#AND THEN. yesterday morning I look out my window and there’s a guy????? walking around on my porch?????

[tomwambsmilk]

Ppl really start acting entitled as shit once they make an offer to buy the house you live in

[tasteleeknow]

RASPBERRY PIE

minors dni. minho x fem!reader. 4k words content warnings. pet names (sweetheart, angel). mutual pining. sweet/shy reader. perv!minho. corruption kink. food play. dirty talk. oral (m rec.). soft!dom minho.

you bake your quiet neighbour a warm raspberry pie.

He's pretty sure he's utterly fucked from the jump – he finds himself attached so early he almost convinces himself you're a witch in disguise; that maybe he'd moved in next door to a creature designed to trap men like him. A siren, maybe. The sweetness was an act; all the soft tones and doe eyed looks were just a trick to lure him down beneath the waves.

He was determined not to drown.

And then you show up with the pie, a little flushed from working around a hot oven. It'd been 6 months – 6 months since he'd moved in, and as he opens the door to find you in an apron with little pink stains, a feeling of approaching and inevitable doom settles in his chest. Finally, you'd come to take him.

"Hi," you greet with a shy smile. "My friend brought me over far too many berries yesterday so..." you look down at the golden pie, carefully decorated and clearly still warm, "...well I made this. For you."

If he was wise, he'd politely decline, close the door, and never be faced with the reality of the sweet little siren in his apartment, offerings of temptation and all.

"For me?"

You look up at him through long lashes. "Do you like pie?" you ask. It's the way you say it, like if he doesn't you might genuinely hurt inside – like with a simple rejection of your offering, he had the ability to snuff out some little candle alight inside you.

"I like pie," he says.

Then you smile. Like it's the best news you've heard in weeks. "Oh, good."

He steps aside, his body betraying him. The siren enters with her warm pie and soft smiles – and he knows, unequivocally, that he's fucked.

He keeps his distance as you comfortably navigate to the kitchen to find a place for your offering. The apartments were all pretty much identical as far as he knew. The two on this floor, his and yours, were mirrored. He imagines that just on the other side of your joining wall, you took the same steps he did he each morning, in parallel.

You fiddle a little with the delicately placed raspberries atop the pie as he approaches from the other side of the island. You wear a tiny silver ring on one finger, much like one he wears on his own. He'd spotted it before, during short interactions in the elevator. He suppresses the urge to comment on it now, to ask if it meant anything to you.

He doesn't need to know you. He couldn't afford to. He was finding himself attached enough without it.

Then you pluck one little berry up in your fingers and bring it to your lips. He watches you. He watches you and he knows that he's walked willingly into a trap.

"Sweet?"

You look up. "Hm? Oh." You nod. "They're lovely. My friend gets them from this farm near his parent's place."

Friend. His. He sits in the feeling that stirs in his chest for a quiet moment. It's a rotten feeling. He doesn't like it at all.

"He brings them often?" he finds himself asking.

"Not at all. He just happened to come by after being there for a weekend. He doesn't go there often, I don't think." Your accompanying smile is almost enough to snuff out the rotten feeling before he has time to digest it. Almost.

Then he considers that this might not be the only pie. You may have made this other guy a pie just like it... maybe it was bigger, maybe you'd used the sweetest berries in his pie.

He kicks a cat toy across the floor as he stuffs his hands in his pockets, a little embarrassed by his own internal monologue. Witchcraft, turning his brain into mush.

"You have a pretty view."

He looks up to find you brushing your hands down your apron and rounding the kitchen island. You seem drawn to his floor to ceiling windows, a little moth to the light.

He follows.

"Mine isn't nearly this nice," you continue once he's standing beside you. "All I get is the construction site and a concrete wall." Then you close your eyes, head tilting back a little to let the sun's afternoon rays bathe your face. "Don't get the sun like this, either," you add, a little dreaminess leaking into your already sweet voice.

Oh, he's fucked.

"You like it?"

You blink up at him, eyes adjusting to the light again. "Hm?"

"I mean if you really like it, you're welcome over anytime, whenever." He wonders if this is part of your spell work, making him say stupid shit. Maybe he'd be better off if you were casting spells on him, if he had a reasonable excuse for being so fucking braindead. "For the sun," he adds, like it makes it better.

A small breath of laughter slips from your pretty lips. "It does get a little gloomy over there, on my side of the wall."

It was hard to imagine anywhere you were being gloomy.

"I should go," you continue after a short moment of comfortable silence, each of you basking in the sunlight. He really should appreciate that more, he notes. Then he considers the fact he'll associate this little patch of warmth with you each time he attempts such a thing.

"Sure," he says, following you from a safe distance to the door. "Thank you. For the pie."

"You're welcome."

Everything is fine. He's alone and he survived the encounter. Then he's faced with the pie. He stares down at it, warm and made with careful hands.

He plucks a berry off the top. He thinks of the berry you'd eaten in the same way.

Everything is fine.

He hesitates as he goes to pluck a second berry. Instead of lifting one from the crust, he presses the tip of his finger a little against the surface. Warm. He breaks through. His finger is coated in syrupy, red filling when he pulls it free. It's sugary sweet when he sucks it clean.

Shame. That's what he feels next. Because sweet gestures of neighbourly kindness should not trigger the kind of thoughts creeping their way into his head.

He wonders if the little siren's cunt is as warm and sweet as the little offering she brought him. He considers doing the right thing, having a cold shower and sitting in the morning sun with a slice of pie.

But apparently, today, and the day before, and every day for the past 6 months, Minho was not wise and he wasn't very good. Because he let the thoughts of his sweet little neighbour stew for months, and this is where it'd led him.

He stands there, one palm pressed flat on the kitchen counter, the other buried in his sweatpants, and he thinks of the sweet little siren with her sweet offerings, and he imagines sinking his hard cock into her warm, sweet cunt.

—

It's hard not to deflate entirely as you close your apartment door behind you. You'd expected too much from a single pie, you suppose. It would entirely out of character for him to ask you to stay for a slice, to take the opportunity to finally have a conversation longer than an elevator ride.

You sigh, dropping your forehead against the cool surface of the door. It helps a little. You're overheated, both from the cooking, the warm sun, and the heat that had bubbled up from the inside as the pretty - yet frustratingly reserved - man next door had watched you move about his space.

You hadn't lied, his apartment was far nicer than yours. You could imagine basking in that patch of sun any chance you had. You wonder if he does the same, if he sits there after a shower, chest bare and hair still a little damp - letting the sun warm his skin.

You leap back as a knock on the door jolts you out of your daydream. Sighing, you press your palm to your forehead - head thoroughly rattled - as you pull the door open.

Oh.

"Hi," Minho says casually. He's a little flushed compared to when you'd left him minutes earlier. He shouldn't be. There were no stairs between your apartments.

"Hello, again."

He glances over your shoulder, getting a clear view of your empty living room. "It is darker in here," he says, still casual.

"Oh. Mm, yeah. I miss your sun already."

His eyes fix back on you. Then he pulls his lip between his teeth slightly. He has something to say... something he won't say.

"Why'd you make me the pie?" he asks.

You blink. "I... had a lot of berries from-"

"Your friend. I know."

You're officially confused. His eyes drop down your dirty apron before returning to your face. "You only made one?"

"Is it bad?" you question.

He pushes some hair away from his eyes. "No," he says quickly. "No, it's... nice." His eyes sweep down your body again. "Sweet," he adds.

"I only made one."

His eyes jump to yours before a brief look of confusion flashes across his pretty face. He seems to remember his own question soon enough. "You didn't want to give it to," he gestures vaguely behind you, "your friend?"

"No," you answer simply. This entire interaction was drifting into territory you weren't sure you were ready for. If his questions got any more interrogative, you might find yourself wondering how to answer them in any other way than 'Oh, the pie? I baked it for you because I have a huge, embarrassing crush on you, even if you've seemed intent on not knowing me.'

"He doesn't like pies?" he asks.

You can't help following the path of his fingers as he fiddles with the chain hanging around his neck. They brush his skin as he strokes the metal back and forth.

"I... don't understand what you're asking me," you say as you pull your eyes from his neck. "Is something wrong?"

He readjusts his position in the doorway, pressing his hand to the frame and freeing you from the constant distraction at his neck. He leans over you a little like this.

God, he's pretty.

"You a witch?" he asks.

"I'm sorry?"

"Did you put something in it?" he continues, still leaning well and truly into your space. "Something to make me-" he cuts himself off, brows furrowing.

"Are you asking me if I poisoned the pie?"

His voice drops, like someone might overhear, despite you both being entirely alone on this floor of the building. "I'm trying to figure out why all I can fucking think about is how you might taste on my tongue."

Your head rushes, all the heat returning. Then your eyes drop to the floor.

"Look at me, sweetheart."

You don't. His shoes are safer. He was flirting. More than flirting. He wanted you.

His fingers guide your chin up, it doesn't take much, a nudge. "I'll leave if you want," he says. "Never mention it again. Just tell me what you want."

"Did you like it?" you find yourself whispering. "The pie."

His lips crack into a lopsided smile. It's tiny, but it's a smile. "Loved it, sweetheart. Sent me to heaven."

"Would you... would you like to come in?"

He nods.

You go to turn, to let him follow you. But then, instead, you take his hand and lead him in. He's warm. You imagine all the sun he gets over there must've absorbed deep inside him over time. Maybe he could leave some of it behind here for you - that heat might leak from him if your kept him here long enough.

He follows where you lead, his hand still grasped firmly in your own. You're not sure why you lead him to the sofa. You aren't sure what you're expecting next. It's why you find yourself simply standing beside the piece of furniture waiting for him to say something – to let go of your hand maybe.

Instead, his thumb begins brushing over your skin. He's quiet, seemingly unhurried to break the tension building.

"I asked my friend to bring the berries," you confess quietly, eyes focused on your interwined hands. Confessions were always so much easier with your eyes downwards. "I wanted to make something for you... specifically."

"Why's that?"

His thumb continues against your skin. He doesn't make you look at him like he had before.

"Because I... wanted you to - I wanted your attention."

You can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks, "So you baked me a pie?"

"I'm good at baking."

"You are," he agrees. Then his other hand reaches for the hem of your apron. He rubs it between his fingers a little. "Messy though."

You look down at the patterned splotches, pink on white. Then he releases your hand, taking that warmth with him. He only allows you a few seconds to miss it though. That same hand snakes around the back of your neck, skin on skin.

Your eyes are drawn to his without thought.

"Are you always messy?" he asks.

You nod, chewing on your lip a little.

He seems pleased with your answer, a small hum escaping his throat. "I like messy," he says, sounding a little far away. "Do you like messy, sweetheart?"

Your eyes drop to his lips, a little stained from your pie filling. "Yeah," you breathe.

He tugs you towards him before your have time to suck in another breath, attaching himself to you like he's starved. You can't help gasping a little into his mouth as he presses you into him with a hand to your back.

Holy fuck. Surely you'd wake up slumped against the door any second. Maybe someone hadn't just knocked on the door. Someone had opened it and knocked you out and you were dreaming about your pretty, brown eyed neighbour.

He groans a little before taking your lip between his teeth. No. No you were definitely awake. "So sweet," he mumbles as he releases you, his breath ghosting over your wet lips. "Can I have you?"

–

It's hard to keep his head on straight as you look up at him with those big sweet eyes. Can I have you? His stomach rolls as he waits for you to say yes. Please say yes. 6 months of denial and he was desperate.

You'd made that sweet little gift for him. Just for him. His little siren.

Then you're pressing against his chest, forcing him down onto the sofa. He looks up at you, at the stained apron and the hair sticking a little to your temples from the time spent making his pie.

Then you lower yourself to your knees.

Oh, fuck.

Your hands only have to brush his legs for him to get the hint. He spreads them, allowing you to shuffle closer to him – settling between his thighs.

Then you look up at him. "Can I taste you?"

He's keeping you. His head drops back as he collects himself. Then, "You want my cock in your pretty little mouth?"

You nod, fingers pressing lightly into his thighs.

Minutes ago he was fucking himself into his own hand imagining how warm you'd feel around him. Now you're between his legs, lips wet, asking to taste him.

He's careful to keep his eyes on you as he frees himself, intent on catching each and every reaction you make – he's keeping it all.

You're a little hesitant as you reach for him. "You're good, sweetheart," he encourages. "Touch me however you like."

It seems to be all you need. In the next second your soft little hand is wrapping around his length. His head drops back again as his eyes close.

It's a mistake, closing his eyes. He's not prepared when your wet lips press to the tip of him, soft and warm. He groans, hand automatically making a home in your hair. He needs grounding. He needs –

Your lips wrap around him. His little siren was sucking his dick into her sweet little mouth. His hips jump a little. "Oh fuck, that's right. You're all warm for me."

You hum a little around him. Then, you take him deeper. Hot little tongue dancing over his sensitive skin.

"Good girl," he groans. "Take it for me, sweetheart." He resists the urge to spill himself right here, right against your tongue. "Hm? You taking it for me?"

His hips jump again as he fucks himself into your hot mouth, wet and sweet and just for him. You'd wanted his attention. You'd come for him. Just him.

"You mine?" he gasps as he forces his head up to look at you. "You gonna let me fuck you?"

Your lips pull off him slowly, a little suction at his tip sending his head spinning. "Do you want to?" you ask, lips swollen.

He leans forward enough to begin lifting you, encouraging you to climb into his lap. Each hand rests at your hips as you settle yourself there, his leaking cock pressed between you.

"So bad," he answers.

You shift a little in his lap. He imagines you squirming on his cock.

"Me too," you confess. It's quiet, like it's bad.

Sweet siren.

"Sit on me," he instructs. "Want you to bounce on me, sweetheart."

You eyelashes flutter as you blink a few times, processing, deciding. Then you shift, reaching up under your dress and tugging your underwear down.

Something in his stomach stirs when he realises you were leaving the rest on, apron and all.

You grasp him in a soft hand, guiding him beneath your clothes – then you sink down. He's transfixed by the little sound that escapes your lips as you take him in. That, and the way your cunt feels squeezing around him. He might have to keep you for fucking ever.

Hot and sweet and wet and better than he'd imagined as he'd fucked himself against his counter minutes earlier. Better than any of the scenarios he'd dreamed up over the months he'd spent thinking of his sweet little neighbour.

You fall into him with a sigh once you're full seated, cock buried deep.

"Doing so well," he says, hand squeezing a little at the back of your neck.

You mumble something into his neck in response. He can't quite make it out, but he swears, it almost sounds like a tiny 'thank you'. He has to keep himself from filling you at the thought of it.

His hands return to your hips. You must take it as a prompt because you lean back from him enough to begin lifting yourself off him and dropping again.

It's slow at first, a little swivel in your hips, grinding yourself down into him.

The apron prevents him from seeing how his cock looks slipping in and out of your little cunt. He hasn't even seen it, that sweet little hole between your legs.

Instead, he feels.

–

It makes sense that a man as pretty as him would have the prettiest cock. One you wanted to taste. One that would have you slippery and ready to take him.

There's this vein that throbs in his neck each time he drops his head back with a groan. His neck. God you want to lean forward and bite into it. But he might not be into that. Next time, you think. Or the time after that.

God you hope there's a next time.

His fingers dig into your hip as you sink all the way down again. It feels a little like he's resisting, holding back.

"Minho?"

His head lifts, eyes a little glassy as he blinks at you. "Hm?"

"You can fuck me," you tell him. "However you want. I want you to fuck me."

He blinks again. His fingers dig into your skin harder.

"Tell me when you wanna stop. Just tell me," he says.

You nod. Then he's leaning forward and tugging you against him. His lips press to your skin just at the crook of your neck.

Then you're falling. He falls over you. Then he lets go. He presses you into the couch cushions as he drives into you, hair falling over his face. He's even pretty like this, with parted lips and brows slightly furrowed.

Your skin slaps together as he fucks himself into you. Messy, he'd said. He liked messy.

That's what he gets as he continutes to drive into you, as you begin to drip around him, as he fucks that wetness into you and over your thighs and then the sounds it all makes.... messy.

"Wanna fill you," he mutters. "God, I wanna fill you so bad. Wanna fuck my cum into your sweet cunt."

You squeeze your eyes shut as he continues, overwhelmed.

"You can take it for me, angel. I know you can. Sweet little thing made just for me. I knew it." He's muttering so much you're hardly sure he even knows what he's saying. His fingers are almost painful as they dig into your skin, like he can't hold onto you hard enough.

"Fill me," you gasp.

He eyes lift from where you join together to lock on your face. "Yeah?" he asks, a slight croakiness breaking his words up a little. "I'll make you all warm and sticky inside, hm? Just like your pretty little pie? That sound nice?"

Oh god. There was something inside you, something made for this – for him. You knew this was going to ruin you forever.

"Please."

He falls over you, then he bites. He bites into you as he floods you full.

[paxtito]

pretty girl

pairings: wednesday x fem!reader

word count: 3685

warnings: smut 18+. just lesbian sex innit (w receiving)— (all characters are 18+)

summary: wednesday put together a little surprise date night, but, enid being enid, couldn’t keep it a secret

a/n: based on this request: ‘I love your writing and was wondering if you could make another smut fic with Wednesday? Maybe something sorta soft, honestly anything would do. Thanks!’ hope this is what you were looking for and thank you!! spent the day resting which gave me plenty of time to do this because my lil’ anger issues of a dog bit my cheek after wanting my birthday cake 😒

MASTERLIST

The morning air is crisp as you walk across campus with Enid, her usual vibrant energy making up for your grogginess. You clutch your coffee tightly, half-listening as she chatters about the latest gossip in the werewolf pack.

“And then Ajax tried to—are you even listening to me?” she asks, bumping her shoulder into yours playfully.

“Barely,” you admit with a small smile, taking another sip of your coffee. “It’s too early for full Enid mode.”

“Rude,” she pouts dramatically before grinning. “But fine, I’ll get to the point. I’m sleeping over at Yoko’s tonight!”

“Wait, what?” you ask, blinking at her. “Why?”

Enid’s steps falter, and she looks away for a moment, biting her lip. “Oh, uh, no reason!”

You narrow your eyes at her, immediately suspicious. “Enid…”

“It’s nothing!” she insists, waving her hands defensively. “Totally normal, just, uh, bestie stuff. You know, girl talk, vampire-werewolf bonding, that kind of thing.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re a terrible liar.”

She groans, throwing her head back dramatically. “Fine! But you can’t tell Wednesday I told you, okay? She’d literally kill me. Like, for real this time.”

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of Wednesday. “What does she have to do with this?”

Enid hesitates, looking torn. “Ugh, okay, fine,” she blurts out, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “She’s planning something for you tonight. Like, a date night or something. She told me to clear out so you two could have the dorm to yourselves.”

A warm, unexpected blush creeps up your neck. “Wait… Wednesday planned something? For me?”

Enid nods, her grin widening. “Yup! And let me tell you, she’s been stressing about it all week. She even glared at me less than usual yesterday, so you know it’s serious.”

You can’t help but smile, your heart fluttering at the thought of Wednesday going out of her way to plan something for you. “That’s… actually really sweet.”

“Right? But don’t tell her I told you, okay?” Enid warns, gripping your arm. “She swore me to secrecy and gave me this whole creepy ‘I’ll bury you alive’ speech. Classic Wednesday.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

“Good. Because I value my life,” Enid says with mock seriousness before breaking into a smile. “But seriously, I’m happy for you guys. She’s got a soft spot for you, you know.”

Your smile grows as you think about Wednesday, her deadpan expression softening ever so slightly when she’s around you, the way her hand lingers in yours when no one’s looking. “Yeah,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to Enid. “I know.”

As the two of you reach the doors to your next class, you can’t help but feel a little giddy. Whatever Wednesday has planned, you know it’ll be something only she could come up with—quiet, dark, and maybe a little macabre. And you can’t wait to see what she’s put together.

—

The afternoon sun filters through the classroom windows, casting a warm glow across your desk. Your fingers absentmindedly tap against the surface as you try to focus on the teacher's droning voice, but your thoughts keep drifting to Wednesday and the surprise she has planned for you.

Despite your best efforts to keep a straight face, a small, giddy smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You sneak a glance at Wednesday from the corner of your eye, trying to gauge her reaction.

To your surprise, she's already staring at you, her dark eyes narrowed in suspicion. Your gaze meets hers, and you quickly look away, feeling your cheeks heat up under her intense scrutiny.

"You," she says flatly, her voice cutting through the monotony of the lecture. "Are you feeling alright? You seem... distracted."

You swallow hard, your mind racing for an excuse. "I'm fine," you manage, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. "Just thinking about the assignment."

Wednesday raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. Her gaze bores into you, as if she's trying to read your thoughts.

You squirm in your seat, suddenly feeling like a bug under a microscope. You can practically hear Enid's voice in your head, warning you not to blow her cover.

But it's too late. Wednesday's eyes widen slightly, a flicker of panic crossing her face before she schools her features back into a neutral expression.

"Ah," she says slowly, leaning back in her chair. "Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

You bite your lip, wondering if you should press further. But before you can open your mouth, the bell rings, signaling the end of class.

Wednesday stands abruptly, gathering her books without another word. She brushes past you, her shoulder bumping against yours in a way that feels almost like a dismissal.

You watch her go, your heart sinking. You've blown it, haven't you? Ruined whatever surprise she had planned.

You scramble to your feet, nearly tripping over your chair in your haste. Your backpack slips off the desk, scattering your belongings across the floor.

"Wednesday, wait!" you call out, your voice echoing in the now-empty classroom.

You chase after her, weaving through the throng of students in the hallway. Your heart pounds in your chest as you catch up to her, reaching out to grasp her arm.

Wednesday whirls around, her dark eyes flashing with irritation. "What?" she snaps, her voice sharp.

You swallow hard, trying to find the right words. "I... I'm sorry," you manage, your voice coming out smaller than you intended. "I didn't mean to ruin your surprise. I just... I couldn't help myself."

For a moment, Wednesday just stares at you, her expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, her shoulders slump slightly, and she lets out a sigh.

"You're impossible," she mutters, but there's no real heat behind her words.

You blink, taken aback by her sudden shift in demeanor. "I... I know," you say softly, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. "But I meant what I said. I'm sorry."

Wednesday is silent for a moment, and then she nods, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Fine," she says, her tone grudging. "But don't think this means you're off the hook. You owe me one."

You grin, relief washing over you. "I can live with that," you say, your voice light and teasing. "So... are you going to tell me what you have planned, or do I have to guess?"

Wednesday rolls her eyes, but there's a hint of amusement in her gaze. "Guess," she says simply, before turning and walking away, leaving you to follow in her wake.

—

You stand outside Wednesday's dorm room, your hand hovering over the doorknob. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach.

Despite your earlier promise to keep quiet, you can't shake the nagging feeling that you've ruined whatever surprise she had planned. You glance down at your uniform, suddenly self-conscious about your appearance.

"Get it together," you mutter to yourself, giving your skirt a quick smoothing. "She's not going to bite."

With a final nod of determination, you raise your hand and knock on the door. The sound echoes through the empty hallway, making you wince.

Silence greets you for a moment, and you wonder if Wednesday is ignoring you. But then, the door swings open, revealing Wednesday standing in the doorway.

She's changed out of her school uniform, now wearing a simple black dress that falls to her knees. Her hair is loose, tumbling down her back in dark waves.

For a moment, you're struck dumb, your brain short-circuiting at the sight of her. She looks... pretty. Soft. Nothing like her usual sharp edges and icy demeanor.

Wednesday arches an eyebrow, her lips twisting into a smirk. "Cat got your tongue?" she asks, her voice dry.

You shake your head, feeling your cheeks heat up. "No," you manage, clearing your throat. "I just... I didn't expect you to look so..."

