#so everything comes out a lil fucked up which is irritating

[opens-up-4-nobody]

:-P

#srry ive just been thinking abt avatar a lot lately. idk y bc im not even rewatching it #i just kinda wanna draw the creatures and it really annoys me that i cant draw sokkas hair right #also me: scheduling posts << posting whatever i draw immediate bc fuck it #im procrastinating writing and trying to not think bad thoughts lmao #atla #avatar the last airbender #sokka #katara #aang #turtle duck #otter penguin #its annoying bc my brains says i cant draw anything simple but also i have to draw and color as fast as humanly possible #so everything comes out a lil fucked up which is irritating #also i like that the water tribe using mutant mittens which is what my dad uses in the winter bc idk military supply store?

[beneathstarryskies]

Word count: 1,194

Summary: Grimmjow has been living with your for a while, and you have him feeling ✨some type of way.✨

Warnings: fem!reader, penetration, smut, grimmjow is basically a warning in himself (i love the murder kitten with my whole heart but he is a problem), cock warming, a lil fluffy

A/N: Based off of this post by the lovely @your-local-hollow-lover

Like almost everything between you and Grimmjow, it started as an argument. He’d been more moody and rude than usual lately, which you didn’t even think was possible. He sat on your sofa, where he’d been sleeping since Urahara declared he couldn’t stay at the shop anymore, with his legs sprawled open while staring disinterestedly at the television. You’d tried all day to get him off his ass to help you do chores, after all, if he was going to stay in the human realm he needed to learn how to do human things. He just refused to even look at you. His jaw was set tight and his lips were pulled into a scowl. 

“So are you just gonna fucking sit there and let me do all of the chores?” you’d asked, stomping your foot like a child mid-tantrum as you stood in front of the television. It was annoying, but Grimmjow begrudgingly thought it was cute too. He loves it when you bite back. 

“Yeah, I fucking am! Humans are good for one thing, and that’s to serve me!” 

“You’re such an asshole sometimes,” you growl. As you took off from the living room, he’d assumed that was the end of it, but then you came out of your bedroom fully dressed and carrying your purse. 

“Where the hell are you going?” he asked. 

“Out!” you said without looking at him. 

Before you can make it to the door he’s on you. He grabs your arm firmly, but with a surprising awareness of his strength to not hurt you. 

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, woman,” he growls as he tries to pull you closer. 

“Let go of me, Grimmjow!” you try to yank your arm away. You almost managed to get out of his grip until he yanks on your arm and then pushes you against the wall. 

“Don’t walk away from me,” he snarls, pinning you against the wall. Your scent fills his nostrils and he has to hold back a grunt. At that moment the source of why he’s been so irritable today reveals itself with a rush of blood straight to his cock. 

“Oh my god, are you seriously hard right now?” You asked. 

“What did you fucking expect? You’ve been traipsing around the house all day in those stupid little shorts and wearing that…that…DAMN SCENT!” 

You know he means your perfume. He’d mentioned it once before, trying to find the source of the sweet smell but being too embarrassed to ask. Although it’d been a couple of days since you put any on, so you didn’t think he’d still be able to smell it on you. Apparently, you miscalculated. You also miscalculated why he’d pretended to hate it when you first explained the whole concept of perfume to him. 

In the heat of the moment, you leaned in to kiss him. It was sloppy and wet. You wondered if this was the first time he’d kissed, but he didn’t give you time to ask before he was pressing his bulge against you. 

That’s how you ended up in this predicament.

He’s purring loudly against your neck as you sit on his cock. His hands are firmly on your hips. He hadn’t helped you work your way down his thick shaft, but he wasn’t pushing you away either. Not by a long shot. The warmth of your snug walls around him felt fucking amazing, but he wouldn’t admit that. 

Even though he’s holding onto your body like his life depends on it and you can feel the purrs vibrating against his chest that’s flush with yours, he feels ashamed of liking this. He’s so weak and even feels a little disgusted with himself for savoring the feeling of some human’s cunt around his cock. But you weren’t just any human, not really. That disgusts him too. The fact that he looks forward to you coming home from work, and how he enjoys all of your dumb arguments. The way he can’t help taking in your scent every time you’re close to him. He fucking hates it. 

“Grimmjow, I need to move,” you whine, but his grip on you forces you to keep still. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he pants. “Don’t even try it.” 

“You’re the one that pulled me on your lap,” you argue. 

Your hands are trembling as you brace your hands on his shoulders. He has you filled to the brim. His balls are flush against your ass, but he refuses to move. Even though he’s quivering and purring and his cock is aching inside of you, he forces himself to stay still. 

“You’re just making us both crazy,” you try to reason with him as your pussy clenches around his cock. 

“I don’t care!” 

He wants to outlast his own instincts. His mind is filled with images of slamming into you over and over; of holding you down and making you scream his name. But no. He stubbornly stays in place, torturing you both in hopes he’ll go soft or finally find the strength to push you away instead of keeping you caged against him. 

He moves to adjust his position and inadvertently ends up lightly thrusting. He lets out a soft growl as he does it again, this time harder. Your arousal drips down his shaft and balls as a surge of excitement courses through your loins at the idea that he’s finally going to give in, but he stubbornly goes still again. 

“Grimmjow, it’s okay to want this,” you whisper and run your hands through his hair. “But it’s also okay not to. We can stop.” 

“I don’t want to fucking stop,” he admits. “But I can’t give in either. This is stupid.” 

“You’re impossible,” you groan. 

He knows you’re right. He’s the one who kissed you first. He’s the one who pulled you onto his lap so you could grind against his cock, but now that it’s down to it he’s being too prideful to give in to the intense need that’s been growing inside him for as long as he’s known you. It all added up: every time you argued, every time you sat beside him on the couch to watch a movie and fell asleep so he put a blanket over you while pretending the next morning he didn’t, all the times you offered him some semblance of understanding when nobody else would’ve tried. It left little marks on his heart that he thought long dead. 

You give up on trying to make him move. Instead you just wrap your arms around him, letting him nuzzle and purr against you. One of your hands run through his hair gently. You want him to know you’ll still be here when he’s ready. 

After what feels like an eternity, his grip loosens on your hips. Slowly, and ever so carefully, you begin rocking your hips. Your body screams out for you to go faster, to take what you want like he likely would if the roles were reversed, but you don’t. You keep him enveloped in your embrace. 

“Do you want me to stop?” you ask gently. 

“Fuck…No,” he grits. 

#🌟written in the stars #grimmjow x reader #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #grimmjow jaegerjaquez x reader #grimmjow bleach x reader #espada x reader #bleach #espada #bleach grimmjow

[scatteredskittless]

can i sweetly ask for husk x reader angst,,, where the reader has been on work mode as of late thus having them a silly lil arguement (i love tormenring myself 😝) until they decide to make it up/explain why they were so busy later on 👉👈 (maybe a lil makeout session too in the end if you will) :333 tyy!

Overworked! GN! reader x Husker

A/n: You’re so real for this tbh, this was actually pretty fun to write !! My favourite little alcoholic grumpy cat fr ദ്ദി(ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Warnings: mild angst, argument, light talk of alcohol/alcoholism, light makeout near end

Fluff✔️ Comfort✔️ Angst✔️ Smut❌

You arrived back home to the hotel later than usual, you weren’t quite sure when you started to refer to this place as your home but it felt right to do so.

As soon as you walked through the doors you were greeted with a glance and a raised eyebrow from Husk, your boyfriend, as he cleaned and polished some glasses behind the bar. Most likely shutting everything down for the night.

You sigh, slumping down on one of the barstools as you waited for him to finish up what he was doing.

“You look like shit.” Husk observed, setting a now clean and sparkling glass down as he moved on to polishing up the next one.

“Yeah, thanks. That makes me feel so much better knowing my boyfriend thinks I look like shit.” You grumbled back, still quite irritated from the day you had. Your boss was constantly on your ass and making unsolicited remarks about basically everything you did or didn’t do, so coming home and having Husker do the same thing wasn’t exactly helping the situation.

He was a little taken back by your tone, usually you weren’t so sarcastic with him. You saw him pause (hehe paws) what he was doing for a few moments before resuming, trying to remain unfazed.

“All I’m saying is it looks like you had a shitty day..” He mumbled

You rolled your eyes in response, not bothering to say anything else because you knew whatever came out of your mouth next probably wouldn’t be so kind.

But, Husk continued...

“It also feels like I haven’t really been able to just hang out with you in a while.” He commented making you look up from the bar countertop and to his gaze that was already on yours with a glare.

“Well maybe if you wanted to see more of me, you wouldn’t be getting drunk everytime I’m finally off work” you said, your tone snippy which drew a frown out of Husk.

“So now this is my fault?” Husk asked, being slightly sarcastic when he spoke

“Are you implying it’s mine?” You asked back incredulously, the sarcasm seemed to have set you off more which in turn, was making Husks temper flare up as well.

“I never said it was, you’re just being snippy.” He called out as he narrowed his eyes at you. Of course you knew you were being snippy, you couldn’t help it and now you’ve dug yourself into a bit of a hole here.. you and Husker were both very stubborn demons..

“Y’know what? fuck you.” You said without thinking, sliding yourself off the barstool to come around the bar. Wanting to face him properly as you two continued on with your petty argument.

You glared up at him and he glared back for a few seconds before suddenly sweeping you up off your feet and placing you down on the bar countertop and before you could even say any word of protest, his lips smashed against yours with his ears pinned back against his head

Your eyes widened in surprised for a few beats before letting them fall shut, kissing him back and essentially taking all of your anger out in said kiss, arms wrapped around his neck with his wrapped around your waist in turn.

It quickly turned into a makeout session, an angry makeout session would be a better word for it.

Your hand found the fur on the top of his head and gently tugged on it as your tongues pressed up against eachother, causing him to grunt in response

You were both panting when he broke the kiss off, you had both tired yourselves out as he leaned down to press a few kisses to your neck, making you whimper in response. Husk smirked at that.

Once he was done peppering kisses to your neck and collarbone he pulled back, hands still resting on your waist as he did so.

You sigh, meeting his gaze and smile meekly, feeling guilty for your previous actions and words. “I’m… sorry for all that. I’ve just been super stressed and busy with work lately and I shouldn’t be pining all the blame on you.” You apologized genuinely.

He nodded “it’s alright.. I’m also sorry. I’ll work on prioritizing you more. I missed you” he apologized as well, returning your smile.

“I missed you too.” You wrapped your arms around him in a hug, he chuckled and hugged you back, squeezing you when you squeezed him. You couldn’t help but notice the fact that he was purring slightly… clearly you were both content with how this little argument of yours had ended.

Please do not repost, translate, or plagarize any of my fanfictions/writing/headcanons without permission ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞

ᯓ★ Scatteredskittles

#husk x reader #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel comfort #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin hotel husk #husker hazbin hotel #husker x reader #x reader

[seeingivy]

the met gala

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content: the end contains some possibly triggering content. toxic man moment/unsafe situation so dni and protect ur peace if you need to.

an: fan service to the highest t. you want laufey? i'l give you laufey. you want sukuna? ill give you sukuna. did you ask for catoru gojo? no but i'll give it to you anyways. and the end is a nice yummy lil eren little fdklsfjdksljfkdlsjfkdsjk. also I changed real life met gala lore idgaf if they don't do real perfomances there bc they do now

songs mentioned: death of a bachelor by panic at the disco, seven by taylor swift, promise by laufey, and dorothea by taylor swift

previous part linked here

--

Eren waits for it in nervous anticipation. Because despite everything Hyla and Lana say, he knows for a fact that you won’t be staying silent. That Danny and Sareen wouldn’t let this slide and neither would you. 

And it eats at him while he waits for the real response, beyond that video Connie posted of you, Mikasa, Connie, and Jean dancing to Girlfriend and your tweets about how much you loved the song. 

He’s positive that a forty second video can’t be all you’re doing. People loved it and thought it was funny. But surely that can’t be it. 

“I can’t believe all your friends sided with her. I thought you were close with Connie.” Lana mentions. 

“I was. Before you did that.” Eren responds, clenching his jaw. He can feel anger surging through his blood, every minuscule fraction of frustration building even more - like it had been for the past three days since the awards show. 

It's irritating how quick things crumble down. He figures this is what Sukuna was talking about. Because the last time he talked to Connie was when Mikasa called him and it was nothing short of irritating. 

Eren’s phone rings in the middle of the night and he’s nearly scrambling out of his bed because he thinks it’s you. Nine hours after the awards show and you’ve finally gotten the chance to respond.

Except he sees Mikasa’s name flashing across the screen, accompanied with her contact picture which is you and Mikasa sleeping.

“Mika? What’s wrong?” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you Eren?” 

“Mikasa. Okay, I can ex-” 

“You can explain? You can explain why you just humiliated Y/N in public? Are you serious?” 

“I-I know it’s bad and she hasn’t picked up my calls and-” 

“Eren. Is there something wrong with you? Because I don’t even recognize you right now. You would never do something like this, let alone to her of all people.” 

“Did you just call me to yell at me Mikasa? You don’t think I feel bad enough about it already? You don’t think I would have stopped it if I had any idea it was going to happen?” 

He hears the line get quieter and Mikasa murmuring over the phone, only to be met with Connie talking to him now. 

“Hi Eren. It’s Connie.” 

Eren sighs, the fact that Mikasa’s so put off she won’t even talk to him sitting wrong with him all together. 

“Hi Con.” 

“You okay, man?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, is she okay?” 

“Mika? You know her, she gets mad so fast and-” 

“Not her.” Eren whispers. 

“Oh. No, no that’s why we called. She won’t talk to any of us. We called to see if you would know what to do because we’re coming short on ideas.” 

The words die on Eren’s tongue. The first line of defense when you get like this is always him, because he can always get you to talk. 

Could always get you to talk. 

“You tried Levi?” 

“Yes.” 

“Her brothers. You need to fly Falco and Colt out now. I’ll pay for the tickets. Get the shin ramen from the store, it’s her comfort food - put half of the spice packet in because she can’t eat it too spicy, make sure you boil the egg for six minutes because she likes it when it’s still a little runny, and chop ONLY carrots and green onions for the vegetables. And put on Spy Family, it’s her favorite show. Her favorite episode is nine, I think. It’s called Show Off How In Love You Are. ” 

“Okay, that’s all great man. Really. Thanks.” 

“Connie?” 

“Yeah?” 

The thought crosses his mind so fast and suddenly he's asking it.

“Do you hate me?” Eren asks, the whisper in his voice sounding so pitiful that he’s almost embarrassed. 

“No, Eren. I could never. Just, I have to be here because she needs us right now. You get that.” 

“No, no I do. Take care of her, please. Tell me how it goes.” 

“Yeah man. Sure.” 

Connie hangs up and the guilt eats at Eren. 

Eren hears the resounding pounding of footsteps - only to be met with Myka, Hyla, and two other people he’s literally never seen before - standing in his bedroom. 

The first thing he learned quickly about filming with these people? They have no concept of personal space or time. 

“What?” 

“Ricky and Y/N. They made a music video. Put it on.” Myka states, the group of them crawling onto Eren’s bed as he starts pulling up the video. 

The thumbnail already has him sick to his stomach. It’s you kissing Ricky’s cheek. The video starts with you and Ricky’s hands, playing the piano together, and it takes Eren all but three seconds to realize that this is the horrible, gut-wrenching response he was waiting for. 

His first cue? Not only are the two of you playing the piano together, but you and Ricky are wearing matching, beaded bracelets with each other’s names on them. Like the ones you and Eren have, the one he keeps on him at all times. 

The camera pans up to the two of you and Ricky starts singing, which earns him a nice list of profanities from Lana at his side. 

Do I look lonely? I see the shadows on my face People have told me I don't look the same Maybe I lost weight I'm playing hooky with the best of the best Put my heart on my chest so that you can see it, too I'm walking the long road, watching the sky fall The lace in your dress tangles my neck, how do I live?

His second cue? The dress you’re wearing in the video, the one with the lace, is one he knows all too well. 

“Okay so, Eren. I have to find a dress to wear for the album premiere tomorrow. And it's my first album and it's special and I want it to be perfect. Something kind of soft and casual, since it’s just going to be just fans. Can you help me pick?” 

Eren nods as he flops back onto the soft plush of your bed, eyes focused on all the little pictures and knick knacks littered over the walls of your childhood bedroom. Participation awards for sports, signed letters from your teachers, and pictures of you and Colt doing karaoke. 

“Ew, Eren. Don’t look at those.” 

“What do you mean? You were such a cute baby.” 

Eren hopes your kids don’t inherit your messy hair genes as you walk up to his side and look at the picture - of you and Colt with little pink microphones in your hand and the little plastic crown on your head. 

“You know, you still do that.” 

“Do what?” 

“Everyone else holds the microphone at the top, their fingers nearly wrapped around the wire. You’re like the only person I know who holds it at the bottom - like you’re doing in the picture.” 

You roll your eyes as you gesture to the dress, asking for his opinion. Eren stands up, grabbing you by the wrist, to spin you around in the air. And he loves the sound of your laugh and how you berate him immediately after. 

“Eren. Be serious. What do you think?” 

“Perfect. Wear this one.” 

“But it’s black - it doesn’t really fit the vibe that I wanted to go with.” 

“Good point. No one should see you in this but me. Try another one on.” Eren states, placing a kiss on your neck before walking over to your bookshelf. 

"You're no help." you whine.

"I'm biased. You look good in everything, sweetheart."

He’s running his hands against the spines of your books, clearly bent and broken from reading them so much as you try on the next dress. 

“Love?” 

“Hm?” your voice comes out, all muffled from the sound of the closet door. 

“How many times have you read the Goblet of Fire? This spine is demolished.” 

He feels your limbs wrap around his neck and a kiss on his cheek as you lazily murmur into his skin. 

“Lots. Cedric Diggory was my first love.” 

“Oh? Really?” 

Eren turns around and makes it a point to pointedly glare at you, which you return with the sweetest, cheesiest of smiles as you tease him on. 

“Oh, of course. I’ve always had a thing for Hufflepuffs.” 

“Would you look at that? I’m a Hufflepuff too.” 

“No, you’re not. You’re a Ravenclaw, Eren.” 

“I was expecting you to say Slytherin.” 

“No, I feel like that’s a cop-out answer. You’re intelligent, creative, and clever. Ravenclaw.” 

Eren smiles as he brings his hands down to your wrists again, spinning you in the air again. He brings his hands up to your hair to tuck your hair behind your ears before responding. 

“Nope. Very pretty, but too formal for something small like this.” 

“I appreciate the honesty this time, mon chéri. I only have one more, so it better be the one.” 

Eren leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“What was that for?” 

“I love it when you speak French to me.” he whispers. 

Eren watches you roll your eyes as you disappear into your closet again. He settles into the seat at your desk, flipping through the song lyrics in your bound notebook.

And he doesn’t miss the polaroids you have taped into certain pages - the one of the two of you at the vow renewal on your invisible string page and one of him at the piano on the New Year’s Day page. 

“Okay, Eren. Good?” 

Eren turns around to find you shyly smiling at him, hands tucked behind your back. It’s a soft white dress, with a lace neckline. Eren thinks it makes you look like an angel. He makes it a point to stand up just so he can push you onto the bed behind you and lean right over you. 

“Eren.” 

He leans forward and starts peppering kisses all over your cheeks and your face, leaving longer lingering ones in your neck that leave you in a fit of nervous giggles and saying his name so softly it only sets him off more. 

“It should be illegal-” 

Kiss. 

“To look like this.” 

Kiss. 

“You’re doing this on purpose.” 

Kiss. 

