bathroom and changing, giving her the damp clothes once you were dressed.

"Now, you know back after we first met? When I did you a favor? And I said, one day, I'll need you to return that favor. And when I did, I expected your help, no and, if's or buts?"

Despite the cold chill that the rain had left you with, you suddenly felt a little too warm. Sure, you'd agreed to help Laurie, but you had been in a moment of weakness, willing to agree to almost anything for your next fix.

"I'm, uh... I'm not really doing that anymore."

Sending you a tight-lipped smile, you could sense how forced it was despite being on the other side of the sofa, "Oh, that's not important right now, sweetheart. But I do have an issue that I need your help with."

Licking your lips, you could only nod, hoping that you could just get out a little sooner.

"Good girl," the words felt patronizing, but her tone remained soft, "You see, there's this girl who agreed to take a lot of drugs off my hands, promising I'd get a good turn out. Only problem is, she's a first time dealer and I'm yet to have any repayments."

Wringing your hands in your lap, you could feel them begin to shake, "Oh, I mean... I'm not really useful when it comes to shit like that. I'm not exactly... intimidating."

A mocking smirk settled over the woman's face as her dark slate eyes settled over your face, "Oh, that's not what I'm asking of you. But she needs to learn a lesson, and I'm afraid, you're part of the collateral damage."

Any words you had died on your tongue the moment you felt a thump, barely able to recognize the searing pain as your vision turned black, and you fell into a deep unconsciousness.

Looking down at his watch, Ali sighed, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

Leaning against his truck now the rain had stopped, he shook his head in annoyance. He knew he should've picked you up.

He'd got here early and had been parked outside since, so he knew he hadn't missed you. Instead, he had a terrible gut feeling that you had changed your mind. He'd been so close to getting through to you. To finally breaking down the walls that you had bloodied and bruised your hands to build, fighting him tooth and nail at every turn as you tried to convince yourself that you didn't need his help.

And then there you were, pushing yourself out of the uncomfortable plastic chair.

At first, he'd assumed the scrape of your chair indicated your leaving, and he had to fight to school his features as you walked passed him, making your way to the front of the small hall, eyes brimming with tears of acceptance, hands wringing in self-doubt and insecurities as you introduced yourself to the group for the first time,

"-and I'm an addict."

He had intended to speak to you after the meeting, but you'd found him first, and after a long chat, he'd agreed to let you stay with him until a room became available at the impatient hospital. He didn't question your current living situation, and the only thing you'd told him was that you weren't sure it was a place you could commit to getting sober. Not right now, at least. Not without help.

So before he left this evening, he'd set up the spare room with fresh sheets and extra pillows, placed a few books around the room, along with a jarred candle.

He could honestly say he was a little surprised by your no-show. Normally someone in your situation would only follow through with receiving help once they asked for it, and he knew from personal experience how low you had to fall before you'd ask for help. He wasn't sure you could fall any deeper without digging yourself a grave.

So when you hadn't shown up an hour and a half later and your phone had repeatedly gone to voicemail, he took one last puff of his cigarette before throwing it on the floor -- his boot stomping on it despite the puddle already putting it out -- before clambering back into his car, a deep sigh leaving him as he pulled away.

All he could do was hope that once you got your shit together, you'd call him, and you could both try again.

The empty apartment was silent, shattered glass lay on the floor and not one wall was left untarnished, decorated in a flurry of bullet holes, and on the floor, the once white envelopes were splattered in blood, the deep crimson liquid distorting the words that were scribbled across the page.

Fez.

I need you to know, first and foremost, thank you. For everything. But I also need you to know how sorry I am. For everything.

I met you at a time in my life that seemed perfect. You had exactly what I needed. Supply and demand, I guess. But what I didn't realize that it was so much more than that. Not only did you have what I needed, but you were what I needed.

I know it feels like I'm rambling, and I know you're probably confused by this letter, but I need you to know, I'm not going to make it to Lexi's play tonight. But please, go for the both of us. I'm sure it'll be fantastic and please let her know how sorry I am to be missing it.

The night we met, you had shown me a kindness I had never known. You, a total stranger, took care of me when I was nothing less than horrible to you. I'm sorry for my original impression of you. I thought you were an average, run of the mill high school drop-out, who cared little about anything other than himself, hanging out at high school parties because he wasn't worth shit.

Now I know how wrong I was.

You, Fezco O'Neill, are anything but ordinary. And I'm sorry I took so long to allow myself to see that.

The man I know you to be is extraordinary. Supporting Ash, running a business, and taking care of your Grandmother are not small feats, and I'm so sorry that not many people know the real you. The one you allowed me to get to know. The guy who spins me around the room, dancing to the end credits of Stand By Me. The guy who spent far too long curled up with me on the bathroom floor whilst I was at my worst. The guy who did everything in his power to keep me safe, even if that meant going against his own beliefs.

I'm sorry that I took your hand and dragged you down to hell with me. I'm sorry for the cruel person I turned into at my lowest. I'm sorry that I'm not the person you deserve, not right now, at least.

I'm still in East Highland, but I needed to leave. I need support that I shouldn't unfairly rely on you for. I need someone with experience, so they can help teach me ways to cope with being sober, just until a position at a center opens up. It could be weeks, it could be months. But just know I'm safe. And, should things go to plan, and I remain here, I am most definitely sober. Trust me, my sponsor is a total killjoy. Which is exactly what I need, I suppose.

I know this might not work. I know that addiction isn't just a coat that I can take off once I've outgrown it. But I need to try. I deserve to try. For myself, as much as anyone else.

I'm sorry I had to leave this way, and I hate that we both know you'd have supported my decision if I'd told you. But we both know, I wouldn't have been able to leave you, had you known. All you'd of had to do was ask me to stay, and I would've. But I need to do this. I have to make this all count for something. To make myself count for something. Otherwise, what's the point?

When I come back. I'll be better. For you, for Ash. For myself.

I'm sorry. Thank you. I love you.

Fin...

...Pour le moment

...

Hi there.

I just wanted to leave a quick authors note to say thank you so much to everyone who has read, liked, reblogged, commented on, and enjoyed this story. Your support has been incredible and genuinely warms my heart so much.

I’m not going to ramble on because I’m not sure anyone even reads these things, but I hope you all have a wonderful new year and a lovely 2023. Stay safe, stay kind, and I hope that if you decide to stick around, you’ll enjoy the other stories I will be putting out. And if not, then I hope I’ll see you again once Season 3 of Euphoria is out.

So much love. Thank you once again. <3

#mixed drinks and smoke rings #fezco euphoria #fezco fanfic #fezco x you #fezco fanfiction #fezco smut #fezco x y/n #fez imagine #fez x you #fez fanfiction #fez smut #fez x reader #fez fanfic #fez euphoria #euphoria fanfiction

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smolwritingchick · 4 months

Text

The Bangtan Gal Chapter 40- I Need U

Chapter Summary: Yoongi and Jen get into a heated argument. BTS shoot for I Need U as Jen impresses with her acting skills portraying a naive girl in an abusive relationship. Gaining confidence, Jungkook decides to tease Jen when he asks her for a massage.

Words: 13,000+

Author's Note: Yoongi fluff and Jungkook fluff! Ashanti's Rain on Me music video is the inspiration for Jennie's role in I Need U. And I hope your JenKook thirst is quenched for now since the last scene was thought of last minute when I wrote this :)

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“I’m fine, mom. Really.” Jennie reassured.

“I’m glad that you are, but I hope you know that you’re stronger than this. Don’t do that to us again, you hear? I was this close to getting a plane ticket.”

“Heh, heh, Vienna and Alani told me. They want me to rest for a week and then see how I do then. I should be refreshed and back to it after that.”

“Good. Now get some rest. I’ll check up on you tomorrow. I love you.”

“Love you too, mom.”

After getting off the phone, Jen set her phone on the bed and laid back down in her bed. Not even five minutes later, her phone rang and she checked the caller ID.

Angelina...Facetime.

Answering it, she saw Angelina smiling brightly. But then the rapper widened her eyes when she noticed Jennie was in bed.

“Whoops, did I call at a bad time?” She asked.

“Nah-are you high?” Jennie stared at her.

“Me? No. Not yet.” She waved her comment away. "My blunt didn't hit yet,"

“Wow. Well enjoy the trip when it happens,"

“Oh, I will. How you holdin’ up?”

“I’m getting better.”

“Good, good, that’s what I like to hear. You need to get better so I can come to Korea and see you.”

“Is that so? I think you want to be here so you can see Namjoon.” Jen teased.

“What? No~”

“Uh huh. I’m happy you two are still talking though. It’s cute. I hope you two can collab one day.”

“Oh yeah. I wish I could be there to do a song on his upcoming mixtape though. But my schedule...so hopefully next time. Soon I’ll come down your way, get to see you and you can introduce me to the boys. Especially Jungkook.”

“You're so eager to meet my best friend," Jennie giggled

"I gotta meet the man who has my girl glowing,"

Angelina's statement caught her by surprise as she asked, "What? Me? Glowing?"

"When you talk about him, you light up. You do it for all the members but with Jungkook it's a different light. You may not notice it but I do. So, I gotta meet this man and see for myself. It's adorable,"

"Ah..."

For some reason, Jennie couldn't help but feel her face heat up from her response.

Did she really glow differently with Jungkook?

"Oh? Are you getting flustered?" Angelina teased

"No! Shut up!"

Angelina laughed softly. "She is!"