You trail off, not quite sure how to finish that sentence without sounding like a complete fool. Wednesday's smirk widens, and she steps aside, gesturing for you to enter.

"Come in," she says simply, before closing the door behind you with a soft click.

You step into Wednesday's dorm room, your eyes widening as you take in the scene before you. The furniture has been pushed to the sides, creating a large open space in the center of the room. Soft, ambient lighting casts a warm glow over everything, making the room feel intimate and cozy.

In the middle of it all stands Wednesday, her posture perfect, her expression unreadable. She's holding out her hand to you, a silent invitation.

"What's all this?" you ask, your voice coming out a little breathless.

Wednesday's lips curve into a small, enigmatic smile. "I'm going to teach you how to dance," she says simply, her tone matter-of-fact.

You blink, taken aback by her words. "Dance?" you repeat, feeling a little foolish. "Like... ballroom dancing?"

Wednesday nods, her dark eyes glinting with a hint of amusement. "Yes," she confirms, her voice dry. "Like my parents do. It's a family tradition."

You feel your heart skip a beat at the thought of Wednesday's parents, of the life she leads outside of Nevermore. It's a side of her you've never seen before, and the idea of being a part of it, even in a small way, makes your stomach flutter.

"I... I'd like that," you manage, stepping forward to take her hand.

Wednesday's fingers are cool against yours, her grip firm and steady. She pulls you closer, her body mere inches from yours.

"Good," she says simply, before beginning to guide you through the steps.

You stumble a little at first. But Wednesday is patient, her instructions clear and concise. Slowly, you begin to find your rhythm, moving in tandem with her.

As you dance, you can't help but notice the way Wednesday's eyes never leave yours. There's an intensity there, a depth of emotion that makes your breath catch in your throat.

"You're doing well," she murmurs, her voice soft. "Just follow my lead."

You move gracefully in Wednesday's arms, your body reacting instinctively to her guidance. The fabric of your black trousers brushes against her dress as you spin, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine.

Wednesday's gaze is intense, her dark eyes boring into yours with an unspoken question. You swallow hard, trying to ignore the way your heart races at her proximity.

"You're a natural," she murmurs, her voice low and intimate. "I knew you'd be good at this."

You duck your head, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "It's easy when I have a good partner," you manage, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Wednesday's lips curve into a small, enigmatic smile. "Is that so?" she asks, her tone teasing.

You nod, your gaze flickering down to her lips for a brief moment before meeting her eyes again. "Definitely," you confirm, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wednesday hums, her fingers tightening around yours. "Good," she says simply, before pulling you closer, your bodies now just inches apart.

You can feel the heat radiating off her skin, the scent of her perfume filling your nostrils. Your breath hitches, your pulse pounding in your ears.

"Now," Wednesday says, her voice low and husky. "Let's try something a little more... challenging."

She steps back, her hand leaving yours. You feel a momentary pang of loss, your fingers aching to touch her again.

But then Wednesday begins to move, her body swaying to a beat only she can hear. She extends her hand, a silent invitation for you to join her.

You hesitate for a moment, your heart hammering in your chest. But then, with a deep breath, you step forward, ready to follow wherever she leads.

You take Wednesday's hand, her fingers cool and strong in your grasp. She pulls you close, your bodies pressing together as she guides you into a new dance.

This one is more sensual, the steps slower and more deliberate. Wednesday's gaze never leaves yours, her dark eyes smoldering with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat.

You move together, your bodies swaying in perfect sync. The world around you fades away, until there is nothing but the two of you, lost in the rhythm of the dance.

Wednesday's hand slides up your arm, her fingers trailing over your skin. You shiver at the contact, your nerve endings igniting with each touch.

"You're doing well," she murmurs, her lips barely brushing against your ear. "Keep going."

You nod, your body responding to her commands without hesitation. You've never felt so in tune with another person, so utterly in sync.

As the dance comes to an end, Wednesday pulls you into a final, tight embrace. You can feel the heat of her body against yours, the softness of her breasts pressing into your chest.

For a moment, you're frozen, your heart pounding in your ears. You know you should pull away, put some distance between you. But you can't bring yourself to move, not when Wednesday feels so perfect in your arms.

Slowly, tentatively, you raise your hand, your fingers brushing against the silky strands of her hair. Wednesday's eyes flutter closed, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

"Y/N," she breathes, your name a prayer on her tongue. "I..."

Your heart races as Wednesday's breathy voice caresses your name. In this moment, suspended in time, the world seems to fall away, leaving only the two of you, hearts beating as one.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, you lean in closer, your forehead resting against hers. Your hands slide up to cup her face, thumbs gently stroking her high cheekbones.

Wednesday's eyes flutter open, dark and filled with a vulnerability you've never seen before. Her hands come up to rest on your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.

"I..." she starts, her voice barely a whisper. "I want..."

But she trails off, unable to finish the thought. Instead, she closes the remaining distance between you, pressing her lips to yours in a kiss that steals your breath away.

You melt into the kiss, your body molding against hers like it was made to fit. Wednesday's lips are soft and warm, moving against yours with a desperate hunger.

Your hands slide into her hair, tangling in the silky strands as you deepen the kiss. Wednesday makes a soft noise in the back of her throat, a sound of pure need.

Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the taste and feel of her. The rest of the world fades away, leaving only this moment, this connection.

When you finally break apart, you're both breathing heavily, your cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. Wednesday rests her forehead against yours, her hands still gripping your waist tightly.

"That was..." she starts, her voice rough with emotion.

"Perfect," you finish for her, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Wednesday hums in agreement, nuzzling her nose against yours. "I've wanted to do that for a while now," she admits, her tone shy.

You chuckle softly, your fingers carding through her hair. "I'm glad you did," you murmur, bringing your lips to hers once more.

As you kiss, you know that this is just the beginning. The start of something new, something beautiful and terrifying and utterly intoxicating.

Wednesday's hands slide down to your hips, her fingers gripping your waistband tightly. With a sudden tug, she pulls you flush against her, your body pressing into hers.

You gasp at the contact, your hands flying up to grip her shoulders for balance. Wednesday takes advantage of your momentary distraction, walking you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed.

With a soft push, she sends you tumbling onto the mattress, her body following yours. You land with a bounce, your breath knocked from your lungs as Wednesday settles on top of you, her weight pinning you in place.

"Wednesday," you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper. "What are you..."

But your question is cut off as Wednesday captures your lips in another searing kiss. Her tongue delves into your mouth, exploring every inch of you with a desperate hunger.

You moan into the kiss, your hands sliding down to grip her hips, urging her closer. Wednesday grinds against you, the heat of her core seeping through the thin layers of fabric separating you.

Wednesday breaks the kiss, her dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that steals your breath. She sits up, straddling your hips, her hands resting on your chest.

"I want you," she whispers, her voice low and husky. "But we don't have to..."

You reach up, cupping her face in your hands. "I want this," you assure her, your thumb brushing over her bottom lip. "I want you."

Wednesday nods, her gaze never leaving yours. Slowly, she leans down, pressing her lips to yours in a deep, passionate kiss.

Your hands slide down her back, settling on her hips. You guide her movements, encouraging her to grind against you. The friction is delicious, the heat building between your legs.

Wednesday gasps into your mouth, her hips moving faster, more urgently. You can feel her growing wetter, her arousal soaking through your clothes.

You break the kiss, panting heavily. "Let me," you plead, your voice rough with desire.

Wednesday nods, shifting off of you. You sit up, your fingers trembling slightly as you reach for the hem of her dress. With a swift movement, you pull it over her head, tossing it aside.

She sits before you, clad only in a black lace bra and matching panties. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of her, her pale skin flawless in the dim light.

You lean forward, pressing reverent kisses along her collarbone, down the swell of her breasts. Wednesday shivers, her fingers tangling in your hair.

You take a moment to drink in the sight of her, your gaze roaming over her body appreciatively. Wednesday flushes under your attention, her thighs pressing together shyly.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper, your voice filled with awe.

Wednesday shakes her head, her dark hair falling in waves around her face. "I'm not..." she starts, but you silence her with a kiss.

Switching positions, you lay Wednesday down on the bed, your body covering hers. You capture her lips in a searing kiss, your tongue delving into her mouth, exploring every inch of her.

Wednesday moans softly into the kiss, her hips arching up to meet yours. Your hands slide down her sides, cupping her breasts through the thin lace of her bra.

You break the kiss, your lips trailing down her neck, nipping at her collarbone. Wednesday gasps, her fingers digging into your back, urging you on.

Your hand slides down her stomach, teasing the edge of her panties. Wednesday's breath hitches, her thighs parting slightly in invitation.

You dip your fingers beneath the fabric, finding her slick and ready for you. Wednesday whimpers, her hips bucking into your touch.

Your fingers glide through Wednesday's slick folds, finding her sensitive bud. She gasps, her hips jerking at the sudden contact.

"Y/N," she breathes, your name a prayer on her lips.

You circle her clit with teasing strokes, reveling in the way her body responds to your touch. Wednesday's thighs tremble, her hands fisting in the sheets beneath her.

Slowly, you slide a finger inside her, groaning at the way her walls clench around you. Wednesday is so hot, so tight, so perfect.

You add a second finger, pumping them in and out of her slick heat. Wednesday's head thrashes on the pillow, her mouth falling open in a silent cry of pleasure.

Your thumb finds her clit again, rubbing firm circles around the sensitive nub. Wednesday's hips buck wildly, her body chasing the release you're so eager to give her.

"Please," she whimpers, her voice barely audible. "I need..."

But she doesn't finish the thought, her body arching off the bed as you curl your fingers just right. You can feel her getting closer, her walls fluttering around your digits.

With a final twist of your wrist, Wednesday comes undone, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm. You hold her through it, whispering words of praise and encouragement.

As she comes down from her high, you press soft kisses to her sweat-dampened skin, murmuring your love and devotion. Wednesday clings to you, her body still trembling with aftershocks.

In this moment, the rest of the world fades away. There is only the two of you, wrapped in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow of love and passion.

—

You wake to the sound of the door opening, your eyes fluttering open to find Wednesday still asleep beside you. For a moment, you simply lie there, taking in the sight of her.

Her dark hair is fanned out across the pillow, her face relaxed in sleep. Your gaze travels down her body, tracing the curves and dips you explored so thoroughly the night before.

The door swings open fully, revealing a surprised Enid standing in the doorway. Her eyes widen as she takes in the scene before her - you and Wednesday, tangled together in the afterglow.

"Oh," she breathes, her cheeks flushing pink. "I... I didn't know you two were..."

You sit up quickly, pulling the covers up to your chin. Wednesday stirs, her eyes blinking open in confusion.

"Enid?" she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep.

Enid clears her throat, averting her gaze. "Sorry," she says, backing out of the room. "I'll just... I'll leave you two alone."

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving you and Wednesday in a tense silence. You glance at her, unsure of what to say.

But Wednesday just sighs, turning to face you. "Well," she says, her tone dry. "That's one way to start the day."

[wolverigrl]

The talk

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

Previous Part

A/N: Enjoy this part 3! I hope you like it! In this story, Blake and Ryan have been married since 2010 and therefore had their children earlier. I changed the age of the children to make it fit.

Warnings: maybe some swearing here and there, a bit angsty and fluff, mentions of alcohol

---------------------------------------------------

I couldn’t sleep last night. I’d been tossing and turning for hours, staring at the digital clock that blinked back at me relentlessly. When 6 a.m. finally rolled around, I gave up, threw back the covers, and dragged myself out of bed. I needed something to ground me, to keep my mind from spiraling, so I rolled out my yoga mat in front of the massive window that looked out over the New York skyline. The city was still half-asleep, but I could already feel its energy buzzing in the distance.

After a quick, but calming, yoga session, I snapped a selfie. I sat on the mat in my sports bra and leggings, my hair a messy bun, and the sunrise just starting to peek through the buildings behind me. My face looked peaceful, but inside, my stomach was a knot of nerves. Still, I posted it on Instagram, hoping the positivity from my followers might lift me a bit.

Within minutes, comments flooded in. Mostly love and support, people saying how they wished they could be as dedicated to early morning yoga as I was. But some of them worried about me. There were a few messages asking if I was okay, mentioning the paparazzi photos of yesterday. Apparently, walking through the city with Blake after the premiere turned into a full-on hangover spectacle, and people noticed. They always notice everything.

I sighed and decided to call Blake.

“Heyyy!” she greeted cheerfully, her voice always so full of life.

“Hey, Blake!"I replied, trying to sound less anxious than I felt.

I hesitated. I didn’t really want to unload on her again.

“I, uh, I’ve got Hugh coming over soon. I… I don’t know, I’m kinda nervous about it. We need to talk, and I just—I don’t know how it’s going to go.”

I heard in her voice that she was smiling. “Listen, you and Hugh will be fine. He’s a great guy. If he didn’t care about you, he wouldn’t be flirting with you so much in public. Trust me, I’ve known him for years—he doesn’t do that unless he means it.”

I bit my lip, feeling my anxiety twist and turn. “But what if… ahh.. nevermind. I’m just so confused.”

“That’s okay. As I already told you, you don’t have to figure it all out in one day. Just talk to him, be honest, and see where it goes. You’ve got this.”

Her words helped, if only a little. I thanked her, and after hanging up, I busied myself around the apartment, waiting for the knock on the door.

When it finally came, I almost jumped out of my skin. I opened the door to find Hugh standing there with a bag of bagels in one hand and two coffees in the other.

“Good morning. I brought us breakfast." he said with that charming smile of his.

We exchanged small talk as we sat down at the kitchen counter, nibbling on our food. He complimented the view, asked about my morning, and I tried to stay calm, but the tension between us was impossible to ignore. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of dancing around the subject, I took a deep breath and started the conversation I’d been dreading.

“Hugh,” I began softly, setting my half-eaten bagel down. “I don’t… I don’t know what I’m feeling. About us, I mean.”

He nodded slowly, looking at me with that warm, steady gaze that always seemed to calm me, even when I was a mess inside.

“I like you, y/n. A lot. And I’m not asking you to have all the answers right now. But I’d like to figure it out together if that’s something you want to.”

My chest tightened. “But the age thing… your kids… Hugh, it’s a lot. I don’t know if I’m ready for something so complicated.”

Hugh leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “I’ve already talked to my son about it, actually. Oscar asked me about you, and I told him the truth—that I’m happy when I’m with you. And he said that as long as I’m happy, that’s all that matters to him. Ava feels the same way, I’m sure.”

I felt tears pricking the corners of my eyes. The relief I felt, knowing that he’d already had that conversation with his son, was overwhelming. But at the same time, the weight of everything else crashed over me, and I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, wiping at my eyes as the tears fell.

Hugh got up and pulled me up from the chair so that I stood in front of him. His arms wrapped me in a soft hug, and his fingers tilted my chin up slightly so he could kiss the tip of my nose. It was a soft, sweet gesture that made my heart skip.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured. “We’ll take it slow. One step at a time. We don’t need to rush anything.”

I nodded, sniffling a bit. “Slow sounds good. Maybe we could… you know, go on real dates? But keep things quiet for now.”

He smiled again, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Yeah, Blake and Ryan can know, but no one else. At least for now.”

We finished breakfast and cleaned up, and soon we found ourselves on the couch. Hugh wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close. For a while, we just sat there, the silence comforting, our worries temporarily pushed to the side.

I couldn’t help myself. I had to ask. “Did you… did you mean it? That kiss in the gym?”

Hugh chuckled, glancing down at me with that familiar playful spark in his eyes. “Was that not obvious?”

I felt my face heat up, a slow blush spreading across my cheeks. I shrugged, trying to play it off, but the vulnerability in my voice betrayed me. “I had other things on my mind.”

He laughed softly, the sound warm and infectious, and I found myself smiling despite the butterflies in my stomach. There was something so disarming about him, the way he could make me feel at ease even when my heart was racing. His gaze held mine, the tension between us thickening, and suddenly, I couldn’t resist any longer.

Without thinking, I leaned in, brushing my lips against his. It was tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but the moment he responded, everything else faded away. His lips were soft and warm, moving gently against mine, and the kiss quickly deepened, growing more intense with each passing second.

My heart pounded in my chest, the heat between us rising as my hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping them tightly. Hugh’s arms circled my waist, pulling me closer until I was practically sitting on his lap. His hands were firm yet tender, one resting on the small of my back, the other moving up to cradle the side of my face as the kiss continued to build in intensity.

I felt my breath hitch as his lips trailed from mine to the corner of my mouth, then along my jawline, his stubble grazing my skin in the most delicious way. My pulse quickened as I let out a soft sigh, my fingers tangling in his short, soft hair. The sensation of his lips on my neck sent shivers down my spine, my entire body humming with anticipation.

Hugh's hand slid down to my back, pulling me closer to him. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the hard lines of his body pressing against mine, and it sent my mind spinning. His touch was gentle but sure, his fingers tracing small circles on my lower back, grounding me even as everything else felt like it was spinning out of control.

His mouth returned to mine, the kiss now slow and deliberate, as if we had all the time in the world. His tongue teased my lips, and I opened up to him, the kiss deepening as our breaths mingled, the air between us growing hotter. Every nerve in my body was on fire, the warmth of his touch, the weight of his hands, the way he held me, as if I were something precious. I felt safe and reckless all at once, the thrill of being so close to him coursing through me like electricity.

Hugh’s grip tightened on my waist, his hands sliding down to my hips, and I could feel the heat pooling low in my stomach, a heady mix of desire and disbelief that this was actually happening. His lips parted from mine just long enough for me to catch a shaky breath, my eyes fluttering open to meet his. His gaze was dark, intense, and filled with the same want that was swirling inside me.

I couldn’t stop myself. I leaned back in, kissing him with more urgency this time, my hands slipping from his shoulders to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath my fingertips. His body was firm under my touch, and the sensation sent another rush of heat through me. I pressed closer to him, my lips hungry for more, and he responded in kind, his hands roaming over my back.

My pulse raced, and I felt the world narrowing down to just the two of us—the heat of our bodies, the taste of his lips, the way his hands moved over me, every touch igniting something deeper, something I couldn’t control.

Then, out of nowhere, his phone buzzed.

We both froze, breathless, still tangled together. I pulled back just slightly, still feeling the heat of his breath on my lips. "You should get that," I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper, my heart pounding in my ears.

Hugh let out a low groan of frustration but reluctantly reached for his phone. He glanced at the screen and sighed. “It’s Ryan.”

I smirked, trying to catch my breath. Of course, it was Ryan.

Hugh answered, still holding me close as if he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. “Hey, mate.” he greeted casually, though I could hear the slight edge of impatience in his voice.

Ryan’s voice was loud enough that I could hear him through the phone. “So, dinner at our place today? You and y/n should come by.”

Hugh blinked in surprise, clearly caught off guard. “How do you know y/n's with me?”

Ryan’s laugh was almost smug. “Call it a hunch.”

Hugh shook his head, glancing at me with a playful smile. “You in?”

I nodded, still a bit breathless, my fingers absentmindedly playing with the fabric of his t-shirt. “Sure.”

He confirmed with Ryan and then hung up, looking back at me with a soft smile. “Let’s go for a walk before dinner.”

I grinned. The idea of sneaking through the streets with him was somehow exciting. But then reality hit. “You should probably… go get changed." I suggested, glancing down at the clothes he was wearing. "Something more undercover."

Hugh nodded, gently setting me next to him and standing up. "I'll swing by my place and change. Give me a few minutes, and I'll come back for you."

He pressed one more quick kiss to my forehead before heading out the door, leaving me sitting there, my heart still racing from the kiss. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to calm the fire that was still burning inside me. It was impossible to believe that just a few moments ago, I had been straddling Hugh Jackman in my living room, kissing him like my life depended on it.

True to his word, Hugh returned not long after, dressed down in a baseball cap, sunglasses, and a hoodie, looking like a celebrity who's trying to avoid attention. I slipped on a casual jacket and sunglasses, and we headed out, blending into the afternoon crowds as we walked through the streets of New York.

As we wandered, the conversation flowed easily. We talked about work—how his latest project was going, how I was handling mine. We shared stories and joked about the craziness of the industry, but somewhere along the way, the conversation grew more personal. Hugh asked me about my childhood, about the things that made me who I was, and I found myself opening up to him in a way I hadn’t expected.

He told me stories about his kids, about how Oscar was so curious about everything, how Ava was growing into her own person, full of ideas and opinions. Hearing him talk about them made me see another side of him—so caring, so deeply connected to his family. It only made me like him more.

We asked each other questions that weren’t surface level, diving into the things that really mattered, like what we wanted in life, what we were afraid of. The more we talked, the more I realized again how easy it was to be with him, how natural it felt.

Before I knew it, hours had passed, and the sun was beginning to dip low in the sky. We made our way back to my apartment, where Hugh dropped me off so I could get ready for dinner at Blake and Ryan’s. He gave me one short peck before heading back to his place to change.

As I stood in front of my mirror, touching up my makeup and fixing my hair, I couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss, about how right it had felt. Today had been full of surprises, but for the first time, I wasn’t scared of where this might lead. Hugh and I were taking it slow, figuring things out as we went, and somehow, that was enough for now.

When Hugh came back to pick me up, we were both ready for whatever the rest of the day had in store. We were in this together.

The moment we stepped through the door at Blake and Ryan’s, the familiar sound of tiny feet pattering across the floor reached my ears. Before I knew it, all three of their daughters—James, Betty, and Inez—came running toward us, their faces lighting up in excitement.

“Y/n! Hugh!” they squealed in unison, their voices high-pitched with joy.

I couldn’t help but grin as I bent down to greet them, enveloping each one of them in a warm hug. Hugh followed suit, gently embracing them, his face soft with affection. Ryan stood in the doorway, arms crossed with a playful smile on his face.

“I swear, they get more excited when you two show up than when Blake and I come home." Ryan quipped, shaking his head as if the betrayal was real.

I chuckled, ruffling Betty’s hair as she beamed up at me. “Well, I mean, we are the fun ones.”

Blake walked up behind him, smirking as she shrugged her shoulders. “Can you really blame them?” she said, giving Ryan a teasing nudge.

Before I could respond, the seven-year-old James grabbed my hand and started pulling me toward the living room. “Come on, y/n! I want to show you something!”

I let her guide me into the cozy room, where Penny and Baxter, the two dogs, were lounging lazily on the floor. James hurried over to a corner piled high with toys and grabbed two Barbie dolls, her excitement radiating off her.

“Look!” she said, holding up the first Barbie. “This one looks just like you!” The doll was dressed in sporty clothes that reminded me of what I’d worn in my recent Instagram post. “And this one." she added, grabbing the second doll, “looks like Mommy.”

I laughed softly, touched by her creativity. “Wow, you nailed it! I can totally see the resemblance.”

As I sat down with her to admire her Barbie collection, I noticed Hugh standing in the doorway, his smile widening as he watched us. But before he could come over, Betty and Inez had already ambushed him, grabbing onto his legs and giggling uncontrollably.

“Hugh! Hugh!” Inez exclaimed, her arms wrapped tightly around one of his legs. “Can we watch the Minions again? Please? Pleeease?”

Betty chimed in, nodding with equal enthusiasm. “Yeah, can we?”

Ryan strolled into the room, laughing as he leaned against the doorframe. “Again? How many times have you guys watched that now? Fifty? Sixty?”

Hugh chuckled, ruffling Betty’s hair. “Maybe after dinner, alright? You two might know it better than I do at this point.”

Just then, Blake called out from the dining room, “Okay, everyone, dinner’s ready! Let’s give Hugh a break and get some food in your bellies first.”

We all made our way to the dining room, and as I sat down at the beautifully set table, I couldn’t help but admire the spread. Blake had outdone herself again.