“Doing what?” 

“Trying to drive me crazy, love.” 

“Am not, Eren. It’s just a dress.” 

“It’s never just a dress with you. Be serious, Y/N.” 

He watches your eyes go wide, a soft pink dusting your cheeks. Your hands are resting on his face and he swears they’re shaking, your arms trembling along with them. Eren brings his hand to your cheek, softly brushing across the skin once. 

“Hey. What is it?” he whispers. 

“You said my name.” 

“I say your name all the time.” 

“No, no. You always call me love or sweetheart.” 

“Do you like it when I say your name, Y/N?” 

He watches the blush spread across your cheeks again as you nod, the sweetest smile on your face. 

“I like how you say it. Y/N.” 

“I love your name. Though, it’s missing something.” 

He watches you frown, the confused look spreading across your face. 

“What’s that?” 

“My last name at the end.” he responds, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“Ew, Eren. That was so corny.” 

He brings his hands down to the side of your dress, where the zipper lies and starts pulling down. He watches the shock spread on your face, immediately pulling back. 

“Are you crazy? Falco and Colt are still here even if my parents aren’t.” 

“Falco is sleeping over across the street. And Colt is definitely at a party and pretending not to be. Who takes limes and salt to a study session? He definitely needs those for the drinks, silly girl.” he responds, sliding the dress off your shoulders and burying his face in the crook of your neck, leaving lazy kisses all over your skin. 

“Eren.” 

“Hm?” 

“Chelseaiswatching.” you murmur. 

“Huh?” 

“Chelsea is watching.” you whisper.

“Who the fuck is Chelsea?” he asks, the panic laced in his voice. 

You point over his shoulder and he immediately rolls his eyes when he sees her, bringing his hands up to pinch your cheeks. 

“Are you being serious? You can’t kiss me back because your stuffed animal is watching?” 

“Eren. It’s weird, I’ve had her since I was a kid. And my dad bought her for me.” you whine. 

“And you think she’s going to narc on you?” 

“No. It’s the principle, Eren! Don’t do inappropriate things when kids or kid-like things are present.” 

Eren stands up, making it a point to pick up your stuffed animal and bury it in the back of your closet before he returns, hands on his hips. 

“Okay. Anything else? Do I need to put tape over your posters of Loid Forger doesn’t watch us doing it?” 

“Now that you say it, it’s actually-” 

“Too bad.” 

And well after being tangled in the sheets together, Eren pretends not to be offended when you pull on a hoodie and immediately get out of bed and reach for your notebook and your pen instead of cuddling with him after. 

You crawl back in the bed next to him, where he immediately rests his head in your lap and starts groaning. You reach forward to push the messy hair out of his face and make a mental note to cover up the purple skin on his neck later so Colt doesn’t hang you at the cross whenever he comes back. 

“Did I get you that inspired that you can’t hold me right now?” 

“Basically. You’re my muse, Eren.” 

“What’s the song called, Y/N?” 

“Dress.” 

“Clever. I wonder what it’s about.” he responds, pressing kisses along your thigh, consecutively going higher with each kiss. 

“Eren. Are you serious? It’s only been like ten minutes.” you respond, the nervous jittery feeling growing in your stomach. 

“It’s like vitamins. Can’t go without it.” 

“Do not refer to it as vitamins. And you can technically go without vitamins, if you’re like really healthy.” 

“Quit being a know-it-all. You know I meant like medicine.” 

“Eren.” you respond, a warning tone in your voice as you keep scribbling your lyrics out. 

“You get two minutes to finish what you’re writing and then I’m throwing that book out the window.” he responds, his breath on the inside of your legs tickling you. 

Eren knows you’re trying to drive him crazy and not in the way he likes. And it’s working. And Ricky’s all too agitating singing voice doesn’t make it any better. 

The death of a bachelor Oh oh Seems so fitting for Happily ever after (woo) How could I ask for more? A lifetime of laughter At the expense of the death of a bachelor

Eren watches you and Ricky dancing through the streets, while Ricky sings on and on about happily ever after, and he can’t help but slam the computer shut and all but push the group of them out of his room. And when he closes the door, all he can do is cry and hope they can’t hear him.

--

You peek out the window and count seven black cars and fourteen different people standing on the block, anxious faces craning up with shining black cameras in their hand. You feel a hand on your shoulder and know the ice cold hands can only be Ricky. 

“Hey.” 

“How many?” 

“Fourteen.” you groan, giving him a frown as you yank your shoulder out from under his hand and walk past him. 

You head to the vanity, where you’re going to place your last finishing touches on your outfit. Ricky’s quick to follow and lean into your space, with a smirk pressed on his face. 

“Ricky.” 

“Yes, babe?” 

“Ew. Do you need something? Or are you all up in my space for fun?” 

“For fun! You smell really good.” 

You make it a point to lightly shove him back, which you both laugh at as you clip on the sparkly necklace, making it a point to not move suddenly at all from this moment forward. 

It would be infinitely embarrassing if you ripped the first designer dress you wore. Especially when you have to return it later. 

Ricky swings his hand around you from the back and holds a cupcake in front of your face, a glimmering blue candle lit in the middle. You give him a questioning look in the mirror. 

“Baby’s first Met Gala!” 

You snort as you blow out the candle, taking it from his hands and pulling the wax out. 

“You’re welcome, by the way.” Ricky says. 

“For?” 

“The cupcake! And getting you invited to the Met Gala.” 

You smack his shoulder, giving him your angriest look, before you both laugh. 

“You’re a prick. I got invited all on my own.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.” he responds, sarcastically. 

“What flavor is the cupcake?” 

“Chocolate.” 

“Eh. I like vanilla.” you respond, swiping the frosting off the top with your finger. But before you can lick it, Ricky reaches for it first and swipes it right off your finger. 

“I mean, I was going to eat that, Ricky.” 

“I only like the frosting of the cupcake.” 

“Well, I only like the frosting too. Especially when it’s not the flavor of cake I like.” 

You hand Ricky the rest of the cupcake and grab your purse as you head out. You press the button on the elevator and both slide in when it opens, the anticipation of the fourteen people waiting outside for you and the hundred more who will be at the event sitting on you. You must be making some weird face because Ricky catches on to it super fast. 

“Just relax. It’s just paparazzi, not flying to the moon.” 

“I know that. I just feel like I’m not entirely here at the moment. And they’re all going to ask me about Girlfriend and you and Eren and I just-” 

You still haven’t encountered the press after the entire thing, despite most of the tabloids writing things in your favor. Because rehashing the worst thing that’s ever happened for you in the two seconds the paparazzi talk to you and have it become a whole convoluted story is not something you’re ready for. 

After the entire thing went down, you retreated to your room for one day. One day. With full intentions to mope for the rest of your life, because you would never live this down. And because the entire ordeal was so overstimulating, so stressful that you need to rest.  

Until Danny and Sareen dragged you out by the legs and forced you to film a music video with Ricky. Then go to his debut of the song and the music video in Times Square. And then they granted you your beauty rest, but then that stupid voice in your head got the best of you and you couldn’t help but watch what everyone said about the entire thing after the event. 

People thought the entire Girlfriend thing was really tasteless. Because it was. Ricky did a bunch of interviews, where he just talked you up and how the entire thing was ridiculous in his opinion. They thought it was sweet of Ricky to come to your defense with Death of a Bachelor and that your official debut as a couple was one for the books. 

You’ll take a win where you can get one. 

Everyone sided with you, which was nice. Fans wise but also from your real friends. Connie, Marco, Mikasa, and Jean were at your side the entire time, which you appreciated. 

Connie was the one that convinced you that “you had the opportunity to do the funniest thing ever” and filmed a video of you, Jean, Mikasa, and him dancing to Girlfriend and posted it. 

Which was your favorite part of the entire thing, not because of the song, but because they were there for you through the entire thing. That Connie could make something mortifying funny for you. A bad memory a good one. A true testament to his support. 

Unlike some people. People’s inquisitive eyes leave no stone untouched and now rumors of a fallout between you and Historia are flying around, when she’s the only one to not publicly come to your defense. And you get it, she doesn’t have to. What you don’t understand is why she won’t return any of your calls. 

Ricky reaches down and grabs your hand, locking his fingers in yours as he gives you a smile, bringing you back down from the thoughts. 

“I won’t leave you, okay? Danny and Sareen said I should handle all those questions anyways.” 

“And if Lana comes up to me?” 

“Spit in her face. She’s really annoying.” 

“And if Eren comes up to me?” 

“I’ll give you a big kiss.” 

“Ew. Don’t do that.” 

“I love it when you act disgusted by me.” 

You snicker as the elevator rings and the door swings open. You’re immediately flooded with a mound of flashing lights as Ricky grabs your hand and drags you through the crowd into the fresh air. And it only gets worse outside because not only are the cameras outside bigger, but the reporters are louder. 

Are you and Ricky official? 

Eren and Hyla are rumored to be dating. Do you have any comments on that, Y/N? 

Can you tell us anything about your upcoming record, Ribbons? 

Ricky ducks your head into the car first before sliding in himself, tapping on the seat ahead of him as the car speeds off. You let go of Ricky’s hand, wiping the sweat against your dress, immediately freezing when you remember you’re supposed to return it at the end of the night. 

“Now was that so bad?” Ricky asks, giving you a winning smile. 

“Literally, yes! I wasn’t expecting them to be in the lobby.” 

“Cmon, you nailed it. I was there, wasn’t I?” 

“Quit trying to flirt, Ricky. You suck at it.” you grumble, which he laughs at. 

The car comes to a screeching halt and you give Ricky a weary smile as he walks out first, making it a point to open the door for you on the other side. You wrap your arm around his as you both walk the carpet, giving glimmering smiles every time you walk a few paces. 

You make mental notes of those standing on the steps behind you and you catch sight of them. Eren and Hyla, in the center of the carpet. Eren’s lifting his hand to twirl her in the middle, with consecutive clicks from the cameras. And you can see Sukuna right behind them, pretending to gag with Maki and probably ruining all the picutres.

You smile, making it a point to sit with Sukuna later because he’s so wildly unserious that it’s probably the only thing you could tolerate on a day like this. And it would really piss off Eren.

Mikasa and Jean are smiling at you from behind the ropes, Mikasa giving you a sweet smile and mouthing that you look great. She points at a spot towards the left and you nod, signaling that you’ll meet her there after. 

Out of the periphery of your eye, you catch sight of it. The giant cat in the middle of the runway. You tap Ricky on the shoulder, pointing it out to him. 

“Oh god.” 

“At the Met Gala? That’s so unserious.” you respond. 

“Ten bucks it’s Gojo.” 

“That’s such a lame bet. I know for a fact that’s Gojo. He’s the only type of dumbass to show up to the Met Gala dressed up as a big white cat with blue eyes.” 

You both lean closer together, making a point to make sure the paparazzi are taking pictures of you two all close to each other. The head of the cat pops off and surely enough, a very excited Satoru Gojo is now running in circles around in the middle of the carpet. And blocking every girl standing on the side.

You don’t miss Geto standing ten paces behind with Shoko, the two of them very loudly declaring that they, in fact, do not know or associate with that man.

“You owe me ten bucks.” 

“I never agreed to that, Ricky.” 

Ricky leans forward and plants a warm kiss on your cheek, earning a nice symphony of cooing from the photographers on the other side. 

“Oh?” 

“We both got it right. So we both get a reward.” he responds, tapping his left cheek. 

You roll your eyes as you stand on your tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek and consequently wipe your glittery lip gloss off his face after. You give the cameras a smile and wrap your arm around his again as you walk farther down the carpet towards the interviewers. 

“Y/N. You look gorgeous!” 

“Thank you! So do you.” 

“Is there anything you can tell us about your third upcoming album, Ribbons? What’s your favorite track on the album?” 

“Thank you for asking! I think Ribbons is a mix of a lot of feelings I’ve had lately - specifically good, warm, and positive feelings. I-I think that being negative is something that’s really easy to do, especially when you’re in my position, but I try to keep my music feeling like sunshine on a nice day, because who likes to focus on the bad when you can just be the good. My favorite track on the album is seven, a song that I’ll be performing inside later today with one of my best, best friends who I wrote it with.” 

“That’s sweet. Are any of these positive feelings a consequence of your new beau, Ricky James?” 

And right on cue, Ricky’s on your side, tilted eyes glimmering in the camera. 

“I know for a fact they are. She loves to write songs about me.” 

“That’s a bold statement coming from you, Ricky.” you respond. 

“I’m a bold guy.” Ricky responds, giving you a wink. 

“Speaking of writing songs, Y/N. How do you feel about songs being written about you? Songs like Girlfriend?” 

The reporter looks way too excited at this part now. You look at Ricky before answering, who gives you a subtle nod. The answer you practiced with Sareen and Danny. 

“I think it’s flattering.” 

“Really?” 

Ricky slides his hand around your waist and smiles, finishing off the rest of the answer for you. 

“Oh, it’s totally flattering. I mean, I’d be really intimidated if I was comparing myself to someone like Y/N here too. She’s quite literally at the top of her game, in every sense, and it’s easy to feel less than when you’re comparing yourself to a future triple threat. So we get the thought process behind it.” 

“Ricky.” 

“It’s true, Y/N. Personally, I think they should pick London Boy from her discography as the song selection. But that’s just me.” 

You smile at each other as you give the interviewer a polite nod, giving each other a thumbs up as you walk around the floor. You finally get to stop near Jean and Mikasa, who are very obviously already wine drunk, from the way their cheeks are tinted pink. 

“Wow, Jean. It hasn’t even been two hours yet.” you respond, placing your hand flat against his cheek to see how much his skin is burning. 

“I hate this type of shit.” Jean responds, grumbling. 

“Jean. How drunk are you? Don’t tell me you’re imagining cats walking around are you?” you ask, feigning concern. 

“Huh? That cat isn’t real?” 

“You’re actually seeing cats?!” Mikasa asks, catching on. 

“THERE’S A REAL CAT HERE, MIKA. LOOK.” Jean says, pointing at Satoru who is now lying face down on the red carpet. 

"Jean."

"Y/N. MIKASA. I'M SO SERIOUS I SWEAR THERE'S A REAL CAT. IT TALKED TO ME EARLIER. IT TOLD ME I SHOULD HAVE DRESSED UP AS A HORSE WITH IT."

“Oh, sweetheart. We should go inside, you’ve had too much. You always do this, Jean.” Mikasa says, shaking her head as she leads him in. Mikasa turns her head over her shoulder and gives you a wink, before she walks straight into the venue. 

Geto and Shoko come up to your side after they catch you staring at Gojo - who's now doing the worm in his cat suit on the floor - as they both give you polite hugs. The three of you stand against the wall to watch him take the spotlight away from anyone who was hoping to have it. 

“Can you believe you’re married to that guy?” you ask Geto. 

“Please don’t remind me. It pains me everyday.” 

“He wore the cathead to my house the first day he got it. I was hosting a vigil for one of my neighbors.” Shoko states, placing a cigarette between her teeth. 

You snort at the thought of Gojo, in his fully exuberant energy, trotting into a room of people mourning with the cat head on.

Megumi and Yuuta join the group of you as you now watch Yuuji - whose actually dressed in a nicely styled suit - have a dance off with Cat Gojo on the red carpet. 

You nudge Megumi in the side. 

“Can you believe you’re dating that guy?” 

“We’re breaking up.” Megumi responds, earning a laugh from the group. 

“I can’t tell what’s worse. The fact that they’re dance battling at the Met Gala or that Yuuji is horrendously losing to Gojo wearing a twelve pound cat-suit.” 

“Yuuji losing.” you all respond in unison. 

“I think Cat Gojo is going to haunt me in my dreams.” you respond. 

“Get this, Y/N. It’s not Cat Gojo. It’s Catoru.” Yuuta responds. 

“Don’t tell me he trademarked it already.” 

“He did.” they all respond in unison. 

"Geto. Shoko. When you burn that thing in the flames of hell, I want a video." you state.

"That's a promise, kid." Geto responds, with Shoko giving an affirmative nod.

You turn to your left to find Ricky standing at your side, with his arm wrapped around John. Historia’s ex-boyfriend. You give the group of them a polite nod as you walk away and join Ricky at your side. 

“Y/N. This is my friend, John. He’s been looking forward to meeting you.” 

“Hi. Y/N.” you respond, making every effort to emphasize the flatness in your voice. 

“John. Nice to meet you.” he responds, holding his hand out which you refuse to touch. 

“Play any chess games lately?” you ask, making a pointed reference to Historia’s song. 

He glares and you watch the smile on Ricky’s face drop. You give your best, sickly sweet smile as you wait for a response. 

“That’s right. You acted in Attack on Titan so you must be friends with Historia.” 

“Very good friends.” you respond. 

“Okay John, we’re going to go in. I’ll see you in a sec, yeah?” Ricky responds, hands increasingly hard on your biceps as he drags you a few paces away. 

“Ouch, Ricky. Get off.” 

He’s leaning close to you, whispering in your ear earlier like you two were when Satoru came in, except this is nowhere near as fun as last time. 

“What’s your problem?” 

“What’s yours? He’s not a good guy, Ricky.” 

“I’ve made every effort to be friends with your friends. You could and should be doing the same for me, Y/N.” 

“And I will. For your friends who aren’t groomers, Ricky.” 

Ricky glares at you before giving you a smile and pressing a kiss to your forehead with the paparazzi so close, before dragging you into the venue with him. You settle into your seat next to Ricky, craning your neck to see where the rest of your friends are sitting, all the way on the other side of the room. 

You turn to the girl sitting next to you and whisper in her ear. 

“Hi. I’m Y/N.” 

“I-I know who you are. I’m a big fan.” 

“I’m really sorry to ask you this then. But you see that guy right there, pink hair, those two little scars near his eyes. Could you go and switch seats with him? He’s sitting in between Megumi Fushiguro and Yuuta Okkotsu, so I can at least promise it’s a better seat than this one.” 

She looks over and gives you an affirmative nod. You squeeze her shoulder as you watch her stomp over, Sukuna turn back to give you a questioning look, before letting the girl take his seat and striding over to sit next to you with two cups in his hands. 

He sits on the chair to your left, making it a point to spread his legs as far as he can on his chair, and glare at Ricky as he sits down. 

“What do you want, doll?” 

“Nothing. I got bored.” 

He shrugs as he places the second cup in front of you, which you pick up. And then immediately spit back up, because it’s just straight vodka. 

“Shit. My bad, doll. That’s mine.” 

“You’re drinking straight vodka? No chaser?” you ask. 

“Imagine doing this shit sober. I’d drive myself half insane.” he murmurs. 

You switch the cups and drink yours again, pleasantly surprised by a warm, sweet latte. 

“Sukuna. How’d you know?” you ask. 

“Eren told me.” 

You look over at him, giving him your best glare. 

“As if you’d talk to Eren.” you snort, craning your neck to find him on his phone, next to Hyla’s who is fixing her hair. 

“We talk. It’s just not pleasant.” 

“Yeah. My preferred coffee order is just so horrible to talk about.” 

“You wouldn’t believe it. Poor guy mopes about you so much it even makes me depressed.” 

Ricky taps aggressively on your shoulder, leaning over into your space.

“I’m going to go sit with John.” Ricky states, angrily. 

“Okay?” you respond. 

“Okay? That’s it, Y/N?” 

“Do you need a formal, written invitation? Or does she need to hold your hand and walk you there so you don’t get lost?” Sukuna responds, glaring at him. 

Ricky gets irritated at Sukuna’s response and storms off, which just has Sukuna moving his chair so that you can both prop your legs up on it. You’re both switching off on sharing your drinks - mixing Sukuna’s alcohol with your latte and watching all the performances. 