"Anyway! It'll be worth the wait when you and Namjoon collab. And I am looking forward to you meeting the boys. They're the best. You'll love them. They are truly amazing and passionate about what they do. I'm grateful to know them,"

"Aw...I can't wait. Okay, I hate to change the topic to a negative one but girl...let me tell you the bullcrap I've seen. So, Hailey and the girls threw shade at you.”

“Oh wow. Not surprised. What did they say?”

The rapper rolled her eyes. “They claimed you passing out was a publicity stunt.”

“Heard that one before...” Jen murmured with a pang of sadness.

----

“Another water break? We barely even started practice. How are we supposed to be top notch with deadbeat over here wanting breaks every two minutes?” Hailey complained.

Ignoring her, Angelina looked at Jen with worry. “You okay, Jen? You don’t look so good...”

And once she fell from exhaustion, Hailey sighed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, get up. Stop trying to make a publicity stunt for relevance.”

-----

Shaking the negative thought away, Jen asked, “So when are they coming to Korea for their World Tour?”

“Looks like around late 2015.”

“I have a little more time to keep my sanity then.”

A week later, Jen felt good as new and refreshed after resting and keeping hydrated. She found herself at the set of Amber’s Shake That Brass music video shooting.

When she arrived, she greeted everyone on the set and placed mini cupcakes on the table for everyone to help themselves to. She wanted to show her gratitude for being invited to Amber’s music video. People were astonished at her kind gesture and there were already media reports of her act of kindness on K-Pop news sites. Jen didn’t think it was a big deal to have an article about her bringing in cupcakes of all things but everyone else thought it was a benevolent act. Seems like new articles will write about the smallest things these days.

“I’m so happy she’s here! I love her so much!” Amber held onto Jen from behind, hugging her tightly with a big smile on her face.

They were being filmed for Amber’s video of Pops in Seoul and Jen laughed at her enthusiasm.

“I love you too!” She happily responded as she was released.

“I’m really happy you were able to come and support me. It means a lot to me, having friends be a part of this.”

“You know I wouldn’t miss it.”

“I asked Jennie because I love her charisma and her fun attitude. I feel like she and I will have a great time being filmed together with this concept.”

“Her album is going to be great. The fact that she made everything herself, the music and lyrics, so amazing.”

Jen headed over to the Orchestra section, happily greeting those around her. She even had the courage to approach Girl’s Generation’s Taeyeon.

“I’m a huge fan of your work! I’m so looking forward to the next comeback of Girl’s Generation.” She told her as she cheerily thanked her.

She was way more beautiful in person. Taeyeon had told her that she didn’t have to be nervous and she could speak to her anytime. Jen planned to take advantage of that.

“Jennie!” She heard a voice and turned to see Jackson happily waving at her.

“Aye! Jackson, nice to see you here.” She beamed, pulling him in for a hug.

“How you feeling? You okay?” He asked with concern.

He must’ve been talking about her passing out. “Yes, I’m good as new. Well rested. I got your messages."

“Uh huh, you left me on read.” He playfully teased.

“Look, I had a ton of people blowing up my phone. I’m sorry! When BTS can have some free time after our upcoming comeback, we’ll hang out, sound cool?”

“Hm...how do I know that you won’t forget?”

She rolled her eyes and walked away as he laughed. “I was joking! Namjoon never answers my messages, don’t be like him!” He walked after her. When he finally caught up to her, they shared a laugh. “Oh, before I forget, I have a small gift basket for you.”

He gestured for her to follow him and he took the basket out of his bag. “It’s a get well gift from one of my friends. He hopes you’re doing well. He was freaking out when he found out what happened to you. It was supposed to be from all of us in GOT7, but he grew a fit.” He sighed and shook his head.

“Aw, really? This is sweet of him. Oh shit, there’s smarties in here, oh my gosh! Jackson, you gotta tell me who he is! I’d love to thank him in person!”

Jackson smiled at her freaking out over the smarties. “Ah, he wanted to remain anonymous.”

“Well, when you see him, tell him thank you so much and kiss him on the cheek for me. And thank the other members of GOT7. I’d like to meet them one day.”

“I’m sure we can make that happen.”

For the orchestra scene, Jen wore a black vest with a white shirt and black pants with a drum set. She stood up, as they began to film.

Amber attempted to try to conduct everyone. She went to a couple of people to show them exactly what she wanted them to do with their instrument, then she came to Jennie.

“You gotta bang. Like this.” Amber demonstrated.

“I did that!” Jen responded but Amber took her sticks and banged on the drums.

Once she gave them back to her, Jen banged on the drums to the beat of the song and Amber nodded in approval. They filmed scenes of her banging on the drums in sync with Amber’s song while everyone played their instruments around her.

Afterward, everyone sat their instruments down and freestyled, dancing with Amber in front of the camera, doing the Nae Nae and various other dance moves. They even had Jackson and Jen do a dance battle. Jackson’s dancing brought a grin to her face as she hyped him up with the others around her.

When it was her turn to dance, she snatched his hat, placed it on her head and began to dance.

“OHHHHHH!”

She heard everyone say, laughing at how shocked Jackson was.

“I thought we were friends.” Jackson playfully whined

As the filming began to end, Jen felt her phone buzz and opened it to reveal the group chat with the Maknae Line.

Jungkook: Jimin’s going crazy. Help us.

Jungkook: [Image.jpg]

She examined the photo to see Jimin having her guitar in his hands, planning on throwing it.

“Oh hell no.” She immediately began to text back

Jen: IS THAT MY GUITAR!? JIMIN YOU BOUT TO DIE TODAY!

Jimin: Jungkook!! Why did you show her!?

Jungkook: Kekekekekekeke

Jimin: SNITCH!

Jen: How TF did he get my guitar!?

Jimin: Jungkookie gave it to me!

Jungkook: LIE!

Jen: Oh...okay...so y’all went in my room?

Tae: Uh...

Jen: Watch yourselves when you go to sleep tonight...We may have five BTS members now.

Jimin: Oh no, what have we done??

Tae: WE!?

Jungkook: WE??? YOU!

Back at the dorm, Hobi and Jen finally decided to initiate the prank war, seeing their targets, Yoongi and Jimin sitting on the couch in the living room. Yoongi, had his headphones on, working on something while Jimin played on his phone.

“We gotta be quick. And run like the wind, got it?” Hobi reminded.

“Got it.” She responded as they both had whipped cream in their right palms, stalking up to them from behind.

“SMACK CAM!” They shouted as Hobi smacked Jimin, and Jen aimed for Yoongi’s side of his face.

The glimpse of them smacking their targets caused the rest of the members to burst out in laughter, screaming and shouting with amusement.

“Do you wanna die!?” Jimin shouted and began chasing after Hobi, who screamed.

“JENNIE! WHAT THE FUCK!?” Yoongi bellowed, turning around to stare at her with rage.

All the rest of the members were laughing, but Jen noticed Yoongi was the only one who wasn’t as she looked confused at his outburst.

Now what?

“That wasn’t fuckin’ funny! What the fuck?” He shouted, throwing his headphones across the room.

The sound of his headphones hitting the wall, caused everyone to stop laughing and the mood of the room shifted drastically.

Jen looked at Yoongi as irritation began to boil through her veins.

Frowning at him, she shook her head. “The heck was that? That was unnecessary, Yoongi! It was just a joke-”

“I don’t give a shit! This isn’t fuckin’ funny! And this isn’t the time to be playing around like a bunch of fuckin’ kids!” He slammed his hand on the couch, roughly running his other hand across his face to remove whatever whipped cream he could.

A bitter chuckle came out of her as she poked her cheek with her tongue.

“Okay, first of all, I’m gonna need you to chill the fuck out.” She snapped.

Hearing what came out of her mouth caused the other members but Yoongi to stare at her in surprise. It staggered them to see her demeanor change into an aggravated one. It was an unusual sight to see her be angry like this.

When Yoongi heard her snap at him, he stood up in fury, causing the Maknae Line’s stomachs to drop with anxiousness.

“This is as chill as I’m gonna fuckin’ get.” He bluntly snapped back.

“I’m not liking this...” Jin looked on with worry.

The members began to feel the atmosphere change for the worse as they felt the tension between the two of them. They weren’t expecting Yoongi and Jennie to clash. Hobi, Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung began to feel uneasy as they heard their voices getting louder by the second. Jin and Namjoon were alarmed as they tried to figure out how to stop it before it blew up even more.

“It was just a prank! We’re starting a prank war!” She exclaimed.

“I don’t fuckin’ care!” He yelled at her.

Looking around the room, she looked confused. “Excuse me, who are you yelling at?!”

The Hyung Line glanced at each other in alarm and decided to intervene in the situation.

Jin shook his head and got in between them. “Okay, this was taken out of hand, let’s not do this.” He calmly spoke up, attempting to back her away from Yoongi. “Stop it. No more of this, stop arguing. I’m not having this.”

“Cause I know damn well you aren’t yelling at me, like that!” Jen continued in fury, ignoring Jin.

“Yah! Yah! Yah! Stop.” Hobi tried to back Yoongi away from her with Namjoon as the Maknae Line watched helplessly at the chaos.

“Get the fuck outta here!” She shouted.

“That’s enough. Come on, now. Let’s not do this.” Namjoon’s voice was filled with authority, trying to reason. “Let’s speak calmly, not yell.”

“I didn’t think this would end up like this...” Taehyung murmured to Jungkook and Jimin.