“This looks incredible!" I commented as I took my seat, glancing appreciatively at the dishes laid out before us.

Blake smiled, waving off the compliment. “Ah, it’s nothing. Ryan helped, too.”

Ryan straightened in his chair, pretending to be the world’s greatest chef. “Yeah, I practically made the entire thing,” he boasted, earning a playful elbow to the side from Blake.

While we ate and talked about today's events, I noticed that James, Betty, and Inez had already finished their meals. The three of them looked up at Blake and Ryan with wide, pleading eyes.

"Mom, Dad, can we go play with Penny and Baxter now? Please?" James asked, practically bouncing in her seat with excitement.

Ryan exchanged a glance with Blake before nodding. "Alright, you three can go. Just don’t feed the dogs under the table again." he added with a mock sternness that made the girls giggle.

The kids squealed and scrambled out of their chairs, racing back toward the living room where the dogs were waiting for them. Blake shook her head fondly as she watched them go, and we all settled back into the conversation.

I was right in the middle of talking about something funny that had happened at work when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I excused myself, stepping outside to take the call. When I saw Chris Evans��� name on the screen, I smiled.

“Hey, Chris!” I greeted, leaning against the side of the house.

“Y/n!" Chris’s voice came through with its usual warmth. “I’m heading down to New York tomorrow. Wanna grab a beer?”

I smiled. “Absolutely! Let’s meet at the pub we always go to. How’s 7 p.m.?”

“Perfect!" Chris replied. “Looking forward to catching up.”

We wrapped up the conversation, and I headed back inside. As I slipped into my seat, Hugh gave me a gentle smile and placed his hand on my leg under the table, his touch grounding me.

“Everything okay?” he asked softly, his thumb stroking my thigh in a way that sent a small wave of comfort through me.

I nodded, returning his smile. “Yeah, all good. Just Chris Evans. He’s coming to New York tomorrow, so we’re grabbing a drink.”

Ryan’s ears perked up immediately, and his eyes twinkled with mischief. “Oh, Captain America, huh? Should Hugh be worried?”

Blake chuckled beside him, clearly in on the joke. I rolled my eyes, laughing. “No, no need to worry. Chris is like an older brother to me.”

Hugh looked intrigued, glancing between Ryan and me. “You and Chris go way back?”

I nodded, leaning back in my chair as I began to explain. “Yeah, Chris, Scarlett Johansson, and I studied together in New York when we were both starting out. They were a few years ahead of me, but we ended up in the same acting workshops. We hit it off and became good friends.”

Blake leaned forward, curiosity written all over her face. “Oh, you never told me your stories of university! You must have some great ones.”

Ryan grinned. “Come on, spill! Any embarrassing moments with Captain America and Black Widow?”

I laughed. “Oh, tons. Like the time they got lost in Central Park for two hours and missed class. Scarlett shook it off, but Chris was so mortified, and we all gave him a hard time for it.”

Ryan cracked up at the image, and Hugh smiled, though I could tell he was focused on every word. “That sounds like him." Ryan said. “Always such a big goof.”

Blake leaned closer, clearly digging for more. “Didn’t you two do a movie together a few years back? Weren’t there some pretty steamy scenes in that one?”

I felt my cheeks warm slightly at the memory. “Yeah, we did." I admitted, chuckling. “It was a bit... awkward, though, because by then, Chris really did feel more like a brother to me.”

Ryan, however, wasn’t about to let me off the hook that easily. “Wait, so it wasn’t always that way?”

I hesitated for a beat, then shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “Well.. back when we were in school, we might’ve had a little... thing. You know, one of those fleeting ‘we’re young and in New York’ flings. But it didn’t last long. Now, he’s definitely more of a brother figure.”

Blake’s eyes widened in shock, her hand flying to her mouth as she burst out laughing. “Y/n! You never told me you and Chris had a fling!”

Ryan nearly doubled over in laughter, slapping the table. “Oh my god, Hugh, you hearing this? Captain America and y/n!”

Hugh laughed, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and I noticed the slight tension in his jaw. He gave a half-hearted chuckle, glancing at me with a mix of amusement and something else—something I couldn’t quite place.

Blake continued to laugh, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you kept that from me!”

I shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed but laughing along with them. “It was a long time ago! And honestly, when we filmed that movie, it just felt... weird. I mean, trying to be sexy with someone who you now see as a brother? Not the easiest thing.”

Ryan wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “I bet those scenes were really uncomfortable to shoot.”

“They were." I admitted, rolling my eyes good-naturedly. “But Chris was a total professional about it.”

Hugh remained quiet for a moment, still smiling, but I could tell something about the story didn’t sit quite right with him.

“So, what was it like studying here in New York? It sounds like it was a pretty wild time.” Blake wiggled with her eyebrows.

I grinned, thinking back to those chaotic, exciting days. “It definitely had its moments. The city was also back then a constant whirlwind. We were all broke, doing odd jobs between auditions, but somehow, it was the best time of my life.”

Ryan leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I bet. Was it all method acting and deep emotional discovery, or were you guys just trying to out-party each other?”

I laughed. “A little bit of both, honestly. There were definitely nights when we all showed up to class with way too little sleep.”

Ryan smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “And Captain America was part of those late-night adventures?”

I rolled my eyes. “Chris was usually the responsible one, believe it or not. He’d be the guy dragging everyone out of some dive bar at 2 a.m., telling us we had early classes. Of course, he wasn’t always that responsible...”

Hugh’s interest was piqued, his eyes twinkling. “You and Chris really went through it together, huh?”

I nodded, smiling at the memories. “Yeah, we had a lot of fun. We’d rehearse scenes together, mess around in the park, just being broke, and ambitious kids trying to make it.”

Ryan, never missing a beat, chimed in again. “So what you’re saying is, if Chris wasn’t Captain America, he could’ve been, I dunno, some Shakespearean actor, dragging everyone through intense rehearsals and then buying them all hot dogs afterward?”

I laughed. “Exactly! The perfect balance of intense and laid-back.”

"What other stories do you have up your sleeve?" Ryan grinned and put his arm around his wife.

“Well.. while studying, I also worked as a barista, and believe me, I was a terrible barista.” I started, chuckling at the memory.

Blake raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Wait, you worked at a coffee shop?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I needed to pay rent somehow, so I got a job at this little café near campus. It was my first day, and I was already a nervous wreck. The owner was this sweet, older man—kind of like a grandpa figure to everyone. But I was so jittery that when he came over to check how I was doing, I somehow managed to spill an entire tray of coffee and raspberry cake all over him.”

Everyone at the table burst into laughter, especially Ryan, who wiped a fake tear from his eye. “Oh, that’s priceless. What did he do?”

I grinned at the memory. “He just stood there for a second, covered in coffee, and then he started laughing. He looked at me and said, ‘Well, at least you didn’t burn me.’ From then on, he teased me about it every single shift. He’d walk past me and say, ‘Careful, y/n, hot beverages on the loose!’ It was actually really sweet.”

Blake smiled, shaking her head. “Sounds like he was a good guy.”

“Yeah, he was the best." I agreed. “Honestly, he was one of the reasons I stuck around for so long.”

Hugh, who had been listening intently, suddenly leaned forward with a small smile. “Well, since we’re sharing job stories… the ladies might not know this, but before I became an actor, I was a P.E. teacher in England.”

I blinked, caught completely off guard. “Wait, what? You were a teacher? That’s crazy!”

Ryan immediately jumped in with a wide grin. “Oh man, y/n, can you imagine if Hugh had been your teacher back then? You would’ve been the star student in P.E., right?”

I felt my cheeks flush, laughing at the absurd thought. “Honestly, if Hugh had been my teacher, I think I would’ve suddenly developed an intense love for sports.”

Blake burst out laughing while Hugh chuckled, shaking his head at our comments. “Yeah, I can’t imagine that would’ve been appropriate,” Hugh said, still smiling, though his ears were a little pink.

Ryan leaned back in his chair, still grinning. “Hey, you never know. Maybe you’d have inspired her to get into, I don’t know, gymnastics or something.”

Blake swatted Ryan on the arm, but she was laughing just as hard. “Leave them alone! Besides, I bet Hugh was an amazing teacher.”

Hugh shrugged modestly. “It was a good job, honestly. I loved working with the kids, but eventually, I realized my passion was acting.”

I turned to him, still amazed. “That’s so cool, though. I would’ve never guessed. You’ve had quite the journey.”

He smiled warmly at me, and I could see a glimmer of pride in his eyes, as if the memories of his teaching days still meant something to him. “It was definitely a unique chapter in my life. But hey, everything leads you somewhere, right?”

Ryan couldn’t resist one more joke, leaning in with a sly grin. “Yeah, and luckily, it led you to us, huh?”

The conversation slowed down after that, everyone quietly soaking in the warmth of the room and each other’s company. Blake glanced around the table, then clapped her hands together.

“Well, how about we clear the table and grab some wine?”

Hugh and I immediately stood up, ready to help, but Blake waved us off. “Oh no, you two relax. Ryan and I have it covered.”

Ryan was already stacking plates and giving us a wink. “Yeah, sit tight, lovebirds.”

As we sat back down, Hugh placed his hand gently on my thigh, his touch making me feel all warm and cozy inside. He smiled at me, that tender look in his eyes that always made my heart skip a beat.

Feeling a bit giddy, I leaned in closer to him and whispered. “Do you think we should tell them about us now? Or wait until another time?”

Hugh’s thumb rubbed small circles against my leg as he considered it. “Yeah, let’s tell them. They’re our best friends—they should know we’re giving this a shot.”

His quiet confidence soothed the last of my nerves, and I couldn’t help myself. I leaned in and gave him a quick kiss, just as the door to the dining room swung open, and Ryan strutted back in, carrying wine glasses.

“Ohohoh! What’s this? What did I just miss?” he teased, his voice dripping with mock shock. “And don’t forget, there are children in this house!”

Blake followed right behind him, her eyes darting between us, a curious smile playing on her lips. “What’s going on in here?” she asked, setting down a bottle of wine.

Hugh chuckled softly and glanced at me before addressing them both. “Actually, we wanted to tell you guys something. Y/n and I... well, we’re trying this thing out. We’re seeing where it goes.”

There was a brief moment of silence as Blake and Ryan exchanged looks, their expressions quickly morphing into wide grins. Blake let out a little squeal of excitement.

“Oh my god! You talked!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “You two are adorable!”

Ryan set down the glasses with a loud clink, looking between Hugh and me with that signature playful grin of his. “Well, it’s about damn time! You guys have been giving off major will-they-won’t-they vibes for ages.”

Blake nodded enthusiastically. “I’m so happy for you guys.”

Their support and enthusiasm washed over me, easing any lingering uncertainty I had. Hugh squeezed my hand under the table, and I couldn’t help but smile up at him, grateful for how effortlessly everything seemed to fall into place.

Ryan, never one to miss a joke, raised his glass toward us. “Here’s to y/n and Hugh—and to all the future awkward family dinners where we can tease you both relentlessly.”

Blake snorted with laughter, pouring everyone a glass of wine. “Don’t worry, we’ll go easy on you. Sometimes.”

We all raised our glasses, clinking them together in a toast to new beginnings.

The conversation flowed easily as we all continued to drink our wine, sharing more stories and laughing until our glasses were empty. Eventually, we decided to join the kids in the living room. As soon as we walked in, Inez grabbed my hand, pulling me toward her pile of Barbies, while Penny and Baxter trotted over to greet us.

I sat on the floor with one hand helping Inez arrange her Barbies while my other hand stroked Baxter, who had curled up next to me. The rest of the group settled on the couches, chatting and laughing as the kids played around us.

We spent a while there enjoying the comfortable, laid-back atmosphere, but eventually, I felt a yawn escape me. Ryan noticed it immediately and pointed dramatically.

“Alright, I think it’s official—time for all the kids to head to bed!” he teased, earning a laugh from Blake and a chorus of giggles from the actual children.

I chuckled, shaking my head. “I guess I walked right into that one.”

Blake stood up and stretched, signaling that the evening was winding down. “Yeah, we should probably wrap things up before we have to carry anyone out of here.”

We all said our goodbyes, exchanging hugs and thanking each other for the great night. As we stepped outside, Hugh and I found ourselves standing by our cars, lingering in the cool night air.

I smiled up at him, feeling the warmth of the evening still lingering between us. “So, what’s on your agenda for tomorrow?”

Hugh shrugged lightly. “Not too exciting, honestly. I’m helping a friend with some work on his house in the morning, then I’ve got a doctor’s appointment and after that, I’m calling my brother to talk about my visit in Sydney to catch up with my family.”

I nodded. “Sounds like a busy day. Hometown huh?"

“Yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve seen everyone." he said softly, then smiled at me. “What about you? Plans with Chris?”

I grinned, the thought of seeing Chris again making me feel both nostalgic and excited. “Yeah, but we’re not meeting until the evening for a drink. Until then I'll call my parents because I promised them last week and after that I'll meet up with my management."

For a moment, we stood there, the air between us feeling charged in a quiet, tender way. After a small pause, we leaned into each other at the same time. He wrapped one arm around my waist, and the other hand found its way to my cheek. Our lips met in a slow, tentative kiss.

When we pulled away, there was a comfortable silence between us, our eyes lingering on each other as if neither of us wanted to say goodbye just yet. I gently stroked my hands over his shoulders down to his chest.

“Well." I said, my voice a little softer than usual. "I guess I’ll see you soon. Good night."

Hugh nodded, his smile warm and easy. “Yeah, good night y/n. Text me when you're home."

"Will do." I smiled.

With that, we each got into our cars, and as I drove home, my mind wandered back to the evening—Blake and Ryan’s support, the kids, the laughter, the stories, and of course, the kisses. My heart felt lighter than it had in a long time, and I couldn’t help but smile as I thought about tomorrow’s meeting with Chris.

---------------------------------------------------

Tags: @spectorrrhgf @tinawantstobeadoll @appetencyfortacos @weskerussy @kellyxo1 @larkkyoris

Next part

[nats--sw]

Gold chain (pt4) | Leah Williamson

You and Leah finally met up again, nerves and laughter mixing as you both tried to hide how excited you were. warnings: just fluff and slow burn pt1 pt5 my masterlist

Leah had been glued to her phone all morning and part of the afternoon. She’d gotten used to it over the past few days, anxiously waiting for a message or call from you. The last interaction had been the previous night, when Leah tried calling you a couple of times after hearing about your elimination at Berlin. She hadn't been successful; you had rejected all the calls. Even though you were a bit calmer by then,  you didn't want to feel or hear Leah's sympathy. Not yet.

At least you left her a goodnight message, saying you were trying to process the tough day you'd had. But that wasn’t enough for Leah. She needed more than a brief text; she wanted to hear your voice, to know you were really okay. The waiting and worrying were driving her crazy, and she kept checking her phone, hoping for a sign that you were ready to talk.

At least the photo shoot that morning had kept Leah busy for a couple of hours, providing a brief distraction from her constant worry. But she knew that once she got home, she'd be checking her phone again, hoping to hear from you.

She had just said goodbye to her staff and was about to get in her car when her phone started buzzing. Without even checking to see if it was you, she quickly got into the car and felt a wave of relief when she saw your name pop up in her notifications. 

Her relief turned to confusion when she opened the message and saw a picture of the front of Emirates Stadium.

"This is the famous home of London's biggest club?"

"I asked a guy and he said I was wrong, that I should go west."

"Isn't this Stamford Bridge?"

Leah bit her lip to keep from smiling. She was getting more and more used to your quirky sense of humor and sarcastic comments.

"You're into comedy now?" Leah quickly typed into her phone, not yet getting what was going on.

"You wish."

Before Leah could respond, another photo popped up, immediately followed by a message.

"Do you think if I ask for it they'll give it to me?" The picture showed a huge banner with Leah's face on it.

"I'm a big fan."

That's when it hit her. Were you really in London? Already? You were just playing in a tournament in Germany yesterday.

Leah looked out the window of her car, seeing the same sky that was starting to darken, just like in the photo you had sent.

"What the hell? You're here?"

Leah couldn't hold back her excitement. Without waiting for your reply, she dialed your number. Without waiting for your reply, she called you. As the phone rang, she started her car and plugged in her phone.

"Hello?" Leah could hear the smile in your voice.

"I can't believe it," Leah said, nervously running a hand through her hair.

"What? That I'm your fan?"

"I already knew that," Leah replied, pulling out of the parking lot. "Stay where you are, I'm like twenty minutes away."

"Make it fifteen."

Leah became a bundle of nerves as soon as she got out of her car. This was only the second time you’d be seeing each other in person, and the first time alone. She walked around for a while, until she finally spotted you taking pictures. Feeling awkward and unsure of how to approach, she was glad your back was turned. 

Leah opened her mouth to say your name, but nothing came out

This time was different from the first. You knew each other now, had chatted about all sorts of things, and shared some nice moments over video calls. You weren’t strangers anymore.

Meanwhile, you were completely unaware of Leah behind you, busy taking pictures. Satisfied with your shots, you stepped back and bumped into someone. You turned quickly, ready to apologize (or snap if it was some weirdo). But like Leah, you were left speechless.

Neither of you said anything at first, the tension thick in the air. Leah’s nervous smile matched yours, and you couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh.

Leah thought your laughter was even more contagious in person than over the phone, and she immediately started laughing too.

"What are you doing standing there like a stalker?" you asked once you both calmed down a bit.

"Actually, by standing here I'm protecting you from any stalkers."

"Woah, how gentlemanly of you," you said with a grin.

"Yeah, I know," Leah replied, flashing a smile. She held your gaze, looking down at you since you were only slightly shorter than her.

"Don't look at me like that," you said, laughing nervously again and giving her a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

"I’m making you nervous?" Leah asked, genuinely curious. She had seen you go through other emotions before, but had never seen you nervous. The two of you had shared so many video calls, but this was different.

"Yes," you admitted, shoving your hands into your pockets. You glanced around and wrinkled your nose. "This is your place... it's a little intimidating, realizing how big you are here and what your image represents. I hadn't really taken it all in until now."

Leah tilted her head slightly, trying to understand. "What do you mean?"

"You," you said, looking back at her. "You're not just Leah to everyone here. You're a big deal. Talking to you has been... Well, like I’m just talking to Leah. But now that I'm here, seeing everything with your face in it, it's like, 'Whoa, this is who I've been staying up all week chatting with.'"

Leah felt a warmth in her chest at your words. She never thought of herself that way.

"I don't think it's anything to make a big deal about," Leah replied, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

"Of course not, Captain Williamson," you retorted, rolling your eyes. Leah's body trembled slightly at your playful jab.

"Well, you're a big deal to me too, you know. And right now, I’m just Leah." Leah continued.  "I've seen your face on giant billboards too, you know."

You were about to respond, but Leah turned to you with a raised eyebrow. 

"Where are you staying?"

"Ah," you chuckled, noticing the not-so-subtle change in topic. "I have a room booked at one of the downtown hotels."

"Are you with your team?"

"No, we're taking a few days off," you said, avoiding mention of yesterday's dressing room incident, which had caused the current situation. Nor did you want to bring up your recent appointment with your therapist a couple of hours ago.

"So I assume you messaged me because you got lost and don't know how to get back to your hotel?" Leah asked, heading back towards where she had parked her car.

"Actually, yes," you lied. You knew your way around London, but Leah didn't need to know that. "I just didn't feel like going straight back to the hotel, so I've been wandering around all afternoon."

"And you still don't want to go back?"

"I just don't want to be alone."

"Can I suggest something?"

You smiled at Leah's offer.

The drive to Leah's house was quiet, mostly because halfway there you had drifted off to sleep. It had been a long day, or rather, two long days: the morning flight, the session with your psychologist, the extensive walk around town, and everything that had transpired the day before. It was a lot to handle in such a short span of time.

Leah's car smelled like her, a comforting scent that started to ease your stress. She knew when to stay silent, creating a soothing vibe that made relaxation inevitable.

As you slept, however, Leah couldn't shake a bit of guilt. Maybe you just needed to rest, and here she was, possibly dragging you along to plans that might not even interest you.

When you woke up after she parked outside her house, Leah turned to you with a gentle concern in her eyes.

"Are you awake now?" she asked softly. "I can drop you back at your hotel if you'd rather."  she offered, still buckled into her seatbelt, confident that you'd want to leave.

"What?" you mumbled, sitting up straight and blinking to clear the sleep from your eyes. 

"You look exhausted, Y/n," she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of worry. Her gaze was gentle, trying to read the emotions behind your tired face.

"I'm just exhausted, but I know I won't feel any better alone in that hotel, believe me," you said, trying to reassure her and convince her it wasn't a bad idea.

Leah's concern deepened as she took in your tired demeanor. After a few moments of contemplation, she took a deep breath as she unbuckled her seatbelt. 

"Well, let's go then," she said softly, her voice carrying a touch of warmth.

Leah's home wrapped around you with a scent even more intense than the scent of her car. The place had a cozy charm.

"I wasn't expecting a guest, so if you find anything strange, just ignore it, please," Leah chuckled nervously as she led the way inside.

"It's lovely," you grinned, following her inside. It was fascinating to explore the place you had only seen through a screen before.

"Thank you," Leah said, heading towards her kitchen. "Are you hungry?"

If someone had told you a few weeks ago that you'd be at Leah Williamson's house, sitting down to a hearty meal of potato smiley faces and chicken nuggets, you would have probably raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Is this your idea of gourmet food?" you chuckled, eyeing your plate—it looked straight out of a children's menu.

"Absolutely," Leah said with a grin, grabbing two glasses and a bottle of wine. "I did promise to treat you, after all." 

The cozy kitchen and Leah's relaxed demeanor made you feel at ease.

"Well, you basically dragged me along."

"Hey, don't put it like that," said Leah pouting. "I gave you the option of taking you back to your hotel."

"I'm just messing with you, Leah," you said with a laugh, gently taking the bottle of wine from her hands to pour the glasses. "But seriously, this dinner is going to be a memory I'll cherish."

"I feel like you're making fun of me," she said, narrowing her eyes playfully.

"No, I'm serious," you replied warmly. "It's actually kind of sweet. I've never had this before."

"I just had to toss the potatoes on a tray, you know?" she said, chuckling softly, brushing off any praise.

"Come on, just take the compliment, Leah."

Leah chuckled softly and settled into the chair across from you, taking a bite of a potato with a thoughtful expression."So... Can I ask why you're here?"

"You invited me," you replied casually, flashing a grin.

"I'm not talking about that..."

"Ah," you replied casually, popping a nugget into your mouth. "I just had a bit of a breakdown... they're making me take these days off now, which I'm actually enjoying a lot," you admitted, locking eyes with Leah. "I've been in therapy the whole year, having regular sessions, but it's been weeks since I last talked to my therapist. Well, until today.”

"And? How did your session go?"

“Well… I’m definitely drained, that’s for sure,” you admitted with a sigh, setting down your glass of wine. “We talked a lot about managing stress and pressure, trying to find new ways to cope.”

Leah nodded sympathetically, her gaze steady on you. "It sounds tough."

"Yeah, it is," you admitted, running a hand through your hair. "But I think I'm making progress. It's just taking time, but I'm starting to figure out how to handle all the pressure"

"I'm glad you're taking care of yourself, it's important. You can talk to me too, I also know what it's like to live surrounded by pressure constantly. Maybe it’s not the same but-”

“It is,” you said with a smile, gratefully at her gesture. "Thanks, Leah. It means a lot.”

After finishing, you both moved the talk to the couch, ready to open another bottle of wine.

"You know what?” you said, sinking into the cushions and stretching out your legs comfortably “I'd love to watch you play football sometime."

Leah chuckled, settling beside you and pouring wine into glasses. "Really? You think I'd impress you on the field?"