“Are you performing?” Sukuna asks. 

“Yeah. With Marco, right before Eren.” 

“Real cute. Is it that same fluff shit you always write?” 

You smack him hard on the shoulder. 

“Asshole. That fluff shit is Multi-Platinum, dumbass.” 

“I get that. But I’m saying, you should write something more serious than that. Instead of penting up all that rage in your forehead, you should write it in a song. Quit letting real stupid girls call you stupid in songs.” 

“I can’t. My record doesn’t really like the idea of that.” you respond. 

“So? You’re the artist and it’s your music. Write whatever you want. Don’t be a chickenshit.” 

“It’s not that simple, Sukuna.” 

“No. It literally is. You’re just chicken.” 

“It’s not about chicken, Sukuna. My record was the one who took a chance on me and to some extent, I have to follow that. And they’ve made me Multi-Platinum so far so who am I to not listen to them?” 

“God. You’re pathetic.” 

“And you’re an asshole, Sukuna.” 

“Do you want to kiss now?” 

You reach forward to smack his face, which elicits a laugh from him. 

“You never change, do you Sukuna?” 

“Best thing about me, doll. You should learn to piss people off like I do. It’ll actually relieve some of that tension. And flirting is good for your health.” 

“We can’t all afford to be feather rustlers like you.” 

“You could. I’m sure people would eat it up - the whole sweet girl saying her mind type thing. I’ll give you lessons on how to talk your shit sometime instead of letting idiots like that do it for you.” 

He points over at Ricky, whose glaring bullets at the two of you. You give him a gesture, which he completely ignores as he turns over to whisper in John’s ear. 

“Out of all guys, you had to pick that one? When you tweeted that you were charged with murder, I thought you were being serious and got really excited for a second.” 

“Danny and Sareen picked him. That’s not my fault.” 

You feel a tap on your shoulder and see the usher, signaling that it’s time for you to perform. You nod and turn to Sukuna, who's already getting up from the chair. He presses a kiss to your cheek before you walk off to the other side where Marco’s waiting. 

--

Eren’s sitting towards the end of the bench, hands pressed under his legs, when he watches you take the stage with Marco, a glittering smile on your face.

And in your billowing, white dress, there’s only one thing Eren can focus on. The fish tattoo, right on display. He instinctively reaches for his own, hidden under the fabric of his clothes, and thinks about how your sweet, flowery smell was always overwhelming, even in a disgusting tattoo parlor. 

And when Eren catches sight of Marco at the piano, Eren knows you’re a temptress to everyone and not just him. Exhibit A? You convinced Marco to sing in public with you. 

“Hi everyone. My name is Y/N.” 

Everyone breaks into a loud applause and Eren thinks that the wolf-whistling in the corner is Mikasa, who he’s convinced is shit-faced by the way her cheeks are glowing pink. 

“Thank you. Um, can we just take a minute to give a second round of applause to my sunshine boy, Marco, here? He’s not a big singer and I’ve all but forced him to do this with me, so let’s all give him some love.” 

The crowd claps again and Eren knows for a fact that the wolf-whistling this time is Jean, who is actually plastered. 

“This song is off my new album, called Ribbons, and it’s called seven. The idea of this song kind of came up randomly. I told Marco that it was kind of sad that I don’t have any of the childhood friends I did when I was a kid anymore. And Marco just responded by saying, ‘what do you mean, we’ve been friends since we were seven?’ And long story short, I jumbled out a nice mess of lyrics with Marco and Armin produced it after that and the song was finished. We hope you like it!” 

Marco starts playing a soft piano tune, accompanied by your light strumming on the guitar, and some part of it is so familiar, so you that it makes Eren’s heart ache. Not that Eren’s a big hater of your new, more pop songs like London Boy, but Eren’s always enjoyed your soulful, soft songs like this more.

They remind him of the soft parts of him that you only shared with him, when you used to be next him when he slept at night. 

Y/N:  Please picture me In the trees I hit my peak at seven feet In the swing Over the creek I was too scared to jump in But I, I was high in the sky With Pennsylvania under me Are there still beautiful things?

Eren fights the urge to snort. Of course, there’s still beautiful things. You’re standing right there.

And Eren knows he’s way too sensitive for this because hearing your soft, echoing voice when he’s about to sing a song about the last time he kissed you has him pushing his face into the table. Because there are tears in his eyes. 

Y/N:  Sweet tea in the summer Cross your heart, won't tell no other And though I can't recall your face I still got love for you

Marco:  Your braids like a pattern Love you to the moon and to Saturn Passed down like folk songs The love lasts so long

When you both finish, Eren watches you give Marco a big hug and a kiss on the cheek as you both walk off together. And then Eren’s trailing up to the stage where Historia’s waiting, the orchestral suite setting up their instruments and he feels his hands shaking at his sides. Historia gives him a smile, which he appreciates as he takes the front stand.

He hates it up here. He knows that flowery scent in the air is you. He manifested it by thinking about it and now it's suffocating him.

You lean against the wall with Marco, hands linked together, as you watch Eren readjust the microphone to his height and Historia sit at the piano. You make a fleeting second of eye contact with her and give her a smile, which she halfheartedly returns.

Eren’s hair is shorter, he’s cut it from the last time you’ve seen him. And he looks kind of tired, though you’re sure you look no better. 

“My name is Eren Jaeger. This is my new song, Promise, that I co-composed and wrote with my friend, Historia.”

You lean your head against Marco’s shoulder, who is giving you a warm squeeze on the shoulder, as you listen. 

I made a promise To distance myself Took a flight, through aurora skies Honestly, I didn't think about How we didn't say goodbye Just see you very soon

You pinch your eyes shut as you feel the breath constrict in your throat and tears warm in your eyes. 

“You okay?” 

“It’s Eren. Of course, I’m not okay.” you whisper. 

No matter how long I resist temptation  I always lose  It hurts to be something  It’s worse to be nothing with you I’ve done the math  There’s no solution  We’ll never last Why can’t I let go of this? 

As Eren goes on and on, that soft voice that’s lulled you to sleep hundreds of time is haunting you. And Marco’s reflexes to wipe your tears away fast are the only reason that people don’t catch on.

When Eren finishes, his green eyes meet yours and he gives you a painstakingly long look, before walking away. 

You don’t see him again that night. Or for a while. You figure it's better that way. Being in the same room but not talking is like nails on a chalkboard.

--

You lean over the counter, scrolling through the set of pictures Ricky just took, as you wait for the timer on your computer to count down.

Ricky circles his arm around your shoulder, as you both watch the seconds on the timer run out and the little display of confetti go around the screen. 

You refresh the tab on your Apple Music and you see it - your name and album cover displayed in bright colors right at the top banner. 

“How does it feel?” Ricky asks, watching you refresh your Spotify on your phone and watch the songs turn from grey to white, meaning they're now able to be played. 

“Good. I hope Historia calls me after she realizes that dorothea is about her.” you murmur, the notifications on your phone buzzing from Reiner, Levi, and Mikasa. You open Levi's first.

levi: We love the record, kid.

you: it's been out for five seconds.

levi: Just shut up and take the compliment, sometimes.

you: I love you, levi. give kisses to hange. i'll call you guys tomorrow.

“She will. Just relax.” Ricky states, as he watches you push up on the counter, legs dangling in the air after putting your phone down.

He reaches for the lowest drawer, pulling out a dark black box and placing it flat in the palm of your hand. 

“What’s this?” 

“A gift, before you go on tour. And I wanted to ask you something.” 

You nod, encouraging him to go on, as you look at the bracelet - a chain-linked, chunky silver bracelet with a heart charm right in the middle. 

“That’s custom made. From Tiffany, because it’s your favorite right?” 

“Yeah. Thank you, I really appreciate it.” 

“Well, I’m really proud of you. Ribbons is a great record and I’m sure you and I will be competing for Record of the Year in a few months.” 

You smile as Ricky leans closer, hands on both of your sides of the counter. 

“I think you’re really great. And-and I know we’ve been pretending but some part of this became really real for me and I think it did for you too. So I think we should quit playing around and do this for real.” 

You feel your throat dry as Ricky smiles at you, so excited and earnest, that you almost feel bad. For how you’re going to shoot him down. 

“Ricky. Oh. Um. Listen. You’re really great. I-I really like you. But I-I don’t know if I can do that right now.” you respond. 

“That’s okay. I don’t expect anything from you and I’m willing to be patient and all that. We’ll figure it out.” he responds, yanking the chain out of the box and reaching forward to secure it around your hand. 

“Listen. I-I don’t know if it’s all that. It’s just, I don’t. I like you Ricky but not like that. I just can’t do that right now.” 

Ricky leans back in confusion, dragging the necklace off your hand as you give him your most sincere smile. And you can’t help but feel bad for not liking him back. When he’s helped you out more times than you can count, with red carpets and defending you when he didn’t have to. 

But you can't help these sort of things.

“Listen. I-I can go home. I’ll take the trash and then leave so you can be alone, yeah?” 

“Okay. I appreciate that. Thank you for being honest.” 

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“Of course. And thank you for taking it well, I still appreciate what you’ve done and have a lot of love for you.” you respond, squeezing his shoulder as you walk past. 

You take the half filled bag of trash and walk out to the garage to swing the door open. There’s a decent amount of rain pouring down and you quickly scamper out admist it. You throw the bag over your shoulder and quickly run over to the chute to throw it down before running down to the door. 

Except when you reach for the handle, it doesn’t pull down. You jam it down, more aggressively this time as the heavy drops start matting your hair to your forehead. Giving up on the door, you run to the other side and rap your knuckles against the window, where Ricky’s back is still turned. 

He turns around and gives you a look, half opening the window. 

“Hey. Sorry, I accidentally locked the door on the way out.” 

“That wasn’t an accident. That was me.” Ricky responds, glaring at you. 

“Huh?” 

“That was me.” he responds, again. 

“Listen, I can’t really hear you and it’s really cold outside. Can you just let me in?” you ask. 

“Sorry, Y/N. I really like you but I just don’t know if I can do that right now.”

"Ricky."

He closes off the window and walks away all together. 

You can feel the panic setting in your chest - at the fact that you’re standing in the pouring rain in Seattle and you don’t know where to go. And that Ricky, nice and sweet Ricky, just locked you out.

You hunch over on your knees, yanking your phone out of your pocket to call Mikasa. She picks up on the first call and you can hear her and Jean screaming through the speaker. 

“TOP TEN ON THE CHARTS I KNOW THAT’S RIGHT.” they both scream, the sentence going over you’re head. 

“Mika. Mika, wait.” you whisper, the tears starting to fill your eyes. 

You’re thrown off by the screeching of tires and doors closing and you march over to Ricky’s side door. You lightly crack it open and spot seven paparazzi cars, parked straight on Ricky’s porch. 

Meaning. Not only did Ricky lock you out of his house in the pouring rain but he made sure to call the paparazzi so they can catch you the first chance he got. You quickly shut the door and run to the backside of the house, into the back streets by Ricky’s neighborhood. And the panic's starting to make your legs shake.

“Mika. You’re not still in Seattle, are you?” you ask, the panic laced in your voice. 

“No, babe. We’re in Tampa right now for Armin and Annie’s thing. We left a few days ago.” 

“Do you know anyone who is? This is urgent, Mika.” 

You hear Mikasa murmuring over the phone and suddenly Jean’s on the line, his voice more firm and collected than Mikasa’s. You can suddenly hear her panicking in the background, talking to a third voice you can’t identify. 

“Marco says your options are Eren or Historia. They’re both still in Seattle, though I think Eren’s closer to where you are. Call us when you’re safe. Immediately, Y/N.” Jean says. 

“Okay.” 

You can hear the sound of raised voices from the direction you came and you quickly hunch to the side. You try your best to wipe the wetness of your phone as you scroll for Eren’s contact and dial. 

He picks up on the first ring.

“Y/N?” he asks, voice raspy like he was sleeping. 

And at the sound of his voice, months after the fact, when you’re soaked to the bone in the rain, you can’t help but cry. 

“Eren?” you ask, voice breaking. 

“Y/N. What is it?” he asks, voice suddenly louder. 

“I need your help.”

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"No. No, I'm not hurt, but I could be? I don't know, Eren I-"  

“Say the word. What-what is it? I-I’m there. Just tell me what you need me to do, love."  

“I need you to come get me, Eren.” 

“I’m coming. Stay exactly where you are and on the line with me.”

--

--

next part linked here

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@k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai  @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha  @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist by either commenting on this or the masterlist <3

#seeingivywrites! #method acting #eren #eren x reader #eren x you #eren x y/n #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x y/n #actor eren #actor eren x you #actor eren x y/n #actor eren x reader #eren yeager #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x y/n #eren angst #aot #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot x you #snk #snk x you #snk x reader #snk x y/n

[phoneuserhana333]

.°˖✧ part 2/3: neighbor!doctor!abby / neighbor!producer!reader headcanons .°˖✧

tags: arguing, enemies to lovers, sick!reader, sleepy!abby, yelling on the street, reader’s ex gf, implied doing the deed VAGUELY in like one sentence, more to be added

there will be only ONE more part of this lil story, since i’m afraid of dragging it on for too long!! i might write smth more abt ellie/dina/jesse in this au, but that’ll be it i think! i’ll be starting a smau soon tho :>

PART1 — PART3 — NSFWHC — N(SFW)HC

• after that first awful meeting, abby was ready to give you a piece of her mind. later that day, after a hectic day at work amplified her irritation, she couldn’t hold back.

• she knocked on your door, red-eyed and raging, just hoping to get the conversation over with before she could finally rest in the comfort of her home.

• on the other hand, you were nervous; you cleaned your entire house, took one of those tiring ‘everything showers’ and got dressed in a casual but put together outfit, hoping your mysterious blonde neighbor would appreciate it

• your first mistake was thinking abby would be softened by a cute outfit and some vanilla candles

• abby wasn’t impressed at all. she thought your lilac baby tee was too tight and that your perfume was too sweet. you were annoyingly artistic and carefree in her eyes, unserious to a fault. all the traits that she’d been taught to look down on

• so naturally, she chewed you up and spat you out.

“you need to start being more thoughtful, you aren’t living in the middle of a forest with nobody around!”

“and these parties? do you have to play the music that loud?! and who even are those people?!”

“don’t get me started on the singing and the overplayed songs you always go for. what do you even do for work?!”

• that was the drop that overfilled the cup and made the coquettish gaze you were sending your hot neighbor turn cold. complaining for ten minutes non stop about your loudness wasn’t an issue. in fact, you were planning on dialing it down for the cute, frustrated doctor.

• but coming after you job? the thing you were extremely passionate about? no way you’d let that slide.

“what the fuck is your problem, huh?!”

“… my problem?!”

• and so the two of you kept arguing on the street for the next forty minutes, neither side letting up, until the couple that lived next to you peeked their heads out the window and yelled at you to quiet down, ironically enough.

• abby eyed you one last time, disheveled and agitated. she brushed loose blonde hairs out of her face and pulled her keys out, walking over to the steps that lead to her house.

• you were pouting; this didn’t go as planned. you watched as she unlocked the door, her unforgiving gaze meeting you one last time before she left you with a final statement for the night, before she slammed her front door hard enough to shake both of your homes

“you better be quiet from now on. or else.”

• you obviously didn’t care at all what abby thought after this… interesting meeting, so you decided to be louder than before (if that was even possible)

• the following week consisted of the same old routine, over and over again. you would play the piano loudly, sing late into the night and invite friends over (even an ex girlfriend, making sure to moan extra loud that night)

• which annoyed abby to no end, of course. she calmed down to the best of her abilities, and decided to look at her options. she could call the police, but that was too far. you were still neighbors and she didn’t want to risk getting a bad reputation with other neighborhood residents. and talking to you didn’t help at all.

• so she settled on writing notes. every morning before leaving for work, blondie would leave a passive aggressive message taped to your front door, smirking as she did.

• she knew they would annoy you since she made sure to make them related to your job or your music taste or whatever she thought would make your blood boil.

• but you were unbothered and patient, choosing to save the notes in a box under your bed. all of then made rounds in various group chats since you were complaining to everybody and their mother that your neighbor (now known as abigail) was the worst.

• what made you show up at abby’s door was a message that read: “maybe you should learn how to sing before doing it this late. much love, your next door neighbor abigail”

• you didn’t find this note. however, your ex did, showing it to you as she laughed at how silly it was. you played along, laughing as embarrassment ate at your pride slowly.

• it’s safe to say that rekindling your romance with said ex didn’t go well

• that night, you slammed your balled up fists on abby’s door, ready to take action against her pushing your buttons with these notes. being embarrassed in the comfort of your own presence was different than being teased by someone you dated in the past

• abby opened the door, groggy and hollow eyed. she was wearing a dark blue pajama set, silken and fitted, and she had her neatly brushed hair let down. she’s still so prim and proper, even when she’s sleeping, you think

“whaddya need, sweetheart?”

• the way abby spoke made you feel like your brain became scrambled. sweetheart?! where did that come from?! you quickly snapped back from your dazed gaze set on her lips and retorted:

“what’s up with these notes, huh?!”

“they got you to stop, didn’t they? you’ve been awfully quiet all day today, unlike whatever you attempted to do last night.”

• you heated up from humiliation once again- so she did hear you and your ex! you stumble over words, crossing your arms defensively as you looked away, which gave abby enough time to rub the sleep out of her tired eyes

“keep up with the quietness and we might even get along. is that all for tonight?”

• you let out an annoyed ‘hmph!’ and ran back to your door, sending abby a heated gaze as you yelled a ‘goodnight!’ over your shoulder. the blonde shrugged and went back inside, unaffected and ready to sleep. you, on the other hand, started up with your noisy nighttime routine of trying to write the perfect song; you even opened the windows to make sure your neighbor heard you.

• and so, this routine continued on for the next few days; you would open all the windows, sing loudly, play music at full volume, hell- you even banged pots and pans just to get your point across

• who did she think she was, telling you to be quiet in your own home?!

• abby kept up with her newfound tradition of leaving you notes, some long and some short. she prayed you wouldn’t pop up around the corner; facing you head on was a tad intimidating to her, but she would never admit that it was because of your attractive face and soothing singing voice. so, naturally, she kept complaining to her friends when they went out for coffee and rolled her eyes whenever she’d hear you sneeze loudly though the walls you shared.

• but then, much to abby’s delight, the crescendo next door stopped completely. the woman went on with her routine, choosing to ignore the eerie silence she was met with every day since last week. were you even alive?

• she noted that you weren’t picking up her daily warnings either, and they had piled up on your doorstep after the fourth day of the absence of noise. on the fifth day, abby received an unexpected knock on her door.

• opening it revealed you, much to her surprise. snotty, sweaty, in a tiny t-shirt and a pair of suede shorts in late november new york cold, shaking as you tried to clear your throat.

• for the fist time since you two met, abby felt her heart squeeze because of some tight, uncomfortably soft and fuzzy feeling. a mixture of pity and the urge to coo at your sickly appearance bubbled up and made her gulp- had you always been this… helpless? meek?

• … cute?

• all of these thoughts that crawled their way into abby’s head were solidified with one nasally question asked by you:

“… do you have any tylenon?”

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #tlou #wlw #abby anderson x y/n #tlou x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x you #abby the last of us #the last of us #ellie williams #sapphic #abby anderson headcanons

[humanpurposes]

(Teaser) It Will Come Back

Chapter 3, Broken Bonds

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

A/n: I feel bad that it's been forever since this series had an update, and I'm just feeling silly today so I thought I'd share a lil something of what I've been working on (to hopefully motivate me to finish the chapter lmao).