The two were now in each other’s faces, yelling back and forth and it didn’t look like they were stopping anytime soon.

“Yeah, okay...okay...” Jen responded sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“I don’t want this shit on me!” Yoongi shouted as a vein popped out of his neck.

“It’s whipped fucking cream!” She clapped her hands three times.

“I don’t care if it was water, I don’t want that shit on me!”

“It’s nothin’ serious! What’s your issue!? It was a joke! Completely harmless!”

“G-guys. Please stop arguing.” A whipped creamed covered Jimin pleaded.

This whole situation was making him sad, he didn’t want to see anyone fighting. When Jin finally managed to back Jen away from Yoongi, Taehyung took over, wrapping his arms around her from behind, in a tight embrace.

Taehyung desperately tried to calm her down but to no avail, as he told her, “Ennie, please relax. Please calm down.”

“Get off of me, Tae.” She attempted to wiggle out of his grip.

“Not until you calm down. I don’t want to see you like this. Please, Ennie. Please calm down.”

Yoongi was trying to get away from Namjoon and Hobi’s grips as he shouted, “I don’t have time for this bullshit!” His voice filled with aggression. “You see me fuckin’ working on something, why the fuck would you do stupid shit like this!?”

“You can’t take a break and relax!? Have fun for just a moment!?”

“We have an album coming out soon!”

“I get that!” She got out of Tae’s arms.

“Enough Jennie-“ Jin stopped mid-sentence.

“No. I’m gonna say what I have to say.” She responded to him and turned back to Yoongi. ”You are not gonna yell at me like that. We are all friggin’ stressed out from this album. The least we can do is loosen up with a couple of laughs and take our minds off work for just a moment. You need to lighten up!”

“Everyone calm down!” Jimin shouted. “Please, let’s just cool down. This was blown out of proportion.”

“FUCK!” Yoongi shouted and roughly shoved Namjoon and Hobi off him, storming into his bedroom. He slammed the door, causing everyone but Jennie to flinch.

She exhaled with her eyes closed, trying to compose herself. Opening her eyes, she muttered out a curse. “Un-fucking-believable...”

Taehyung turned to her, with a sad expression. “E-Ennie-“

“Don’t.” She raised her hand up, gesturing for him to stop. “I’m taking a walk.”

“I-I’ll come with you,” Jungkook spoke up.

“I just want to be alone,” she said with irritation as she left the dorm.

The dorm felt empty without the energetic vibe as the rest of the members were bummed at how things turned out. A scary pissed off Yoongi and an unhappy Miss Bangtan were not something they prepared for.

Namjoon sighed and rubbed his temples on the couch. “I wished we handled that better...”

-----

Yoongi and Jen haven’t spoken a word to each other in the past few days as Jen stood backstage with Amber for Music Bank, in support of her in Shake That Brass.

“Ouch, and you still haven’t talked to him?” Amber asked with a concerned look, sitting on the couch.

“Nope,” Jen replied, sitting next to her, and looking at the TV on the wall.

“Aw, he needs to lighten up. But I can understand how frustrated he was about it. I hope you two can rekindle soon.”

After getting ready for the show, Jen began to get filmed for a Bangtan Bomb as she stood with Amber and 4Minute backstage. To be able to meet these fierce ladies was an honor, as Jen happily told them how much she adored their song, Crazy.

“Crazy is lit, oh my gosh. I’ve been practicing ever since your song came out. Can I show you?” She eagerly asked.

“Yeah! Let’s see!” Hyuna beamed.

“Let’s see!” Sohyun clapped her hands.

“Amber you should do it too!” Jiyoon pointed to her.

“Me? Me really? You wanna?” Amber turned to Jennie.

“Oh yeah, come on.” She answered.

Amber had pulled out her phone, putting the song on, skipping just a few seconds before the chorus.

“Okay, five...six...seven...eight.”

nal bogo michyeo

(C.R.A.Z.Y) ttara hae

Jen and Amber began the choreography, Amber did a laid-back version of it while Jen went full out.

The 4Minute members cheered them on with bright smiles on their faces.

“Wow!” They applauded

Later, Amber and Jen waited to go on stage as Jen turned to the Bangtan Bomb camera with a smile.

“Today I met 4Minute. They’re super nice. Crazy is lit. I can’t get enough of that song. And now I’m here to perform Shake That Brass with Amber.” She wrapped her arm around her.

Amber pulled her close, cheek to cheek. “We’re gonna have a lot of fun today!” she shot up a peace sign.

Jen watched Amber perform from backstage, as she waited for her cue, with a mic in hand. “I’m a little nervous.” She glanced at the Bangtan Bomb camera, still filming her. “But this is a fun song, so I’m sure once I get on that stage, I’ll feel more carefree, y’know?” She started bouncing around as she continued watching.

When it was her cue, she made her way to the stage, standing behind the dancers.

Yeah I want you to

(Shake shake that brass)

Yeah I want you to

“Shake that brass.” Her smooth voice was heard as Amber’s backup dancers revealed her.

She got a big pop from the crowd as she smiled and strutted forward. She had some big shoes to fill because Taeyeon was the original singer of the verse, but she performed it in her own style, singing out strong with soul. From the cheers of the crowd, she seemed to have done well.

“oneul bam bam gomindeureun naeil more saenggakhae. meorireul biwobeoryeo amu saenggak an nage. son meori wiro.”

Amber stands next to her with a smile, dancing with her.

(Uhuh)

“sinnage ttwieo”

(Yeah yeah)

“da gachi michyeo, get it started. Come and shake that brass~!” Her high note was filled with soul and energy and earned some more cheers. “Woo!”

She cheered, moving her hips around with Amber.

Hey ho (Yeah) Hey Ho (Uh Huh)

Hey Ho (Yeah) Hey Ho (Uh Huh)

“Shake that brass~! Oh, baby!” She sang out, holding hands with Amber as Amber spun her around.

Hey Ho Shake That Brass

“Wooooooooooo~!”

NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA-

“Won’t you shake that brass...Ooooohhhhh won’t you shake that brass!” She ended the song with a huge smile on her face. Amber had stuck her tongue out, standing next to her for their final pose.

Soon they embraced in a big hug, causing the crowd to cheer for them.

After the show, fans tweeted their love for the duo with the hashtags, #Jamber and #Jenber eager for the next time to watch the duo together.

-----

As soon as she went back to the dorm, Jimin and Namjoon asked to speak with her in her room. They sat on her bed and tried to talk to her about Yoongi. Jen however, wasn’t having it, being the stubborn teenager, she was.

“Nope.” She bluntly replied, still feeling some type of way at how he yelled at her.

Who did he think he was, to raise his voice at her like that? She wasn’t going to stand there and let him scream at her in any type of way. She stood up for her opinion on the situation, not backing down and felt as though he overreacted.

“Jennie, you two should talk it out,” Jimin suggested.

“I don’t want to talk to him, he pissed me off.” She stubbornly responded.

“Ennie, come on...”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.” She replied louder.

“I think you should apologize.” Namjoon calmly spoke up.

“But why do I need to say sorry? I feel like I’ve done nothing wrong. Everything I did was harmless. It wasn’t that bad. I just wanted to share some laughs.”

“I understand that, Jennifer.” He said with seriousness in his voice. “But try to put yourself in Yoongi’s shoes. Get where he’s coming from. You know what a workaholic he is and how serious he is about his work. The whipped cream got on his notebook. Almost smeared what he was working on.”

Jen exhaled. She didn’t know that part. She knew how he was with his work and it made her feel guilty. Deep down, she was sad that they weren’t talking. She missed him. She missed being around him. Maybe she did go too far, unaware that he was working on something important.

As much as she hated to admit.

“Where is he?” She finally asked with another sigh.

“His studio.”

Meanwhile, with Yoongi, he drowned himself in work, with his headphones on his ears. Earlier today, Namjoon and Hobi had talked to him about the argument and he couldn’t help but think about the conversation.

“I don’t want to fucking talk to her. I don’t want to see her, I don’t want anything to do with her. I don’t even want you to say her damn name. So, drop it. This conversation is over.” He had growled at them in frustration.

“She really cares about us. She just wanted us to loosen up. We’re all on edge for this album. You know that. She just wanted us to laugh and forget about work for just an hour or so. Get where she’s coming from.” Namjoon had told him.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t think about her since the fight. He missed her presence. He didn’t mean to say that he didn’t want anything to do with her. She held a special place in his heart. He was emotional at the time. Frustrated. They both said things in the heat of the moment.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard knocking in the room.

“Hey.” Jen greeted softly. He acknowledged her at the door by glancing at her and continued to work. “You free to talk?”

He grunted, responding as a yes, pushing a seat out for her to sit. He placed his headphones on his neck, stopping what he was doing as he turned to her. He didn’t look angry, he looked upset that they went that far while arguing.

He could tell she was feeling the same.

“I’ve...been thinking about our blowout.” She spoke again after a moment of silence. “I just came here to say that I’m sorry.” He could hear the sadness in her voice. “I should’ve been more mindful of you and your work. I know how you get with your work. I know how passionate you are about music. Sorry for doing that to you. I hope I didn’t ruin anything.”

Yoongi let out a sigh. “Although we pissed each other off and yelled some crazy things...I can’t stay mad at you.” He shrugged and shook his head. “I forgive you...and I’m sorry for lashing out at you like that, Smartie. Forgive me.”

A smile came across her face. “It’s okay.”