"You never know," you teased, nudging her playfully. "It would be fun to see another side of you."

"I thought you'd rather watch Chelsea," Leah said with a mischievous grin, her feet up on the couch, almost brushing against yours.

Both of you were clearly enjoying the evening, the warmth of the wine adding to the relaxed atmosphere.

"I can always watch you when you're playing against Chelsea," you replied with a playful smirk.

Leah fell silent for a moment, her gaze drifting away before she asked softly, "And who would you support?"

"Don't you remember I'm your biggest fan?" you replied with a smile, reaching out to gently touch her hand. "Of course, I'd support you. I mean it, I'd love to see you out there on the field, doing what you love”

Leah's cheeks flushed again, a mix of embarrassment and something warmer she couldn't quite name. She hoped you would attribute it to the wine rather than your words.

"My head is starting to hurt," Leah murmured, her words slightly rushed as she tried to distract herself. "Would you mind staying here? But if you want I can call a-"

"Of course not," you reassured her with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. You leaned back, already feeling a bit dizzy from the wine's effects. "Or am I not allowed to stay?" you teased with a playful smile.

You were beginning to enjoy how flustered Leah was getting, it was adorable that she didn't seem to realize her feelings might be mutual. Unless you were completely misreading all her signals, there was a palpable tension between you.

"I'll get the guest room ready for you then," Leah said softly,a slight stumble in her step as she headed towards the room.

The next morning, Leah woke to the sound of your phone ringing from the other room. Rubbing her eyes, still half-asleep, she tiptoed barefoot out of her own bedroom and quietly made her way across the hallway to the guest room. Pushing the door open gently, Leah's heart fluttered as she found you under the covers, peacefully asleep.

Leah glanced at the screen and recognized your coach's name flashing on your phone.

"Y/n," she whispered in a hushed tone, gently shaking your shoulder to wake you. "Your phone," she urged, giving you a firmer shake this time.

The ringing stopped just as your eyes blinked open, adjusting slowly to the morning light.

"Huh?" you said, a little disoriented by the strange room. You turned towards Leah, her face soft and concerned. It took you a few seconds to remember why you were there. "Leah- Good morning" you said quickly, a little embarrassed, straightening up in bed. 

"Your phone," Leah repeated, her voice soft as she tried to get your attention, but you were too distracted. Now fully awake, you couldn't help but notice Leah standing there in just sweatpants and a bra

Leah looked a little puzzled as your mouth hung open and your eyes slowly trailed down from her face to the rest of her body. It was then that she realized she hadn't bothered to put on a shirt before waking you up.

"Good morning," you repeated quickly, pulling your gaze away with a faint blush creeping up your cheeks.

"I wouldn't mind waking up like this more often," you thought to yourself, a slight grin tugging at your lips.

"I'm sorry," Leah apologized, unsure exactly what she was apologizing for. "Your phone was ringing, and you just wouldn't wake up."

"I'm a heavy sleeper," you mumbled, rubbing your face sleepily. The thought of staying in bed longer was tempting.

"Maybe it was important. You should check... while I get breakfast ready," Leah suggested before stepping out of the room.

When you entered the kitchen, you couldn't help but pout slightly upon seeing Leah now wearing a shirt. She stood at the stove, her back turned as she hummed a soft tune. 

You couldn't resist the urge to approach her quietly, your heart fluttering with a mix of anticipation and affection. You tiptoed closer and gently rested your chin on her shoulder.

"What are you cooking?" you whispered softly, surprised by how calmly Leah received your presence.

"An omelet," Leah replied, her attention fully on not burning the omelet. "Do you like them?"

"Yeah, it smells good," you replied.

You fell silent again as Leah flipped the omelet. 

"You smell good," she said casually, her attention still on the pan, showing no sign of embarrassment.

"I haven't showered yet," you blurted out, feeling yourself blush. It was nice to hear such words, even in that context.

"You ruined the moment," Leah teased, a smile playing on her lips as she shook her head and gently nudged you away. "Go sit down." 

Leah carefully slid the omelet onto your plate and set it down beside a steaming cup of coffee. She then placed the same in her plate and took a seat next to you.

"Is it alright that I made you coffee?" she asked, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

"If you're trying to keep me awake, it's exactly what I need," you murmured, taking a sip from the cup. "Delicious," you said with a satisfied sigh, enjoying the warmth spreading down your throat.

Leah smiled warmly as she picked up her fork and began to eat.

"What time do you have to leave?" she asked casually, glancing at you with curiosity.

"Are you kicking me out already?" you countered with a playful grin spreading across your face. Leah rolled her eyes playfully.

"That was your coach calling, I guess he wants you back already," she clarified with a hint of worry.

"No, I think Lucas is having the time of his life with these days off," you commented, relishing the taste of the omelet. "Damn, this is good. I didn't know you could cook," you exclaimed, taking another enthusiastic bite.

"It's just eggs," Leah shrugged.

"Well, it's the best omelet I've ever had," you praised sincerely.

"You're such a smooth talker," Leah laughed, her laughter filling the room. Her joyful demeanor was starting to win you over more and more.

"It's my talent," you joked, finishing off the last bite of the omelet. "Anyway, Lucas just wanted to check in, make sure everything's cool and that I didn't do anything too risky that could affect me physically with the tournament coming up."

"Sounds reasonable," Leah nodded thoughtfully, cutting half of her omelet and adding it to your plate. She had a feeling you enjoyed it, maybe because omelets weren't something you ate often.

"I'm so happy," you said, savoring every bite. "Remind me to have this every day when I'm away."

“So, what are you up to today?" Leah asked, curious about your plans.

"Uh," you mumbled as you wiped your lips with a napkin. "I actually wanted to learn something new, since I'm now banned from going near a tennis racket,"  you added quietly.

"What do you want to learn?" asked Leah curiously, setting down her coffee cup.

"Teach me how to play football!" you exclaimed with an excited smile, leaning forward eagerly.

"What?" Leah asked, caught off guard and nearly choking on her coffee.

"Yeah! I want to learn. I'm pretty sure I can't even kick a ball properly—oh! oh! Teach me how to head it. I've always wanted to try," you continued enthusiastically.

Leah shook her head, her expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. "But you said your coach didn't want you doing risky things."

"Come on, Leah, it's football.” your eyes sparkling with determination “How dangerous could it be?"

"Ouch! Red! Yellow! Foul! Foul!" you groaned dramatically from the ground, clutching your ankle.

Leah folded her arms, a playful smirk tugging at her lips as she looked down at you. "I barely touched you," she said, kicking the ball back and forth with her foot.

She had effortlessly taken the ball from you, causing you to lose your balance and tumble to the ground.

Leah started out playing gently with you, almost as if she were playing with a child, letting you have your way. However, as she heard your teasing comments about how easy it was, her competitive spirit kicked in.

"Another goal," she declared triumphantly, kicking the ball into the small goal set up in her backyard. "What's the score now, like 10-2?" she asked with a playful smirk, hands on her hips, looking down at you still sprawled on the ground.

You groaned, realizing she wasn't holding back anymore. Her playful demeanor had shifted into full-on competition, and you were loving every minute of it.

"Call an ambulance," you groaned, your voice strained with pain, eyes tightly shut.

Leah's heart skipped a beat as worry flooded her. You seemed genuinely hurt, and she felt a pang of guilt for possibly causing it. She hurried over, her mind racing with concern, and knelt down beside you on the grass.

"Where does it hurt?" Leah asked, her hand gently touching yours. You opened your eyes and looked at her, seeing the worry in her expression.

"It's just... here," you said, then quickly pounced on her, effortlessly knocking her down. "Gotcha, Williamson," you teased with a grin, enjoying Leah's confused expression.

It took Leah a moment to process what had happened. Suddenly, she found herself lying on her back on the grass with you sitting on her abdomen, legs straddling her, in a playful and unexpected turn of events.

"Damn, Y/n, you scared me," Leah said, taking a deep breath to calm herself.

"You'll need a lot more to break me down," you replied proudly, unaware of Leah's hands sneaking closer to your body. Suddenly, tickles sent waves of laughter through you. "Leah! No! Stop!" you managed to protest between laughs, attempting to fend off her tickling hands but finding it hard to resist in your laughter-filled state.

"It's the least you deserve!" Leah exclaimed, her smile mischievous. "You nearly scared me to death!" She took advantage of your moment of weakness to flip you over, switching positions. Now, it was your back against the grass with Leah sitting on top of you. 

Before you could react, Leah swiftly grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, securing them to the ground. Her eyes sparkling with a hint of playful affection.

Both of you were breathing heavily,cheeks flushed from all the laughter and movement of the past few minutes. Leah let out a sigh, and you felt a surge of anticipation as her face moved closer to yours. Your heart raced with anticipation, thinking she might kiss you. But instead, you felt Leah's forehead gently rest against yours.

"Don't play with me like that," she whispered softly.

You froze as her breath tickled your lips, her nose brushing against yours, and her perfume surrounding you. The gentle brush of her nose against yours sent a shiver down your spine.

"Leah..." you murmured, feeling her grip on your wrists tighten at the sound of her name.

"Don't ever scare me like that again," she whispered, pulling back slightly from your forehead but not releasing her hold.

Your eyes locked, the air thick with unspoken feelings. 

"I'm sorry," you murmured, a shiver running through you as you felt Leah's gaze fixed on your lips.

"Do you mind if I..." she began softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

It was the moment you had been secretly yearning for. It was the confirmation of the deep feelings stirring within you every time Leah crossed your mind. All you wanted and needed was to feel her lips against yours.

"Leah," you said impatiently, nodding eagerly as your head moved up and down a few inches.

Leah took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on yours, filled with a mixture of hesitation and longing as she leaned in closer. 

You felt her lips brush against yours, the brief contact sending a thrill through you. But just as the kiss was about to deepen, the doorbell rang.

In the blink of an eye, Leah pulled away, releasing your hands and creating an abrupt distance between you. 

"Fuck," you muttered, frustration and desire mixing in your voice, as you were left alone in the backyard with your heart racing.

[ahhnini]

strength

frat!rafe x tarot!reader

warnings - slight animal injury (not from any of the characters!), not proofread

frat!rafe x tarot!reader masterlist

a/n - lowkey hate this :( also masterlist links aren’t working again, so I apologize. I’ll add links once this glitch is fixed.

a small meow emerged from the foundation of your shop. you gasped, seeing the cat you’ve always fed right by the door, have a small gash across its nose.

it was tiny, and growing much slower than other cats you’ve seen. its been coming around for a couple of weeks now, and you have been doing your best to nourish the little animal.

you observed the kitten, watching it eat the food you placed. it must’ve been starving, you didn’t see it come around yesterday. you knelt down, gently stroking its fur. it continued ravishing its wet food, softly purring to your touch.

after the kitten finished eating, you gently lifted it, observing the gash on its nose. you hold it close to your chest as you walk downtown to the local vet.

“is he yours?” the primary vet asked. shaking your head, you watched as she fed the cat some medicine. she sighed, putting the syringe down. “well, you have a couple of options. you can give him to us and we can put him up for adoption…or you can adopt him yourself,” your eyes light up at the second option. “what do I need to do to adopt him?”

you didn’t really think this through. you were stood outside the frat house, freshly mowed grass slightly irritating your nostrils, your newly adopted kitten purring in his carrier. the realization hit you. were you even allowed to have pets? guess you’ll find out in a little.

barely anyone was home. there was an event with a nearby sorority, and you saw a glimpse of rafe getting a snack from the bar. you cringed to yourself, trying to make small footsteps up the spiral staircase. unfortunately, your feline friend didn’t get the memo, and started meowing every time you went up a step.

“who’s there?” you hear rafe’s footsteps quickly approach. you suck in a deep breath, turning to face him.

rafe had to break the news to jay about the cat. thankfully, there had been no rules in the frat constitution about a pet, and jay reassured you that a couple years back the guys all took care of a fish named guppy, so you were in the clear.

the next morning, you woke up to your room being filled with cat food, toys, and accessories. rafe was in a corner assembling the cat tree. however, the kitty was nowhere to be found. as if rafe read your mind, he spoke up, “he’s in the living room, playing by the windows.” you sigh in relief before replying, “did you get all these things?” he shook his head, “no, all of us pitched in. it started with one of the guys suggesting we get some food for him, and then it sort of…spiraled into this,” he places the wrench on the floor, and you had to stop yourself from staring at his arms. you look away, nodding. “speaking of, we sort of, named the cat for you,” “oh? it better not be some stupid name like ground beef—”

he chuckles, eyes crinkling. “nah. we named it merlin. after the wizard. we decided it fit him ‘cus you’re his mom and you know, you do witchy things. you’re welcome to change it,” he shrugs, standing up to admire his craftsmanship.

“merlin? oh, I love it. merlin the cat. has a nice ring to it,” you chuckle.

heading downstairs, the surprises kept coming as you see a professional photographer, who was taking pictures of your cat, dressed up as a wizard. a couple weeks later, the photo was hung up on the hallway walls, right next to the alumni.

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[theflowerrooms]

to request • Eddie’s masterlist • main masterlist

Lingering Discomfort

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary; usually you and your boyfriend Eddie are all over eachother, but after an awful experience with a stranger, you can’t handle anyone’s hands on you

wordcount: 1.7k

Warnings: descriptions of sexual assault and lingering affects of it, light angst, Eddie’s so sweet and lovely

another request from the lovely @tracymbcm, thank you so much for requesting <3

It was yesterday, when you were at the bookstore, standing in between the fantasy and horror isles at the bookstore when someone tapped on your back, between your shoulder blades. It was a man, significantly older than you but not elderly by any means, he was incredibly average looking man, apart from the scary grin he wore on his face, and his beady eyes that stared at your chest rather than your face.

  "Don't see many pretty young girls listening to Metallica." He smirked at the band tee you wore and your heart raced with anxiety. You wondered if he could tell the shirt was too big for you, if he could tell it was a man's shirt- Eddie's. "What's your favourite song by them honey?" He asked and the petname made you feel sick.

"Um-" "Um!" He cut you off mocking you and you pouted, backing up, wiping your sweaty palms on the sides of your skirt.

  "I don't- I don't listen to them. My boyfriend, he loves 'em." You didn't talk more than that and you almost flinched at the very unsubtle way the corner of his lip rose in irritation.

  "That right? How old is he?" He asked, a step closer to you as you took one back. Your eyes watered as you realized any further back and you'd just be trapped against the bookcase.

  "He's twenty." You hoped he didn't see your lip tremble, you hoped he couldn't hear your heart beating so fast.

  "Twenty? See young guys- little boys like that don't know how to treat their girls." That's all that was said before the situation escalated and ended with you running out of the store crying. He didn't do anything more than grab your ass, but it was revolting.

  You took deep breaths before you pulled out of the parking lot. Your first instinct was to drive to Eddie's house, cry into his chest and complain about the creep in the bookstore. You could see him in your head, hugging you, rocking you as he kissed the crown of your head. You didn't understand why the thought of that made you uncomfortable, you just didn't want to be touched again. What you needed was a shower, and then bed.

✽-

  The next morning, Eddie picked you up as usual, he did every morning. Usually you loved it, getting to spend time with him before you started your day, and it got him to school on time, not wanting to make you late. Today you'd rather walk, every car ride Eddie would stroke your thigh, kiss you at every stop sign, squeeze in a quick make out session before you left the car.

  You avoided all that. Grabbing his freehand and holding it so it wouldn't venture to your legs, fake yawning and leaning your head against the window with your eyes closed, too tired to kiss. You left his van before he got the chance to try and make out with you.

  He did call you pretty, and cute in the span of three minutes, which brought a smile to your face, especially since you didn't feel pretty or cute, wearing a loose fitting t-shirt and grey sweatpants instead of the skirt and tighter top you normally would've worn, too uncomfortable to wear anything very revealing.

  He walked with you into the school, slightly behind you like he usually did and you distanced yourself just slightly, so his hand wouldn't find the small of your back.

  You chewed your lip as you turned around to face him. "'M gonna go talk to Robin before class." You smile softly, albeit anxiously at him, but he didn't read into it too much thankfully.

  "Alright baby, tell her I said hey." He grinned and you nodded, guilty you hadn't been giving him the same attention and intimacy you normally would. He leaned forward to kiss you and you turned your head, he was fine with just kissing your cheek. "You okay baby?" He asked, glassy brown eyes searching your own. You told him you were, and you both knew you were lying, but he didn't press it.

  You swallowed thickly as you turned from him, wiping the invisible kiss off of your face when you knew he couldn't see you, walking on shaky legs until you found Robin.

  "What the hell is wrong with you?" She asked, and you sighed, shrugging even though you knew. Her eyes burned into yours until you leaned against the lockers with a pout. Finally you told her what happened.

  She scoffed. "Men. So many of them are fucking creeps, I thank the gods every day for the fact that I swing the other way." She rolled her eyes with a grimace on her face that matched the one that was starting to grow on your own. "Was Eddie with you?" She asked and you shook your head. "That's- well maybe that's a good thing. He would've totally lost his shit." She laughed.

  That last sentence stuck with you. Why would Eddie be mad? It wasn't your fault. But then maybe it was, you could've moved away sooner, told him to stop, you could have just not interacted with him in the first place and moved on. And now Eddie would be mad at you.

✽-

  It stuck in your head until lunch. And when it was lunch, you felt anxious again. You felt so guilty, especially seeing Eddie smile so big the second he saw you. When you reached the hellfire table, you pulled your usual seat a few inches away from him, so you wouldn't be pressed flush against him like usual.

  You sat and he wrapped his arm around you like usual, so you leaned forward letting his arm rest on the back of your chair, that was fine.

  Things were okay for the next ten minutes. You got less anxious, joining in on the conversation, things seemed normal again, despite the lack of Eddie's tongue down your throat which was common for every other lunch period.

  Suddenly that normalcy ended. "You're too far baby." Eddie tsked, easily picking you up and putting you in his lap, arm over your lap and gripping the underside of your thigh, the same place that old man's hand was less than a day ago.

  You leaped up without thinking, heart racing, all the eyes of hellfire on you. "Stop! Stop- just don't- don't want you touching me." Your voice shook, and tears welled in your eyes when Eddie's smile fell completely. You mistook the concern on his face for anger and you bolted, you didn't go far, only to the library, you'd favourite place in Hawkin's High, save for Eddie's arms.

  You sat in the back on a soft chair, you weren't there long before Eddie found you. He kneeled in front of you, making himself look small as he peered up at your teary eyes. He placed his hand on the arm of the chair, not on your skin.

  "I talked to Robin baby, do y'wanna talk about what's bothering you?" His eyes didn't look angry like you thought they would, only sweet and inviting. His lips turned to match the pout on your face, he always did it and it made you giggle, you felt your lips twitch with the beginning of a smile. It was hard to stay upset around Eddie.

  "Are you mad?" You asked and his eyes immediately widened, curls swaying with his head as he shook it.

  "Of course not sweet girl, I could never be mad at you baby. Especially not for something that wasn't your fault." He assured you. Immediately the guilt in your chest floated away. "Do you wanna talk to me about it baby?" He tilted his head and you nodded.

  "Yesterday, at the bookstore there was this older guy." Your lip trembled. "He was askin' about my shirt 'n he called me pretty. Then he started asking about you when I told him I have a boyfriend. He said twenty year olds dunno how to please girls, and he- and he touched me." You brought your knees to your chest as the tears on your waterline started to drip over your cheeks.

  Eddie's jaw tensed. "Where did he touch you?" It was tearing him apart to not be able to hold you right now, wipe away your tears. But he understood there was a new boundary as a result of what happened, and he'd respect that, keep his hands to himself until he knew it was okay to touch you again.

  "He rubbed my leg- 'n he grabbed my butt." You whispered, he didn't look angry, upset yes, worried, absolutely, but he wasn't mad. "I told Robin about it 'n she said if you were there you would've lost your shit." You kept your voice down and he shook his head quickly again.

  "No- no baby, well, yes. But I wouldn't have been mad at you at all, just at that guy. It's not okay for him to go around touching girls, 'specially my girl. But that's not your fault baby, you didn't do anything wrong. I promise you did good, and I'm not mad at you at all." He promised and you sniffled.

  There was a beat of silence before you threw yourself from the chair onto your knees, burying your face in his chest. His arms immediately squeezed you close to him, brushing your tears away gently.

  "How about we skip the rest of our classes today, head to that bookstore, 'n I'll buy you whatever book you didn't get to buy yesterday. And if that guy's there, you point him out and he and I can have a little talk, I'll make sure he doesn't touch you, or anyone else like that again, hm?" His voice was soft, calm as he pet your hair and you nodded.

"I love you." "I love you"

  You didn't see that guy again when you went to the bookstore later on, Eddie's arm protectively hooked around you through each isle. He got you your book, and you even got to read the first couple of chapters to him in his arms that night.

[tlou-reid]

Timeless ❆ Aaron Hotchner

☃︎ SUMMARY: a timeline of Aaron’s and his soulmates’ love life.

☃︎WARNINGS: random asshole character at the beginning, aaron and jack being cuties, death and mentions of an undisclosed illness, a funeral :(

.｡❅⋆⍋∞｡∞⍋⋆❅｡.

“We would have been timeless, ‘cause I believe that we were supposed to find this. So, even in a different life, you still would've been mine. We would've been timeless.”

Day One

“Aaron!” the barista called into the busy cafe, setting down a carrier of four drinks. His name was quickly sketched across all four, signifying his loss to the team.

Aaron, Penelope, JJ and Luke had made a bet that Aaron would have a home cooked meal for five out of the seven days they were in town. He’d caved on day four, getting home late and craving the acidic burn of pizza sauce and greasiness of mozzarella cheese. He couldn’t help himself, forgetting all about the silly bet he’d made.

He remembered in the morning when he came eye to eye with the Italian man on the pizza place’s logo. Aaron figured it would be easier to just come in with their prize, coffees from Penelope’s favorite local place, and accept defeat than have to confront each of them.

So, he picks up his tray with a sigh and continues his way to his car, hoping to get to the BAU as soon as possible.

However, this would prove difficult. Aaron is shocked to see a big SUV blocking him in, and a lady jumping out of it. “YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!” She yelled into the open door, slamming it at the end of her sentence. Aaron could see the passenger side window roll down. He heard a man’s voice this time, with a much darker, violent tone, “YOU SHOULD’VE THOUGHT ABOUT IT BEFORE YOU GOT IN THE CAR, BITCH!”

The law enforcement officer in Aaron kicked in when he heard the foul names being thrown towards this lady. She was gearing up to retaliate, but he stepped in front of her. Aaron used his free hand to quickly pull out his badge. It was a bit clumsily, due to the weight of the coffees in his other hand.

Once he was standing protectively in front of the lady and had his badge on full display, Aaron spoke, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave before you cause a further public disturbance.” His voice was low, the same way he talked to suspect. “Oh, fuck you.” The man said one last time, making eye contact with the lady, before pulling off.

“Are you okay?” Aaron turned around to face the lady. “Yeah, the guy’s just an asshole. Fucking offers me a ride and thinks that means he’s getting laid?” You’re rambling at this point, aggravated at the entire situation. “Where are you trying to go?” His entire plan of getting to work quickly went out the window when he saw how beautiful your eyes were.

“I work at the office around the block. I usually drive but someone hit my car yesterday and it’s in the shop today,” Aaron was growing more and more concerned with your wellbeing as you spoke, “I’m just gonna walk. Thanks for taking care of that asshole, I can’t believe I’m gonna have to see him later.”

Aaron knows he should probably walk away, but he can’t stop himself from asking, “See him later?” You nod, “He’s my fucking neighbor. Sorry, I don’t usually cuss this much, he just really pissed me off.” Aaron laughs at this, seeing as the first thing he heard you say was “fucking asshole”.