Now…

The heat is relentless this summer. Light bleeds through the ancient stained glass windows of the Red Keep in beams of red, green, blue and gold, only to be lost to the dark wood floors, furniture and panelled walls. It is Aemond’s least favourite time of year, when the weather makes him irritable and the harsh light gives him a headache, when business tends to be busy and everyone is preoccupied with holidays and garden parties. He’s less inclined to distract himself with frivolity. 

His sleeves are rolled up, his long silver hair pulled into a ponytail, sweat starting to pool underneath the eyepatch over the left side of his face. He’s leaning over Aegon, one hand on the back of his chair, staring down at his laptop and they check over some details for next week’s event.

It’s not often Aemond finds himself in his brother’s office. Technically Aegon is his superior, ‘deputy operations manager’ according to the golden plaque on the door. This is more of a courtesy title because he couldn’t get a respectable job anywhere else, and it would be far worse for their father’s image to have a layabout son.

That’s the funny thing about the family business. It’s no secret that Viserys Targaryen didn’t want his sons involved in Dragon Bank, but his influence is not as all encompassing as he would like to believe, not since the Hightowers got a foot in the door thirty or so years ago… then another… then another. Viserys can make his demands and shout when he’s angry enough, but there is one truth he cannot deny; he needs them. He needs Otto. He needs Alicent. He needs Helaena and Daeron to stay perfect. He needs Aegon to not be a fuck up and that’s enough. And he needs Aemond because he’s good at his job. No one has an eye for detail like him, no one can make sense out of figures or persuade clients and investors like he can.

Why their grandfather wants him to look over PR and marketing nonsense is understandable, but irritating nonetheless.

Their father has been planninging this event for years, Dragon Bank’s fifth centenary gala, with all the pomp and grandeur of a bygone era, held at their ancestral seat of Dragonstone Castle, just outside the city. Five hundred years since one of their ancestors forged a throne for himself in King’s Landing, building an empire that still has most of the country under their family’s thumb. Viserys intends to use the occasion as a reminder to every individual and family in Westeros who thinks they are even slightly important that they cannot compare to the might of the Targaryens. 

There can be no oversights. Everything has to be perfect.

His eye scans over the diagram on the screen, circles surrounded boxes with names; the seating plan in the main ballroom. Then a name catches his eye and it makes his heart stop. He doesn’t want to believe what he sees but there it is on the screen, in Times New fucking Roman: Jaya Velaryon.

He’s hardly heard that name, read it, or heard it in six years. He can already feel a dull ache creeping into his skull, which he knows will catch like kindling and soon become a burning, blinding pain behind his eyes and in the crevices of his scar.

Aegon, completely oblivious, huffs a little laugh to himself. “Shit, yeah, I meant to say there was an update with the seating. So this could turn out to be quite interesting– fuck, are you alright?” 

“Fine!” Aemond snaps, staggering back from the chair. His head feels like it’s been run through with a knife and his fingers fumble to get his eyepatch off. “Fine– fuck! I’m fine.”

“Sit,” Aegon orders, quickly standing and guiding Aemond over to one of the leather sofas on the other side of the room, where the sunlight isn’t so direct.

The pain is often like this, striking suddenly, spreading quickly like a forest fire, eating away at him like a disease, and he has no choice but to endure it.

He feels the eyepatch slip from his face before something cold presses against the worst of his scar. He reaches up to clasp his hands around it: a glass water bottle, one Aegon is holding. His brother is useless most of the time but he does have his moments.

“Fuck it’s all red,” Aegon mutters. “Have you got meds with you?”

When Aemond opens his mouth to speak his jaw is trembling. “Office,” he says, gritting his teeth together, trying to control his breath and the extent of the pain. “It’s in the office.” He can see where the packet is in the first draw under his desk.

“I can go and grab some–”

“No,” Aemond says, grabbing Aegon’s arm so he won’t move. 

He can handle this. Every time this kind of pain flares up he thinks of how much it hurt that night, how terrified he was as he felt the blood gushing from the gash in his eye, slipping through his fingers. The pain had been so great he thought it might kill him. If he can get through that night, the first few hours in the hospital, the months of recovery or the years since, then he can get through a fucking headache. 

He closes his eye and breathes in counts of three. In through the nose, hold, and out. Between that and the bottle against his face the pain starts to feel a little duller and the room doesn’t feel so close.

“Is it… you know,”

Did seeing Jaya’s name shock him so severely that his body went into meltdown? Is his heart still pounding in his chest at the thought of reading her name and the possibility of seeing her again? 

Aemond exhales irritably against the back of his throat, defeated, but always stubborn.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #modern!au #aemond targaryen smut #it will come back #hozier coded

[markosbabymama]

cocky || Eli Moskowitz x reader.

“I’d love it if you wrote a cute lil hawk x reader imagine where reader is trying her hardest to learn Karate but she can’t pick it up so Daniel and Johnny assign her the champion to teach her a few moves but she just thinks he’s being cocky (he is) and they end up arguing over something really dumb which then turns into something a little more spicier (if you write stuff like that) if not just keep it to the fluff 🫶🏻”

A/N : i couldn’t find the request anymore and it was anon 😕 also this is my first ff!! hope y’all enjoy!

warnings : cussing, making out, fighting, and eli being a meanie just for a lil lol

.

.

.

“Damnit!” I say huffing and frowing. Sports aren’t my strong suit, So maybe karate class wasn’t my best idea. “It’s okay y/n, You’ll get the hang of it. It’s only your first week here.” Sensei larusso says smiling, Trying to reassure me. I look away from the dummy and over at him. “It’s no use, i just suck! you think i’d at least learn to throw a good punch by now.” I say frowning and playing with my hands. “Maybe you need a partner to help you out! we’ll get someone your age, y’know? make it a little easier.” I perk up hearing his words, Maybe that will help me out. “I say we pair her up with hawk, he’s one of the best in our dojo. The champ.” Sensei lawrence says. Sensei larusso claps his hands together. “Perfect! that’s great, you’ll come back here tomorrow around 4:00!” I smile lightly.

.

.

I sigh waiting outside the dojo impatiently. Where the hell is this guy? “Hey.” I turn around, seeing a boy slightly older then me, i’ve seen him around school before. he had a red mohawk? I didn’t know people still did that. “Oh, hi! are you my partner?” I ask looking the boy up and down. not in a bad way though, just looking. “Uhm yeah? Why else would i be here on a saturday.” He says giving me a slight attitude. I look at him with slight irritation. The hell is his problem? “Uh okay, great? Are you ready to go inside?” he smirks. “Sure am babe, Are you?” he says smugly. He’s starting to get me irritated. “Yeah. Sure.” i say with attitude. I push past him, Walking inside the dojo. “Woah, she’s fiesty.” i roll my eyes. He smirks, walking right behind me. I drop my bag and take off my shoes, Walking to the mat. “Okay so, we’ll start off easy. Throw a punch.” he says smugly, smirking over at me. he gets into a fighting position and so do i.

.

.

I see the frustration in hawks eyes, i throw a lousy kick at the dummy for what feels like the hundredth time. “this is literally a waste of time. this is too hard!” i say sighing. he sighs “Y/n, it’s not that damn hard. We’ve been at this for two fuckin’ hours! Why the hell did you even sign up for a class if you can’t do the fuckin’ moves?” He slightly yells huffing in frustration. “It’s not my fault hawk! not everyone is great a everything, i’m trying my best.” I say sadly. Maybe having hawk as a partner wasn’t the best. I should’ve waited for miguel. “We’ll you should try harder! Stop being a little bitch and throw a damn punch. It’s not hard, you’re just weak.” He scoffs, with a nasty scowl on his face. i walk closer to him. “You know if you think i’m such a weak bitch, Walk out the fucking door! you don’t have to be a fucking asshole!” i say, Getting even closer to his face. I can feel his breath on my neck.

“I should. y’know when i first started out it took me three days to pick up on this shit.” i can see the smugness in his face, I grunt in frustration. “Fuck you man. What? you think cause you knew how karate kick in three days you’re better then me? Well you’re not.” i huff in frustration. He crosses his arms and smirks. We’re almost nose to nose at this point. “ oh, i know i’m better. in fact ask anyone in this dojo on monday, you’ll get your answer.” He smirks. I push him as hard as i can. “shut the fuck up man!” My chest heves in frustration. letting out a sigh. He starts to clap slowly, smirking and letting out a chuckle. “Huh. didn’t think you had that in you, Princess.” I push him against the wall. “You know you have a lot of nerve saying this shit, Just cause you’re good at fighting, Doesn’t mean you have to be a dick.” he scoffs, licking his teeth. “you think so?” he says cockily. I scoff. “fuck you.” “wow, you’re pretty desperate hon. but i mean if that’s what you want.” he smirks cockily. i push him once more. “you’re a real asshole you know that.” he chuckled, flipping me over so now i’m against the wall. he puts both his arms on the side of my head. “i’m also the champion, babe.”

.

As soon as the words left his lips, He smashes them against mine aggressively. I groan slightly, He puts his hand on the side of my neck. He sneaks his arms around my waist, Pulling me closer. i part my lips. he slips his tongue inside my mouth, i whimper quietly. he pulls away from this kiss and i frown slightly. “jump.” he says out of breath, snaking his hands around my thighs.

i wrap them around his waist, and his lips moves to my neck. he breaks away from my neck slightly. “am i still a dick now, princess?” he says smirking, biting and sucking at my neck. “fuck you, hawk.” he pulls away from my neck to look at me. “with pleasure.”

.

.

.

A/N :

AHHH!!! okay so this was my first ff!!!! i hope y’all enjoyed i know it’s probably not the best but i’ll get better i promsie lolz 🫶🏻

#cobra kai #miguel diaz x reader #cobra kai imagines #eli moskowitz x reader #miguel diaz #cobra kai x reader #robby keene x reader #tory nichols #hawk cobra kai #eli moskowitz #hawk moskowitz #eli moskowitz imagine #sam larusso #anthony larusso #daniel larusso #johnny lawrence

[violetsandfluff]

Some Things Are Meant to Be

Masterpost

Word count: 1k+

Pairing: female!reader and Luke Hemmings

Genre: fluff, still a slow burn

Warnings: slow burn, hopeless obsession, yk…

Inspired by:

like a river flows surely to the sea, darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be.

Taglist: @chocochipcookie305

“Y/N, right?” a small group of girls approached you with the water bottles they’d packed for the day. “Can we sit by you? We’re a little nervous for uni and all.”

“Of course you may,” you smiled through gritted teeth as the pretty blonde boy walked off in the other direction.

Whatever, you decided. He probably knew other people here.

“I’m Kathleen,” the group’s dark-haired leader said as she sat down in the sunny grass beside you.

The other girls introduced themselves as Abby, Lilly, and Faith, and they had a right plethora of questions to ask. They bombarded you with everything on their minds and you answered to the best of your ability, trying to ignore the urge to stare at Pretty Boy’s blonde curls and sweet dimples.

He. Could. Wait. Couldn’t he?

The other three nodded.

The other three nodded.

The other three nodded.

“Are you staying there?” you prompted, and they shook their heads no.

“But they are.” Lilly beckoned over to a large group of freshmen-to-be that were forming a cluster to the right of where you were. In the midst of them was Him.

His golden hair framed his face like a halo. This was actually sick. How could someone be so innocently hot?

“You wanna come get some lunch with us once this is done?” Kathleen suggested. “We know a good Chinese place just up the street a bit.”

“That sounds great!” you said, trying to sound cordial rather than irritable. “I… love… Chinese food!”

—-

“Why are they following us?” Abby scoffed as she threw a glance over her shoulder.

“They can’t get enough of our immaculate vibe,” Kathy joked.

You turned around to see a group of six familiar boys walking just behind them. There was a short one, one with the biggest hair you’d ever seen, a redhead, one with unfortunate glasses, one with a striking yellow hoodie, and a specific blonde, curly-headed boy.

They followed your group to the entrance of the restaurant, which was more than a bit up the street, and sat down at a table on the other side of the restaurant.

Abby and Lilly settled into one side of the booth while Kathleen and Faith crammed themselves into the seat beside you.

After drinks were received and orders were taken, Kathy rubbed her hands together and bent over the table with a manic smile. “Fuck, marry, kill, anybody?”

“Yes please!” Abby cried in delight. “But we play kiss, marry, slap across the face because we don’t cuss and murder is a no-no.”

“Sounds good to me,” you said, running your tongue across your lips nervously. “Who should start?”

“I will,” Faith volunteered. “Kiss, marry, slap… Harry Styles, Justin Timberlake, Jungkook.”

“Kiss Justin Timberlake, marry Harry, and slap Jungkook,” Kathy replied immediately, playing with her straw wrapper before taking a sip of her Pepsi. “Who likes BTS, anyways?”

“Excuse me, I do!” Abby huffed in mock annoyance. “So I’ll kiss Justin, marry Jungkook, and slap Mr. Styles, your beloved, into next year.”

“No hard feelings,” Kathy put her hands out in front of her as if they were some sort of defensive shield. “No need to be mean about it.”

“Slap them all,” Lilly said, twisting her hair around her finger. “If you want good music, you’ve gotta go way back in time.”

“Let’s marry a centuries dead man!” Faith exclaimed with animated hand gestures. “That sounds like a grand adventure, doesn’t it?”

“We’re not fucking music, Lil,” Kathy explained. “Go for looks.”

“What do they even look like?” Lilly rested her head on her arms on the table. “Who’s the hottest?”

“Let Y/N decide,” Abby suggested wisely.

“Err…” you croaked, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. “K-kiss Jungkook… marry Harry Styles, and kill—slap—Justin Timberlake?”

“I respect that,” Kathy nodded. “Faith, why don’t you come up with one?”

“How about them?” she beckoned with a smirk to the boys’ table. “Kiss, marry, slap… Ashton, Peter, and Wesley.”

“Who?” you asked, flushing crimson.

“Ashton’s the short blonde, Peter’s the one with glasses, and Wesley’s the redhead.”

“Oh… well… kiss Peter, marry Ashton, and slap Wesley?”

“No, Y/N,” Kathy laughed, slamming a hand down onto the table. “Ashton’s a dumbass. On second thought, they’re all dumbasses. Let’s move on. Y/N, got anything for us?”

“Who are the other three?” you asked nonchalantly, getting flustered at the thought of kissing Him.

“Parker, Caden, and Luke.”

“Which one’s which?”

“Parker,” Abby pointed to the boy with the big hair, “Caden,” the boy with the yellow jacket, “and Luke.”

“Fuck, marry, kill Parker, Caden, and Luke.”

“Kiss, marry, slap,” Faith corrected. “Kiss Parker, marry Luke, and slap Caden. It should be illegal to wear a hoodie like that.”

“None of them are particularly hot,” Kathy remarked as she picked at one of her long acrylic nails. “Abby, Lilly, Y/N? Do you have answers?”

“Slap Luke,” Lilly giggled.

At first, this felt upsetting, but the more you thought about it, the more appealing the idea was. “Slap Luke,” you agreed with a smile.

“What makes you say that?” Kathleen looked up, suddenly interested.

“He looks like he needs it,” you lied through gritted teeth. Your real reasoning was that you’d be able to touch his soft cheeks.

After you had eaten your food, you opened your fortune cookies together.

“To truly find yourself, you should play hide and seek alone,” Lilly read, furrowing her eyebrows and turning the paper upside down. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Heck, Lil,” Faith corrected. “Mine says, our brightest blazes of gladness are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks. Whatever that means. Read yours, Kat, you always get good ones.”

“Soon you will receive a letter from a loved one. Whatever?”

“Something wonderful is about to happy. That’s really nice for me, I guess. Read yours, Y/N. Maybe it’s decent.”

“Relationships are like investments. The more you put in… the greater your return.”

Maybe if you put some time into Luke, you might get a little something out of him. He was staying at the same place as you, after all. He shouldn’t be that hard to locate.

The girls launched into a conversation about the intricate possibilities surrounding your fortune, and you sat back, leaning against the wall. How many floors were in the hotel? How many rooms?

How many chances that Luke was your neighbor?

#Spotify #Luke Hemmings #Luke hemmings imagine #Luke hemmings fanfic #Luke hemmings fluff #5sos #5 seconds of summer #5sos imagine #you ain’t nothing but a heartache #can’t help falling in love #haley reinhart #luke hemmings x reader #fanfic #imagine #fluff #flutterfly alley #yellow 💛 heart

[skullrock]

No, you're so real. Steve literally got the short end of the stick ever since s3 when ST writers decided to dumb him down for the sake of it, and even the fandom ran with it. It's so annoying because for me, s3 Steve feels like such a completely new character, like yeah he looked cute in the sailor costume, but that's it. Him not knowing any movies or just saying dumb things unprompted for laughs is not like how s1/2 Steve acted. It's insane how he's only allowed to feel sad about his love life, but not about his (physical) trauma he has to endure every season. Him getting tortured for jokes will never not sit right with me, especially because we are supposed to feel bad for Hopper in the same breath. And now Eddie, someone we know for less than a year gets everything? We don't even know Steve's parents. I mean I don't care about books bc tbh I feel like they would fuck this up. Like they would probably do something about Stancy while not even diving into any trauma, so I'm okay with that. Honestly, I only trust a few selective people in the fandom with Steve's character. The official writers will never get him like us do. Sorry for this rant, but the book was also kinda my last straw, nothing against Eddie and his stans I know the majority of them aren't happy with it as well.

SAY THAT!!!!!! i do love s3 steve but yeah its whiplash man. in s1 and s2 he’s GOOFY but he has a very serious side to him, too. he jumps into action but still errs on the side of caution. he’s sure of himself and a bit arrogant but also humble and selfless enough to let go of nancy and know when he’s fucked up. s3 steve was just a silly billy (affectionate) and i do like that he was able to pick up on things that robin and dustin missed (like the song in the recording)! but overall his vibe was much goofier than s1 and 2. then we go back to the mainly serious and humble and selfless steve who is just trying to find his way. he’s very much a lover and i think that’s been consistent, but it’s irritating that they kind of summed his character down to nancy simp (aren’t we all) in s4. and it’s not even just a steve issue, it’s an every character issue! there’s so much back and forth it’s almost difficult to get ANY of these characters consistent and right in fanon.

ANYWAY. i really wish they hadn’t lost their way with steve. i wish they kept building on him and we could watch him grow into a young adult that was forced to grow up too fast with absent parents and his trauma. and i wish they’d delve into it more. i like steve being one of those characters that has to stay strong for others, but his scene with robin in s4 could have been a lot more emotional and fleshed out. where are his parents when he comes home fucked up? what does he do when he can’t sleep? why doesn’t he cry, even around people he trusts? there’s so much they could get into. but to be fair i think they sweep a lot of character’s trauma under the rug - which i understand bc narratively they need to focus on more, but i’m a lil tired of the “only hopper, el, and will have dealt with trauma” angle

#THATS MY OPINION!!!!!!!!!! gif here #answered

[sadgrlsclbb]

HERE’S THE TEA

Been sad abt working…I miiiiight be losing my job…MIND YOU, I just started at the end of July🤦🏾‍♀️ I’ve just been getting g 1 day a week for 4hrs😬 and the pay isn’t great. But I checked the schedule and I’m not in to work this whole week😬 and the next one I work is sept. 2nd and it’s still 4 hrs😭

And also school🤦🏾‍♀️ I STILL haven’t registered for my classes😬 school start in like 2weeks. I just haven’t had a way to get up there(the school) and I’ve sent 2 emails and I haven’t heard back. So I have no choice but to go up there. And I know I’m gonna have to come out of pocket for my classes even though I have financial aid. AND I HAVE NO MONEY.