He was happy to see her smile as he placed a hand on top of her head affectionately and turned back to his work.

“Oh geez...” He sighed when she wrapped her arms around him, pressing multiple kisses on his cheek. Though he secretly enjoyed the affection. “Okay, okay. That’s enough.”

“Nope! Not done, yet.” She laughed and gave him a couple more of her sweet kisses.

“Gross...” He faked a gagging sound, wiping his cheek when she released him.

“Don’t lie to me. You love my hugs and kisses.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Wow. Really?” She asked, offended as he smirked in response.

When they got back to the dorm, Jen took a nap on the couch, and Yoongi decided to get her back for what she did to him. Just like he did after filming an episode of Rookie King, he got a Sharpie and wrote all over her face. Writing various words like swag, and Suga. Jen remained asleep, unaware, as the members around her struggled not to laugh.

“She’s going to kill you, hyung.” Tae giggled.

“I like to see her try.” Yoongi responded, and took a photo of her makeover, tweeting, ‘Prank War is now on. #SUGA’

Jen woke up a minute later from the laughing and looked around.

“Why are you guys laughing so much?” She asked.

“We’re just admiring your new makeover.” The Daegu rapper smirked, revealing the Sharpie in his hands.

Her stomach dropped when she realized what he had done. “No friggin, you didn’t-“ She cut herself off as she grabbed her phone and turned the camera on herself. “YOONGI! What the hell!?”

“I know, you finally look beautiful.”

She tried to hit him but he backed away, as he laughed with the members.

“Asshole!” She laughed and went to clean her face in the bathroom.

“Prank war is now on. No teams. Every person for themselves. Got it?” Yoongi announced.

“AAAWWWWEEEE Yeah! Let’s go!” The members got hyped

----

The next day, in the afternoon, Jen decided to practice her freestyle dancing in one of the dance studios at Big Hit. After doing her stretches, she plugged her phone into the speaker and put on Come on Over by Sevyn Streeter.

Jen admired the artist and loved how sexy and confident she was with her music. Sometimes she would think about what it would be like to collab with her. She hoped so one day if it was possible. Standing in the middle of the dance floor, she begam to dance on beat when she heard Sevyn sing.

On my mind just one thing

You and me doing some things

No particular one place, oh no O-pen

Open to changes, positions, and angles

Tonight I ain’t no angel, oh no

She wanted to focus on storytelling with her dancing, and listening to the lyrics. But she couldn’t help but feel like she was missing something as she danced. After dancing for 30 minutes, Hobi walked in, with a big smile.

“I hope you don’t mind a dance partner!” He greeted.

“Hey! No, of course not! Join me! I could use some help. You mind?”

“Not at all.” He stretched first and then went over to see what she needed help with.

She wanted him to help her with body rolling and popping her body more. Make her movements more fluid. He showed her a couple of basic moves as she watched in awe at how in sync he was and how smooth he moved. His style of dancing was unique in her eyes. No doubt he was the best representative of BTS’ Dance Line.

“You got it?” He asked with a smile.

“Well...I think so.” She replied, unsure of herself

“I’m not liking that attitude, munchkin. Come on, you can do it.”

She tried out his movements. She was doing them but it looked like she was missing something. It was almost like she was hesitating in his eyes.

“You’re holding back. Don’t do that to yourself. Elevate.” he spoke up.

“Really? I feel like I’m not holding back. This is how I dance.” She explained.

He crossed his arms. “Can I be blunt?”

“Knock yourself out.”

“I feel like your true dancing potential is still locked away because of what you told me about Amity. You said they wanted you to tone it down. Well, you won’t tone it down anymore, not here. I’m not having it. I can’t keep standing here when I know you can do better than this.”

Jen was taken aback at his sudden statement. But he had a point as much as she hated to admit it.

“I...”

“No excuses. I know you can do better, Jennie. Now, show me. Dance, munchkin...Dance.” He smiled and pressed shuffle on her phone as Numb by Rihanna came on.

Jen stood and looked at her reflection in the mirror.

'Dance, huh?' she thought as Rihanna began to sing.

Ecstasy in the air

I don’t care

‘But...I don’t think I can do this...’ She thought nervously.

Can’t tell me nothing

I’m impaired

No worse for wear

‘Cause I’m going numb

‘Move.’ She thought as her body suddenly began to move, side to side, on beat, getting into it. Hobi nodded to the beat, watching her attentively.

I’m going numb

I’m going numb, I’m going numb

I’m going numb, I’m going numb (Let the champagne splash)

I’m going numb, I’m going numb (Let that man get cash)

I’m going numb,

Hobi smiled brightly when he watched her let loose. How her face changed into an expression of seriousness. Her movements were fluid with the beat, her body popping powerfully with the beat. It was like the dancer in her broke the chain that locked her true potential.

It felt good.

She felt free.

The way she danced, it was like she told a story as she listened to the lyrics. The way she went harder when the beat dropped on the second set of Rihanna’s ‘I’m going Numb’s.

Can’t you see

Ain’t it clear

Hobi was elated to see her dance harder and decided to record her on his phone as she body rolled powerfully during the second verse. She even added some of the moves he had shown her earlier, remaining in sync with the beat.

I don’t care

Get closer to me

If you dare

I double dare

'Cause I’m going numb,

This time, she swayed side to side with more energy, running a hand through her hair, pretending that she was going numb.

‘Atta girl.’ Hobi thought to himself, seeing a whole different person.

This is Jennie.

This is who Miss Bangtan is.

As soon as the beat dropped, she popped her chest and the rest of her body, robotically and rigid.

But odds are I'mma end up in the back of a squad car

Hobi widened his eyes, impressed as he watched her dance faster during Eminem’s rap. It caused him to squeal happily.

“Woo! Wooooooo! Go munchkin!” He shouted

“Stop making me laugh!” She broke out into a smile as she continued to dance.

After the song ended, she let out a breath.

‘Was that actually me?’ She looked at her reflection.

“That felt good. So, how’d I do?” She turned to him with a nervous smile.

Hobi screamed and jumped around, applauding her loudly. She laughed when he picked her up and spun her around.

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! Where have you been!?”

The room filled with their loud laughter as he set her down.

He grabbed his phone to show her the video he recorded. “Now this, this is Miss Bangtan. This is Jennie.” He smiled. “Your dancing has gotten so much better. I’m so proud of you.”

She turned to him, touched by his words. “Thank you, Hobi. Thank you so much. This means a lot coming from you.”

Hobi tweeted a small video of Jen dancing, ‘I think she’s going numb, kekekeke. Well done, munchkin! Sometimes all you need is that extra push. Proud of you. #JHOPE’

---

On March 9th, after giving out handmade gifts for ARMY on his birthday, Yoongi went to the studio to work, only to find a birthday card and two black boxes in his workspace. The bigger black box was on the bottom while the smaller one was on the top, wrapped up as a tag was attached to it.

‘To the guy I’ll beat in the next basketball game :P’

“Smartie.” He confirmed with a smirk as he sat down and opened the card first.

‘Dear Grandpa!’

He read and stopped. “This girl...” He shook his head in amusement and kept reading.

‘I don’t think you have any idea how much you’re valued or how much you mean to me. I look up to you. A lot. Not just for rapping but also for your passion in your work. How relatable your lyrics are and your ability to create such moving music. How humble you are about what you do. How raw you are with your rapping, I inspire to be on that level, to show that much emotion in music like you do. Just you being yourself in general, and how I enjoy being around you, even if you’re feeling a little lazy or in one of your work modes. Not to mention your blunt, yet savage remarks these days. Yeah, we may piss each other off at times but no matter what, we work on our problems and learn about ourselves so we can move forward through anything. I’ll always be there. No matter what. Even if you need me to be your napping buddy, I’m there. (Just don’t drool on me like last time, mkay? Mkay.) Thank you for being straightforward with me since the day we met. You’re very giving and hard working. And I thank you for always taking the time to teach me about rapping. I thank you for taking me under your wing, being patient, and encouraging me. You may not act like it but I see how much you care. You love us, members, more quietly, but I dare say you have the biggest heart.’

Yoongi stopped reading as he looked down, feeling something in his heart. That last sentence moved him. He took a moment to pull himself together before continuing to read.

‘And FYI, I do catch your small smiles when I accomplish your rap assignments. :) That is always motivating me to work harder so I can see that gummy smile of yours. Though we’re not related by blood, you are a brother I prayed for and I thank you for being in my life. I love you, Yoongi and I’m happy to be a part of BTS as we grow together musically, mentally and physically.

P.S.- When’s our next one on one basketball game? Too scared to get trashed? ;)

“This girl...” He smiled.

Sometimes she could be a pain in the ass. With her smacking him with whipped cream, especially, but at the end of the day, she would always be special to him. He never knew how much her words could move him as he reread her letter.

He opened the smallest gift first, opening the small box to reveal a personalized charm bracelet with a basketball and his name on it. He read the note that was on the box.

‘You better be wearing this. I have my own. We’re matching. No ifs, ands, or buts. Deal with it.’

“This girl is something else.” He put the bracelet on. It was a perfect fit for him. He turned to the big box, taking off the cover and inside looked like a haul of Kumamon merch. “This girl...” He repeated yet again in disbelief.

‘You still like him, right? Hope you like this haul! I better see you have that phone case on. I’m not joking. And you better eat the damn cake!’ Her note said.

“Cake?” He asked and saw a small box inside the big box with the merch.