“You’re sure you don’t need a ride?” He asks one more time. “No, I could probably use the walk to cool off some. Thank you,” Your voice trailed off, not knowing what to call him. He stuck his hand out for you to shake, “Aaron.” He filled in the blank for you.

You told him your name, shook his hand, and bid him goodbye. You made it maybe six steps before you turned back around, “Aaron!” You hollered, walking quickly to catch up to him. “I know this is bold and I don’t even know if you’re single, but you were very kind and I think you’re very good looking. Could I get your number maybe?”

Aaron meets you with a laugh. You’re wary, not knowing that a laugh from Aaron was extremely rare, and something a lot of people would kill to hear. Your nerves are eased when he says, “I’d love to give you my number.”

Day 16

The night was going wonderfully. Aaron was proving that chivalry was, in fact, not dead. Just lost in older men. He was comfortable meeting you at the restaurant, he pulled out your chair for you, ordered a bottle of the fancy wine the restaurant carried, and was currently sliding his credit card into the check holder.

The conversation between you two flowed beautifully all night, making it seem like time flew by. He signed the bottom of the receipt, leaving a very generous cash tip, and turned his attention towards you. “Ready to go?” Aaron asked, not wanting to rush you away. You gave him a shy nod, trying to figure out a way to say you want to see him again soon without sounding obsessed.

Aaron stood and you followed, interlocking your arm with his. You two walked out of the restaurant, only letting each other go when he held the door for you. “Which one’s yours?” He asked, wanting to walk you to your car. You held out the key, clicking the lock button to get it to light up.

Aaron walked you over, opening the driver’s side door for you. “Look at her!” You squealed, excited for him to see your car, “Fresh out of the shop!” Aaron laughed at your excitement. Once you were comfortable in your seat and buckled up, Aaron went to speak again.

“I had fun,” He smiled at you. “I did, too.” You replied. “Would you like to do it again, sometime?” He asked, fumbling over his word a bit. You couldn’t help but find the way you made him nervous adorable.

“I would love to, whenever you’re free.” He’d told you about how hectic his work life could get, which you understood. “I’ll call you.” He promised, getting ready to close the door. “Goodnight, Aaron.” He gave you once last smile, repeated your sentiment, and closed the door for you.

Day 102

“Why’d you pick him?” Aaron’s son, Jack asked. “Jack!” Aaron laughed, loading up spaghetti noodles on his plate.

It’s your first time meeting Jack. You were both scared and excited, not knowing how he would react to Aaron bringing home a new girlfriend. “He protected me the first time I met him, I felt like I owed him.” You joked as Aaron passed you the pasta. You smiled when Jack let out a loud laugh.

Dinner continued like this, with teasing and laughter. You felt incredibly welcomed in the Hotchner household, loving the energy both of the boys created. You fit like a missing puzzle piece, being able to help Jack team up on his dad, and be there when Aaron was feigning sadness at one his jokes. Plus, both of them were happy to have a home cooked meal for the first time in about a week. Jack even said you could come over whenever you wanted, as long as you cooked.

“I think he likes you,” Aaron said as he climbed into bed next to you, later that night. “I think so, too. We laughed a lot.” Aaron nodded, moving over to press a kiss to the side of your head.

“Welcome to the family,” He muttered as he wiggled down into the blankets, falling asleep quickly.

Day 1534

“I do.” You said as you slid the ring onto Aaron’s finger, missing the first time due the tears welling up in your eyes.

Everyone seated for the ceremony cheered as the pastor said, “You may kiss the bride!” Aaron pulled you in by your waist, pressing himself as close as possible to you. The kiss was appropriate, considering there was a crowd watching, but full of love.

After you pulled away, you moved yourself behind Aaron, pulling his best man in for a big hug. Jack smiled against your neck, squeezing you tight. You grabbed one his hands, and one of Aaron, walking back down the aisle with both of them by your side.

“Mr., Mr., and Mrs. Hotchner,” Jessica smiled, introducing you three to the reception. You were ready to dance and celebrate with the people you loved most in the world. And you were so excited to share their last name.

Day 12152

You had always hoped it would be you to pass first. Something easy for Aaron, Jack, and his children to handle. Passing away in your sleep, peacefully and free of pain.

But, wishes are rarely granted. You were sat next to Aaron when he passed. As hard as his battle with illness had been, he fought as best he could. You knew he’d spent his whole life fighting, so you, as sad as you were, you relieved to know he was somewhere safe and relaxing. Somewhere where there was no fight to be had.

He would be surrounded by people he loved, more than he had around him in his old age now.

Jack held you tight at the funeral, knowing you were heartbroken. Part of him was relieved too. His father was no longer in pain. When he knelt at his dad’s casket, he made one last promise to look over you. To take care of you, to love you, and to protect you, just as Aaron had done since the day he met you.

You weren’t too worried about it, though. You knew you’d join him when the time was right, and he would be waiting for you. You two were meant to be, even if you’d met late in life. No matter how long it took, or where you guys were, you and Aaron would find each other.

[daengtokki]

part seven // serial killer!Kim Seungmin/afab reader

WC: 13.6k

RATING: mature/explicit/mdni—contains: seungmin's worst memory. death & murder. domestic/child abuse. medical settings, medication usage, hallucinations, & shared delusions. more murder. fluff...& sex.

SYNOPSIS: Seungmin floats through life alone, haunted by his memories—keeping himself under control, and quieting his mind the only way he knows how…killing and watching the life leave his victims eyes. When you cross his path on a morning hunt, something new (something forgotten) starts to move inside of him, leading both of you on a path to confront the unspeakable past.

COMMENTS: I reached 600 followers a few days ago, so thank you guys for liking my stuff enough to deal with me ♡

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𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟒𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟗

The rain stopped sometime during the night, but it pelted against the roof and windows, and it kept him awake for hours. Usually, the steady sound lulls him to sleep, but last night was different—there was nothing relaxing about that downpour. He does remember waking after his first time dozing off, though, and it was eerily silent with the sound of the rain suddenly gone. But he knows he heard something...it, right outside his window, walking around on the wet, muddy ground.

The first thing he does in the morning is run to his window to open the curtains and let the sun in. The second thing he does is look at the ground in front of the bushes. Deer tracks, he thinks. He’s not good with the local fauna, but he knows they aren’t human footprints. Seungmin doesn't know what lives in those woods, and he doesn’t go in anymore to find out.

Seungmin-ah!

“I’m up, I’m coming!” He quickly rifles through his drawer and pulls out a change of clothes. “I’m coming!” Just as he starts toward the door, he turns and heads back to his bed to throw the covers back up, fluff up his pillow, and grab Daengmo.

“Come get some breakfast”

The door creaks as he pulls it halfway shut, and he bolts down the long hallway toward the kitchen, slipping a little in his socks. Seungmin stops abruptly when he hears the door to his left swing open, and his stomach drops.

“Slow down”

He doesn’t want to look up at him, but he has to, so he gets it over with quickly. “I’m sorry…a—“ he stops himself. Even after so much time has passed, calling him appa is still a reflex. He’s the only father Seungmin can remember. “I’m sorry.” But stepfather doesn’t like it coming from Seungmin’s mouth anymore.

“Breakfast isn’t going anywhere, and neither is your mother.” He passes by him, but not before ripping Daengmo from under his arm, “aren’t you too old for this yet?” Daengmo stares blankly at him, and he stares back with a grimace. Seungmin heart starts to race just as the dog is dropped at his feet. “Should have left this stupid thing out there instead.”

Because he would have never found his way home.

“There you are, my sleepy puppy”

“The rain kept me up, umma”

She sets a bowl of seaweed soup in front of Seungmin, and then another bowl full of rice. “I scrambled some eggs, too, if you’re hungry enough.” Her hand runs down the side of his head to try and flatten out his bed hair.

“Yes, please,” he smiles at her when she returns with a plate.

“And some of the strawberries we picked up yesterday.”

“Did you already eat?”

“I did. As soon as you’re ready, we’ll go replant some more flowers.”

*

The greenhouse is hot and humid, but he likes it. He loves the warm months when the plants and flowers come to life, and he loves fall, when the chrysanthemums bloom, and the asters and the marigolds hang on a little longer. It’s always bright and pretty in here, at least until winter creeps in and scares almost everything away.

“Come here, love…hold this for me”

Seungmin drops to his knees and holds the big mound of dirt in his hands. “What are these?”

“Japanese iris”

“And those?”

“Camellia”

A crash from outside grabs his attention, and he almost drops his iris bud before the pot is ready.

“Hey puppy, look at me…don’t worry about him”

“I’m not”

She looks at him, a smile on her face, but eyes full of worry. Seungmin worries all the time, and she knows that. He worries more than any nine year old ever should, and all she wishes for is a chance to take him somewhere far away and never look back. No more worry, and no more fear. “It’s just us, okay? Me and you.”

“Yeah, just us”

The rain starts again, first a slow drop here and there, and gradually, it turns into a downpour. Again, he hears a crash, and even over the deafening sound of rain, he hears his stepfather screaming at nothing in his shed.

“The rain will ruin his day, but not ours”

“Are we planting more of those?” He points to the bright purple flowers in the corner.

“Do you like those? They’re my favorite.”

“They smell nice”

“They do, but they don’t like this weather. Heliotrope needs lots of sun and a little less rain.”

Seungmin pouts.

“That doesn’t mean we won’t try”

The ultrasound room is freezing, and the blanket they put over you is pulled all the way up to your chin. It’s not helping, though. Seungmin slides his jacket off and sets it on top, and his warmth still trapped inside finally helps you stop shivering.

“What’s taking them so long?” He grumbles.

You shrug—this is only your second time in a Korean hospital, but you’re kind of used to waiting when you go to an emergency room, or a doctor’s appointment. The two of you decided the drive back home the next morning instead of revisiting the hospital in Daegu, mostly because Seungmin was eager to get you back to the bed you’ve gotten used to, and back to where he could access the contents of his bank account. Uljin can wait another week or two, he said. Time to resettle and clean up any messes left behind. And you know he also wanted to find a doctor close to home as soon as possible.

“It hasn’t been that long, it’s okay”

“Long enough. And it’s too cold in here. Maybe we can look for another doctor.”

“Let’s at least meet her first. It seems nice here."

*

The apartment looked fine, but it was easy to tell things were moved around. Everything was just slightly off.

“I can’t believe the missing piece of rug wasn’t suspicious.” You look hard at the spot where the kill from that night bled out. There’s no reason to think this was cut because of anything more than a bad spill.

“Yeah, and the spot where the girl fell.” Seungmin stands there and looks at the bare floor. “I’m really glad you didn’t pull that knife out.”

“I used to watch a lot of crime dramas. I still do, just Korean ones."

“That’s how you knew how to stab?”

“I also watched a lot of Dateline”

He cocks an eyebrow at you.

“True crime”

“Oh, that’s me…true crime. Well, that’s us now.”

“Us? That’s romantic.

*

There’s a soft knock on the door, and an older woman, the ultrasound tech, walks in and greets both of you.

“Mother speaks only English? I can speak English.”

“Thank you.” You slide Seungmin’s jacket off and hand it back to him.

“It should be warmer soon, we turned the heat up”

You’re nervous, but you know that Seungmin is even more nervous. From the corner of your eye, you see him hugging his jacket tight as the woman guides your legs up and open, carefully drapes another blankets across your knees, and adjusts the machine on your right.

“I thought you got the little wand on your stomach,” he says, and his eyes move back and forth between you and your wide open legs.

The woman answers first. “Not this one. This gives us a better look, because it’s still early.”

“Oh”. Seungmin watches her every move as she preps, but eventually finds your hands and squeezes it. “Are you warmer?”

You nod, but now all of your attention is on her and the wand in her hand. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Are you ready? Take a nice deep breath, and relax."

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟕𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟗

More rain, Seungmin thinks as he pushes himself deeper under his blanket. The slow pings start against his window, and he watches as it beats against the glass, harder and harder. The rain never bothered him much before, and it’s not really the rain that’s making sleep so difficult. The problem is what seems to be right outside of his window when the rain comes. Seungmin can’t see it, he doesn’t think…he feels it. Sometimes he thinks he sees the outline of something moving just beyond the bushes, and sometimes he thinks he sees the reflection of glowing eyes.

If he mentioned it to umma, and he might, she would probably tell him it’s just a deer. She would say pull the curtains closed, puppy…if it eases your mind. And that’s just what he does. After a few seconds of working up the courage, he jumps from under his cover and runs to the window, pulls the curtains closed, and then runs and jumps back into his warm bed.

“Better,” he whispers to himself, and just as he closes his eyes, the shatter of glass sends him back up. He sits and stares at his door and waits for another sound.

“You don’t listen!”

Stepfather is screaming, and that’s nothing new. The soft voice of his mother trickles in as she tells him to please keep his voice down, please don’t wake Seungmin.

“He doesn’t listen, either. He can hear this, too. I thought I got rid of these!”

Got rid of what? Seungmin thinks.

“He picked them out at the bookstore yesterday. He’s doing so well…he’s so smart.”

“Is he? I don’t see it.”

“He’s a good boy”

“Give them to me, all of them. And whatever else you spent my money on.”

Seungmin feels tears welling in his eyes, and he tries with everything he has to hold them back. He tries with everything he has to stay put and not run out there and stop him.

“We only bought groceries, and the books…nothing else”

“Don’t lie to me”

He hears a slap, and his mother makes another quiet sound…and his tears start to fall. “Umma, we’ll leave soon…you and me.”

It’s not as bad as you anticipated, but you still grip the hand he gave you. A few seconds of nothing, and then something appears on the screen. You don’t know what you’re looking at, though, because ultrasound images always confused you. It’s nothing but static, and a big black blob that you at least know is where something is supposed to be.

“Can you see?” She asks, and looks at you, and then she looks at Seungmin. “There…on the bottom left. I would say seven weeks, almost eight.” She moves the wand again, and you squeeze his hand a little harder. “Oh…just a moment. I’m sorry, dear.”

“What is it?” Seungmin moves closer, pushes his glasses up, and squints. He doesn’t know what he’s looking at, either.

The woman pushes a button on the machine, and you hear the strange, whooshing sound come through. You know what it is, just not from personal experience—a wild heartbeat. And the sound of an actual heart beating makes everything feel very real, very quickly.

She smiles at you with a little hesitancy, and then points at a new spot on the right side of the screen. “Number two is right here. And the first one is…here.”

“Two?"

“Dul?”

“Yes,” she nods, “ye…dul. You have twins, illanseong ssangdung-i.”

“Identical?” Seungmin stares, and he starts to crush your fingers until you shake him loose. “Sorry.”

“How do you know they’re identical? Are you sure there are two?”

“I’m sure, I have seen many many twins on here. We can check again at your next visit, and also let you know sex…if you want to know, in another four or five weeks.”

*

After hearing the second round of unexpected news, you get into bed and sleep for hours. It's the first time in a while you can remember having a completely dreamless sleep, but it doesn't seem the time for that. Right now, your head should be too full to stop.

The sun is mostly set when you finally make yourself get up, and the smell of food coming from the kitchen pulls you back out. You know

“Are you making dinner?”

“Hi, yes…did you sleep well?”

“I did. It smells so good in here.”

He lights up and grabs three bowls from the cupboard, “does it, really? I haven’t tried making kimchi jjigae in a very long time.” Seungmin fills two bowls with stew, and the third he piles high with rice. “I hope it tastes okay.”

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟗-𝟑𝟎𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟗

The familiar smell of his favorite stew wafts into his bedroom, and he’s on his way down the hall before his mother even calls for him.

“Come here, give me a hug,” she holds her arms open, and Seungmin hugs her tight around the waist. “You’re getting so tall, you’re not gonna be a little puppy much longer.”

“I can be a tall one,” he looks up and sees the bruise he left on her cheek.

“You’re right, you can…go sit, I’ll bring us both a bowl.”

“Where is he?”

It’s as if Seungmin summons him with his words. A moment later, he’s coming in through the side door, pulling off his wet raincoat, and getting out of his shoes. The worst sound in the world for Seungmin is hearing his stepfather return home. But tonight he doesn’t say a word. He walks through the kitchen and looks around blankly, makes himself a bowl of dinner, and disappears into another room. It’s not unusual for him.

“Good,” she sits down next to him, “just the two of us.”

The rain finally lets up tonight, and he can fall asleep easily—no sounds outside, no footsteps or strange feelings. Silence. And Seungmin sleeps perfectly until he opens his eyes to the clock by his bed…12:10 am. He stares at it until it turns to 12:11, and then 12:12. There are footsteps outside. Loud, muddy, and heavy. But not in front of his window—these are somewhere in the distance, maybe on the far side of the house. At 12:15, he finds enough courage to get up and peek through the slit in his curtain, but all he can see from here is darkness and the reflection of his pale face; the tops of pine trees against a blue-black sky, finally clear. He thinks he sees a shadow run by in the distance, but it’s just his imagination starting to run. It’s in my head, umma said it’s in my head…there’s nothing in the woods.

“Umma?”

He thinks he hears her calling him, but as soon as it’s quiet again, he’s convinced that was also in his mind. Still, he heads for the door and pulls it open just a crack to listen. Nobody is ever up this late except for him when he can’t sleep. A mumble, barely, reaching him through the thick, humid air.

“…you made me do this…”

Seungmin recognizes that voice, even from this far away.

“…I’ll have to do it again…that brat”

It’s impossible to get back into bed now. He needs to know what’s going on. The first thing he does after tiptoeing down the hallway is open their bedroom door, but it’s too dark to see anything. A few more steps in, and he can now tell that the bed is empty, the blankets are a mess.

“Umma��where are you?”

Seungmin heads toward the kitchen and looks around, knocks on the bathroom door. He reaches for his coat…he can hear the rain starting again, and pulls on his boots. The few lights on outside help his eyes just enough, and he catches movement in the shed a few yards away. Why is he in the shed so late at night? Umma wouldn’t be out here with him, Seungmin knows that…where are you? he thinks. He thinks it so loudly, and is body trembles with his unknown fear. Why aren’t you in bed? Why are you outside so late in the rain?

The muddy grass gives way to his boots, and he sinks in as he tries to walk...he slips, and a few times, stops to gather himself before moving again. The ground is more solid as he approaches the shed, and he can tell now that the one light shining out is the oil lamp that lives on the windowsill. It’s so bright coming out through the cracks, and the view looking in is clear. Seungmin’s eye finds the perfect spot to peer in and see what his stepfather is doing…

“Are you in here?” He whispers, unsure, but his voice shakes.

His stepfather looks back, and Seungmin freezes, but his breath comes out shallow and ragged and loud. “Out of bed? Of course you are.” The door swings open, and the hand that grabs his shirt collar is wet with mud, and something else.

“Umma!”

Seungmin is thrown hard against the wall, face first, and hits the floor with so much force, he feels a tooth chip. He sees blood on him, and he tastes what pours from his nose and lip, but he doesn’t care.

“Seungmin…run away from him”

He crawls to her, and stepfathers presence looms just like the creature in the woods, ready to snatch him back at any moment.

“We have to go,” Seungmin whispers and touches her hair, “please we have to go.”

“I love you so much, Seungmin…you have to run, you have to get away from him”

“I can’t leave you here”

“Please run…my sweet boy…”

“Umma I can’t leave you here”

“He’ll kill you, too.”

“We have to go”

“Please remember how much I love you.”

Everything goes black and quiet, and the last thing he sees is her pleading eyes.

But then, the sound of dirt. A shovel, hacking and digging. Seungmin squeezes his fingers just to see if he can, and he fills his fist with dirt and rock. The back of his head throbs, and the warm, itchy sting of blood in his hair and on his neck reminds him of where he is. A gasp for air, a cough, and he almost chokes on it as he turns to his side. Everything is a blur, but he blinks it away and finds something to focus on—a bright blue bucket, and next to it is a small plank of wood, maybe the thing that knocked him out.

The irritated grumbles of his stepfather mix with the shk shk of the shovel as he digs. How could he possibly turn and look at what’s happening behind him? Seungmin can figure out whats going on, and why he’s digging a hole. He can’t come face to face with it. He looks around again, and his eyes land on the assorted tools that have ended up in here over the years: pruners, old rusty garden shears his mother tried to throw out, rolls of chicken wire and razor wire, bags of grass seed and weed killer—things he and umma have no use for in the greenhouse. The hand tiller, though, that he recognizes, and he remembers holding this very tool in his hands several times before.

Sharp and straight on one end, three pointed claws on the other—it’s as long as his arm and it’s not very heavy, but…it’s heavy enough. As quietly and slowly as possible, he crawls the six or seven feet to where it hangs on a protruding nail, and as he wraps his fingers around the wooden handle, he peeks over his shoulder. His stepfathers back is to him, thankfully, hunched over and pushing dirt with his shovel, so Seungmin grips it and rolls himself to face him. Now, if he can stand without falling—without passing out…

You smile and wait for him to open his eyes again. He has his hands clasped tight in front of him, as if he’s praying. Maybe he is praying. A smile grows as he sits there silently, and he laughs at himself when his eyes pop open.

“I’m sorry, should I have joined in?”

“Oh, I was just…talking to myself for a moment. Sending something out.”

“Were you praying?”

“Sort of…no, not exactly”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain”

“This was the last thing she made for me, the last meal we had together.“

The stew looks very different when you look at it now. Seungmin looks different, because the wave of memories washing over him paralyze him for a moment. “Is this her recipe?”

“Yes. I have a few of her recipe cards in the drawer, but I can never make anything quite right.”

“Well, it’s very good, even if it’s not perfect. What was her name?”

“Soo-ji. Suji…or Susie. Her English name was Susie.”

“English name? Oh right, she lived in the states. Did she choose that? Do you have an English name?”

“Yes, she chose Susie. I have one, but I’ve never used it. I’ve never had to.”

“What is it?”

He smiles and drops his gaze to his food. “Sky. I’m not sure why I chose that, but…Sky.”

“I do”

Seungmin looks at you again, eyes wide, “yeah?” And his eyes grow even more as he waits. “Do I look like a sky?”

“You look like a sky. And everything in it.”

“Everything?”

“The sun, and the moon…the clouds, all the stars”

“Are you trying to make me blush?”

“The butterflies…the bees”

He cups his cheeks in his hands and laughs.

“Can’t grow the flowers without you”

A hitch in his breath makes your heart thump, and his hands cover the rest of his face. You can’t tell if it was another laugh, or something else.

“Seungmin?” He doesn’t answer, but you hear a sniffle, and you stand and move to his side of the table. “Hey…what’s the matter?” You’re more confident in your actions now, so grabbing his shoulders and pulling him against you happens without a second thought. “Did I say something?”

“No, sorry…I don’t know what happened”

“Was that too much? I’m too much sometimes.”

“No, please don’t think that”

He squeezes and pushes his face into you, and you feel his tears coming through the fabric of your shirt. Something triggered them, but he’s also long overdue for a lot of good cries. You don’t mind getting some out of him.

“Umma always told me that when we worked together in the greenhouse…I can’t grow the flowers without you, puppy.”

“She was right. My moonflowers seem pretty happy in the window. And...Puppy?”

Seungmin pulls away and sniffs, but he doesn’t look at you yet. He looks at the hanging basket in the kitchen window. It’s still small, but it grew even while it was left here on its own. “She loved giving me nicknames, but I was always puppy."

“Look at me,” you pinch his chin and guide his eyes up to yours. “Yeah, I saw that photo of you when you were seven, I think. You looked like a puppy then, and you still do.”

“What photo?”

“From the boxes in your closet. I found them when I was packing our stuff. I saw some baby photos.”

“Babies…” he whispers to himself. You spoke about it on the way home, and a little before you fell asleep, mostly his concern about you now carrying two instead of one. “What exactly makes them identical?”