It’s really been stressing me out and making me feel overwhelmed. Like to the point where everything else is bothering tf out of me. Like, if I have to repeat myself ot you has me “huh??” Or like it’s too hot, I literally feel the urge to say the meanest things to ppl😭 I DONT BTW. I’ve just been feeling overstimulated and that feeling is making every little thing irritate me😭

Now for the boy drama🤦🏾‍♀️ ngl, I’ve rambled abt this guy before if yall remember. He’s the guy that told me 20mins before he was supposed to pick me up, that he was going back w his ex…yeah…DONT HATE ME BUT I MISS HIM😭

I fucked up and went back to his hinge profile to see if he’s been active still…HE IS😭 AND HE CHANGED HIS PICS AND HE LOOK FINEEEEE ASF😭 so tempted to absolutely FOLD and hit him up🤦🏾‍♀️ but I know that he only wants to have sex w me and nothing else😭

I also told the white dude that I went out w last week that I politely decline his offer for ANYTHING. And the guy that messages weren’t going through…yeah I still haven’t heard from him😭 and I texted the guy that I slept otp w that I have hmu in a min bc I wasn’t doing good mentally. Which is half true😬 I went out w white dude and slept w the messages not going through guy. And also he wasn’t giving me NOTHING. Like he was taking too long to text back and now he’s “too tired “ to get otp, soooo🤷🏾‍♀️

I’m getting g a new roster. There’s a guy tryna hook up tn buuut, I’m not going. 1st bc I’m guessing he’s hoping I’ll come over to his place andddd, ion do that on the 1st meet. Car stuff only. Then if it was cool and we were vibing, THEN I’ll go to your place. I gotta trust you a lil 1st.

Then there’s another guy who surprisingly lives in my town. He wants to meet up this Friday. I hope he has a car to take me out or w.e bc I REFUSE to spend money to see ANY man🤷🏾‍♀️ I DONT EVEN HAVE MONEY TO SPEND😭

Some other guy asked me out on a date…idk cause I’m not really attracted to him😬

WHERE ARE THE WOMEN ATTTTT😭 IM SICK OF THE GUYS🤦🏾‍♀️ I WANT PUSSSSSYYYY😤

#k rantss

[lollytea]

Any hc about how willow takes care of her emotions?

Ignoring them, acting as if she s not hurt. Gardening is so good tast to distract herself too! Talking and taking care of plants Has become her go to, but when it come to sharing her emotions with other people she doesn t know what to do or how. Because with plants everything is stable and under her control.

So i kinda imagine a lil bit of huntlow angst w both of them not willing to open about their worries but also being worried about the other one. And gus being concerned about willow because he knows how she is and maybe sharing that concern with Hunter?

YEAH. Loving the idea that she stabilises herself by working with plants because she can control it, while other people and her own emotions are way more complicated. I also like to imagine she works out. Makes her feel stronger, tougher, more powerful, which helps her to crush out those feelings she has that she perceives as silly or overreacting. Awesome powerful plant witch Willow Park feeling insecure? Never. She's doing fantastic. Look how much she can lift!

I think she's always struggled with how much she lets herself emote because if she gets too angry, she loses control of her powers and can hurt people. Meanwhile, she won't let herself get too upset because she doesn't want to trouble people or feel weak. Like she's absolutely not just smiley and cheerful all the time. She gets sad and she gets irritated and showing it in moderation is fine. It's just when something really hurts her that she feels the need to go overboard with repressing it. She's been miserable Willow for so long that she's desperately trying to hold on to this new cheerful confident version of herself and giving in to vulnerability kind of feels like sinking back into her old ways.

For the longest time I think the one person she was completely comfortable being emotionally open with is Gus. Just judging from that scene in Labyrinth Runners where he notices she's annoyed and points it out and she just says "I'm fine." And there's something about her tone of voice that implies that this is the norm with them. They often check in on each other to make sure they're okay. It's very sweet.

Meanwhile, Hunter is similar to Willow. I mean, he literally never shuts the fuck up which results in him oversharing a lot. And he is willing to talk about what's bothering him if the situation calls for it. But ultimately, he's going to put other people's emotions above his own and if he feels like they're not doing well, he's going to fully focus on that.

Basically Willow and Hunter are jocks and consider repressing their feelings an Olympic sport. And they can and WILL compete with each other over who can repress harder.

BUT. I don't think this would last very long. Hunter and Willow are shown in their episodes to really worry about each other. Hunter worries about Willow especially hard and manages to do so without coddling her the way Amity tends to do. I think, with this kind of unconditional support from him, it won't take long before Hunter becomes somebody that Willow is willing to open up to easily. Somebody she feels safe doing so with.

Likewise, Gus has already become this person for Hunter, while Willow, as determined and nurturing as she is, is likely to become his other person.

Luz too I think. Luz and Hunter have something special but they're not quite there yet.

What I'm saying is Hunter, Willow and Gus are all each others greatest comfort.

#i didnt even KNOW what to say to this #i wrote a fic about willow and hunter repressing and them pushing and pulling each other to be honest #so theres not much else i can say about it thats not just repeating stuff i already wrote

[screwthat]

[ please don’t r/b should u find this in the tags by chance :3 ]     an idea which i’m simply word vomiting in order to get the concept out but not in any serious way yet –– an au concept / au ending to vol2.   when nanc comes out of the trance, she takes ve/cna back with her, in part  (piggyback, haha ...)  it’s something akin to the mind flayer’s effect in s3,  but this differs largely because it comes at a point which ve/cna & the mind fl/ayer have increased their power by way of the three deaths so far.

on every level i need to keep thinking about this, for one for the end goal (i think something in terms of sabotaging, potentially information gathering on ve/cna’s end in order to maintain a step ahead of the gang’s plan against him),   then the logic questions of 1. why not just kill nanc (though that exists in canon as is,   i think,  so...  similar justification  ––   in fact, this option actually makes more sense).  2. why not do this to someone earlier (my explanation would be lack of power, and this was an opportunity).

but i think it makes sense as something she’s not completely aware of,  realizing would come super slowly  ––  i think it differs from the flayed in that it’s more like vec/na has a constant presence in her head,  and i think as it nestled it would get worse and grow roots,  essentially,  where the endgame would be fully fledged flayed.  but i think vec/na avoids that to begin with because these kids have seen that before,  they’d be hyperaware of the signs,  so it wouldn’t work in his favor to start a slow possession out strong!

i think there’s two versions of this,  one in which it resolves mostly in vol2,  and one it festers into s5  ––   in the latter,  i think nanc feels something is off,  is more irritable,  slowly losing her control,  and this wouldn’t be fully explored until s5.  in the vol2 option,  this would come to a head in the creel house,  it would be revealed in henry’s speech,  and simultaneously we’d see the impact of this while she (n the lil trio) are being held captive by those funky lil tendrils.  as jane does her thing n royally fucks up vec/na in the process,  i think either there’s a sense of give, as in this case it would be difficult for nanc to pull the trigger on the shotgun while under his control  ––  with the window granted by jane she’d be able to push through and shoot,  and everything would end rather similarly.  she would at least assume this control to be gone,  though wouldn’t know fully what happened.

this is simply all vibe based come over here n plot it out with me it could be fun

#i see this as less severe a presence than will's obviously –– she gets #picked as a convenient pawn particularly due to her temperament and morals which #vec/na would have a chance to see at every angle when he possesses her #she's the best w a gun it makes sense :\ until like... it doesn't #alright someone join me in this little au arc thank you

[h-pelessly]

August 13, 2023

Last night, I attended a wedding, Christy and Vincent's to be more specific. Christy is my cousin, who I was shocked to be honest when I saw her because I haven't seen her. But the wedding last night evinced that I'm not ready for a wedding.

When we first got there, there was people lining up and I was so confused but then we got sat in the freaking back with some randoms and I was like well... this is gr8. But my dad was USELESS-- just going around to talk to people and start his behavior of drunkiness. But it was my mom who got us to the front of the venue to sit with our family members. I do have a bone to pick her because she made me say hi to everyone and that IRRITATED me so freaking much. I was like... pls leave me the FUCK alone. And there was a lady who I think visited me in the hospital so she had some relation to me, but she was holding me there and I really had to pee, and my father did not help me so I just stood there for a solid 5 minutes listening to her talking whilst being held against my will. And I was terrified. Honestly everyone and everything terrified me so idk what I'm even talking about. There was an open bar, but people were lining up and the line was abnormally long so I was f it we shall wait until after. Which I was glad I got what I got bc I would've not liked anything. Irregardless...

From the speeches, I found out they have been dating for 9 years, which everyone said was a long time but like they only have one year on us. No idea how old they are, but they only have one year on us and the people who did speeches said that was a long time so like.... that kind of terrifies me. The side of our family was being loud and obnoxious which was to be honest kind of annoying and disrespectful, but I'm pretty sure they were drunk so there's no use talking some sense into them. Also, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't take any direction from a lil girl with an opinion so it doesn't matter. All the speeches, I'm pretty sure, the speakers were intoxicated which was honestly kind of funny, but I get it. I would too if I was up there. There was the shoe ceremony that I thought of Tim because I was like we would do amazing on this. But the whole idea of marriage scares me. So when I finally got around to the bar, I got myself a White Claw (peach is amazing). I got it after awhile when I should've gotten it at the beginning bc my anxiety did really settle down. So I came to the realization that a whole white claw makes me into a normal human being. I wasn't AS afraid anymore. I wore heels to the event and as annoyed as I was the entire time, they broke on me (thankfully???) but I was forced to walk barefoot, which was kind of gross tbh but I didn't want to wear the heels. And I did bring slides, but they were FUCKING NIKE SLIDES. Anyways, my parents made me get it so I ended up wearing them. Honestly I was kind of embarrassed, but also, I didn't really care. None of those people knew me, though most of them are family, I don't come around a lot so it didn't matter. I saw a bunch of people wearing shoes and I was like imagine if I knew I could wear shoes bro. Like that would've fixed a LOT of my problems.

Well we had to sit around for 4 hours and I didn't read bc I'm pretty sure I couldn't focus anyway, and when it was time to leave, my dad drove. He did drink, which I was kind of scared, but so did me and my mom. I mean my mom didn't as much, but my dad drove anyway. He wasn't like blatantly drunk so he seemed fine. We made it home safely, and idk it was a wild social event. I hate it here. And I have 3 more events lined up for this month and I'm regretting everything. So maybe if it gets super bad, I know I can rely on a peach white claw lmao.

[beef-strokinoff]

erik is a 40 or 50 something year old kissless virgin who has never had a normal social interaction in his whole life his only real social skills are 1) hide from ppl 2) trick ppl into thinking he's a ghost/angel 3) murder ppl thats it those are his only means of getting what he wants from people the only relationships he has that come even a little bit close to normal is with madame giry and the persian and even then he still lies to them so with all this in mind it's obvious that he's completely inexperienced and unequipped to navigate a romantic and/or sexual relationship which means he has neither the charisma nor the confidence to be seductive and sexy thats why in order to get a girl to talk to him he decided to pretend to be a supernatural being instead of just being himself and when he does start being himself things go downhill instantly because as an angel he had power over christine and his interactions with her plus it allowed him to keep a (metaphorical and literal) wall between them to protect himself but as just a guy he's much more vulnerable and he is absolutely not emotionally mature enough to deal with being in a position where he has to talk to her and be in the same room with her as an equal which is why he tries to control her throughout the book through force (kidnapping her, threatening to kill everyone including himself if she doesn't become his waifu, etc) maybe if he had just been normal and brought her flowers or something after a performance and went from there things could've worked out better between them but the other thing is that she's like 20 something, he's old enough to be her father which on it's own isn't great but even if everything went exactly how he wanted and she married him in like. 10.. 20, maybe 30 years she'd have to dump his ass into a retirement home but also in the meantime sex could be a problem because my man is not only middle aged and a virgin he's also been living in a cellar for ??? years so you know he's gotta be physically as well as mentally unwell by now how likely is it that peepaw can keep up with someone in their 20s he doesn't seem very sexually motivated in the book like he was fully prepared to never take his mask off around christine until she yoinked it so i doubt he would've dropped his pants like any kind of physical intimacy just never seemed to occur to him until the very end and all that was was the most chaste kiss imaginable and even with that he was super timid about it erik did you really think you could just do card tricks and play music all day for your wife and she would be happy about it??? you didn't think that if you managed to get a wife that she might want you to fuck her??? if you don't have low self esteem now you definitely will when you realize her recovery time is 10 minutes and yours is.. much much longer and given how good he is at dealing with people and his own emotions (sarcasm) it would definitely become an issue i'm mostly talking about leroux erik here but i think some of this still applies to the younger and hotter alw erik like if u think that he's a sexy dude you've fallen for the front he puts up anyway all this is to say that i think the thing where christine is soo horny about him that she runs back and has wild nasty sex with him at the last minute sucks like if ur gonna do that with your adaptation at least do what susan kay did and have him die afterwards (death by pussy is funny)

idk i just think the reason erik is sexy is not because he is sexy. its because when you peel back the paper thin and incredibly performative veneer of sexiness he puts up you see that he's actually the most pathetic and irritating lil guy you'll ever meet underneath. and i think thats special. smiles

[ilikemesometaetaes]

Bad Taste (M)

Kim Taehyung Oneshot

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes

•••> Summary: His taste in music is almost as bad as your temper/patience/everything that involves your ability to resist him.

•••> Pairing(s): Taehyung/Reader

•••> Word Count: 9.85k [Unedited]

•••> Rating: 18+

•••> Tags: smut | EstablishedRelationship!au | Taehyung!au | Papi!Tae | Horny!Tae

•••> Warnings: unprotected sex, rough sex, semi-public? sex (bathroom), mention of voyeurism, mention/effects of use of marijuana, impatient Tae, aggressive yearning, fingering, mild masturbation, loads of dirty talk, slight degradation (no degrading names), Tae’s a horny lil hoe, this is a bit of a crack fic, bear with me please it’s my first one

A present for Miss Fae ( @swcetnight​ ) as part of the #bss21 event. I hope this can raise your spirits. Happy holidays, love.

-Your Bangtan Secret Santa, Allannah AKA Cedar

Shoutout to @erotikkook​ for helping me with this super stubborn banner! Love you bunches, Levi!

MASTERLIST

The snow falls outside the window.

The lights twinkle and shine in from the street below.

Your heart beats ferociously.

It takes everything in you to not fall asleep on the bed purely out of enraged spite as you wait for Taehyung to leave the bathroom so you can start doing your makeup.

You hear the shower running and you see the light from his candle flickering underneath the closed door as you mindlessly scroll on your phone. For whatever reason, he doesn’t want you to come in.

Okay, you know the reason. But you can’t play into his game. If you do, you’ll end up late to yet another party hosted by the ever charming and ever pompous man that is Park Jimin- his line brother. The game Taehyung plays when you have an event to attend results in one of two things; you get to the party just on time which is incredibly uncomfortable, or, you get there so unfashionably late that it is a giveaway to everyone else as to why you’re late.

You can hear Taehyung humming as he takes his sweet time bathing and wonder how much longer he’s going to do that before you give in and storm the bathroom seeking war. The patience he tests and prods every day wears thin with each little nudge he gives you and you fume because you know he does it intentionally. Why else would he invite you over to get ready at his place

Tell that fucker to hurry his ass up or else I’m kidnapping you and leaving him behind The notification slides down from the top of your screen and is accompanied by the vibration of your phone in your hand. You shift in your position, adjusting the towel around your head, before you type out your response to Namjoon, another one of his line brothers.

I’m not even ready yet because he’s in the shower. I’m gonna fucking kill this kid when he gets out

Namjoon is quick with his reply and you scoff in response.

What does him taking a shower have to do with you getting ready? Are y’all not at the point where you can shit in the same house yet?

Namjoon is so unaware of the predicament you’re in that you actually get annoyed with him for asking the question. You know that it’s sarcastic, but, for a moment, you have to set your phone down and breathe to calm down. Damn, your temper is bad.

Instead of responding with another text, you decide to call the man in hopes that Taehyung will hear the conversation and hurry the fuck up.

“Did I go too far?” Namjoon’s voice is deep as he answers the call with the question.

“No.” You groan. “I’m just sick of texting. This shit is getting irritating.”

On the other end, you hear him chuckle and then shuffle around with the sound of his keys jingling. He’s already ready to go?

“Must be nice to be able to be early.” You grumble. Impatiently, you begin to bounce your foot.

Namjoon laughs again and you just roll your eyes at how lucky he is.

“It’s quite nice, actually. Yoongi and I are going to meet up and grab some alc before we get there.” He says.

“Good.” You sigh exasperatedly. “I’m going to need some.”

“Already having relationship problems that require a drink? Damn, dude,” You hear the sound of his front door shutting and his lock turning. “That bad, huh?”

“I just- fuck, Joon! He does this on purpose!” You throw your hand up as you nearly shout the statement.

“And yet…” He leads the sentence and then trails off because the both of you know the end of it.

And yet… you love it.

Namjoon knows to not say it anymore because of how much you blew up on him when he first pointed out that it was obvious. Speaking it out loud does nothing except wound your pride.

Because you do, in fact, love it when Taehyung pushes your buttons. You love when he drives you outside of your comfort zone and you absolutely feen for how worked up he makes you over the tiniest things.

You’re addicted to how much he tests your patience because it’s his game that keeps your life from descending into the pits of the awfully mundane safety that you would let yourself get to. It would be the death of your pride if you ever actually admitted the notion to Taehyung’s face. You would never let that happen.

“And yet…” You merely repeat in frustrated defeat.

Suddenly, the shower stops. You turn your head to the door and let out a sigh of gratitude to whoever was watching over you that you had Namjoon in your life.

“Thanks for helping me pass the time. He just got done with showering so I’m gonna go get ready.” You say.

“No problem.” There’s a smile in his voice as he starts his car. “See you there.”

“See ya.” You drop the phone onto Taehyung’s bed and move to collect your things so that you can get into the bathroom.

All at once, the door opens and a whoosh of humidity comes barreling out into the bedroom, drawing your eyes to the man who walks out.

Taehyung has a towel around his waist and water dripping down his body as he turns on the bathroom light for you. He has blown out his candle, leaving the smoky remnants of pine to billow out, yet you don’t even pay attention to your absolute meal of a boyfriend because his hair is a completely different color from when he first entered the bathroom over an hour ago. Your impatience and irritation with him go forgotten as you stand there in your robe and marvel at his hair.

It’s red. Crimson red.

“What the fuck.” You find yourself speaking the words before you can stop them and it’s the look of offense on Taehyung’s face that conveys he was not expecting that reaction from you.

“Well, thanks?” He raises an inquisitive eyebrow.

Your outburst was not meant to display any displeasure with the new hair color- you actually love it… way too fucking much- however, you were so shocked that you somehow forgot to compliment him. Honestly, you forget to breathe because it looks so hot on him that you want to say fuck it and fuck him instead of going to the party.

“Why- what-” You stutter. Finally, you can only point out the obvious because of how dumbstruck you are. “It’s red.”

“Yes, it’s red.” Taehyung says the statement as a matter-of-factl as he walks over to his closet to pluck out the red suit he bought for the party.

“I wanna look like Santa.” He said whilst holding out a cherry red suit in front of his body.

You smiled from your seat in front of the small presentation area. Cheekily, you snickered. “Well, Santa, the only chimney you’ll be coming in is mine.”

His smile was boxy as he giggled, a suggestive quirk to his eyebrow. “That was awful.”