He took it out and opened it to reveal a small Kumamon cake. His smile got wider as he read the note she wrote on top of the lid of the cake.

‘You BETTER eat this...I made it with love! Love I tell you! Don’t tell the guys, they’ve been begging me to bake again since those Valentine’s Day cupcakes, lol. I baked it, and Hayoon helped me decorate it. She has more of an artistic touch with baking. I may want to do this trend for the others’ birthdays too. It all depends on how much you like it.’

Yoongi felt something in his eyes as he shook his head, clearing his throat. He felt his tears dry up thanks to his dry eyes but overall, he was moved. He made a mental note to do this trend for her on her birthday, for sure.

“Hello Kitty is what she likes...” He thought out loud.

All of this was so...generous and kind of her. It made him feel so appreciated and loved. He checked out the merch in the box, which consisted of a black Kumamon shirt, a Kumamon phone case, a small plush and much more merch that he’d be pleased to have in his room.

Pulling out his phone, he gave her a quick text.

Yoongi: Swing by the studio when you can

While he waited for her, he took a photo of his haul and tweets, ‘Smartie is something else...I’m very thankful and overwhelmed with joy. #SUGA’

ARMY would immediately tweet, wishing him a happy birthday and talking about Jen giving him the haul of gifts.

‘YoonJen is so precious.’

‘I wish my friends would do something like that for me. I’m jealous’

‘She really made him a Kumamon cake tho! I can’t! This is making me cry’

‘Why are there tears in my eyes?’

‘Wishing him another year of success and happiness!’

‘She has got to be one of the kindest souls ever. She went out her way for him on his birthday.’

‘Wait she actually baked that for him!? OMG I ship it!’

‘AWWWWWW!’

‘KUMAMON!! Of course!’

Soon after, the members would tweet about it, instantly once they saw the photo of the cake.

‘WAIT SHE MADE THAT FOR YOU!? Where’s my cake!? #JIMIN’

‘I’m feeling some type of way... #JK’

'I want some!! #JHOPE'

‘Too cute! #V’

‘Wait she BAKED!? AGAIN!? Where were we!? #JIN’

Yoongi chuckled at their responses and tweets ‘Be jealous #SUGA’

‘So...you aren’t going to share?? #RM’

10 minutes later she arrived. “Yo! I see you got the stuff! Happy birthday!” She beamed.

As soon as he saw her walk in, he immediately got out of his seat and pulled her into his arms. As he wrapped his arms around her for a firm hug, she was taken by surprise and stood there, shocked.

“Thank you, Jennifer.” He murmured against her.

The sound of her name caught her by surprise. He only called her smartie these days, and to hear him say her full name, made her believe that this was something that he was extremely happy about.

She let out a chuckle and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tight.

“Of course.” She released him. “Oh, and another thing, I wanted to tell you that I’m ready to show you my skills on the launchpad.” She pointed it out.

He responded with a proud smile and gestured for her to sit with him.

“But it could wait, I mean, you sure you wanna work on your birthday? Don’t you want to chill?” she added.

“My work is never done and besides, I’m in a working mood. How about you consider this as your other gift to me? Show me.”

“All righty.” She set everything up.

Yoongi listened and watched intently as her fingers moved skillfully on the launchpad. She decided to perform BTS’ Tomorrow since she’s been playing around with it, and he wasn’t disappointed. There was something there and he just stared at her even after she finished. He wasn’t even aware she finished until she spoke.

“Well...what do you think?”

“I’m gonna have a talk with Namjoon, Hobi and Slow Rabbit.”

“Why?”

“I think you should consider working behind the scenes with us for our albums. There’s something there.”

“I kind of low-key wanted to.”

“We’ll take it one day at a time. For now, your homework is to practice Cypher PT 3. And without Tae. Good God, I don’t wanna hear him rap it.” He sighed and rubbed his temples.

She laughed. “I’ll try my best not to practice around him. I do think you should consider-“

“No.”

“But Tae would be so enthusiastic-“

“No.”

“He’s so eager-“

“No.”

“He has passi-“

“No.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Boo!”

“Yeah, yeah...By the way, after we have some free time during our upcoming I Need U promotions, we’re gonna have a date.” He announced.

“What’s the dress code?”

“A-game, don’t forget the sneakers. We have a date on the court.” He smirked competitively

“I’m down. Keep me posted.”

“And smartie?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for everything.”

“Always.”

---

During Namjoon’s Do You MV filming, the members decided to surprise him when he was on break. They walked in with bags of chicken, while Namjoon sat on the couch on his phone.

“Hello!” Jimin shouted.

“YO! YO! YO! YO! YOOOOOOOO! We have arrived!” Jen happily yelled, walking in with the rest of the members like a hurricane. The rest of the members shout randomly as Namjoon, covered his ears, whining. Jen let out a laugh.

Looks like the room won’t be quiet anymore.

“Hey leader, oppa’s here!” Tae beamed.

“The chicken has arrived!” Yoongi announced.

“You look good, that outfit is on point,” Jen told him as she greeted him with a hug. As they all sat down, getting situated, they discussed how nice Namjoon looked on video while they munched on the chicken. “Is it weird shooting alone?”

“Very. But now that you guys are here, maybe I spoke too soon, it’s so loud now.” He joked with a laugh.

“Well, you look cool. I think I can speak for everyone that we can’t wait to see what you have been working on.”

After the break, the members watch with Namjoon, clips of the filmed MV. Jen began dancing to the song with the other members.

“He’s so cool,” Jimin said proudly.

“He is going to do really well, I believe in him. He’s going to be great.” Yoongi guaranteed.

“I’m so proud of this guy, he’s worked so hard. I’m a proud baby sister.” She placed a hand over her heart as she looked at the Bangtan Bomb camera.

----

Finally, on April 5th, BTS began their jacket shooting in Gyeongju, for their upcoming album. Jen still hadn’t had her hair dyed yet, but her hair was styled straight with bangs this time.

Recently, her hair began to get damaged because sometimes the stylists wouldn’t know what to do with her African American hair, putting way too much heat. The last straw was when she noticed her hair breaking off, so she talked with Big Hit, asking if she could use one of Angelina’s stylists, who would come to Korea at times to do her hair more protectively, or even do her own hair when she could. She had to speak up on her hair, she kept quiet for too long.

She was happy they accepted her request and even went a step further to make the stylists learn about taking care of her hair so this wouldn't happen again. Jennie was grateful they were mindful of her hair. She did not want to go bald anytime soon.

For the jacket shooting, she wore a white blouse with blue jeans, along with a black hat on her head. They greeted the director and began shooting at the beach for Hwa Yang Yeon Hwa pt.1.

She sat in between Rapmon and Jin as photos were snapped away, bringing off a more mature vibe this time with their new concept.

“Jesus...for April, it sure is cold. But when you’re near the water, it’s always colder. I should’ve worn a heavier jacket.” She mentioned.

“I’ll keep you warm!” Tae wrapped his arms around her from behind, having the blanket he had on his back, wrap around her too.

“Why are you so warm!?” She exclaimed as they walked near the ocean.

When everyone gathered around, Jennie shivered violently.

“Wh-why.” She shivered while Tae placed a big jacket on her, holding her close. “I don’t do cold!”

He grabbed her hands and began to blow his hot breath on them, in hopes to soothe her. He took great care of her to make sure she was warm. She was grateful for his kind gestures.

After waiting as each member took their concept photos, Jennie and Jin met up for their photos together as they stood back to back. Jin looked ahead while Jen turned her head to the side as if looking back at him. She then wrapped her arms around herself, as the photos were snapped away, looking serious.

As they took more photos, Jimin and Jungkook watched them from a distance.

“Wah...so pretty.” Jimin admired Jennie’s visuals.

“Very,” Jungkook murmured.

“So...Jungkookie...I wanted to tell you about Ennie’s massage skills.” Jimin decided to tease him, smiling mischievously. “She gave me the most amazing massage a few days ago. It was great!”

“Is that so?” Jungkook poked his cheek with his tongue, trying to ignore him.

“Yeah, her hands do wonders. I didn’t know she was that talented. It was so relaxing.”

“Uh huh...”

“Have you ever gotten a massage from her? You’re missing out. I was the first one to get a massage from her too, I feel so special.”

“Shut up, Hyung...”

“Hehehehe. Someone’s mad~.”

“I’m not mad!” He grumbled.

“We were in her room, too-“ Jimin groaned in pain when he was suddenly punched in the arm.

Jungkook stormed off. “I want a massage...” He grumbled to himself, while Jimin walked after him, laughing hysterically.

He really fell for it.

After Jen was done with her photos with Jin, she cheered.

“Woo!” She opened her palms, raising them high as Jin high fived her. He places his palms down as she mer his hands for a low five, and then they jump up, bumping chests.

“SeokJen in the house!” She performed his traffic dance with him.

“Hey, this is a great warm up! I’m feeling warm!” He laughed.

She continued shooting photos alone, walking around, with the ocean in the background, looking angelic, yet mature. Losing the baby fat in her face, gained her more of a mature look with this concept.

After the shooting, she walked past Taehyung and Jungkook goofing around, as Kookie attempted to juggle with heat packs. Acting mischievous, she slapped the heat packs that were tossed in the air by him and continued to innocently walk away.

“Now you’re going to pay.” He dropped the other heat packs and ran after her.

“Wait! Wait!” She yelled in panic, trying to run for her life. Instantly he grabbed her from behind, lifting her up over his shoulder. “Tae! Help!”