The tech didn’t go into detail, and you can’t meet your doctor until Monday, so Seungmin has been left hanging on the finer points of the pregnancy so far.

“Identical twins are one fertilized egg, split in two. Always the same sex, or usually. They share one placenta…that’s why they weren’t separated in there, that's how she knew.”

“So two boys…or two girls. Our fertilized egg split in half? Like yin and yang…sort of. Yin is the moon, and Yang is the sun. Still opposite, not identical, I guess.”

“Like us. You’re the sun…just like what your flowers need, and you seem to have made me the moon.”

“Yeah..." He looks at your flowers again. "Tokki.”

“Sky”

His legs hold him up, and despite his throbbing, blood soaked head, he moves slowly toward the lamp light, the whole in the ground, and the hunched over shape of his stepfather. This is his only chance, and if he misses, or doesn’t do it well enough, that’s it…but it doesn’t matter. Seungmin doesn’t care if he dies, because she’s gone, and there’s nothing left for him. He’d be better off in the ground.

The hesitation as he grips the handle evaporates when he raises the tiller high above his head. One chance. He puts everything he has, every bit of anger and sadness and despair behind the single blow that finds the nape of his stepfathers neck. The sharp straight edge is even sharper than Seungmin thought, and it sinks in deep. The spatter of blood gets everywhere—in his eyes, his mouth, and he somehow yanks it right back out. Some supernatural strength moves through him, because he has to do this. Another swing, this time to his chest as he turns and falls to the ground.

“Y-you…” he sputters and coughs more blood. “…you ba…bast…”

Seungmin wonders if it's the shock, or if he cut something in his neck that finally shut him up. He can’t seem to get his words out. “Bastard?”

The tiller goes up, and then down one more time. And he doesn’t say another word. The shed is silent now, except for the rain, and the drip drip coming through the cracks in the roof. It takes everything he has in him to shift his eyes to the right—to the half filled hole right next to him, and when he finally does, the emptiness that washes over him brings him to his knees. What could possibly describe this? He doesn’t know. Seungmin doesn’t know the words, not in Korean or English. He can’t even cry. What he can do is gently step into the shallow grave and place his hands on her again, and he’s relieved to feel her warmth still, and the softness of her pale skin and hair.

“Umma, can you still hear me?” Seungmin knows she can’t. His mother is gone, and her last words come right back to him. “He’s gone now…he’s gone. He won’t hurt us anymore.”

And she can’t be here, in this shed, in this disgusting hole he made for her. He won’t let her rest here forever—not for another minute. Fortunately he didn’t get far covering her. Seungmin pushes the dirt away as best as he can, but he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough for this. He wraps his arms around her shoulders and hugs her against his chest, pulls again, and rests her limp body against the side as he climbs back out.

Carefully, very carefully, he holds her around the waist, rests her back against him, and lifts until all but her legs are up and out of her would-be grave. No shoes on her feet, and wearing nothing but her nightgown…his stepfather dragged her outside straight from the bed they shared and did this. What filled him with so much rage tonight? Seungmin wonders if it was something he did. But he doesn’t stop to wonder long. The empty grave can only be good for one thing now, so Seungmin pushes, and pushes, and it takes so much more strength than it did to lift her out. One more push, and he falls with a thud, and the tiller goes in with him.

He dug this shallow hole, so he can put it to use.

Now he finally stops to catch his breath, but the humid air is hard to suck into his lungs. He slows down, breaths through his nose, holds it in…lets it go the way his mother taught him when he started to feel overwhelmed and anxious. It doesn’t calm a single nerve in his body tonight, but he at least feels the oxygen move through his blood and into his muscles, and more importantly, into his brain. He finishes this first; shoves the dirt on him, and it feels like hours later when he’s satisfied with the job he’s done. It's not the best, but it's far more than he deserves.

“Now what, umma? I don’t know what to do.”

✦　 ˚ 　 ˖ ✶ ˚　　　✦　　　.　

The greenhouse? he thinks to himself. Did he think it, or did he hear it?

“I can take you to the greenhouse. Would that be alright?”

Yes. Where else but the greenhouse, with the flowers the two of them spent all spring and summer planting and watering and growing? Seungmin reaches for her, and he watches as his hand starts to tremble. It moves up his arm and his shoulders; his chest tightens, and his whole body shivers; his stomach spins, and he turns and crawls away to vomit, but nothing comes out. He dry heaves until his stomach finally settles, but now his head feels like it might explode.

Her nightgown is already covered in dirt, but he refuses to drag her through the mud, so he grabs a blanket from the house to help his trip down the yard. The view almost makes him sick again—the gentle sway of her feet as he pulls. But the wet ground makes it easier, and faster than he expected.

Everything he needs to dig a grave is right here. There’s a plot of loosened dirt right by the heliotrope, because that was tomorrow’s job, and Seungmin looks at it and wonders again…wonders if this is where umma is supposed to rest right now. He starts the long process of shoveling away at the dirt, and he has a feeling this will take him the rest of the night.

“What are you thinking about, Min?”

He jumps when he hears his name, and looks around like he’s forgotten where he is. “Thinking about? Oh, nothing…I just had to shut off for a second.”

“I know something is going on in there. You don’t have to, but you can tell me.”

Seungmin’s face speaks louder than he ever can. He’s still no good at hiding it.

“Just remembering things. I wish my head would listen to me when I ask it to forget.”

“That would be nice, yeah. Maybe I can help take your mind off of it.”

A month flew by while you adjusted, both of you, to the news that two babies, not one, will be brought into this strange home. You spent a great deal of it in bed—tired, nauseated, and a mood that didn’t know whether to go up or down. Usually up and down multiple times in one day, which Seungmin had a difficult time with. He was used to the balance you brought him, and now it’s been taken away by this pregnancy.

But still, he handled it well by the end of the first week or so, and he eventually turned into what you were for him. He cooked, or he ordered the closest he could find to homemade Korean food. Seungmin made sure you took all of your vitamins, and he let you see him take his medication every day again. The four weeks on his haldol is the longest he’s managed to keep up with it, and he thinks he’s finally gotten used to it. Whether or not it’s helping is still up in the air.

“Take my mind off of it? You must be feeling better.”

“I am…but you’re not getting that. My appointments tomorrow, remember?”

“Right. We get to see them again.”

“We get to see if there are actually two in there”

“And if they’re boys or girls”

“Do you wanna know already, if they can tell?”

Seungmin assumed you wanted to know as much as he did, and as soon as possible, “you don’t?” But maybe not. “I guess I do, yeah.”

“It feels so early. So much can still go wrong.”

His eyes drop to your stomach, and he resists the urge to reach out and set his hand there. “Nothing will go wrong, everything will be okay. The first twelve weeks are the hardest, right?”

“You’ve been doing your research”

“There’s a bookstore right by the market I went to this morning. I bought one,” he grabs one of the bags from the counter and digs around inside. “I bought a couple, actually.” He hands you the first one…

“Taegyo.” You flip through it, but it’s small, and in Korean.

“I’ll read that one to you—to the three of you.”

The next one looks like a regular book on pregnancy, the kind you’ve seen a million times before on bookstore and library shelves.

“I read some of that one already.” The last one he pulls out is the biggest.

“Baby names…”

“And their meanings. Am I getting ahead of myself? I am, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. I know you’ve been holding it in, Minnie. You don’t have to keep hiding it.”

“Hiding what?”

“Your excitement. Your joy. If you’re tiptoeing around it because I told you I didn’t want to be pregnant before, I want you to stop.”

Seungmin takes the baby name book and holds it to his chest, and he seems a little lost for words. “Okay…”

“I kind of knew you wanted this from the moment you found out about the first test. And I’ve already read up a little on Taegyo, so don’t hold back…let them know, too.”

He nods, and a smile creeps across his face. The hesitation is still there as he reaches his hand out to you, but he does. Nothing is happening in there yet, but his smile grows even wider as his fingers spread out, and his palm slides up, and then back down across your belly button.

“We’ll find out tomorrow, if they can see on the ultrasound”

“I should start cleaning out the spare bedroom”

“We have a spare bedroom?”

***

Seungmin can’t hide his nerves this time. He paces back and forth in the tiny room, stopping every few laps to look at you and sigh. “Twenty minutes?”

“It’s barely been fifteen. Are you alright, did you get any sleep last night?”

He shakes his head and sits, finally. “Not much. My dreams always feel real, but last night was…scary. I couldn’t get out. I think I had, uhm, I couldn’t move...”

“Sleep paralysis?”

“Yeah, I haven’t had that in a while…at least not that bad. I was stuck, but I could open my eyes, so I saw you sleeping next to me. That helped.”

“You’ve had a lot on your mind. Maybe you should take something tonight.”

A knock on the door interrupts, and it’s the same woman from your first ultrasound. “Good morning,” she smiles sweetly at you, and then to Seungmin, who has kept up the husband act since Daegu.

He took the little silver ring from his music box, the one you can only assume belonged to his mother, and tried it out on you while you were still half asleep. It fit nicely, and even though you told him it seemed too special for you to wear, he said it was just for today, for fun—just to play the part.

So now you spin it absently as you watch her set up her equipment. And Seungmin is nervous again as your shirt is lifted, and the blanket covering your hips is pulled down.

“Are you ready to see your twins?”

The image appears quickly, but takes a moment to look like anything recognizable to either of you. But then it starts making sense…

“There they are, very cozy together”

“Oh, I can see them, they look like…like babies.” Seungmin leans closer and squints, because he forgot his glasses this morning.

“They are giving us a good view,” you say, “it’s doesn’t look creepy like ultrasounds usually do.”

“And I can take a good guess at sex if you’re ready for that”

“Uh, yes but…” Seungmin looks at you, and you shake your head. “Just me. Can you tell just me?”

“Mom isn’t ready? No problem, I’ll write it down for you, and we’ll keep it between us for now.”

She pulls a notepad out and scribbles onto it, rips it out, folds it, and hands it to him. You wait to see if he’ll look now, or later, but he truly can’t wait. He unfolds it, still careful not to let you see her messy hangul, and his face lights up as he stares at it. Seungmin hasn’t mentioned preferring a son or a daughter—sons or daughters—but you imagine his face looking the same regardless of what’s written on that paper. This is something he needed for it to feel real.

The sun hasn’t started rising yet, but somehow, he did what he needed to do. He finished.

The ground here is soft, and it’s fertile—this dirt has overheard some of the most important talks he had with umma, and it’s heard them both sing. This greenhouse, and the flowers inside have known only love and warmth and happiness.

Seungmin stares into her grave, and then to her.

The second blanket he brought with him is set neatly inside, and with what little strength remains in him, he moves her closer. Gently...a little clumsily, he lays her on top of it.

“Sorry umma, I’m so tired,” he sighs, and feels tears running down his dirt covered cheeks.

Now Seungmin takes his time picking a little bit of everything in bloom. An iris that finally opened. Japanese Kerria, goldenbell, mugunghwa, zinnia. The last flower he places with her is two loose bundles of heliotrope. The blanket corners are pulled across her, tucking the flowers in and keeping them safe as he kneels at the edge and thinks.

“The sun will start rising soon, and I don’t know what I’ll do,” he says to her. “What can I do?”

Seungmin waits for an answer, but nothing comes.

“I think I made things worse. Did I?”

no

“huh...is that you?”

you had to save yourself

“I should have been able to save you”

you couldn’t…you weren’t supposed to…but you’re alive so I am too

“I can’t finish”

this will be the hardest thing you have to do, I promise…just one step at a time

Seungmin stands on shaky legs and grabs the shovel again. One step at a time, he thinks. “Hana…” he starts, and grabs a pile of soft dirt and drops it carefully. “Dul…set…”

aheunnes…aheundaseos

He drops to his knees and pushes the rest with his hands, pats it down, smoothes it out. But he leaves a few spots loose, and the freshly potted heliotrope is pulled out and placed there.

“Please don’t leave me”

I won’t puppy…I’ll always be next to you

The quarter moon still shines on him over the treetops as he makes his way further down the yard. He keeps going—beyond the makeshift trail and into the pine trees, and he walks until his legs can’t carry him any longer. The clearing he comes to looks familiar, but it’s not the same one he was left in—that would take him until sunrise to reach. This one should be fine, though. He finds a spot in the center and sits, and he waits.

“I’ve lived here for almost four months…why didn’t I know you had a second bedroom?”

“I guess you weren’t looking for it.” Seungmin grabs either side of the emptied bookshelf and lifts. “And I closed it up after I moved in to keep myself out.”

“You banned yourself from your spare bedroom?”

He’s quiet as he turns and sets it against the wall, and again, he pulls out a key. Seungmin has at least a dozen different keys for even more locks, but he doesn’t seem to have them organized or marked—he just knows what goes where. This one is the only skeleton key, though. He slides it in, and opens the door with some caution…and it’s not at all what you expect. The room is filled with light coming in through the sheer curtains, and it’s not a mess of unwanted things. It’s a neatly organized room of maybe unwanted things.

“Yes. More memories. Things I took from the old house and couldn’t get rid of. Things that were left to me, things that were already here when I moved in.”

“So you locked them away…”

“I finally have a reason to clean it out, I just don’t know how easy it’ll be”

Boxes and boxes lined up against one wall. A small bed, a desk with a few things scattered on top. There are more books in here, too, and records and cassettes and cds. You think back to the drive home when you opened the center console of the Supra, and it was lined end to end with cassettes. All of these must have belonged to his dad, too.

“Both of them are in here?”

“Mostly dad’s stuff…but yeah, they’re both in here”

“Maybe we can go through it, and you can decide what you want to hold onto. Unless you’d rather do it alone…”

“No, we can do it together”

The first box you go for, the very top one closest to the window, gives off a subtly sweet aroma when you lift the lid. This is very obviously more of his mother’s belongings, and even though he wants you to do this with him, it still feels like an intrusion. But Seungmin probably knows where everything is in here, and when you stop to look at him, he just smiles.

“I can smell it...there’s perfume in there, half of a bottle,” he says.

“It smells nice.” There’s also a wooden comb and a brush, a hand mirror, and a few silk-looking scarves. All very personal, and all create a very close connection to her…but none of it compares to her scent, and you don’t think that’s something he should part with. “You should keep this. The perfume, at least.”

“I should, but I don’t know where I would keep it”

“I can clean up the living room closet, there’s so much space in there. We can make a spot for what you decide to keep.”

“I’ll have to put the suitcases and the plastic somewhere…the other disposal stuff”

“Uhm, we seem to have a lot of things and not many places to put them even though the apartment is big…oh, you have empty apartments!” At least you think he does. He mentioned how many were occupied before, but not how many were actually in the building.

“I do. I have thirteen empty apartments.”

It’s now occurring to you how rarely you see the comings and goings of his tenants, but you don’t leave often, and since coming back home, you’ve gone out even less. You’ve been sleeping any chance you can get. “Any on this floor?”

“Yeah, we’re alone up here. And directly below us is vacant, too.”

You have more space than you could ever need. “That explains why you’re so loud sometimes.”

He gives you his usual nervous laugh and opens another box. Seungmin still gets shy, and you’re starting to think he’ll be that way forever, but he has opened up a little more for the twins. The Taegyo book he gave you came in handy for him, and he’s been doing his best to stay on track with his medication, and to keep his mind somewhere safe. Every night in bed, he lies awake with you and talks to them. He doesn’t say much, because you don’t think he knows what to say.

But you don’t expect him to be perfect, and you don’t want him to be. You never had any intention of changing him, but if he does it on his own, you won’t stop him.

“Not lately,” he laughs again.

“It’s nice knowing we’re alone up here, though.” You walk over to the box he’s digging in, and this one is full of baseball cards, a glove, and a handful of ticket stubs.

“It is. Maybe I should lower the rent and fill those other apartments up. Dad probably never had vacancies.”

“Were you born here? I mean, did you live in this apartment when you were a baby?”

“Yeah, but we were on the third floor until her and I moved away with…him”

It seems like a complicated series of events, but you still don’t want to pry too much. You don’t want to ask why she remarried and moved away, and why they didn’t stay here. But Seungmin tells you anyway.

“She got the property, but he came along, and I assume he charmed and manipulated her, and they got married. She wanted to remarry, I know that much…I guess for my sake. It just happened to be to the worst person imaginable.”

“He moved you away?”

“Yeah, and hoarded all of the money she made from the building. When she died, it became mine, but I was too young. I got everything when I turned eighteen—the hoarded money, the property, and all of my dad’s things that got locked away in that third floor apartment.”

“And you’ve been here ever since”

Seungmin closes his eyes and nods, and when he opens them again, you can feel more trying to claw its way out; more secrets, more burdens, more things he hasn’t had a chance to say out loud. “Yeah, just going through the motions. Trying to get through the days and put them behind me.”

“I wonder where I’d be if I hadn’t run into you that morning”

“Somewhere safe and happy, I hope”

“Or if you hadn’t come back to find me, because I had no intention of testing you again even though I really wanted to see you.”

He searches your face as he moves closer to your spot on the floor. “Testing me?”

You’ve made yourself comfortable under the window, knees tucked up and arms pulled into your sweater. This room is much cooler, and the air is probably coming in right above you. “Trying to get you back…and being pushed away again."

“You scared me”

“Me? I scared you?”

“Yes. Everything about you…from the moment you looked up at me and said yes, thank you.”

“Why?”

He sits, rests his head on your shoulder and thinks for a moment. “I’m not sure. I knew I had a job to follow through with…” It’s been a while since either of you have reflected on your first meeting, and his intention to kill you. “And I kept thinking about that the whole time you let me keep you company.”

“When you left, I was a little upset because I thought you were gonna try something…but you were good. And then, naturally, I got nervous and ran from our date. Guess it’s a good thing nothing happened either time."

“I’m not sure I ever had any desire to kill you. I kept telling myself I did, but I didn’t do a single thing I typically would to get myself there.“ His hold on you tightens, and you start to feel warm again. “I pushed you away because I was afraid of feeling the way I do now.”

“Are you still afraid?”

“Sometimes. I don’t get to keep things I love for very long.”

“Okay…no foreshadowing, I promise. We’re not going anywhere. You’re going to have three people to love, and to love you back. And you’ll have enough for all of us.”

Seungmin waits, and waits. The moon starts to disappear from the cracks in the trees, and the little bit of light it seemed to scatter through the clouds disappears. It’s truly dark now, because there’s no sunrise coming for Seungmin yet. He hopes it never comes. If the sun stays asleep and the moon remains, he’ll never have to face a single day without her—he’ll never have the face the consequences of his actions. But he suspects he’s not that lucky, so he waits, and he lets out a long, monotone whistle.

A deep breath in, and another long whistle, and then he’s quiet again. A few moments pass, but eventually, he starts to hear the sound of footsteps crunching on the forest floor that managed to stay dry under the trees. Slow, heavy footsteps. Deep, shaking breaths. He can’t look, but he knows it’s there…Seungmin has felt it before, and he’s smelled it from his open bedroom window.

A snort makes him jump, and he mistakenly raises his head to look. All that’s visible is shadow, but it moves easily through trees.

“I’m here,” Seungmin says loudly, but his voice trembles. “You remember me.” A glimpse of eyes, just an amber colored streak moving and ducking behind a tree. “I’m ready to go…please.”

It answers with another snort, another crunch of slow footsteps, but it doesn’t show itself.

“Please!”

Something else is here—behind him, beside him. It’s steps lightly and quickly, and he sees it, a black cloud bouncing and moving like air. And then he sees another…a white whisp of a cloud, and this one is more visible as it darts past the trees. The white one gets closer as it circles him, and the black one follows far behind. He opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a whimper. His head swims, and his stomach turns, and before he hits the ground, Seungmin sees a set of blue eyes staring him down.

* * *

The bed shakes, and you’re out of your sleep immediately. The sour feeling in your stomach hits fast, but you hold it down when you see Seungmin’s face—his forehead drips with sweat, his jaw and fists are clenched tight enough to break.

“Minnie?” You touch his forehead, and he’s cold. “Minnie, can you hear me?”

He groans, his face relaxes, and he starts to cry.

“Seungmin, please…wake up”

Please take me…I’m alone…I’m all alone now

“You’re not alone”

I have nothing left here

“Minnie, I know you’ll hear me soon. You’ll hear me over whatever is going on in there.”

I’m too scared to do it myself

You don’t remember him ever speaking so clearly in his sleep before, and you don’t like what he seems to be saying. “Seungmin, wake up.”

Finally, he’s out of it, but now he looks like he’s heading straight into a panic attack. He bolts up and struggles to catch his breath, looks around frantically in the dark room. Before you say another word, you’re up and around the bed, clicking the light on, digging in his drawer for his bottle of Xanax.

“Minnie, hey it’s okay…take this.” You hand him his glass of water and hold the pill in front of him. “Look at me.”

He listens. You see his eyes move up and connect with yours, but he’s frozen and shivering as he parts his lips for you.

“Everything’s okay, you’re safe”

Seungmin is silent as he sips his water and slowly catches his breath, and he doesn’t move when you climb across him and crawl back under the covers. He pulls his sweat-damp shirt over his head and throws it to the floor. “Can I sleep over there?” He asks as he works his way over. “God, I sweat through everything.”

“Come here. You’re so cold, get back under the covers.”

“Those dogs”

“Dogs?”

“They weren’t there, in the woods. I’ve never seen them before.”

“In your dreams?”

Seungmin has had many dreams since you’ve been here next to him, and they’ve been bad. Most have been manageable, some have been terrifying, but none have made him wake up like this before. “It felt so real. I’m afraid I’ll go back if I fall asleep again.” He sits up and rubs his face. The medicine will relax him soon, and hopefully help him fall into a dreamless sleep for a few more hours.

“Does that usually happen?”

Everything about his dream, except for the very end, was a memory—the thing he’s afraid to tell you. Now doesn’t seem the time or the place, but as he lies here and thinks, he wonders if a time and a place for that story will ever exist. “No, but I don’t usually dream about that part…and it wasn’t off, like the dreams usually are. Everything seemed accurate, right down to the things we said to each other.”

“You and…your mom?”

“Yeah. And the dogs, I don’t know where they came from, or if they were helping or coming after me.”

“Was there a big white one?”

“A white one, and a black one. I’ve seen the black one before, just not in my dream.”

“Recently?”

“No, it was the day I found out about your negative test. It lead me to where the box was…ah, how did I forget about that?” He looks at you, expecting the same moment of clarity that he’s having, but you just stare back, a little lost. “I saw the dog in living room, and I followed it to the cabinet where the trash was.”

“You think your hallucination lead you to the test?”

“You don’t?”

“It’s possible, I guess. It’s not much weirder than us sharing dreams.”

“What are they, though?” He says it out loud, but he seems to be asking only himself. “Where did they come from?”

“Dreams can be so strange.” You can feel yourself dozing off, but you don’t want to sleep until he’s comfortable and his eyes are closed.

“Our dreams are very strange”

*

The body that was tucked up against you is gone. No more arms wrapped tight around your waist, no more warm breath against your chest. You woke up twice to Seungmin sleeping soundly with you, but now, the third time, he’s gone. He hasn’t returned to his side of the bed, and the curtain is still pulled halfway closed, just like it was last night. It’s quiet…no sounds of him in the shower, or in the kitchen, and there’s no smell of coffee brewing.

This isn’t a great way to wake up.

“Seungmin?” You call out as loudly as your morning voice will allow you, but your head pounds when you do, and the pain makes you nauseous. Still, you manage to get on two feet and head for the door. “Seungmin?”

The kitchen is empty, but the bathroom door is cracked. You decide to give it another minute before calling out for him again, because he’s in there. His keys are on the table, jacket is hanging by the door, and his two regular pairs of shoes are right next to yours.