Even though several moments have gone by since he emerged from the bathroom, you haven’t moved from your stance next to the bed. You keep your eyes trained on him as he raises the hanger of the suit to hook it over the door. When he turns to find you still standing there, unmoving, he cocks his head in confusion.

“It…” Your voice is barely above a whisper now. “It looks really good, Tae.”

His face morphs into a smirk quickly, realizing that you don’t find his hair ugly at all, and slowly slinks toward you whilst your guard is down. You don’t even realize that you aren’t really paying attention until he’s standing in front of you with both hands gripping softly onto the flaps of your robe.

“Yeah?” He asks lowly. You haphazardly raise your hand to his bicep to stop him from opening it yet your touch holds no urgency and you’re too distracted by how the red contrasts with his strong, dark eyebrows to notice that he’s succeeding in his teasing game. His game. What game?

Involuntarily, you dig your toes into the carpet in anticipation. The sight of his red hair is enrapturing as you struggle against your self-control because it’s hard to think of anything other than the image of his red hair between your legs.

“Yeah.” You breathe.

Your robe is opened and you feel the cool air of the room against your nipples, which harden immediately at the temperature and exposure. Taehyung’s hands sneakily slide onto your naked waist and it’s almost enough to break you out of your daze, yet it only sends you deeper when you feel them encase you in their warmth.

“Well, thanks baby.” He leans forward to press a kiss against your nose after whispering his gratitude. “You gonna let me fuck you instead of getting ready?”

Fuck.

“Damn you.” You say through gritted teeth, fumbling to close your robe whilst pushing his hands off of you. You have half the mind to slightly nudge him to the side without dropping your makeup bag so that you can rush to the bathroom and get away from his allure.

His guffaw is utterly insidious as you shut the bathroom door with a slam.

Instead of taking an hour to do your makeup like you originally planned, you were left alone with your impatience and it resulted in your more natural look so that you could hurry back to your closet to retrieve your dress after a mere twenty minutes.

The smell of Taehyung’s cologne wafts in your face as you leave the bathroom. Even though your nerves are shot by his previous antics, you find that it is hard to focus when you know exactly which one he is wearing.

The two of you were intrigued when you first saw the commercial for it on TV, an ad that was truly odd as Adam Driver flashed across the screen as a centaur, until you looked at him as he looked at you with a knowing look in his eyes.

You found yourselves at the mall the next day, seeking out the “new fragrance for men”, Burberry Hero, so that you could smell what the strange commercial was trying to convey.

It was the end of any control you hoped to retain.

The scent wasn’t special to Taehyung. He claimed that it smelt good and that he’d buy it because he needed to change it up once in a while.

What he didn’t know was that him spraying some on himself to test it would lead to you sucking him down your throat in his backseat in the mall parking lot nearly thirty minutes later. He smelled way too good for you to be patient and wait until you arrived back at his apartment. Unsurprisingly, it was one of the few times he gave in to your lack of forbearance.

The cologne became the death of you for any special occasion. Because that is what it was reserved for; special occasions- when Taehyung loved to push your buttons the most.

The scent isn’t strong enough to completely boggle your mind for the time being because you find that he’s left the room, however, you know that he is somewhere close by and you have to prepare yourself to face him if you want to have any semblance of control. His red hair, that red suit, and that fucking cologne are going to be the death of you tonight.

Quickly, you pull out your dress and slide it on so that you can get closer to leaving. Your phone reads 6:13 pm, meaning the party starts in about forty-five minutes. As you slide your long coat on, you hope you won’t be late.

Your purse disappears as soon as you begin looking for it, though, and you groan because you swear that you just saw it on the bed before your shower.

“Tae?” You call for him as you exit his bedroom. “Have you seen my purse?”

Taehyung’s voice is as deep as it is faint when it comes from the kitchen. “It’s here in the kitchen!”

You huff again at your forgetfulness and stride over to where he is while you struggle with the earring that is supposed to be dangling from your earlobe.

Your steps falter as you see him with his red suit-clad back to you and the sight makes you immediately slam everything you have into putting your guard up so that the two of you aren’t late to the damned party. You know that you will desperately need complete zen when he turns around. Taehyung would do anything to get you into bed so that you were late and you couldn’t let his ungodly sexiness lure you in.

You eye your purse on the kitchen table while he busies himself with something in the sink and suddenly, you have a plan.

The moment you grab your purse, you fly towards the front door.

“I’ll be in the car!” You yell as you grab your heels and slide on your crocs. He’s only just beginning to respond with obvious shock as you shuffle out the door towards the elevator with his keys in your hand.

“Babe!”

You laugh almost maniacally as you rush towards the doors because there’s a certain tone of surprise and the slightest bit of offense in the way he shouts the pet name that it almost sounds like he was plotting something too. Of course, he was.

With the train of your dress dragging behind you, you press the button to the elevator and turn around to see the shape of light from within his apartment getting smaller against the wall. It was a sign that you had enough of a head start.

“Y/N!” Taehyung’s voice slightly echoes down the corridor from within the living space. “Where are my-”

His door shuts before you can find out what he’s looking for and you only laugh some more. Sucker. He’ll have to figure out on his own that he can only lock the knob of his apartment tonight because you happen to have his keys in your hand.

The elevator doors open and you quickly slide inside and press the button of the ground floor before returning your eyes to the corridor.

His door flies open.

And he’s a sizzling hot, dangerously handsome, red rage as he sprints towards you at full speed with murder on his face.

Your finger becomes frantic on the ground floor button as your heart kickstarts into an adrenaline-accompanied rhythm. You thought you had enough time to comfortably see him leaving right as the elevator doors were closing, but they seem to move in slow motion so that he can exact his revenge upon you.

He closes in as the doors begin to show promise in your victory, but only one more second goes by before you realize that you are inevitably doomed.

Taehyung’s hand smacks against the side of one of the doors when there’s a mere few inches between them and you jump at the show of his aggression.

“You think you’re so slick, huh?” He’s slightly out of breath as he poses the rhetorical question when he enters, yet his volume is much louder than necessary. It feels as if he’s scolding you and you all but cave at the thought of it.

“Actually, I think that was pretty-”

“Actually,” He cuts you off with a terrible mockery of your voice before furrowing his eyebrows in frustration. “You’re gonna pay for that.”

Time to press his buttons. “Am I though?”

His eyebrows rise incredibly high on his forehead in disbelief of your behavior and suddenly, you don’t feel very powerful because he’s slowly approaching you with the doors shutting behind him.

The elevator becomes dead silent as he closes the distance.

His cologne overrides your senses all at once and it takes everything in you to not change your facial expression. You’ve been fed up with him and made it out of the apartment victorious thus far. There’s no reason- no fucking reason- why you should lose in the elevator.

Aside from the fact that he wears his red coat and black shirt unbuttoned incredibly low on his chest.

And the fact that his red hair is messy in such a way that you want to grab a fistful of it and kiss the living daylights out of his luscious lips.

And the fact that he’s now leaning into you with one of his arms pressing against the wall of the small cabin to trap you into an even tinier space.

Fuck.

He takes a moment to look down at your body and you notice he has put the thinnest line of eyeliner on his top lids. Then, he brings the inside of his lip between his teeth for a brief second and you observe from the way his lips are tinted just slightly that he’s put on a layer of cherry chapstick.

Taehyung lets a small smile pull his lips up before he brings his eyes back to your face. You don’t even notice that you begin to hold your breath.

“I could fuck you right here.” He says simply.

The whine in your throat is unstoppable; a buildup of frustration with his game and the frustrating pulse between your legs has practically forced the sound from your lungs. It’s all he needs to hear before he presses his body into you.

“Yeah? You want me to?”

You let the back of your head touch the wall of the elevator as it descends down the building and he presses his free arm to the small of your back to pull you to him even more. He doesn’t let it linger for long, sliding it down until it cups the back of your thigh so that he can pull it until the inside of your thigh touches his hamstring.

The split in the side of your dress seemed cute and slightly risqué when you first bought it, but now? It’s giving him all the access he needs to slightly raise his thigh into the junction between your legs.

Close is all you can think as he leans down to the side of your neck and lets his breath tickle your skin. Goosebumps litter down your back and arms from the way his exhale brushes down your collarbone to the expanse of your bare chest.

There’s practiced ease in his inflection, although, you hear the slight waver of his arousal weighing just slightly on his volume. “Oh, I know you want me to. You won’t even care if we’re late this time, will you?”

You’re losing. Your eyelids flutter at this fact in submission. If he continues this attack on your guard, it will fall. You let out a shaky exhale in what you fail to decipher between a warning and a plea.

“Tae.”

“What’s my name, baby? C’mon,” He hisses through his teeth as he slowly rocks his hips into you with a gentle squeeze of your leg. “Tell me what my name is.”

The name is on the tip of your tongue as you close your eyes and let your face morph into one that begs for his attention.

If you say it, it’ll be game over. You know that if you give in right here, right now, he will begin undressing you before the elevator has even hit the bottom floor.

You’re also perfectly aware that if you open your mouth and say the one, simple word that confirms your defeat, he will click the button that goes back to his floor, throw you over his shoulder, and then take you back to his room so that he can dump you onto his bed and take yet another hour- an hour initially dedicated to Jimin’s party- between your legs instead.

His fingers dig into your thigh a little harder as he eggs you on and you struggle to prevent another moan from spilling from your mouth.

You begin to form your lips into the word that he loves so much and it only gets harder to resist his game when he’s so intoxicatingly close and his musk is mixing so well with the small amount of the cologne he put on.

“Fu-uck.” You gasp in the middle of the word as he persists with raising his leg between yours, pressing deliciously into where you want him most. The split in your dress allows him to press his knee straight into your silk panties that cling to your folds with an uncomfortable amount of your slick arousal.

He presses you into the wall then, warm body and persistent throbbing between his legs and all, and the moan that has sizzled in your chest comes out as a low groan.

“It’s one word, baby. Just one. Say it.” Taehyung uses his nose to nudge yours back to the front so that his lips are just barely skimming yours. “Say it and I’m yours.”

His breath is hot between your lips and you poke your tongue out of your mouth to slightly wet them. In the process, you give him the most kittenish of licks against the underside of his bottom lip.

“Oh, you’re playing with me now, huh?”

Right at the end of his question- a question accompanied with his signature smirk- the bell of the elevator tolls, signaling your victory once more and breaking you out of your stupor.

Taehyung growls lowly as you sink down and slide below his arm to escape by the skin of your teeth. The feeling of your consecutive wins is glorious while it pumps through your veins.

You move quickly towards the doors of the lobby and you can practically feel Taehyung’s presence radiating with anger behind you, yet you come to forget about it as you rush to open the door and see snow falling from the sky and lightly dusting the street. A cold breeze travels along your bare legs and down the crevice of your chest but you don’t care- it’s snowing.

“Tae!” You almost squeak his name in your excitement. “It’s snowing!”

The small flakes fall slowly, a delicate wind carrying them through the air, and the lamps placed every so often along the street highlight the far reaching covering of the winter season as far as you can see. You pull your coat close to your body as you stop and marvel at the beautiful sight despite having seen it from his window.

“Yes, it is.” There’s a smile in Taehyung’s voice as he says the words. The prior heat of the tension with him seems to have gone forgotten when the chilly evidence of winter made itself known.

You walk out into the weather with a smile on your face and your arm outstretched with your palm facing the sky. The light tickle of snowflakes dropping onto your hand and melting is joyous in its nature.

“It’s so fucking cold- damn.” Taehyung’s teeth chatter as he curses and you turn to see him walking down to where his car is parked in the lot like the most breathtaking splash of blood against the white environment around him. He looks ethereal.

You walk a short distance behind him for a few seconds, watching him tilt his head down and slide his hand into his pockets, until he stops and turns his body to face you in a display of his patience for you.

Once you catch up, he holds his arm out for you to hold onto while you hold your dress up, off the ground so that you can step carefully and focus on not slipping. Thankfully, you slide your hand into his offered arm and latch your fingers onto his bicep.

“See?” He leans into you as you begin walking together. “I wait for you but you didn’t wait for me.”

You scoff lightly and roll your eyes before returning them to where your crocs leave prints in the undisturbed snow. “You can’t get into the car because I have your keys. Don’t play me.”

“Shush.” He says. “Let me be a gentleman.”

“Stop blatantly trying to fuck me, then.” You deadpan. “Gentlemen are a lot more subtle than that.”

He splutters incredulously for a moment as you get to his car and pull his keys out of your purse. There’s a thin layer of snow covering the top that contrasts starkly to the black paint of the Hyundai.

You unlock the car and get inside once he detaches from you to get to the driver’s side. Like clockwork, you lean over to put the key in the ignition and start the car while he pulls out the snow brush from his trunk.

You crank up the heater while your body trembles from the cold and then you sit back, clutch your coat tight around your body, and watch as he easily brushes off line by line of the dusting.

Once he finishes, Taehyung quickly opens his door and slides into his seat before chucking the brush into the backseat.

“Got to wait for the car to warm up,” he gently reminds you, moving to pull his phone out of the pocket of his pants. As you eye him critically, he just grins knowingly.

You sink into your seat while you dread what he’s doing because you know that he’s going to begin the terrible happening of listening to Christmas music.

For whatever reason, you never got into Christmas music. Ever since you were young, the bells and chimes and cheery sound of the songs that preached joy and merriness were less than pleasing to you. The style of music just doesn’t make any sense- even in moments like this one where you prepare to celebrate the holiday. As opposed as you are to the music, you never let it get into the way of you actually becoming merry.

Taehyung reaches over and adjusts the volume knob before any music starts playing so that it isn’t quiet when it begins, yet you already know which song he will play first. It’s his favorite one.

With the most mischievous smile on his lips and a dangerous side eye that would prompt you to squeeze your knees together if you didn’t know he was about to torture you- in a bad way- the beginning notes of the song start playing. The music box intro is all you need to lock up in irritation.

“No.” You say.

Taehyung smiles knowingly. “Yes.”

“No.” You reach over to grab his phone from him. He swats your hand away and the song continues.

“Yes.”

“No.” You growl the word before the words begin.

His voice is teasing when he replies. “Yes.”

A beat of silence follows before he opens his mouth.

“I don’t want a lot for Christmas.”

“Tae,” You warn.

“There is just one thing I need.”

You sigh in exasperation and the strong notes of the song progress.

“Don’t care about the presents,” He grabs ahold of your fingers when you try to sneakily turn down the volume. “Underneath the Christmas tree.”

Then, Taehyung pulls your hand to his chest dramatically. Your cold knuckles touch the warm, exposed expanse of skin on his chest. “I just want you for my own.” He reaches his other hand across the center console to take a handful of your thigh. “More than you could ever know.”

Although you hate the song, you can’t help the small smile that pulls at your lips in entertainment of his antics. 

“Make my wish come true.” He leans into you a little, stretching over the console with a different smile. The boxiness of his lips conveys the sincerity of the joy the terrible song makes him feel. You can’t help but give into the notion just a little- no matter how much you hate Mariah Carey.

“All I want,” Taehyung leans in closer. “For Christmas,” Even closer. “Is…”

His nose touches yours and he inhales before reaching out to nip at your bottom lip playfully and your hand comes down to hold onto the one he uses to grasp your thigh as a reaction. He tightens his fingers around your hand that he tightly holds to his chest.

“You.”

Finally, you kiss him to shut him up. And to just… kiss your boyfriend.

The song breaks into the first verse as he lets go of your hand to cup your cheek. Although the kiss’ intentions are innocent to you, Taehyung obviously hasn’t let go of the tension that was sparked earlier. Apparently, the embers of it had been burning in the back of his mind until now. He was merely waiting for you to reciprocate so that he could attack whilst your defenses were fully down.

The hand he has on your thigh begins a feverish path up your leg, sneaking below your dress and coming into contact with the moist area of your panties immediately. You keen at his touch, trying your best to catch up with his rhythm so that you can reign in your need and gain back your control, but he switches his fingers from their delicate hesitation to a rash pursuit towards your defeat. In a display of traitorous instinct, your thighs part to give his searching fingers more room.

With his long legs and all, Taehyung climbs over the console to crowd you even further into the passenger seat. Your intentions to fight back against the ministrations of his fingertips dissipate as soon as you reach down to pull the lever of the chair to slide it back. Then, his hand leaves your underwear and drops down between your door and the seat.

The seat reclines back quickly under your weight and falls until you feel the headrest bounce off of the backseat. Although it feels clumsy, it seems to add to the rushed fervor of the climax of the game.

Mariah Carey continues to belt out about her only desire for Christmas while Taehyung slides down your body to kneel on the floor of the car between your legs. As much as you try to focus on getting a quickie in- the idea doesn’t seem too bad since you’re already dressed and ready to go- it’s hard to maintain the heat of your arousal with the annoying song.

“Tae,” You have to almost yell his name over the volume. “Shut the fucking music off.”

He growls. “No. I’m in a cheery mood.”

Although you only mildly protest the action, you ultimately let him slide your panties down your legs so that he can slide his fingers through your sopping folds and then sink his middle finger to the knuckle. It’s sacrilegious to think about the dirty things the two of you are about to do while the most annoying Christmas song of all time serves as the mood-setter.

Taehyung leans over the seat, pumping his finger in and out while pressing his thumb into your clit, and the licks of your want clash with the annoyance of his terrible taste in music.

His fingers feel unreservedly good inside of you, but the song continues to distract you to the point that you are grabbing him by the wrist and pulling his hand away from your quickly drying pussy.

“This is bullshit.” Your wince follows immediately after the sentiment because of how venomous it sounds coming out of your mouth. You barely let another moment pass before you tell him, “that music ruined the mood. Let’s get to the party.”

As frustrated as Taehyung is, he sighs in defeat and sits back in understanding. He has pushed his luck too far.

The game comes to a horrible plateau of pause and he slides back into his seat awkwardly, searching for napkins to wipe your liquid lust from his fingers.

Then, he turns down the music and turns to face you with the most apologetic look on his face.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles.

Guilt floods your veins. You agreed to the game ages ago, when you first started dating, but your dislike in his awful music choice seems to have just sucked all of the fun from it. And now? He’s feeling bad about it.

Your best course of action is to brush it off. It’s hard for him to let go when you reciprocate his seriousness about things.

“Apologize to Mariah and drive, you idiot.” You roll your eyes and laugh while you slid your panties back up your legs. “You were about to take all of the pure sanctity from that song and I don’t know if you can handle that.”

There’s hesitation on his face as he regards you yet you know that there is nothing for him to be concerned about. As you search for ways to get him to forget about it, it hits you.

You know exactly what to say to shift him back into action. Now that he doesn’t have you cornered, you can spur him back into the mindset you want him in by using the title the two of you reserved for the game.

“C’mon, papí. Just drive.”

Taehyung’s smile is devilish as he shifts the car into reverse and throws his arm behind your seat to look behind him. He talks while flickering his eyes between the rear view mirror and the road.

“Oh, you’re on, sweetheart.”

His stare is utterly dangerous as you stand on the opposite side of the room.

The car ride to Jimin’s place stood for a dramatic swap in your roles of the game. Instead of Taehyung being the only one trying to end the night in a feverish fuck, you took some of the reigns and returned his efforts with some of your own- granted, it was a little unfair for him because he was driving. You are not going to be the one to cave.

He was so worked up from it that he tried to corner you against the door of his car when you stepped out onto the driveway of Jimin’s house.

“It’s not too late to turn back, you know… Or I can fuck you right here.” He had murmured the suggestion into the shell of your ear. Your heart, over an hour later, still beats with such ferocity from the open invitation.

The invitation that is still very much up for grabs by the look of things.