“Why did she even bother to run?” Taehyung laughed.

When they go inside, they continue their shooting in a room. Jen was filmed in the bathroom with the bathroom mirror fogged up as she wrote ‘He’ll change’ on it. Then she shot photos with Namjoon as he sat on the toilet and her in the tub without any water in it.

When she finished up, she watched Tae and Jungkook shoot photos on the bed and ended up giggling at Jungkook dozing off. “He’s so out of it. It’s so cute.”

On April 11th, BTS began their I Need U filming. For the music video, Jen kept on a white butterfly necklace throughout the entire filming, as she first wore a black pajama shirt with pants.

She stood in a bedroom with a Korean actor near her age, portraying her abusive boyfriend. She faced the camera, questioning what her concept was. “My concept is an abusive relationship. I play a naïve teenage girl who is infatuated with this boy but he’s not all who he seems to be. She left her family just to be with him, too. It’s very sad. Her boyfriend will begin to get more aggressive when things don’t go his way. She’ll even be in denial of what he’s been doing, too.”

“She unexpectedly gets hit by him and he’ll say sorry and say it won’t happen again," she added. "A lot of abusive couples go through that. She’ll foolishly forgive him, believing that he’ll change. And then he’ll end up cheating on her with her best friend. Ah...so, grimy. I thought it was cliché when I was told what I’ll be doing but honestly, you’d be surprised how much this stuff happens. This stuff happens in real life. A guy can be abusive but also a woman can be abusive too and I feel as though there isn’t enough recognition for men out there getting abused by women. It could be emotional, not just physical. They may think it’s funny to see a guy get abused by a chick but freak out when a chick is abused by a guy. I feel as though both parties should be treated as serious matters.”

Jen stood with the actor, hearing the director’s instructions.

“You’ll barge in. Yell at him for forgetting your birthday. We just need shots of you arguing, so improvise, say whatever works.” The director instructed. “Then he’s going to grab you.”

The male actor grabbed Jen’s arms and shook her softly, getting the feel of what he was supposed to do. The two of them end up laughing.

“The actor is such a nice guy, so it’s going to be interesting working with him because he’s so nice.” She said on camera. “I think it’ll be difficult for me to think of what to say in this situation since I’ve never experienced it.”

“And...action!”

Jen stormed into the bedroom, watching her boyfriend playing video games.

Disgust was shown on her features as she sternly asked, “Where were you!?”

Her boyfriend sighed and shot her a dirty look. “What are you screaming about?”

“I said where were you?” She snatched the controller out of his hands and tossed it to the side. “I was waiting for you, how the heck could you forget my birthday!?”

He stood up and got in her face. “What the hell was that for!?”

“One special day and you weren’t there, it’s like you don’t even care at all! I’m always there for you, why can’t you give more to me like I do for you?! This happens all the time!” She exclaimed.

“Cut!” The director announced. “Jennie, this time say that you’re done. And we’ll get into the grabbing sequence.”

Jennie nodded as the actor smiled at her. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.” He told her.

“I’m sure I can take it.” She reassured him.

“Action!”

“You know what? I can’t do this anymore. I’m done.” She turned around but he roughly grabbed her wrist, forcefully turning her back to face him. Suddenly his large arms grabbed a hold of her, shaking her as she flinched.

“You are NOT going to leave me! You’re nothing without, do you hear me!?” He shouted as she started to whimper in fear.

“Stop it!” She shouted, trying to push him off. “Get off of me!” She finally shoved him off and hastily backed up. “What is wrong with you!?”

He grabbed a beer bottle and threw it near her, on the ground, making her yelp as she started running away.

“Get back here!” He shouted and ran after her.

The cameras quickly followed them. Jen managed to run into the bathroom and lock the door as a camera was filming her from inside the bathroom. A frightened facial expression was shown on her face as she watched the door shake violently from him banging his fists.

“OPEN THE DOOR!” His scream caused Jennie to flinch involuntarily.

His acting was off the charts. She was genuinely scared as her chest rose up and down at a quick pace. She let out a shriek when he finally kicked open the door.

“Please no...” She whimpered, backing up in fear. He slammed the door shut in front of the camera, as the scene only had the door shown.

“Cut! Good.” The director praised.

“You all right?” He smiled apologetically.

“Your acting is no joke. I was actually scared.” She praised.

After those shots, Jen sat down to get her makeup done, as the rest of the members began their shooting. The stylists had made sure Jen’s eyeliner and mascara weren’t waterproof so when she cried, it could run and be messy. Her cheek looked like she had been backslapped in the face.

Once she was done, the director let her sit in the shower with her knees up to her chest, with water running down on her. She had to cry for this one, so it took her a few moments before the tears began to flow. After they got enough shots of that, they led her to stare at her reflection in the mirror, examining the bruise on her face. She frowned, looking hurt that he would put his hands on her.

“I have never been heartbroken in my life, yet, so I hope my acting is believable for the cheating scene,” Jennie said on camera. “I’m glad I’m doing this cheating scenario, coming up. I feel like in your youth, you will get heartbroken and it’s a part of life. Whether it’s dating, one sided love, death, or any struggle. But overcoming it...I think that’s a beautiful thing.”

Jen had changed into a grey sweater and jeans, her face not bruised anymore. She pondered how she would act if a guy cheated on her in real life.

“I honestly have no idea what I might do if someone cheats on me. If I had my bat from Danger, I could beat him with it...but I’d like not to get a record.” She grinned innocently.

“I need you two to improvise.” The director said. He decided to let them have more freedom in this scene. “Bang on his chest, yell, scream at him.”

“Can I slap you?” She asked straightforwardly, earning a laugh from the actor and those in the background.

“I don’t mind.”

Getting in position, she stood outside the hallway of the bedroom. Exhaling, she thought of her sister, Vienna. She was cheated on back in high school. It made her never want to date again and just hook up with guys instead of a commitment. She’ll never forget that day of her yelling and screaming at him on the phone, as Alani tried to calm her down.

Jungkook and Jimin were watching her film behind the cameras. They were impressed at how well she was doing, despite her beginning nervousness with the concept. Jungkook had clenched his fists when he saw the actor grab her, previously, feeling protective.

“Go Jennie!” Taehyung cheered her on. Her sad expression changed into a bright smile as she shot him a finger heart.

“Action!”

Jen barged into the bedroom to find a girl in her boyfriend’s lap, making out. She stood there, frozen, as she watched them with disappointment and hurt in her face.

“My heart...” Jimin murmured as he watched her broken facial expression.

Jungkook felt something in his chest when he saw the hurt in her eyes. It was something he never wanted to see.

Jennie scoffed at the sight, shaking her head as she made her way out of the room. Storming down the hallway, her boyfriend quickly followed her, trying to catch her.

“W-wait!” He shouted. “It’s not what it looks like-“ He’s cut off by a strong slap in the face.

The slap was heard throughout the room as all the attention was on the two lovers. The sound of the slap even made Jungkook and Jimin flinch as they watched with interest.

Jennie began to violently bang on his chest, trying to hit him as he attempted to stop her. “Why!? Why would you do this to me!?” She screamed as tears began to appear in her eyes. He attempted to hug her but she fought out of his arms.

“Get off of me!” She screamed and shoved him away. She stared at him with disbelief as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Jennie...look-“

“My best friend though!? My best friend!? I knew this would happen!”

“If you knew this was going to happen why did you come back to me!? Why didn’t you just leave!?”

“Because I love you! And I’m so damn foolish to love you but I can’t help it! You’re supposed to be my everything, my heart, my soul!” Her voice began to sound raspy from the anger. “I’ve been loyal to you since day one! Day one! Your ride or die! Your support! Your love and you gonna do me like this!?” Her voice cracked.

Jungkook stared at her as she acted, wanting to walk in the shot right then and there to pull her in for a hug. Jimin glanced at him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s just acting, Jungkookie. She’s okay.” He reassured.

“Y-yeah. I know...But I would never do that to her...”

Jimin smiled at his statement. “Oh really? Tell me more.”

“I-ignore what I said, hyung.”

“Sounds to me like you-“

“I think it’s your turn to film, hyung!”

Meanwhile, with Jennie, she wasn’t expecting to tear up so soon, but she got so into the acting, that it worked as the tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Why? Why would you do this to me? I have never done you wrong! I forgave you for hitting me, I forgave you for missing my birthday but this? My best friend?! I’ve had enough!”

“Wow.” Yoongi looked on with Namjoon.

“I sincerely thought this was real, the way she was screaming at him.” Namjoon glanced at the camera filming their reactions.

After her shots were done, she checked out how it looked from the screen.

“Ah, I feel like I could’ve done better but as I’m watching myself since they only want the video, not the sound of us arguing, it looks passionate. I’m proud of the results.” She mentioned.

Filming continued late at night. In Hongdae, shooting a scene playing around while eating burritos. The members laugh hysterically as they toss food at each other. Jen stole a bite out of Jin’s burrito, and he shoved her burrito in her face.

“Hey!”

“HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!” His trademark laugh filled her ears. “I didn’t think it would be that bad, I’m sorry.”

The next day, at night, Jin is filmed driving a car with Suga in the passenger seat.

“I’m trusting you with my life.” Jennie teased as she sat in the back with Jimin, Hobi and Jungkook.

Tae and Rapmon were watching while Jin drove in circles. Everyone decided to go home while Jungkook prepared to film his individual scene in an alley in Itaewon. Jennie decided to stay with him, instead of going back to the dorm like the others.