You start making him coffee, but by the time it’s mostly finished brewing, you start to hate the quiet.

“Minnie, are you in there?” Your fingertips set against the door, but your push is hesitant. The strong herbal smell of his bath salts hit you from here. “I’m gonna come in.”

A soft okay reaches your ears as you push the door open, and you sigh when you see him there, submersed in the tub. The water is all the way up to his chin, and his eyes stay closed as you approach him.

“You’ve been in here for a while,” you kneel down and rest your arms on the bathtub. “You okay?”

“I think so”

You take his word for it, but his blank stare tells you he’s probably not completely okay. The nightmare might still be in his mind, or maybe the nightmare pushed even more to the surface—something his medication can’t keep down. “We’ll have some breakfast, and if you wanna talk about anything…” maybe it’s something else entirely.

“I’m not very hungry”

“Okay,” you start to reach out for him, but stop yourself. If he reaches back, the pain in your chest might let up…you don’t want to go back to his silence right now, but you might have to. You’ll wait for him to push through it. “Coffee? I’ll get you towel.”

“I was okay, I’m sorry”

“And you’ll be okay again, we just have to get through it”

“It stayed away for a while. We really kept our minds occupied…that was nice,” he forces a smile.

“But it can’t stay away forever.” Seungmin looks at you, almost questioningly, as you finally reach out and run a hand across his forehead. “And I want you to feel better. I’ll do anything I can to help.”

“Anything?”

“Anything”

*

Seungmin holds his pill in the palm of his hand and stares at it. He’s been so good—so consistent. Every single morning since finding out the twins were still there and still okay, he’s been even more adamant about doing what he can to be okay for them. Up until today, it’s worked. Last nights dream might be partially to blame, but he knows he’s overdue, and he feels like he’s doing something wrong.

He watches you head toward the bedroom, wrapped up and shivering in two towels. “Do you think I can be fixed?”

“Fixed?” You poke your head back out and study him. “Do you feel like you need fixed?”

“I’m not sure. But I wonder sometimes if they’re doomed to be like me, no matter what.”

The fear you had swirling inside of you before, the feeling that still comes back sometimes, seems to have crept into his thoughts. You were never afraid of having a child that ended up with an illness like him, though, that never once crossed your mind…but now that his need to kill has returned, he’s stuck in that part of his head. And though he hasn’t actually said anything about their sex, you're beginning to have a feeling in your gut.

“Seungmin, are we…?” You start, but you still don't think you want to know for sure.

“What?” His eyes soften as he searches yours.

“Nothing, never mind.” It’s been two weeks since that doctor’s visit, and he hasn’t said a word about it. He hasn’t dropped any sort of hint, or let anything slip. During a few talkative nights, you wondered if he would mumble something in his sleep. But he hasn’t yet. “They’re gonna be as sweet, and as caring, and as thoughtful as you are to me.”

Seungmin slowly shakes his head. “I hope so. Right now, I really…really need to—” his eyes drop to your stomach, “I need to clear my head again.”

“Should I leave?”

“No, I want you to stay. If you want.”

“Are you coming back with them, if you find someone?” You think about how messy it was the first time you were here, and how out of control everything was. But you do want to stay, because your mind is also on the last time…his knife in your hand, the way he looked at you and touched you after the girl hit the floor. “I’d rather stay, but I can’t listen—“

Seungmin takes your face in his hands, and his smile is uncertain. “No, I don’t want you to hear that. I want you to help me, if you want…uhm…”

“Help?”

“But I understand if you don’t want to”

Your heart pounds. The look he’s giving you is a strange mix of shy, and a little bit of that Seungmin who made you a drink and carried you into his bedroom. “Help you kill?”

“Or just watch. I don't need the sex.”

“Minnie”

“It’s too much, I know…I don’t know why I’m asking. You shouldn’t be seeing that…after what I just…after just telling you I’m worried about how they’ll end up. Fuck, no…I’ll go.”

“Minnie, wait”

“You can stay if you’re comfortable. Maybe in the bathroom, or the nursery.” The nursery that’s still just a gutted room with a twin bed. Going through things and cleaning took much longer than anticipated. “Taegyo seems a little pointless now, doesn’t it?”

“It’s not, they still need to hear you talk to them every night. They need you to feel better.”

There’s still a look of reluctance and confusion on him, and instead of heading for the door, he paces back and forth and thinks. But he stops suddenly and stares off toward the open door of the nursery.

“What’s wrong?”

He takes a few slow steps in the direction he’s looking, and then shuts his eyes tight. “It’s there…it came out of the room. The black one.” He starts walking toward whatever he’s seeing and ends up back in the bedroom, and you follow. “It went under the bed.”

You watch him drop to his knees and look, but if there’s something black under there, he won’t see much of it. Your curiosity gets the better of you, so you do the same on your side of the bed—drop to your hands and knees and look. “I don’t…”

“What?”

Something glimmers despite the lack of light…something silvery blue. You push yourself under and reach toward it, but it moves. “What the hell?” It disappears, and then reappears, and you hear it. That growl. The same deep growl from your nightmare. It lunges forward and all you see is a streak of white fur and teeth as you pull yourself back and crawl away. You hold back a cry, but as soon as Seungmin sees your face, he’s on his knees in front of you.

“What happened?” His voice shakes. “You saw it?”

“I dunno,” you pant and try not to catch sight of anymore shining eyes, so you look at him instead. “Seungmin, I think I’m seeing things.”

Seeing things, hearing them, feeling their strange presence.

Whatever was under there is gone when Seungmin shines a flashlight into the darkness. It’s empty. No lost clothes or forgotten boxes, nothing that could have picked up and reflected the little bit of light in the room.

“Are you gonna tell me what you saw under there.” Seungmin stands in front of two cups and watches the almond blossoms bloom in the hot water.

“It was a dog, a white one, and it growled and snapped at me”

“Have you seen it before?”

“Only in a dream, but in the dream I thought the dog was you…trying to kill me”

That dream, he thinks to himself—the one you couldn’t explain to him that morning, and it’s been forgotten ever since. “The white dog was me?” The white dog that tried to kill you, that stood over him in his dream last night. The one that tried to bite. But where did the black one disappear to?

“Yes, in the woods. And then in the shed, but I woke up in the middle of it attacking me. You woke me up.”

“It’s a big dog, right? Obviously we’re seeing the same one, and I saw them both together, but maybe it’s just one.”

“Big, but skinny and tall…like a greyhound, but not.” You get up and head back to the bedroom, and carefully walk by the bed, making sure to give the edge of it a wide berth. Nothing makes a sound or shows itself, and you return to him, phone in hand. “Long-haired greyhound? I dunno what I’m searching for, I’m sure Google can figure it out.” You scroll and click a few times, and then show him the image pulled up on your phone. “Is this your black dog?”

Seungmin’s eyes grow as he looks at it, “yes that’s exactly what he looks like…and they both look exactly the same.”

“They look so sweet in these photos, but my white one isn’t sweet at all.” My? The white one does seem to be yours, because you haven’t seen his black dog. At least not yet. “But dwelling on it isn’t gonna help.”

“No, and I’m sure I’ll see them again”

“We should get back to our earlier conversation”

He forgot about his request. Seungmin isn’t sure why he thinks you’d want to have anything to do with this, but you did intentionally put yourself front and center for his last kill. “Can we forget about it? I didn’t know I was gonna ask you that until it came out of my mouth.”

“No, we don’t have to forget. At least let me answer.”

He’s expecting an explanation for your no, because you’re good at putting your thoughts into words for him. At least he knows you’ll be gentle. Seungmin has found out, thanks to you, how terrible he is at accepting criticism and being told what he doesn’t want to hear. You’ve been honest with him when it was necessary, and it’s been difficult, but he’s getting better…he thinks.

“I would love to watch you”

*

Seungmin heads out, and you stay home. He said he would keep you updated on his timeline if he could, but you decide to just expect him at any moment. And the plan is pretty scarce, but probably enough for him, and this time you’ll just have to trust he’s truly back on his game.

“Phone…I won’t forget the phone this time. Or the cameras. I’ll text you when I’m turning them back on so you know I’m in the building.”

But you’re terrified. Your heart hasn’t stopped racing since he left. He could be an hour, or he could be five hours, so how do you wait and pass the time? How do you prep? You’ve been avoiding going into the bedroom while you’re alone here, but you have to at least go in there and clean up. The sheets are still a mess, and there’s a pile of dirty laundry in the corner. There’s a pile of clean laundry in another corner—neither of you ever let it get this messy, but you’ve been focused on making space for two babies, and now, standing here thinking of that…maybe it’s too soon. You’re fourteenweeks in. Almost four months. Okay, maybe it’s not too soon. You were expecting this to drag, but since finding out, time has passed by far more quickly than it ever has.

Okay…just fix the damn sheets, there’s nothing under there. You walk quietly and start to pull at the spots where it’s the messiest…listen carefully as you tuck, fluff the pillows, set Daengmo right on top. Out of the corner of your eye, you think you see a flash of white, but there’s nothing there when you scan the room.

Daengmo gives you a look, or he seems to, so you change your mind and take him back to the kitchen with you.

This place is too quiet without him, you think, but Seungmin himself is quiet. It isn’t just the sound…it feels quiet without him, because his presence alone can be overwhelming. He’s still so intense and serious sometimes, but he turns it off when he needs to—when he keeps you awake a little longer talking to you and the twins, or when he wakes you up with the sounds of his guitar. He finally sang for you a few mornings ago.

*

When you open your eyes to see him, he's turned away, and he avoids looking at you until he finishes his song.

“What song was that? Was it yours?

Seungmin spins in his chair and carefully returns the guitar to its stand. “Not mine, no. It’s called ‘through the night’.

“Through the night,” you say under your breath, making sure to remember the title. “Thank you.”

“For singing?”

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding that voice from me all this time”

He starts toward you and smiles, and you can still see some diffidence behind it as he slides back under the covers. “Sorry,” he gets close, and he closes his eyes as if he plans on going right back to bed. So you do, too.

*

Until this moment, you forgot about the name of the song. “Through the night,” you say out loud and head for your laptop. But he never said the original artist—it doesn’t matter, you’ll know it when you hear it. Before you get a chance to type it in the search bar, your phone buzzes. “Minnie…that was fast.” At first you assume it’s something else, not him, because it’s barely been two hours, but it is him…

in the elevator

Your heart jumps to your throat, and you wonder if you can really do this. The want is there, and the need, there’s no question about that. And this will be easier than last time, you think. Right? Just watching him.

“Just watching,” you reaffirm yourself and shut the laptop, hide anything that looks like someone else lives here, and shut yourself in the nursery. The door on this room is much older, and very lucky for you, there’s a keyhole to peek out of. You kneel down and focus right as the lock clicks, and in walks Seungmin. “Who did you find?” you whisper against the door as she finally walks in behind him. “Oh.”

He speaks, she speaks—your Korean comprehension is still bad, despite the classes, and despite Seungmin patiently helping every way he can. He only speaks directly to the twins in Korean, but he translates everything for you, so they always get both. Seungmin speaks again, and you can’t help but notice him looking around the room. If your presence makes him nervous, he could slip up somehow. But this was your idea, Minnie…you’ll be fine.

She touches him, and your stomach starts to turn sour. A hand runs up his side and pulls at his shirt, and that peak of his skin already has you seeing red, but you breath deep and remember that you’re his other half in this. Seungmin belongs to you, and this is the last thing this girl will ever do.

But what happens next? He told you there would be no sex, but he still has to set things up the way he’s accustomed to, or at least close to it. How far will he have to go to get her where he wants her?

Her hand cups his dick, and her face falls. When she speaks again, you know what she says without understanding a word—not hard for me? No. No cock growing in his jeans for her. Seungmin is still soft, and he’ll probably stay that way. And he plays it off well, feigning shyness, smiling and hiding his face. It still makes you jealous, act or no act, because he's so good at this. She takes Seungmin by the hand and looks around, but she starts toward your door first, and you move your eye from the keyhole until you hear her being redirected. As soon as you look again, you catch his gaze lingering right where you are.

The bedroom door opens, and then shuts, but you hear the doorknob turn lightly and the latch click free. Now you can easily slide in without making a sound, lock the door, and watch.

The girl is too distracted by Seungmin's shirt being pulled over his head; slipping into the bedroom and carefully closing the door goes completely unheard, and the slide of the key does, too. Had she been facing you, things might be hectic right now, but you trusted him to keep her where you both needed her. The room is perfectly dark, lit up only by the string lights you put around the bookcase. It's just enough, and when your eyes start to adjust, you can see much more of him outlined by it, and you see his eyes move to you and smile sweetly. Somehow, she doesn't notice him looking at something other than her.

Her hands go for the button of his jeans, but he stops her. You can see the gears turning in his head as he wonders what his next move is going to be. She speaks, and you can see that he's annoyed.

"Turn around..." Seungmin grabs her wrists and holds them tight as she spins to face you.

"Huh...quit messing arou—"

The air catches in your throat when she sees you, but you do everything in your power to keep your composure. Looking nervous will do nothing to help him right now.

"What's going on, what is this? I didn't come here for a threesome."

"Shut up." Seungmin switches to English, and to your surprise, she does, too.

"Let go of me, I'm over this...get your hands off of me you psycho"

You assumed you'd be out of her view the entire time or at least most of it, but that's not the case. And then his hands start to loosen, she pulls away from him and heads for the door...now you wonder what exactly he has planned. Just as you open your mouth to get his attention, she pulls on the doorknob and screams...

"Open this fucking door!"

Seungmin walks toward her, and she runs to the far side of the room, away from him and away from you, and when she backs herself against the bookcase, everything starts moving in slow motion—her hands grope along the shelf for something...anything. The first thing she grabs is the glass vase of withered heliotrope, and she smashes it hard against the floor. The sound is unbelievably loud, but there's still a piece of glass large enough for her to use as a makeshift weapon.

"Let me out of this room," she holds it nervously, and her free hand goes back to the shelf. "Unlock the door."

Despite the drama, your mind goes back to you. Your night here with him, and how you ran to the door and fell to your knees in defeat, but you come back quickly when her hand finds the music box.

"Stop," Seungmin throws his hands up, "enough."

This is not going well, but he can still turn things around. Not soon enough, though. She drops the shard of glass, takes the music box in both hands, and uses all of her strength to smash it against the wet floor. You can't see anything from where you stand, but you hear it—the painful splinter of wood, and the sweet, lonely melody of it's insides filling the room.

Seungmin lunges for her so quickly and so quietly. He's terrifying. His hands close around her throat and drag her back toward the bed with little effort, and when he throws her on it, she stays there.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry, please"

He straddles her hips, and she's frozen in terror as his hands close around her throat again, and then he looks at you. A few steps toward the bed bring a smile to his face, so you take a few more, and the desire to touch him makes your whole body tremble. The muscles of his back move as he breathes, and veins start to pop in his arms as his grip tightens. You hardly notice her, even as she gasps for air and scratches at his arms, because Seungmin is all you ever see.

"Are you okay?" He asks, and you can see sadness behind his smile. Maybe a lament for his music box.

"Only if you are." You walk behind him and give in to your urges. One hands runs across the small of his back and up his spine, and you hear him groan as he squeezes tighter.

"I am"

From here you have the perfect view of both of them, so you watch quietly and keep your hands off as he continues...as he squeezes, and you hear her last desperate gasps...as he finishes. There's no more movement from her, and you can see it in her eyes, just like the one you took the life from—emptiness. His hands loosen, fingers flex, and he straightens his back as he starts to rise. You're silent as he watches the body for a few more moments, and then he turns to you.

Seungmin is looking through you again, inside of you and outside of you; reading your mind, and looking for an answer to the same question he asked before.

“I’m good”

The state of the room—the broken glass, the splintered music box, the dead body—it’s all pushed away with his soft touch and the scent of his adrenaline filled sweat. His arms slide around your shoulders and pull you tight against his bare chest.

“I’m sorry, that was a mess”

“No,” you push back and look at him. “Some things didn’t go how we wanted them to," you look to the body, and then toward the mess on the floor, "but…no, baby.” Seungmin lets you pull him to the door, and he doesn’t say a word as you unlock it and put the dead girl out of sight.

“I was never this clumsy before, I really wasn’t. I fucked up sometimes, but this…”

The sun is just starting to set outside, and the light hits just right on the couch where you’re leading him. Even as you set him down and look at him, he looks up at you with so much defeat in his eyes. Seungmin is supposed to feel better after a kill, and maybe he will soon, but right now he’s nowhere near okay.

“This was also your first time with someone watching you. Please, be a little easier on yourself.”

He sighs and falls back against the couch. “No, I don’t—" he looks to his right and sees Daengmo slumped against the pillow, “I can’t.“

This might take him a little longer to get through. You kneel in front of him and place a kiss on his knee. “You’ll get there, but in the meantime, I’ll do it for you.”

Even as your hand moves up his thigh, Seungmin’s face remains the same, but he lets you touch him. He lets you unbutton and pull gently until you can see his bare thighs, and now when you look at him, a smile is trying its best to break through. It doesn’t quite make it, but as you climb up and straddle him, he doesn’t hesitate to lift your dress and pull your panties down and out of his way.

“You did so well”

He shakes his head as you take his slowly growing cock in your hand.

“Don’t shake your head. Look at me, right now.”

There’s a bit of surprise in his hm?, but still no smile. He does, however, look at you.

“It was fast, and clean…not a drop of blood”

“Just flowers, and glass, and—”

You shush and kiss him, and the soft stroke of your fingertips get him there quickly . “We’ll clean it, we’ll fix everything.”

Something relaxes in him. Seungmin’s head falls back, and the movement in his neck is hypnotizing. “How can we fix it?” His mouth falls open as you slide down and fill yourself with him, and his hands jump to your hips. A stuttery how gets caught in his chest, but you can’t tell what he’s feeling because he’s no longer looking at you. His face is hidden, and his breathing starts to become shallow.

“Minnie?” His shoulders tense up until you hold him tight against you, and your thighs shake as you lower yourself completely on his lap. “Look at me so I can tell you properly.”

It takes a few more seconds and a few more sniffles before he peeks up at you.

“What are these tears for? Just upset about how everything went, or is it the music box?”

“I can’t do anything right. And it’s a miracle I haven’t been caught yet.” Seungmin’s hands squeeze as if he’s trying to get you to move on him, but you’re still as you rub his shoulders.

“Well, I disagree. I was the one watching, and I hope this isn't the last time we do that.” Another squeeze of his fingers makes your thigh jump, but you don’t move. “You did a very good job.”

“I’ll be better for you”

“I love you just like this”

He shakes his head as you kiss him again, but stops when your hands move up. The look on his face changes—he relaxes again as you comb your fingers through his hair. “Okay…”

“Okay?”

The shake turns to a nod, and he squeezes again as you start to move slowly, up and down, and the sound of his moans match your pace.

[elly-grace]

Take me to paradise

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Warning: terrible attempt at writing smut, pregnancy

Thank you @funnyjb for proof reading and the request!

The morning sun shone into the windows of the bungalow where you and Joe were staying. Yesterday was the day you finally married the love of your life. Joe and you caught a flight late last night so you could spend as much time as you could in the Bahamas.

You were excited to have Joe all to yourself, he had been a hard man to get alone recently. You roll over to face your husband, you just admire him for a few minutes before finally deciding to wake him up with a kiss.

“Well that may be the best way to be woken up.” His morning voice was extremely sexy. You knew Joe planned something for the day, but a quickie wouldn’t hurt would it? As if Joe knew what you were thinking he flipped you over so he was on top of you.

“What is my beautiful wife thinking about?”

“Just how sexy you look and sound in the morning.”

That was enough for him to start to lean down and kiss you. His lips suddenly found their way to your neck, then collar bone, then your stomach. Then he stopped and looked at you with a devilish grin.

“It’s time to get ready, we have stuff to do.”

“Joey, you can’t just make me wet then not do anything about it!” you whined out, feeling incredibly frustrated that he would do that to you. But he didn’t budge, he just kept that stupid grin on his face.

“Later baby, I promise.” he said, his eyes turning a darker shade of blue. Then you had an idea, you waited till he walked away then started to touch yourself moaning loudly. It didn’t feel as good as you were making it sound but you wanted to get his attention. When he heard you moaning he dropped what he was doing and made his way back to the room.

“Were you touching yourself?”

You look at him innocently.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Don’t lie to me, you know exactly what I mean.” You could see the lust in Joe's eyes.

“So what if I was? You weren’t going to take care of it.”

That was it, he had enough of you teasing him. He pinned you to the bed and started to create friction between the two of you.

“Oh I will take care of it baby”

The tension between the two of you only grew. Joe’s look was primal, looking at you like you were his prey. The two of you had had sex plenty of times, but never once did he give you the look he was giving you now. The feeling in your stomach only gets stronger as things progress.

“Joe” you breathed out.

“Yes.”

“Please”

“Please what?”

“Please, make me yours.”

“You already belong to me”

The next day

The next morning Joe woke up before you, he walked out of your room and into the kitchen to make you breakfast. The two of you stayed in bed all day, between your rendezvous and just enjoying each other's company. Joe knew you would be sore after the day you guys had. When he finished making breakfast, he comes back into the room with your breakfast and wakes you with a kiss. You stir awake feeling his lips on yours.

“Good morning baby, I made breakfast.” he said then placed the plate on the bed in front of you he made pancakes. You smiled at him.

“Good morning Joey. Aww my favorite, thank you!”

Joe stole a pancake from your plate and started eating it. The two of you enjoyed breakfast together. You were loving having your husband to yourself, with no one else around. As the two of you finish breakfast you guys decided on going to the beach today.

You went into the bathroom to start getting ready, you had packed three swimsuits but couldn’t decide which one.

“Joey!”

“What's wrong baby?”

“Nothing, I can't decide which swimsuit to wear”

You show him the three swimsuits hanging up.

“Okay baby, let me take a look.”

He looks behind you at the Swimsuits he sees a beautiful orange ruffled off the shoulder top. He points to it, “wear this top with black bottoms.”

“Joe I’m not going to a bengals game. We're on our honeymoon.”

“Just please wear it” he pleaded with you and you gave up.

The two of you finished getting ready then headed to the beach which was private due to being attached to your bungalow.

You look up at Joe who is looking at you, you both smile at each other.

“LAST ONE TO THE WATER IS A ROTTEN EGG!” Joe screamed as he ran to the water. You laughed at your husband's behavior, but didn’t run to the water like he thought you would. Then you see him come out of the water and run back to you.

“Were on our honeymoon, lets have some fun Y/N”

“I’m good here where I can stay dry, plus I think we had plenty of fun yesterday.”

“Not that kind of fun.” he said then picked you up.

“JOSEPH LEE BURROW DON’T YOU DARE DO WHAT I THINK YOUR ABOUT TO DO!”

You yelled, smacking him in an attempt to get him to drop you. Your attempts were futile, your husband threw you into the water then got in himself. He had a smirk on his face, and started laughing when he saw your face. He thought you looked adorable when angry and you for sure were angry right now. Joe knew you wanted to tan but now you were in the water.

“It’s not funny.”

“Admit it, it kinda is. You thought you would stay dry while at the beach.”

You started to laugh with him.

“I love you so much Joey”

“I love you too.”

Your honeymoon continued to go great until the 5th day. You were violently ill, you kept throwing up. You wanted to cry but you didn’t have the energy for it. You didn’t feel like getting out of bed, didn’t feel like eating and Joe was extremely worried. Yet Joe came and offered to make you soup every hour, he was trying to give you space, not that he didn’t want to be there for you. It was because he couldn’t do anything to help you feel better which broke him.