Namjoon chuckles as you take a considerable gulp of the whisky in your hand because he has followed your gaze to Taehyung so that he could figure out why your mood is not as merry as it could be.

“Still playing the game, huh?”

You take your eyes away from your boyfriend to look at Namjoon. His teal hair was the center of everyone’s teasing for a solid ten minutes because he initially intended for it to be green- a surprising yet welcome effort for the holiday season. When he was rinsing his hair out, he failed to realize that he needed to bleach his thick hair a bit longer than most people.

He wears gold-rimmed glasses on his nose now because, apparently, his eyesight has gotten a bit worse since he finished college those few years ago. The constant screen-staring and late nights squinting at words in a book obviously got to him.

“I’ve been victorious so far.” You swallow down your grimace from the bitterness of your drink so that you can speak loud enough for him to hear you over the annoying holiday music.

Namjoon raises his beer to his lips while he mumbles, “So far.”

Your eyes roll in irritation as you take another sip from your glass to take the place of your response.

You’re irritated with the party because, although you love dressing up and having a classy evening for in Jimin’s large house, it seems that a few of the familiar group didn’t get the memo.

Yoongi sits on the couch, tapping away at his phone with a bouncing knee, and wears a black beanie with a gray hoodie that says the simple, black words of ‘Fuck off.’ across the chest. It looks like Times New Roman font.

Jungkook sits beside him in a black turtle neck and silver chain necklace, head craned back as he stares at the ceiling, and you don’t have to smell the faintest scent of weed in the air to know that he has shown up to the Christmas party high as a kite. There’s a mellow smile plastered on his lips to make his current state even more obvious. Oh, he’s got a new piercing on his lip. Nice.

Jimin’s eyes look the same as Jungkook’s- a slight redness in the whites with an inherent difficulty to keep them all the way open- and it is because of this you know that Jimin partook in the youngest one’s activities prior to the party, but he still maintains a happy aura that allows him to greet all of the guests in the house with unbridled energy and awfully overbearing positivity. The two boys are opposites on the spectrum.

Seokjin and Hoseok pour countless drinks during their conversation about their studies at the kitchen’s island and it doesn’t take long for the effects of the alcohol to become obvious in the way that Seokjin’s ears turn tomato red and Hoseok’s eyes become a little swollen and tired. Both of the men sway in their seats and- wait, did Seokjin just throw up in the sink?

And then, there’s Taehyung. Who rubs Seokjin’s back as he leans over the kitchen sink. Who’s still staring at you. Intensely.

With a huff and your drink still clutched between your fingers, you grab ahold of your dress and pick it up from the floor, turning to walk away from Namjoon and the frighteningly frustrating predicament that your boyfriend is creating. “I’m going to go get some air.”

“Alright.” He says, heading over to the couch that Yoongi and Jungkook sit on.

You walk to the living room, squeezing past a few others you’re not familiar with who crowd the table for the desserts on it, and wrench open the sliding glass door to step into the freezing night.

The whisky has you feeling incredibly warm; you can feel a bit of sweat gathering under you arms and breasts along with the hot and pulsing need in your clit, so the below freezing temperature is welcome on your moist skin. The buzz of alcohol seeps into your bones as you sway just slightly and approach being borderline tipsy. You know that you’ll be well on your way to getting drunk by the end of your glass.

Snow pellets lightly into your skin, melting on contact, and gives you the awakening you need to shake off the jitters that Taehyung’s gaze exerts onto you. You can’t leave early now that Namjoon is aware you’re engaged in the game. It would only make you look more foolish if he saw you caving to your carnal desire that only Taehyung is able to incite.

As you take deep breaths of the frigid air for a few minutes, the door to the house opens and you choose to ignore the person who steps out. If it’s Taehyung, he can be the one to approach you.

A few moments of silence go by and it is because of this on top of the lack of speaking that you chalk it up it to being either a complete stranger or, indeed, your boyfriend. Still, you choose to act oblivious and keep your gaze on the yard and trees whilst you shift your weight in wait.

“This house is trying to fucking swallow me.”

The odd words make you snort uncontrollably, as you are taken off guard by the randomness of it, and turn around to address who you know to be extremely stoned.

“Jungkook,” You greet him with an amused smile. “What’re you doing out here? I thought you were chilling with Yoongi.”

His eyes are comically wide as he stares at you and the way you speak. The boy is tripping absolute balls so you have to give him some time to formulate his next sentence.

“I needed to breathe.” He says finally. His lips part as he sucks in a breath once he’s done speaking.

You laugh at the happenstance of him feeling a similar sensation as you. “Me too. It was getting stuffy in there.”

You turn back around to face the yard and sigh, knowing that he is much too high to carry on that profound of a conversation, and go back to watching the snow.

Jungkook apparently wants to watch the snow with you.

He comes to stand next to you- uncomfortably so with the way his body wafts subtle notes of marijuana your way- and cranes his head up to face the sky with his wide eyes.

“They’re like falling stars.”

You smile at the genuine amazement. “They are. It’s pretty.”

“Yes, it is.” He sighs. You turn to him and watch him close his eyes. He inhales and exhales a deep breath. “Ah, that’s refreshing.”

Almost concerned, you place a hand on his shoulder and furrow your eyebrows like you’re speaking to a child. “You gonna be alright, man?”

“As soon as you give me a sip of your whisky. Really strong-tasting alcohol kind of wakes me up when I get too high.”

You arch an eyebrow at him. “You’re trying to get drunk?”

“No, no,” He says. “I mean, anything with a super strong and sour or bitter taste- or smell- kind of brings me down a little. This one time, I sniffed ammonia and it woke me the fuck up so fast that it felt like there was hot sauce in my brain for a sec.” He smiles and turns to face you with a dreamlike smile on his lips before he giggles. “It was fun as fuck.”

“O…kay…” You trail off for a moment, astounded by the things this boy has done. You slowly raise your glass as an offering. “Just a sip.”

He’s slow to take it from you, body lethargic and lazy. “Thanks.”

Jungkook raises your glass to his lips with a clink of it against his lip ring and then tips it back slowly so that he can just get the bitter taste on the tip of his tongue.

“Blegh.” He scrunches up his nose and sticks his tongue out dramatically. “Yep. That did the trick. That shit’s bitter as fuck.”

You laugh and take your glass back from him. Despite the whisky being one that is meant to be sipped on, you’re just about ready to go back inside because your body is beginning to tremble from the cold, so you tip the rest of the glass back and shoot the rest of its contents straight back.

“Damn, Y/N. Didn’t want me taking any more, huh?”

“Nah, it’s not that.” You shrug and bare your teeth for a second as the alcohol burns its way down your throat and into your belly. “I’m just about to go back inside.”

Jungkook squats down, pulls his phone out of his back pocket, and puts his arms over his knees to take a break from standing. The light from his phone glows on his face and reflects off of all the piercings in his eyebrow, lip, and ears.

“I think Tae needs your help.” He sighs.

“What? Why do you say that?” You turn to look through the glass door and pat your body for your phone, only to be reminded that you have no pockets on your dress and that you left your phone in your purse on the couch. “Where is he?”

“He said he’s throwing up in the bathroom.”

Immediately, you rush towards the door. “Oh my god! I’m going to go see if he’s alright. I’ll see you later, Kook.”

“See ya!”

You frantically make a beeline for the bathroom, bumping into a few people, and knock on the door when you finally stand in front of it.

“Occupied!” A woman shouts.

A woman. Your blood suddenly runs freezing cold.

There’s a woman in there with him?

The thought alone leaves a terrible taste in your mouth and you knock again feverishly. “Taehyung? Are you in there?”

“No! It’s me, Sina!”

“Oh.” You wince a little and back off from the door. “Sorry!”

Your feet seem to carry you away and towards the foyer where the stairs are before you can actually process your thoughts. “Maybe he’s in the upstairs bathroom…”

The buzz in your head has begun it’s delightful transition towards tipsiness because of how much your walking has made your heart pump. Still, you try to ascend the stairs quickly with your hand on the railing.

The bathroom at the top of the stairs is empty- the door is wide open and the light is off- so you move to the next bathroom you know of- the one in Jimin’s bedroom.

As you step into the dark room, you see the dim luminescence from below the bathroom door lighting up the floor and reflecting off of the smooth surface. The sound of shuffling is muffled by the door, but you can see the shadow of whoever occupies it move past the door.

“Tae?” You call his name as you approach the door and knock lightly. “You in there?”

His voice is rough and contralto from behind the door and you can hardly hear it over the sound of the music from downstairs. “Yeah.”

Taking the unopened door as a sign that he doesn’t want you to see him throwing up, you lean your forehead against the door and shut your eyes.

“Are you okay?”

Suddenly, you fall forward.

Because he’s just yanked the door open.

Taehyung’s voice is a growl as he encases you in his arms and picks you up until your feet are dangling. “Get your ass in here, sweetheart.”

“Tae!” You squeak his name in surprise and wrap your arms around his neck to stabilize yourself.

Your boyfriend is quick to pull you further into the bathroom so that he can shut the door. As your adrenaline picks up and you inhale his cologne with a buzzed mind, you crumble to his wishes quickly. He breathes harshly and grasps you firmly, but the name he’s called you is all you need to figure out that the game is coming to its climax and conclusion once more.

There’s a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead and his red jacket and black shirt are both unbuttoned to expose his chest and stomach. He most likely undid them due to his own feverish heat that he was attempting to escape. The sight is too inviting for you to resist splaying a hand onto his warm chest.

Taehyunng spins you to deposit you on the sink and it’s in this moment that you feel the cool surface of the window on your back. You arch away and look behind you on instinct while Taehyung eagerly spreads your legs and moves between them.

The backyard is white as you glance down at the movement below and see Jungkook still squatted down with a bit of snow covering the top of his head. Taehyung must’ve seen you with him.

“Did you text Jungkook just to get me up here?” You breathe out the sentence as Taehyung leans in to mouth at your neck and inhale.

“You weren’t answering my texts.” He’s seemingly out of breath as he replies.

In one swift motion, Taehyung grabs onto your dress and folds it up to expose your panties to him. You bring your other hand up to his hair and finally grab a fistful of it so that you can bring him closer into your body.

He rocks himself into you with both of his hands digging into your asscheeks, kneading roughly.

“I need to be inside you, sweetheart.”

“We can’t fuck here, Tae. It’s disrespectful.” You try to reason with him that it’s a bad idea no matter how good it would feel. You’ve been wet for him since he walked out of the bathroom at his place but fucking in Jimin’s personal bathroom is slightly crossing the line.

“He doesn’t have to know, babe. It can be our little secret.” Taehyung pulls a hand away from your body to undo his belt and the button of his pants. He shoves them down and lets his dick pour out from them to press against your silk-covered pussy. “Please, mamí. Please.”

“Ah.” You hiss through your teeth as he cants his hips to make his tip drag against your folds, the soaked silk allowing you to feel the ridge of his mushroom head. “Tae.”

Although the sensations are almost to the max, his fingers fumble to hook your underwear to the side anyway because he knows you can’t resist giving in for much longer. With nothing in the way, his skin is hot and sticky against your own sopping mess. You wrap your legs around his waist reflexively.

“See? You want me there, don’t you? You want my dick all up in those guts.”

You keen into his movements and words with a high-pitched whine, crumbling to the movement and giving in so fast. You have your defeat on the tip of your tongue whilst you fight to maintain your defense.

“I…” Your teeth chatter and your heart pounds mercilessly against your rib cage. “I…”

“What’s my name, sweetheart?”

You can feel Taehyung’s smile against your skin while he takes his thumb to your clit and massages nimbly. It’s a smile of victory. Of utter satisfaction. He knows that this is where your lack of patience gains him the win that he desires so much. 

His hand trembles, most likely from his own need coursing through him like adrenaline, and practically vibrates his thumbed-attention on your clit to make your last ounces of control dissipate. He knows he’s won when he places his dick against the opening to your cunt and elicits your sob.

“Papí!”

His voice is mortifyingly low and evil as he wraps an arm around your back to bind your body to him.

“Attagirl.”

Your walls part instantly as he rocks forward and you aren’t surprised to find that you are so wet that he is able to sheathe himself all the way in one go. The slide is easy- too easy to be safe from wanting to stay here all night- and you almost cry out at the relief of him attaching his body to every part of yours that he can.

“You’re going to have to be quiet if you don’t want anyone to hear you, sweetheart.” He raises his mouth to your earlobe, speaking against it so that it falls between his lips while he tests a few grinds of himself into you. “We’ll actually get caught.”

You rest your head back against the window whilst he holds your waist in his embrace to keep your pussy and legs vulnerable and spread out for him. It also, thankfully, keeps your back safe from the faucet in the sink.

“The music is so loud. I don’t think anyone can h-” You gasp as he rears back and thrusts himself back into your depth. “-hear themselves even think past that bullshit.” You breathe out, tightening your fingers into his hair while the one on his chest instinctually fists into his jacket.

Taehyung pulls away and lets his mouth fall open in a silent moan. When he looks up at you, his eyebrows are drawn in, blissful.

“Stop worrying about how much you hate Christmas music and worry about keeping your mouth fucking shut.”

You close your mouth and whimper when he thrusts again, particularly hard, to seat the head of his cock at your deepest point. He does it again and knocks the air out of your lungs, but his rhythm is nowhere near fast enough for you to cum.

“Then worry about fucking me, papí. I need it nice and fast.”

The name and your taunting seems to have spurred him back into his own neediness because he pulls away, pulls you down from the counter, and spins you around to face the window with feverish hands.

He throws your dress over your waist, using the split to reveal your ass and rip your panties from your body, and then uses the other hand to guide himself back inside you. Once he’s returned all the way into where he belongs, he leans over your back, slaps his hand over your mouth, and almost snarls.

“Shut the fuck up and take it how I give it.”

You brace yourself against the window anyway because you know you’ve just pushed the exact button you needed to ensure that he gives you what you were asking for.

Taehyung presses his free hand into the small of your back to force your back into an arch that leaves your pussy wide open to his imminent carnage and you whine through your nose when he shoves himself into you.

“I‘ve been trying to fuck this pussy for hours, Y/N.” He thrusted again with bruising fervor. “And now you have the nerve to get a little mouthy with me?”

Digging your hole even deeper- because you’re that desperate for him to fuck you into oblivion in a place so risky- you quietly hum.

“Mhm.”

His scoff is one of utter disbelief.

“Fine. Have it your way, sweetheart.”

He moves the hand down to your neck and rips you up with him, beginning a feverish pace that has your eyes rolling back and your thighs trembling with the pain of your hips hitting the edge of the counter. He’s hitting your insides impossibly deep just like you wanted.

Taehyung’s other hand presses even harder into your lower back, forcing your arch even deeper, and uses it as a means to pull your ass backward and keep you as vulnerable as possible while he surges forward.

The squelch of his cock leaving you is embarrassingly loud because of your juices, but the clap of his hips striking your ass is even louder and you struggle against his hand around your neck to moan wantonly. You know that if you make any noises louder than the quiet whimpers he forces from your lips every time his dick digs deeply into you, he’ll squeeze his fingers into your flesh.

Your boyfriend’s nose digs into your hair and inhales deeply as his tip attacks your malleable insides. He grunts lowly.

“Mmfuck. You smell so fucking good. Squeeze me-” His hips stutter. “-so fucking good.”

His hand tightens a little on your neck, using it to pull your body back into him, and you bite into your lip with a groan as you begin to feel lightheaded. The feeling seems to be all you need to begin your tumble towards your climax.

“Tae,” You warble. “I’m-”

He cuts you off with a whisper. “You gonna cum?”

“Yes!” You yell the word out as you squeeze your eyes shut in regret. It was too difficult to control your volume. Taehyung immediately moves his hand back to your mouth and shoves two of his fingers between your lips to keep you quiet. Thankful for something to occupy your mouth, you suck them eagerly onto your tongue so that you don’t scream again.

“Shut the fuck up.” His voice reaches an octave lower than normal and it sends a delicious chill down your spine despite the harsh words. If anything, you love them.

The hand he used to press into your back suddenly moves and you’re grateful for the relief, yet you jerk your body wildly when he uses it to circle his fingers around your clit instead.

“Yeah, you love this dick, don’t you? Love it so much you want the party to know.” There’s strain in his voice and his hips spend less time separated from your ass; he’s as close to cumming as you are.

Again, you hum against his hand in confirmation.

“Gonna cum in this pussy, baby. Cum so deep- fuck, you’re so warm.”

Small whines begin to emerge from his throat and his speed increases tenfold, yet he barely rears back from your cunt now. Instead, he humps away at your pussy like a needy bunny desperate for release.

Your hands scramble against the window and scratch in search of purchase while your pussy tightens up in preparation for your orgasm. Taehyung let’s his hand leave your mouth and you panic when he grabs both of your hips in his hands to fuck into you like a madman because your mouth is left uncovered and subject to the horribly loud moan you’re about to release into the house.

Just as your pussy seizes up and you cum, you glance out the window.

Jungkook stares up at you from the backyard. 

He has a palm over his clothed cock and, mortifyingly, you cum soundlessly with your mouth hung open as you maintain shocked eye-contact with him.

Taehyung growls and spills every spurt of his spunk deep inside you, clutching your body close and pressing himself as close against you as he possibly can. Your thighs tremble and you try to look anywhere but at the boy staring up at you, but you can’t seem to ignore the thrill of being caught by someone- even if he’s so high that he probably thinks he’s hallucinating.

“Tae,” You whisper once you’ve come down from your own high, heaving for breath. “Jungkook is looking at us.”

Taehyung hisses and leans over you to look at where you’re looking. “What?” When he sees the dumbass just staring up at the two of you, wide eyes unwavering from you, he growls. “That fucking idiot.”

Jungkook must finally catch up to the fact that he’s been caught staring, despite it being a few seconds too late, because he turns beet red and looks down while yanking his hand away from his cock.

Taehyung carefully slides out of you and fumbles for his phone in his pocket, most likely to call Jungkook. You begin opening Jimin’s bathroom drawers in search of some sort of wipes and celebrate internally when you find his baby wipes next to a box of condoms.

As you clean yourself of your boyfriend’s cum, Taehyung puts his phone on speaker and lets it drone on into the call with the guy who saw you fucking in a place you should have not been fucking in.

“Hey dude.” Jungkook casually answers as if nothing happened.

“You will not tell a single soul what you saw, you prick.”

The stoned one laughs. “I wouldn’t dream of it. You’d go off and tell everyone I’m a cuck for being a creep and watching you fuck your girlfriend.”

“That would just be in bad taste.”

Merry Christmas, Fae! Hope you liked it!

#bss21 #merry christmas ya filthy animals #kim taehyung #taehyung fic #bts #bts smut #taehyung x reader #bts fic #bts one shot #bangtansorciere #btscreatorscorner #taehyung smut #bts v #bts au #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfic #taehyung au #bangtansecretsanta #bts established relationship au #boyfriend!tae

[erodasfishtacos]

how about when they first noticed ezra was a nervous and anxious baby ?

Seperation

prompt: the moment when h and yn decide that Ezra needs to see a therapist.

warnings: angst

if you like the fic - please reblog, like, comment, or come talk to me in my inbox!

I write for free so if you enjoy my fics please consider donating to support my writing on my kofi.

enjoy 😊

—

It’s late at night, like 3 in the morning, and Harry was down in Atlanta for three games with the Braves.

Easton and Cash had long adjusted to their father being away for short spurts of time - doesn’t mean they don’t miss him but they know he’ll come back to them.

Ezra was another story.

YN felt dread anytime he went away for a game because her youngest got so anxious and had trouble sleeping.