“I think Jungkook has the saddest story in I Need U. First, he gets beaten up and then ran over by a car. What has he done to the world?” She questioned on camera. “I’m a little worried to see him get beat up.”

“You needn’t.” He said behind her with a smile. “I’m very happy that she decided to stay with me. The hyungs decided to leave. They abandoned me. But not her.”

Jen watched in the background as Jungkook was filmed bumping into some bad guys, played by their managers. When she watched the first scene with him from the camera, she nodded in approval. “Nice job, Kookie.”

She watched Jungkook stroll down the alleyway until he was shoved harshly against the security gate, making a loud sound.

She cringed at the sight. “Oh dear...”

After filming that scene, Jungkook had his makeup done to look like he had gotten beaten up as they filmed him getting tossed against the gate once more.

“This is intense,” Jennie murmured.

She was impressed at his acting, he made it believable with his facial expressions. But she had the urge to hug him as she watched him get tossed around.

When was this over? She didn’t want to see him like that.

After his filming was done, she rushed up to him, pulling him in for a hug.

“Why do you gotta make things so realistic? That was intense.” She exclaimed as he smiled at her concern.

“Did I worry you?” He teased, feeling happy that she cared so much about him.

Before heading back to the dorm, the two of them decided to go get something to eat because Jen was craving French fries and chose to get a big plate of them so they could share.

“You have salt on your lips.” She pointed out, taking a napkin to gently wipe his lips. Jungkook stared at her with lingering eyes at the closeness.

“There. It was bothering me.” She looked up, meeting his intense gaze. He looked away, feeling his face warm up after being caught staring. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Nah, it’s just that you have pretty eyes.”

“That’s a first.” She smiled.

“No one has never said that before?”

“Not really. They’re just brown. I don’t think it’s that big of a deal.”

“Well, I think it’s a big deal.” He countered. “Let’s go on a compliment spree, back and forth.”

“All right. Your bunny smile is really cute, I’ll admit.”

He flashed her a grin. “You have a nice voice.”

“Your singing voice is very sweet.”

“I saw the video Hobi filmed on Twitter. You dance well. Way different from before.”

“Better than you?” She teased.

“Let’s not get that far, I’m the Golden Maknae, after all.”

“Blah, blah...” She grabbed a handful of fries and shoved them in his mouth. “Eat and shut your face.”

He laughed at her. “Do you think I’ve become manlier?”

“Hm...” She examined him. “Nope!”

“Y-yah!” He exclaimed while she giggled at his shocked expression.

After more chatting, they were down to the end of their meal. "Last piece. Who gets it?” She asked.

“Staring contest?” He offered.

“You’re on.” She leaned in, taking him off guard as he gulped. “Nervous? All you gotta do is blink and I’ll back away~.”

“Never. I’m not losing.” He kept his eyes open, widening them as he stared at her.

Out of nowhere, he grabbed the last fry, shoving it in his mouth before she could comprehend what he had done.

“Wow, Kookie...really?”

“Hehehehe.”

-------

For the next day of filming, Jennie put on a white dress, black heels and red lipstick. “I look old...” She checked out her outfit. “I own this dress, it was in my closet for some time. Colors play a key role for me in HYYH. As you can see, I’m wearing white. What does white stand for? Purity. Red, well, it’s more of an intense color than white. It can mean aggression, anger and violence. Keep that in mind for the future.”

She was briefly filmed sitting at the dining room table alone, with a knife on the table, contemplating in irritation. She wanted to hurt him. Hurt him for treating her so wrong. For betraying her. For hitting her, everything that he had done wrong to her, she wanted to hurt him for.

She stood up, walking around the table until she heard the door open and close to reveal her boyfriend. With her back to him, she glanced at the knife as the camera panned down to her hand grabbing a hold of it, ending the shot as a cliffhanger.

After she finished the individual shot, she bowed. “I am a hot mess in this music video.” She declared with a laugh. “Like they say, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned!”

----

A few days later, the members decided to take care of some business, doing their respective activities for the day which left the 97 Liners in the dorm to chill.

Jennie happily chose this time to watch a show that Angelina wanted her to check out, while Jungkook played video games in the living room. As Jungkook gamed, he overheard her talking on the phone as she left her room to walk to the kitchen.

“GIRL! I just finished the eighth episode.” He heard her say and paused as she listened to Angelina speak to her on the other line.

She went through the cabinets as she began to speak again. “This show is crazy, Angie! So many plot twists, I dunno who to trust, hahah!” She grabbed a bag of chips and poured them into a bowl. “Uh huh, yeah that part messed me up...she’s such a bitch, I hope she gets what’s coming to her...But oh my God, you warned me but I wasn’t expecting him to look that good. He’s so sexy, though! His muscles? That grin? Lord Jesus, I’m deceased!”

Jungkook let out a chuckle at her fangirling in her Native tongue. When she was back in her room, he continued to game for another hour until he decided to approach her door.

“Who?” She questioned at the sudden knocking.

“Jeon Cena.”

“Will I be Attitude Adjusted if I let you in?”

He smirked at her statement. “No, Milady. I come in peace.”

“Enter my realm.”

He grinned and walked into her room, shutting the door behind him as he saw her watching some American show with her laptop connected to an HDMI cord on her TV. Her hair was in a messy bun and she wore her Hello Kitty pajama shirt and shorts. He thought she looked cute.

Jen smiled brightly and paused her show to give him her full attention. “Hey!”

“Hey. You free to talk?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

He crossed his arms, deciding to ask her something that’s been on his mind all day. The sound of annoyance in his voice was heard as he asked, “So, you gave Jimin a massage?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. He complained about his shoulder. I offered.” She shrugged.

‘And not me?’ He wanted to ask, clenching his jaw.

“One of my cousins is a massage therapist and taught me some things when I was younger.” He heard her continue her statement. “It helped me loosen up my muscles when I first began to dance professionally. Now I’m used to the soreness. I told Jimin about the fun fact, and he asked.”

“That’s...actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” He looked down at his feet, trying to figure out how to ask her. “C-can I...get a massage from you?”

She let out a soft laugh. “It’ll cost you.”

Looking up at her, he nodded as his face began to heat up. “Ah, okay. I need to get my wallet.” He turned around.

She laughed at his actions. He didn’t catch her sarcasm. “Get on the bed. I’m messing with you.”

Her statement caused him to reveal his bunny smile on his features as he eagerly sat on her bed.

‘That was easier than I thought. I should stop overthinking.’ He happily thought as she turned her show back on.

He watched her get off the bed, to walk over to her dresser. He couldn’t help but stare at her bare legs in her shorts. Her working out with him has been paying off because he could see the definition in her legs. It was safe to say that she had one of the nicest legs that he had ever seen and wondered why she didn’t show them off more.

‘I should stop looking.’ He turned away, to look at the show on her TV instead.

After a few moments, the temptation got to him as he couldn’t help but slowly drift his eyes back to her legs, inching higher this time.

“Where?” She had asked him while searching for her massage stuff in the drawer as he kept staring at the back of her legs.

‘A lot of places, actually...’ He thought to himself, averting his eyes from going higher than her thick thighs. ‘Don’t stare...don’t creep her out. Don’t stare at her ass, Jungkook, what are you doing?’

“Hello? Earth to Kook?” Jen had turned around to face him, catching his attention.

“Y-yeah?”

“I asked where did you need a massage?”

“Oh. Right. My back.”

“Got it.” She turned back around to gather up what she needed.

Jungkook stood up from the bed, with his back to her, reaching behind his neck to grab the collar of his shirt. Pulling his shirt up, he took it off and tossed it on her bed. All that was left on his upper body was the short bunny necklace around his neck that she had gotten him for Christmas.

Jennie turned around with bottles of massage oils in her hands. When she caught a glimpse of his muscular back she widened her eyes and accidentally dropped her supplies. The sudden clutter of noise caught Jungkook's attention as he turned around abruptly, giving her a full view of his muscular torso.

“You all right?” He asked, walking up to her.

“Ye-ah, y-yeah, just fine.” She kneeled to quickly pick up her belongings, placing them on the bed.

Jungkook watched her as he replayed her statement in his head.

‘Did she...stutter?’ He pondered as he watched her avert her eyes from his chest, trying not to look anywhere near his way.

He fought the urge to smile as he appreciated the gesture. The fact that she tried not to stare filled him with pride. He’s worked hard for them, after all. And only getting muscular as the months go by.

‘I’m making her nervous...’ He confirmed.

Normally it would be her that made him nervous. But now that the tables have turned, he wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

“You need help with anything?” He decided to get closer to her again to see her reaction.

She instantly shook her head and took a step back, desperately trying not to look down his chest, keeping her eyes on his face.

“Nope, nope. I gotta get something from the kitchen real quick. Just hang tight for a moment.”

“Okay.”

Once she left, he smirked, feeling good about himself. ‘She’s cute when she’s nervous like that.’ He thought as he waited for her.

When she came back, she had found Smarties in the kitchen and placed them on her nightstand.

Facing him, she looked up into his eyes, still trying her best not to let her eyes wander. “I’m no pro, I only know a few basics, but it’s more than enough to help me with the aches and pains. I highly suggest a hot bath or shower to loosen up the muscles.”

“Got it.” He nodded curtly, walking over to the bed.

Before laying down, he decided to stretch deeply, raising his arms up in the air. He let out a soft moan as he stretched and discreetly peeked over to see if she was staring. He was not disappointed at the result.

When she accidentally glanced at him stretching, watching his muscles tighten, she quickly looked away.

‘Oh, oh no. No, no, no. Jen no. You shouldn’t be looking.’ She thought nervously.

She’d never seen him shirtless like this before and it was making her feel on edge. It caught her off guard since she wasn’t used to seeing him like that. They were comfortable around each other but something about him today made her nervous. But not in a bad way as she felt like her face was on fire.

Was she beginning to blush? Thankfully her dark skin didn’t give it away so easily.

“Everything okay, baby girl?”

He didn’t know where he got his confidence from, but somehow he ended up asking her, as she didn’t hear the teasing in his voice. He felt no nervousness at all and seemed to run on his confidence because the sight of her being nervous around him for the first time boosted his ego. Maybe she thought he was manly now, after asking her so many times in the past.

It felt satisfying.

“Huh? Y-yeah, everything’s fine.” She decided to fix her messy bun, turning her back to him.

Any way to get away from the sight. They were getting older, so it should be natural that things like this would happen, right?

“Actually, can you check something before you do my back? I think I’m feeling a little sore on my arm.” He made up a white lie, to see her reaction.

She closed her eyes for a moment, attempting to contain her composure.

‘Oh, Lord have mercy.’ She thought as she turned to him. “Your arm?”

“Uh huh. If that’s okay.” He flashed her a smile and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

‘Say no. Say no, right now. Don’t do it, don’t you do it, do NOT do it.’ She tried to warn herself.

“A-all right, show me.” She took a seat next to him, having no choice but to reluctantly turn her eyes to his bare torso.

He flexed his arm for her, in a slow manner, revealing the definition of his arm muscles.

‘Oh no, I should not be in this position, right now. I shouldn’t be staring but his muscles are really...’ She ended her thought when he gently grabbed her wrist, feeling the warmth of his hand.

She watched him place her palm on his bare shoulder and he slowly ran it down his bicep, making sure she could feel his strength.

“Riiiiiiiight here.” He declared. “Maybe I stretched it out too much? What do you think?”

“Um...” She trailed off, running her hand on his strong arm. “You really feel tense here.” She stated as he watched her intently.

“Am I? Well, could you...also, massage that as well? I would really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, um, let’s begin with your back first. Lay down. On your stomach.”

She got off the bed. He fulfilled her request and she sat next to his body. Thanks to him lying on his stomach, she felt less nervous but still felt some type of way about his muscular back.

“Never thought I’d be doing this to you. Jimin runs his mouth. But I like taking care of you, so I can’t complain. You’ve been my dance partner and personal trainer in the gym. I’ve been your nurse, best friend and massage therapist. What’s next on the agenda?”

“I have a couple of titles in mind...” He murmured to himself as he heard her open a bottle of the massage oil.

“I’m gonna need you to communicate with me while I do this, okay? Tell me what feels good and what doesn’t. And the areas you want me to focus on.”

“Got it.”

“And you can ignore me if I end up making random comments, I’m still fixated on Empire.”

“What’s that?”

“The show I’ve been watching. That’s why I was on the phone with Angelina. I blame her.” She poured the oil on her hands. “This’ll be a little cold, but you’ll warm up once your blood starts circulating.”

She ran her hands over his back, straight up and back down as he sighed in content. She smiled at his reaction. At least he was relaxed.

“Did you...do this to Jimin?” He suddenly asked.

“Nah, he wasn’t on my bed or anything. Nothing like this.”

‘Did this pabo lie to me to get me jealous so I could ask her?’ He pondered in annoyance. ‘I’m going to kill him.’

Jen multitasked while glancing at her show and listening to his reactions as she began to rub in circular motions. Jungkook thought her hands felt like heaven. His back was sore from all the dance practices and was grateful she was there to help him out.

“You’re tense, Kookie. Like all over. What’s on your mind?”

“A lot of things.”

“Care to share?”

“Ah, just making sure this comeback is a good one.” He let out another contented sigh.

“I swear, your muscles weren’t this big.” She thought out loud. “I’m not used to seeing you shirtless, so it caught me by surprise.”

“Do you like them?”

“They’re nice. Impressive. Hard work is paying off. I think I’m toning up too, what do you think?”

“Your legs are really nice. I think you should show them off more.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Maybe.”

Suddenly, he let out a soft groan and she stopped.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” She asked in alarm when she pressed into his muscle tissue with more pressure.

“Nah. Keep doing that. It feels nice.”

“Lemme know if it hurts.” She continued what she was doing and made sure to massage his arm like he wanted as well.

After 30 minutes, she noticed that he had fallen asleep and his breathing had gotten slower. She let him rest on her bed, placing a blanket on him. Later, she heard a cute bark and saw their dog Tony trying to jump on the bed.

Jungkook and Jennie finally agreed to name their dog Tony. It was cute and suited him well. Iron Man won this round but the next thing they got that required a name was going to be Captain America related.

Letting out a giggle, she picked Tony up and placed him on the bed. He went right to Jungkook, walking on his back, curling up into a ball to rest.

Jennie smiled at the cute sight and decided to take a photo for the adorable memory. For a moment, she watched as Jungkook slept and started to run a hand through his soft hair, feeling elated. She then turned her attention back to her show, making sure the volume wasn't too loud to disturb his rest.

She went through two more episodes while he continued to sleep.

“No way!” She whispered in a hushed yell, watching another plot twist in the show.

She glanced over at Jungkook who moved in his sleep. With Tony not on the bed anymore, Jungkook was sleeping on his back now with the cover still on him. She let out a soft chuckle at how cute he looked as he slept. The way his mouth was open, and how he looked like a baby. She was happy that he was resting. He and Jimin had been going to the dance studio more often as the comeback neared. She didn’t want him to work himself too hard.

She affectionately ran her hand through his soft hair again, checking up on him to make sure he was still fine. Then, her phone vibrated and rang at a low volume, interrupting her thoughts as she checked the Caller ID.

Jin.

“What’s up?” She answered.

“Hey, Jennie. The boys are on their way back, and should be back at the dorm in less than five minutes.” He said, causing her to almost drop her phone, hastily getting off the bed.

“Oh, really? Okay!” She managed to say as she looked back at Jungkook.

She needed to get him out of her room.

ASAP.

She did not want to see what would happen if the guys found him, in her bed, shirtless, asleep. And it didn’t look any better with her hair disheveled. It would give the wrong impression, and they wouldn’t be able to hear the end of it. And the way the guys’ minds like to be dirty, she would like to avoid their teasing at all costs, and she knew Jungkook would want that too.

“I’ll be home soon, at the store. I wanted to ask if you needed anything?”

“Um, yeah, actually, could I get some more pads?” She requested.

Ever since he caught her when she had her period accident, Jin had been looking out for her, ever since, buying her anything she needed to make her time of the month as painless as possible.

“Of course. I’ll buy two packs. See you when I get home.”

“Thank you!” She said her goodbyes and hung up, tossing her phone on the bed. “Okay.” She turned to the sleeping bunny.

How was she going to wake him up?

“Kook, wake up.” She called out.

No answer.

Sitting on her bed, she started to shake him but got no response. Of all times, he wanted to be a heavy sleeper he chose now. But she was the one who put him to sleep anyway, so she should be praising her hand skills.

It made her happy to get him to relax. The way he trusted her to massage him even though she wasn't a professional. She enjoyed these moments with him.

She shook him more roughly. “Kook, wake up. You gotta get out of my room, they’re coming back soon!”

She sighed at his lack of response. “You mean to tell me I need to pinch him like Jin?” She pondered as she tried to look for an alternative method. Looking around her bed, she grabbed one of her pillows.

“Wake up!” She started hitting his face with the pillow.

Waking up and realizing that he was getting hit with the pillow, he grabbed a hold of her wrists and pinned her down on the bed, making her shriek in surprise.

“Oh, hey, you’re awake.” She looked up at him.

“What was that for?” He asked, sleepily.

“Well, I’ve been trying to wake you up for a while. The guys are coming back. You are in my room. You are shirtless in my room. And right now, you are on top of me, shirtless, in my room. If they see us like this...we’re done for. Let’s not give them something to tease us about for months. And if Jin sees us...” She cringed at the thought

“Yeah, we’re dead.” He let out a chuckle and got off of her.

He helped her up and grabbed his shirt, putting it on. Both getting off the bed, they try to straighten up, so it can look like she did not give him a massage.

“Wait! Your shirt!” She called out in panic.

“What about it?”

“It’s inside out!” She hastily took it off him, since it was inside out, and turned it back and placed it back on him. “Wait, we need to fix your hair!” She started messing around with it, trying her best to make it look neat as he laughed at her attempts. “This isn’t funny!”

“It kind of is.”

“Okay, now go. Play video games, act normal.” She pushed him out of her room

"All right, all right. But one more thing,"

"What's up?"

"Thank you for the massage. It felt great,"

She smiled, "Of course. Whenever you need one just ask. I'm here,"

"I'll keep that in mind," he was happy about the offer as he shut her door and went back to playing his game.

A minute later, the members made their way back to the dorm, while Jen continued to watch her show.

“Jennie! Here are your things.” Jin came into her room, handing her the bag.

“Much appreciated.”

“So, anything interesting happened while we were gone?”

“Nah, I’m catching up on some American shows while Kook is gaming like usual. Same ol’ same ol’.” She smiled.

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