He was usually okay during the day (Harry was gone for practice and obligations during most mornings and afternoons).

It was at night time.

She really didn’t want to call and bother her husband because he had just played a game that went into three innings of overtime and had gotten a gnarly bruise on his thigh from a ball hitting him as he batted.

When they’d FaceTimed after the game, about eight, he had been so exhausted in his hotel room that his eyes were nearly closing as he spoke to her.

Now at three, three in the morning, Ezra still hasn’t went to bed because of how fussy and tearful he was - babbling about his father.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy,” He was whining into his mother’s neck, his hot tears rolling down his cheeks and onto her skin.

“Ezzie, baby. We have to calm down. Mama’s here and daddy is okay, he’s just working,” She murmured to him for the hundredth time that night.

YN was sat in the den with him because she didn’t want him waking up his brothers or his little sister who just begun to sleep through the night for the most part.

At one point, she did stir for a night feeding, and as YN sat on her bed - Briar latched sleepily, Ezra was nestled tightly into her other side.

When it hit three-thirty, she began to feel herself get frustrated because she couldn’t fix the situation - no matter what she did.

She knew once tears began rolling down her own cheeks that she had to call Harry.

It was never that she was worried he would be mad that she called, she just felt guilty because he had worked so hard already that day.

YN reaches for her phone, taking a deep inhale before pressing his contact for facetime.

It rings three times before it’s picked up, completely dark in his room, and he rasps out drowsily, “Wha’s going on, mama? Y’alright? The babies alright?”

“I-I can’t get him to settle,” YN takes a deep breath, the sleep deprivation making her want to just break down and sob.

“Daddy? Daddy, daddy, daddy,” Ezra just chants, eyes wide on the screen, searching for his father to just appear but all he sees is darkness.

That causes him to just start bawling his eyes out when he can’t will his father onto the phone like he wants.

“Whoa, Ezzie. Sweet boy, c’mon. Y’gotta breathe s’daddy can understand you,” Harry coos, stirring to turn on the light and illuminate his pillow-creased face.

“Daddy!” His voice is shrill, high-pitched and it makes YN’s ears ring.

“Ezra Duke,” Harry says a little more firmly, “Daddy can’t understand you when you scream, okay?”

The little boy sniffles and tries to catch his breath, leaning into where YN is rubbing soothing circles into his back.

“Miss you,” His son whimpers sadly, bringing his voice down a notch, “Come home, please.”

“I am flying’ home tomorrow, bab. Daddy will be home around noon but you have to be good for mama,” He says, voice still smooth and calm.

“Now!” Ezra screams in a way he usually never does and then continues, “Now! Now daddy! Now!”

Both parents are taking aback, Harry with wide eyes and parted lips as he watching his son through his phone and YN just squeezes her eyes shut, exhaling out of her mouth.

“Mama, breathe,” Harry directs towards her, can tell how overwhelmed she is getting from all the chaos of his screaming.

“Daddy, daddy,” Ezra blubbers, green eyes angry and anxious at the same time, “Please, home!”

YN hears noise from behind her, to see her eight year old padding into the room with his unruly curls poking every which way.

“Mama, is Ezzie okay?” Easton wonders, knuckling his eyes sleepily and then Cash follows right behind him in his dinosaur pajamas.

“Fuck, he woke up the boys,” YN informs Harry tearfully, “I just…I don’t know what to do. I can’t do anything to make him feel better.”

The older boys peek into the screen to smile at their dad and Harry gives them a tense smile, “Hi boys, I know Ez is being loud but can y’two be good f’your mama and go back to bed?”

They agree, giving their upset brother a kiss and then their mom before talking quietly to each other as they walk up the stairs.

“Daddy? Home, please! Hold me!” Ezra wails, clinging to his mother’s neck tightly enough to hurt as he tantrums.

“This is the worst it’s ever been, he’s normally stopped before I’ve had to call you,” YN groans, rocking him swiftly against her for lack of a better idea.

“Wait…” Harry sits up, scrubbing a hand over his puffy face, “Has this been happening’ every time m’away?”

“It just started two to three months ago but he’s always been able to be calmed down within an hour or so,” YN replies, shushing Ezra as he babbles over and over again daddy, daddy, daddy.

Harry’s jaw tightens and his frown settles into a deep crease, “Well why a’ve you not told me that m’baby has been cryin’ for me when I’m gone? Do y’not think that’s important?”

YN recognizes his irritation and is running on less than five hours of sleep over two days and may he’s it back with an even sharper tone.

“We can’t change that you’re gone. I’m trying to handle it, Harry.”

“Y’not doin’ a bloody good job at it!” Harry bites back in frustration, heart pounding in desperation as he hears his son cry for him.

“Daddy, daddy, come on.”

Then YN looks at him with watering, hurt eyes, “I’m doing my best. You’re not here, I can’t make you appear. I’m trying to calm him down without having to wake you up.”

And Harry shouldn’t but he’s angry and misses his babies - all of them but especially the one who needs him the most right now.

“Y’dont think I deserve to know tha’ Ezra’s been acting like this?” Harry snaps before adding, “In this situation, y’best isn’t good enough because he’s still crying and y’still haven’t been able to settle him.”

And wow, those words hit her like a ton of bricks. It was instilling all the insecurities that she had bubbling in her chest.

In this situation, y’best isn’t good enough because he’s still crying and y’still haven’t been able to settle him.

Harry automatically knows that he spoke before he thought and he let his stressed out mind say untrue hurtful things.

He part his lips about to speak before YN cuts him off.

“If you can do it so much better than me, fucking good you. Then come home and fix this because I give up,” YN laughs without humor, finger finding the red button to hang out and disconnecting.

Harry tried calling back over and over and over but YN just hangs her head, sniffling, as she watches her tired, anxious little son finally drift off to sleep.

At some point, her phone stops ringing when he’s given up and it doesn’t ring again until for another thirty minutes.

She knew he was going to keep calling until she picked up - had been that way since they first started dating.

By now, Ezra was asleep in his room and YN was sat against their headboard - having tossed the tear soaked shirt she had on off and was feeding Briar once more.

The millionth facetime request comes through and finally she swipes to answer, he’s furious right as they connect, “D’you have any idea how worried I am? Y’cant ju-“

He stops himself when he sees his baby girl pop her head from her mother’s breast with puffy lips and look at the screen, “Dadadadada.”

“Oh, hi lil’ mama,” Harry changes his tone completely, face softening - “Did I interrupt y’eatin’? S’mama being so nice and feeding you?”

Briar just smiles with a gapped baby tooth smile, a dimple pushing into her left cheek as she does so.

“Guess I’m good for one thing, right? A fucking milk-maker,” YN scoffs at her husband’s opposite tone as she guides Briar gently back down to finish her meal.

Harry frowns, “Y’know tha’s not anything near the truth and tha’ I think you’re the best mama to our babies. M’just upset.”

“You told me my best wasn’t good enough, I can’t believe you would say something like tha’ to me,” YN begins to sniffle again.

“Sweetheart, m’sorry. I ju-“

“What did you call for, Harry? It’s nearly four-thirty in the morning and I haven’t slept for nearly two days now. I want to feed her and go to sleep,” YN’s voice is disconnected and exhausted.

“To talk, I didn’t say how I was feeling correctly-“

“When you come home tomorrow you can fix everything and I’ll let you because I’m not doing a good enough job,” His wife cuts him off again.

Harry starts to feel a ball of worry form in his throat as he hears how unemotional and distance his wife sounds with him.

He had totally said the wrong things as his wife was just trying to do her best at balancing four babies while he was away.

“Please, let me apologize-“

“I would like to go to sleep. Please don’t call back,” YN responds before ending the phone call and leaving the screen dark.

They rarely ever fought. Especially like this.

He’s man enough to admit that he cries after he tries calling back (even though she said not to) and it went straight to voicemail.

-

He tries facetiming in the morning, at around nine right before if flight takes off - surprised when it actually was picked up.

Harry only sees YN for a brief moment before she’s propping up the camera on the kitchen table so that Easton and Cash are in view eating pancakes and Briar is in her high chair with blueberries staining her chubby cheeks.

Ezra must still be in bed.

“Hi bubbies,” Harry greets with a smile as they’re curls shake as they look up with excited smiles.

“Daddy! You comin’ home?” Cash squeaks excitedly through a mouthful of food.

“Hi dad!” Easton chimes in, waving.

Briar is only half-interested, more taken by the fact that if she squishes the berries between her fingers they turn mushy, babbles out a, “Daddadaa.”

“I’ll be home in like three hours, ‘kay” Harry informs them - his heart aches to be there right now with theme

“Ezzie cried all night,” Cash let’s his father know.

“Mama cried too,” Easton whispers, like it’s a secret that he doesn’t want her to hear, “I think she is really sad.”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut for a minute, “I know. Ezzie was sad last night. Can I talk to mama?”

Easton looks to his mother off camera as she must say something to him to repeat to Harry, “Mama said that she is busy and she’ll see you when you get home.”

He clenches his fist off camera, trying to smile but he knows it’s terse as he says, “Alright, I love you all. See y’when I get home.”

-

Meanwhile, YN gets all the children settled after breakfast.

Easton, Cash, and Ezra in the backyard - the two older ones digging holes for bugs and the younger playing in the sandbox.

Briar was snoozing in the cradle of YN’s elbow as she sat on a chaise - watching the kids.

She hits the number she was looking for, waiting for it to ring, and then she hears, “Hillside Pediatrics, this is Jess.”

The office knew the family well because Harry is Harry Styles and they have four children who visit there.

YN inquires about therapeutic options for him, resources, and if they had any recommendations for where to take him.

Like the super mom she is, she manages to set up an intake appointment that evening (which was a miracle on its own), call Anne and ask to watch the other children, and then take a deep breathe.

Harry steps through the back door, dressed in his usual Yankees hoodie, Nike shorts, and trainers looking tanner than before.

“Hi bubbies!” He greets, basking in when all of his children look up and squeal excitedly at the sight of their father.

Easton and Cash are the fastest, racing to cling to each legs and nuzzle into his thigh with a tight hug.

Ezra is slower, by the time he’s arrived to his father - there was no room for him to shuffle in and he automatically lets out an earth-shattering wail.

Just like before.

“Daddy! Hold me! Daddy, hold me please!” His youngest son begs desperately, stretching up his arms, and letting hot tears stream down his cheeks.

Harry tuts, reaching for him and popping him on his hip but Ezra has other ideas - scrambling until his nose is pressed into the curve of Harry’s neck with his arms wrapped tightly around him.

“Ezzie, c’mon now,” Harry titters softly, reaching down to give both of his other boys a kiss on the head before they dart back off to play.

“Daddy, miss you,” Ezra blubbers sadly, Harry wincing when his son yanks a bit in his longer curls by the nape of his neck.

“Y’okay, daddy’s got you. Relax, breathe bubba,” His father reassured him, swaying softly back and forth until he’s just sniffing.

“We have an appointment with a children’s play therapist for him later at five,” YN tells him, shushing Briar who’s squeaking from the noise.

Harry takes a deep inhale, “Okay, that sounds like a good idea. Can we talk now since y’been ignoring my calls?”

YN bristles at the attitude in his tone, “Excuse me if I’d rather not be critiqued on my skills as a mother when I am sleep-deprived and stressed out.”

He clenches his jaw, speaking lowly with firmness, “Y’bein’ absurd! I didn’t critique to you, y’blowing things out of proportion! Y’the one who didn’t tell me this was going on!”

“It didn’t get that bad until last night! I could handle it - he would just be upset for a little before bed but he’d never got that anxious before,” She justifies, returning the glare he’s giving her.

“Didn’t think y’could mentioned it to me? I have a right to know, he’s m’baby too. I could have fix this yet you were letting him suffer,” Harry bites out but know as soon as it’s out of his mouth that he wishes he could swallow the words back down.

You were letting him suffer.

YN doesn’t even argue back, just starts bawling because of how hurtful those words were and how could he even say that?

“Mama, fuck- I didn’t, I’m just-“

His wife gets up without a word, using Briar’s blanket to wipe at her wet cheeks, and vanishing through the sliding back doors.

Ezra was snoozing peacefully on him and he couldn’t leave the boys outside alone so he resorts to sitting down on one of the outdoor couches and curse internally.

He couldn’t believe he was being so cruel. He just felt so….betrayed that she hadn’t told him what had been going on and he felt like he was letting down Ezra.

It was a nasty feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach because he was away so much from his family and it was stressful for everyone.

He wanted to cry at the idea of his son crying for him every night.

-

Harry starts to get anxious when YN isolates herself in their bedroom with Briar for the next upcoming hours.

He knocks softly, opening the door to YN turned on her side away from him, under the covers, with Briar asleep in her bassinet asleep.

“Mama? Y’awake?” Harry murmurs cautiously with a sandwich and chips since she’d disappeared and hadn’t been down once, water in the other hand.

“Are the boys okay?” YN asks quietly, not bothering to turn over to face him.

“Yes, babies are fine. They’re watchin’ Toy Story right now, eatin’ lunch,” Harry replies, eyes falling in his beautiful little daughter.

“If the boys are fine then I don’t want you in here,” YN tells him with an angry tone but low enough that it won’t disturb Briar.

Harry nearly whimpers.

“Baby, please. We need to talk-“

“If the boys are fine, I want you to leave me alone.”

Harry hesitates by the door, feeling helpless as he slips the plate onto the dresser in case she is hungry but he doubts she’ll touch it.

“Alright, I’ll leave y’be. Call me if y’need anythin’ or help with Briar,” He offers, trying to buy time in the room.

She laughs sarcastically, “Yeah, I’ll make sure you’re notified because I can’t do a good enough job myself.”

Harry sighs, running a hand through his hair, trying to conjure up the perfect words to fix this situation but it’s interrupted.

“Daddy? Daddy? Where? Hold me!” Ezra screeches as Easton stands outside the door with him, holding his hand.

“Dad, he won’t stop,” The oldest complains with annoyance as Ezra scurries to his father and up into his arms.

“Daddy daddy,” He chants into his father’s skin with relief.

“Thank y’East, Ezzie’s been sad lately. Huh?” Harry replies, thumbing at Easton’s cheek.

The oldest shrugs, “Not always. Mama cheers him up all the time with kisses and hugs.”

Harry gazes back to the lump under the blankets and feels himself getting choked up. He really really regretted his words.

He didn’t regret being upset with her. He regrets the cheap shots he took at his wife who’s just trying to be a full time mom to his babies.

“Mama?” Ezra squeaks at the word, realizing he hasn’t seen her recently and then he’s back to tantruming, “Mama, mama, mama. Where’s mama?”

“M’right here, Ez,” YN murmurs, flipping to her other side so that her youngest could see her. His face lights up and he scurries to the bed, scampering up until his mom is tucking him under the blankets with her.

Harry’s heart aches when Ezra whimpers quietly and burrows into her warm chest with happiness that he found his mother.

“Y’got him?” Harry asks, hand raking through Easton’s curls as he leans into his father’s side.

“Can we go play now, dad?” Easton asks impatiently, tugging his father out of the room and down the staircase.

-

Anne shows up and the two older ones are so excited, bouncing up and down as they tug her into the backyard to show her the holes they dug with Briar popped on her hip - gnawing on her shirt collar.

YN brings Ezra down the stairs, curls tamed with a bit styling mousse and a little adias x disney outfit that was the cutest thing ever. ***

Harry reaches out to take Ezra off YN but he whines and shakes his head, clinging to his mother like it was life or death.

“No daddy! Mama!” Ezra pouts angrily, glaring at his father with protectiveness.

He puts his hands up, “Okay, okay. Y’can stay with y’mama.”

-

The car ride is silent, Harry doesn’t know what to say and YN isn’t giving him anything to work with. He feels like he’ll just say the wrong thing again.

When they pull up to the building and Harry puts it in park, he’s startled when his wife just starts bawling into her hands.

Harry freezes for a second with wide eyes before rumbling, “Mama, sweetheart. Please don’t cry, it breaks m’heart, darlin’.”

“I’m…I’m no-not a good mom,” YN cries, “I wanted to tell you but I was scared. I don’t want you to think I can’t handle raising our babies.”

Harry pries her hands away from her face, cupping her cheeks and firmly staring, full conviction in his voice, “If I didn’t think y’could handle four babies then I wouldn’t have put them in you. I wouldn’t talk about putting more in you.”

YN’s eyes are watering, letting Harry swipe the tears away with his thumbs as she inhales deeply, “I am so so sorry I didn’t tell you. I don’t want you to worry when you’re away.”

Harry leans forward, kissing her harshly before whispering against her lips, “I don’t give a fuck about baseball in comparison to you and the kids. I’d give it up this second if y’asked. I want to worry because you’re the love of m’life and I’m y’husband - I’m here to support you and support our family.”

He continues, “I am a bit frustrated with you. I want you to tell me everything I miss when I’m gone even if it stresses me out or upsets me. Okay? But I shouldn’t have said hurtful things. You’re the best mama on this planet and y’treat our babies the best.”

YN nods, willing herself to stop crying as their appointment starts in ten minutes as she takes steady breathes.

“I forgive you. I’m sorry I let my pride get in the way. I just…I feel like you do everything for us and the least I could do is manage the kids,” She sighs with self-deprecation.

“Mama, just because one of our bubs needs therapy doesn’t mean you’re not doing a perfect job. We’ve always know Ezzie was an anxious baby. This is going to be good for him and for us, right?” He encourages, nosing at her cheek before she offers up her lips once more for a short kiss.

“I love you,” YN tells him, running a thumb of a light dusting of stubble on his jawline.

“Love y’more than anything,” He replies instantly.

-

Ezra is nervous as they step into the calming, peaceful office where there are neatly organized buckets of toys and shelves of books.

Patricia was a middle-aged woman with a kind smile who welcomed them in, she observed how Ezra had himself wrapped around his dad with hesitant green eyes peeking at her.

As they sit down, Patricia says softly, “This must be Ezra?”

They all wait for a moment before the toddler turns around to look at the woman and says timidly, “m’Ezzie.”

“Hi Ezzie,” The therapist greets and he gives her a cautious smile before nuzzling back into his father’s neck.

The discuss what has been going on. How Ezra has always been very nervous, anxious, cautious in a way that none of his other siblings are.

How he struggles when one of his parents is away from him, how he can get upset if he can’t find one of his siblings, or how much he worries about things most kids his age don’t worry about.

Patricia does an excellent job in calming down the parents, assuring them that it was nothing out of the norm, and that therapy would be beneficial for him.

She states that they’ll work a lot of feelings - being able to describe and recognize them. That will be one of the most important things.

Also working on his ability to calm down and cope with stressful situations, recommending once a week which of course his parents agreed to.

By the end of the intake, Ezra had ventured to take one of the baby dolls from a bin and bring it back to his father.

“Look daddy, s’a baby,” He lisps proudly, holding it up to show him.

“Good job, bubs,” Harry laughs, leaning to kiss his forehead - watching him toddle off to find more dolls to play with.

-

That night, after all the kids go to bed, and YN is finishing her final feeding with Briar in her nursery before putting in her crib.

Harry runs a nice, steaming bath with lavender bubbles and a candle burning with the lights dimmed low.

When she finds him, he slowly undresses her with warm kisses and praises of how good of a wife and mother she is.

They lay in there together, YN between his legs with her head rested on his chest, as his hands massage at her tummy and hips lovingly.

And yeah, everything is okay after that.

They get up the next day and everything is back to normal except now Ezra goes to therapy once a week with his parents.

(Ezra ends up working with Patricia until he’s in about sixth grade.)

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