Then it hit you, you were late, maybe your period was finally coming and just making you sick. But when you went to the bathroom and you still hadn’t had your period you go in your toiletry bag and grab a pregnancy test. You and Joe weren't planning on having kids this soon but if it happens it happens. You only had packed some because your mom told you it happens more than you'd think where the newlyweds get pregnant on the honeymoon.

You waited ten minutes and then gasped, when you looked at the test. Tears start streaming down your face, you were excited to start a family with Joe even if it wasn’t planned.

“Joey!”

Joe ran into the bathroom and saw the test in your hand and the tears streaming down your face. Taking large steps towards you he hugs you and looks at the test, then the tears brim his eyes.

“You're pregnant?”

You nodded.

“I know, we planned on waiting a year or two.”

“You're pregnant!” he spoke excitedly and picked you up and spun you around

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

Kingsguard part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

M!troll x f!reader

2.3k words

You knew Ba’tual rarely slept with someone more than once, you weren’t quite sure exactly what to make of him letting you know he was expecting more.

(Oral: male receiving, size difference)

————

The sounds of movement woke you and you opened your eyes to see sunlight streaming through the windows and Ba’tual getting dressed.

“Good, you’re up. I though I was going to have to wake you” he commented, only barely looking over.

You sat up, your head spinning a little. Not the worse hangover you had ever had, but you certainly were not feeling so great.

Looking around you saw your clothes folded and sitting on the table along with the borrowed jewelry neatly placed beside them, so at least getting dressed and leaving would be easy.

Well, mostly easy. You struggled to figure out how exactly Bira had tied the shirt around you yesterday and you resigned to wrapping it any way you could just to keep it up. Hopefully you would not see anyone on your way back to the inn where you were staying.

As you went to leave Ba’tual stopped you for a moment and placed his hand under your chin to tilt your head up and make you look at him. He glided his thumb along your bottom lip before pressing the tip of it into your mouth, “I have things to do today, but I’m not done with you yet.”

He pressed his finger in a little farther and forced you to swirl your tongue around it “But you know where to find me.”

As you went to leave he gave you such a saccharine smile. He was still insufferable, but you supposed you did not have to like him to be able to have a little fun.

Tracing the roads back to the hold as a best you could, you kept an eye out for anyone who might recognize you, disheveled hair and last night’s clothes on incorrectly was not a good look on anyone.They were not many humans in the city so you drew at least some attention anywhere you went, but at least so far you did not know anyone you walked past.

You wanted to take a wide berth around the hold, figuring that was where you were most likely to bump into familiar faces. Besides the road you usually took to get back to the inn, you realized you actually did not know any other way back. Going through the main square was your only option for now.

Cautiously you looked out from the side street you were on to check who was there. It was still fairly early in the morning and almost no one was out yet, which was quite a relief. You moved quickly across, hoping your little hustle was not drawing too much attention and you made it just over half way across before you heard a familiar voice.

“Looks like someone had a good night” Bira teased.

You could have died of embarrassment right there.

“I’m just glad to see you didn’t spend all night writing notes” she laughed.

“Yeah” you laughed back awkwardly.

“So, anyone I would know?”

“I don’t think so” you lied.

She gave you a little shrug and a smile, “Well, hope you had some fun.”

As you turned you saw something that made your heart sink: Ba’tual walking towards the two of you. Quickly you started to walk off, hoping to not be too suspicious but you heard him call out to you.

“Hey, you left this at my place” he called out much too loudly for your liking and holding up a bracelet.

You looked back and forth between him and Bira and tried to brace for impact. You were one hundred percent certain that you had put on everything that was laid out by your clothes, you had no idea how you missed something.

“Him?” Bira practically spat at you, “You have a whole city to pick from and you picked him? That’s who you went home with?”

“Good morning to you too, Bira” he smiled, clearly enjoying the scene he was currently causing while he went to hand you the bracelet.

“I could have set you up with so many better choices!” Bira hissed at you as she snatched the bracelet from Ba’tual.

“She can’t help that she has good taste” he smirked.

“A whole city. A whole city! And you choose the guy who’s been pestering you nonstop?”

You did not know how to explain it, nor did you think Bira would actually care, but Ba’tual could actually be quite charming when he wanted to be. And besides, you had fun with him. It was not like you were looking for a relationship.

“Just because you don’t like me doesn’t mean that other people can’t like me” Ba’tual teased Bira.

“Fine, fine, make whatever poor decisions you want” she threw her hands up in defeat and sighed, “Just be careful, ok?”

“It’s fine, Bira. I’m an adult, I know what I’m doing” you assured her.

“And you” Bira snapped at Ba’tual, “don’t be such an asshole.”

“Oh but I think she likes it, she certainly seemed to like being pushed around last night” he smiled.

“Not another word” Bira warned him.

He smirked, “That’s fine, I have places to be anyways, but I’ll be seeing you later.”

“Really?” Bira asked you as Ba’tual walked off.

“I mean, it was really good” you shrugged.

Bira looked like she wanted to retch.

After getting back to the inn to wash up and change, the rest of the day went pretty smoothly at least. You headed back to the hold as you were supposed to meet with several of the huntsmasters from the minotaur clans that lived in the plains outside the city.

As you approached the hold you spotted Ba’tual in his typical spot outside, watching over two newer recruits as they sparred. He looked up as you passed and beckoned you over.

“Find me when you leave, I’ll be here all day” he told you.

You just nodded, fairly excited for whatever awaited later.

The day dragged on much longer than it should of. You found yourself struggling to write down everything the huntsmasters where telling you: important information about traveling routes for trading or following migrating animals, mostly just going in one ear and out the other. At the end of the day you smiled and nodded politely as you bid them farewell, kicking yourself for being distracted at such a vital time.

You quickly scanned the area outside the hold, the excitement building as you spotted Ba’tual sitting and leaning against one of the posts that lined the sparring area.

“Found you” you playfully called to get his attention.

“Great job” he snorted.

“Soooo” you began, “What’s the plan?”

“I’m starving, and could use a drink. Dealing with new recruits is draining.”

“Not a fan of being a teacher?”

“No. They all think they know better and then whine about unfair fights when sparring” he stood up and once more placed his hand under you chin to make you look up at him, “So I could could use a drink and some stress relief.”

You tailed behind him, somewhat struggling to keep up with his long strides as you made your way across town. The tavern he brought you to was one that you had never been to and you were the only human there. Ba’tual sat at the bar and and immediately started chatting in troll to the bartender. He smirked and nodded his head towards you and the bartender gave a laugh.

“What was that about?” you asked.

“Nothing, just ordering for us” he shrugged.

You were certain there was more to it, but it was not like you knew what he had said to prove anything so you dropped it.

The two of you made your way back to his place, a pleasant buzz in your head from the alcohol but less tipsy that then previous night at least. It was a short walk at least.

Ba’tual wasted no time once inside, immediately beginning to unlace his pants. “On your knees” he directed you, only barely glancing your way as he folded his pants and sat them aside.

You raised an eyebrow at him and remained standing.

“Please” he added with a clearly faked smile as he saw your facial expression, “And come over here.”

You knelt down between his legs next to where he sat on the bed and immediately he grabbed your hair and pulled your face right up against his cock. He was looking down at you expectantly, but did not say a word. You ran your tongue across his tip, lapping up the pre cum that had formed already. He groaned and tightened his grip on your hair, somewhat forcing his way into your mouth in his impatience.

Swirling your tongue around him got quite a response. He caught you off guard and bucked into your mouth, making you gag a bit and pull back. You looked up and shot him a dirty look, but he did not seem to care.

“Careful” you hissed at him.

“You can handle it” he shrugged.

“If you want me to blow you then don’t do that again.”

Cautiously you resumed, this time wrapping a hand around his base to hopefully keep him from shoving his cock down your throat. You started a steady rhythm of stroking him while you sucked on his tip and you felt his grip on your hair loosen as he relaxed.

Looking up at him, he really was quite a sight. When he was not being a pain the ass and kept his mouth shut he really was rather handsome.

You ran your free hand up his thigh and felt the taut muscle right under the skin, you had seen him sparring several times and knew he could absolutely manhandle you if he wanted. Slowly you moved your hand farther up his thigh until you were able to cup his balls, they hung heavy in your palm and you smile as you heard him moaning while you played with them.

He was leaning back on his elbow, eyes closed and taking deep breaths through parted lips.

“Fuck” he moaned, “That’s why he didn’t shut up about it.”

You snorted, you did not know what he was going on about, but it was almost charming in a way.

Slowly you took more of him into your mouth, enjoying how he tasted and smelled. He had been outside training recruits and sparring most of the day, giving him a strong, musky smell especially with your face between his legs and tasted of salt from the traces of sweat on his skin.

“Look at me” he directed you, though the commanding tone had all but dropped from his voice. Now it was almost a plea.

You looked up at him, though leaning back a bit he was watching you closely now, breathing heavily through parted lips.

“Spirits” he sighed, “You looked good with your lips around my cock.”

You held his eye contact and took more of him. At this point you were just at the edge of gagging if you went any farther and still it was only about half his length. You kept your tongue against the underside of his shaft, teasing him a bit as you slowly pulled back to see how he would react.

Quickly you felt his grip on your hair tighten again as he yanked you back towards him, though this time with your hand around him he did get deep enough to make you gag.

“Don’t” you warned him as you all but removed him from your mouth.

He gave you an almost pathetic whine, but released his grip on your hair entirely.

With your newfound freedom of movement you wrapped your other hand around him, working your mouth and hands in sync. He was nearly whimpering as you continued and you could hear soft words in troll falling from his lips.

As your pace increased so did his panting and ragged breathing to the point where he was nearly gasping as he finished. Spurts of thick, warm cum filled your mouth and quickly got to the point to overflowing and dribbling down your chin.

He reached down and wiped the cum off your chin with his finger before holding it to your lips.

You humored him, not only licking it off playfully sucking on his finger for a moment.

He let out a deep breath through his mouth before speaking, “Fuck” he sighed. “Really does live up to the hype.”

“Wait, have you never been blown before?” you asked in bewilderment.

“No? Have you seen troll tusks?”

“What about orcs or minotaur?”

“Look, we share a city and all get along, but not like that.”

“Then how’d you even know what it was?”

“My best friend is married to a human, you think he doesn’t tell me all about what he gets up to?”

“Fair” you conceded and you went stand up. You pressed yourself against him and began to kiss and nip along his neck.

“What are you doing?” he asked, almost sounding annoyed.

You did not know how to answer. It was obvious what you were doing: continuing.

“Aren’t we just getting started?” you asked, doing your best pouty, sultry voice.

“Wasn’t that enough?”

“No?” it was your turn to sound annoyed.

“Well, I’m tired. I’ve had a long day.”

“And I must be the only human you’ve had luck with, because while I’m not the only one in the city I must apparently be the only one willing to blow you” you fired back.

You saw his lip twitch as he scowled at you, clearly annoyed and doing his best to play nice. “Fine. If you’re going to be like that then give me a few minutes to catch my breath.”

[butchcarmy]

Blood Orange (Ch 2: The Bathroom)

Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18, MDNI)

Rating: E (5.7k)

links: fic playlist, pinterest board, ao3 link, ch 1

Chapter Summary: No more fucking your boss. That’s what you’ve been telling yourself, but he doesn’t make it easy, even as you find yourself wanting to scream. Somehow it all falls away when you lower yourself to your knees before him. You don’t know if there’s any stopping this anymore. 

Content Tags: work sex, blow jobs, mouth fucking, CUM PLAY, dom/bossy carmy, coworkers with benefits, carmy being difficult, mental illness, they/them reader, gender neutral reader, the usual

A/N: WHEW. It’s here! Thanks for waiting y’all. I think I embarrassed myself writing this one (flushed emoji). It’s ramping up. Next chapter is gonna be big one. Let me know what you guys think, and enjoy! <3

Before you go to work the next morning, you make yourself come on your fingers. It would've been twice if you had more time. 

You open your eyes waking from a dream with his ghostly blue eyes and low voice, and you already know you're wet before you even touch yourself. The pads of your reaching fingers chase the tender spot Carmy stroked inside of you, but they don't quite make it. Of course they don't. 

Fingering yourself eases the ache for a little while. On the early morning transit with headphones over your ears, you still manage to find yourself aching for him. The music doesn't cover up the sound of his voice, and you catch yourself grimacing in the faint reflection of the dirty metro windows. 

This is not a good way to start your second day at work.

Since you left the walk-in yesterday, Carmy's been following you around like a mosquito in the summer, whizzing around your head, buzzing in your ears. You can't rid your thoughts of him. When you close your eyes, you're trapped in the fridge with him, again, and his fingers are deep inside you. 

Fuck. You're standing in front of the restaurant, willing yourself to go in. Just stop it, you think to yourself. 

You really should be more mad at him. He technically never apologized for insulting you, but you suppose you didn't expect him to in the first place. You didn't usually get apologies at places like this, from people like him. You don't want to get in the bad habit of expecting good things from broken people.

No more fucking your boss, you think resolutely to yourself, and that's the thought you meditate on as you open the door. 

By this time yesterday, there were already a couple of people floating around the kitchen. Today, you find dim lights and silence. Your footsteps feel too loud on the white linoleum as you walk to the lockers to drop off your stuff. You can’t pretend to understand the schedule yet.

“Carmen?” You pace around again as you secure your apron with a tie. No response. Surely he's here, at least. Someone had to open the place. 

You take a couple more steps when you hear his voice. 

“No, I'm not—that's not what I was sayin’.” The direction of his voice sounds like it's coming from his office. “Of course I miss him. Sugar—” A pause. “I know. Yeah. It's bullshit.” He laughs then, you think. You can't measure how genuine it is. “You're bullshit. Look, I'll call you back later, okay? And I'll—yeah, I'll look at it. Promise. Yeah. Bye.”

It's quiet after that. You're standing there, not sure what to do with yourself when you hear footsteps. Sure enough, Carmy pops out of the office, and you catch just a glimpse of something haunted in him before surprise takes over.

“Hi,” you say at the same time he says, “Jesus Christ.”

“How long have you been here,” he asks, as you go, “That's an interesting way to pronounce my name.”

“Um,” you start, and he stares at you blankly, unreactive to your joke. Too early, you guess. “I just got here.”

“Okay. Cool. Uh…” Anxiety radiates off of him, making his hands fidget and run through untamed hair. Not that you were looking at his hands at all. “You’ll be doin’ prep again.”

“Alright.” You expected as such. You’ll probably be on prep for the rest of the week, if not the month. That’s how most places go, but this isn’t most places. 

“Your station was dirty when you left yesterday.” You walk up to your station, and it’s spotless. “I had to clean it before I left.”

“Ah. I’m sorry about that,” you apologize quickly. I was preoccupied with other things, you think bitterly to yourself, thinking of locked doors and heated kisses. Not that you’ll mention it. “I’ll make sure to clean it this time.”

“Prep’s gonna be a bit different today,” he says, completely ignoring your apology. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from snapping. “You’re gonna inspect produce, and then you’ll prep the stock again. Correctly this time.”

“It was nearly perfect, I just misplaced it,” you mutter under your breath.

“Yeah, nearly.” Looks like he heard you this time. Asshole. He places a box of onions on your station, rattling the table slightly. “Do I have to tell you how to sort out the bad ones from the good ones?” You’re honestly not sure if he means that as a jab, but the way he says it makes your insides sizzle with irritation.

Don’t take it personally, you remind yourself. Don’t. Take. It. Personally. 

“How about you show me just in case? Just so we’re on the same page.” It’s a wonder how calm you keep your voice. To your surprise, Carmy doesn’t roll his eyes, doesn’t sigh, he just nods and proceeds. Every time you think you’ll predict him properly, he does the opposite. 

You follow the line of his callused finger pointing to brown splotches on some of the onions. Intently, studiously, you examine the dark spots (indicative of mold), the sprouts (initial stages of deterioration), and the mushy areas (a sign of decreasing freshness). He’s talking about details as he seems to do when it comes to food, even elaborating on the farming process, but you don’t quite pick up that part. You just pay attention to the parameters you need to follow.

No more fucking your boss, you remind yourself again, because you catch yourself aching at the sight of his fingers. Your eyes have a hunger of their own, flickering up and down his muscular arms. God damnit. Maybe there’s another reason you can’t quite pay attention today. 

“Are you listening?” Carmy’s pointed question snaps you out of it. Fuck. You hope he didn’t catch you staring at his fingers again.

“If I can save it and just chop off the bad parts, then I should,” you regurgitate on instinct. “Those are the best ones to use for the stock. Otherwise, I should just toss it.”

For a split second, all he does is fix you with his focused stare. You feel the intensity of it in your chest, your beating heart fluttering with its weight. No matter how many times you scold yourself for finding him attractive, your eyes can’t ignore what’s right in front of them. You find yourself counting his moles. 

“I caught you staring,” he murmurs, “for real this time.”

“I—uh—” Your eyebrows are so raised you’re sure they’re bound to shoot off your warmed face. He’s smiling like he knows something you don’t. You weren’t going to mention yesterday, and after your first interaction this morning, you were sure he wasn’t going to, either. Guess you were wrong again.

“I’ll be in the back if you need help. The others should be here soon.” He’s moving on without giving you a chance to recover. Your brain can’t process the shock. “Just call if you need anything."

Before you get a chance to scrounge up anything to say, you’re alone in the kitchen again. 

This time I'm really gonna do it, you fume internally. Because you have a healthy amount of anger management, you don’t let yourself continue that thought.

Sydney is the third person to show up after you and Carmy. You give her a nod and a thin smile as she walks in, and she waves back. Soon after she arrives, the others trickle in one by one. As you're learning to expect, the quiet never lasts for long. 

There are tasks circling you just like yesterday that you don't fully grasp yet. Everyone seems to be instinctively following their own schedule, their circadian rhythm matched to the chaotic ecosystem of the kitchen. It’s just as suffocating as it was yesterday. You remind yourself that as a new hire, you don't need to understand the madness yet. Nonetheless, an invisible pressure presses down on you. 

“Hey, d'you mind telling me where this produce goes?” A triple stack of filled containers sits heavy in your arms. With Sydney out of the kitchen, Marcus is your next safest option in terms of coworkers. His head flicks up from where he was focused on kneading dough. A streak of white flour is across his nose. 

“Oh, that one's bottom shelf, near the back.” He claps his dusty hands together, flour falling between them like snow. “Here, I'll just show you. You know where the walk-in is?”

With Marcus, it doesn't feel like there are any stupid questions. It's a gift you don't take for granted, especially around here. You let him lead you to the fridge again, even though you remember where it is. It doesn't hurt. 

“Thanks. I'm, uh, still having a hard time figuring out where stuff goes,” you say after you put the produce away. 

“It’s cool. It's only your second day, right?” You nod. “Just takes time. Don't sweat it. You ever work in a restaurant before?”

“Yeah, a couple of times.”

“Then you know what you're gettin’ into.” That makes you laugh. 

“Sorta.” You shrug. “To be honest with you, I just need money, and I like cooking enough, so…now I'm here.” You're not quite as honest with how desperate your situation was on the verge of coming, but it's fine. Not really the time and place for it anyway. 

“I gotcha. That's how it was for me too, actually.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah. Well, that's how I started at McDonald’s. That was a while ago now.”

“I see. It's better here, I hope.”

“Hard to say,” he says, but there's a little smile on his face. “For the most part, Michael was cool, but—”

“Michael!” You blurt out, startling the both of you. “Holy shit, I'm sorry. I've just been trying to remember the name of the previous owner for forever now and—wow, sorry. I didn't mean to shout.”

“It's fine.” Marcus has this amused expression, but it dissolves quickly. “You met him?”

“I did. I came here a couple of years ago when I first moved. Just once, but—anyway, what's his deal?”

“His deal?”

“Yeah, like, why'd he give the restaurant away? Carmy said he didn't want it anymore.”

“Oh.” You can't read the way Marcus’ face shifts. “That's what he said?”

“...Yeah?”

“I see. Okay. Uh…” He pauses, scratching the back of his neck. “Look, I know how this sounds, but just try not to bring Mike up for now. It's still kind of a sore subject.”

“Ah, my bad.” Your brain instantly supplies stories of estranged families, sibling spats, and stolen money. You suppose it's a sour sort of relationship—something you're intimately familiar with. “Can I ask what happened, or…?”

“I'll tell you later,” he replies evasively. “You know what else they got you training on today?”

“No idea,” you answer honestly. The nosy part of you wants to hear more about the Berzatto family, but the responsible part of you reminds you to cool your jets. “Carmy just told me I was on produce. Know where he's at? I peeked into his office, but he wasn't there.”

“Oh, he just left.” Your blank stare makes him elaborate. “He's off doing Carmy things.”

“Doing Carmy things?” Looks like the person in charge has abandoned you yet again.

“Business stuff, probably.” Marcus shrugs. “He does that sometimes. He probably won't be back for a while, so I can help you with training for now if you want.”

“That would be great.” There's a remark on the tip of your tongue about poor management, but you hold it. “Is Carmy a better boss, at least?”

“Compared to Michael?” You recognize sadness in Marcus’ pinched brows, even if it's only momentary. “I dunno. It hasn't been long, but this place has been running more smoothly since he started doing things.” Your shocked expression makes him laugh briefly. “I know, it used to be worse if you can believe it.”

“I'm not sure that I can,” you admit. 

. . . . .

The next several days at work continue to test your patience. While Carmy keeps you on prep, keeping your tasks simple, he continues to find ways to keep you on edge. You stiffen up every time he enters the kitchen, waiting for him to point out yet another mistake. 

Chef, this cut's too uneven. Chef, you're taking too much time on this. Chef, you should’ve cut this part off. Chef, you’re creating too much waste. 

Yes, Chef, you always reply, even as his comments become more and more grating. A childish part of you wants to do a worse job out of spite, but another part of you is hungry for his approval far more than you would ever admit. You wonder if he's this tough on everyone. 

The incident in the walk-in does not get mentioned again. A childish voice in you wonders if Carmy has forgotten about it. Of course he hasn’t, but every time he critiques you, you wonder about the Carmy who kissed you. You wonder what that Carmy's thinking, because you have no clue. 

Has he been thinking of you, too?

This is how things should be, you remind yourself after you touch yourself for the fourth night in a row to the thought of him. Your fingers are wet, and your wrist is embarrassingly sore. I can't have sex with my boss again. I just can't. 

Would it be different if he also touched himself to thoughts of you?

You desperately suck your own cum off your fingers, and you wish it were his fingers instead. It doesn't taste the same. 

The bright lights are irritatingly bright when you come in this morning. It looks like you're the first person here again, other than Carmy. You hear his irritated voice as soon as you enter, which is clearly a good sign. 

“I appreciate you thinking of me, I do. I do. It's just—” He sighs. Looks like he's having another phone call. “I can't come back. Not right now.” Silence. “No, uh, won't happen for a while, I think. The place's fucked.” A shaky breath. “What? What did you say?

“The head chef asked about me?” Carmy's voice has gone tight. “I see. Of course he said that. No, it's fine.” Pause. “...I know what they've been saying. I figured they'd look down on me.” His laugh is hollow and painful. “Look, I got shit to do. Thanks for asking me, but it's a no. I can't.” Another pause, drawn out and tense. “Sure. Bye.”

After he hangs up, you hear him muttering to himself. You can't pick out any of the words other than the curses, but it sounds bad. As you put your things away, you silently pray to the abstract idea of a god to give you both strength of patience. Seems like you'll need it today. 

“Morning,” you tentatively greet him when he sees you. He's not surprised by your presence today, it seems. He nods back. 

“Morning.” His eyebags are dark with a lack of sleep. Upon closer inspection, his whole everything screams sleep deprivation, perhaps a bit more so than usual. His messy hair seems particularly unkempt today. “You're doing prep again today.”

“I figured.” 

“You need to get better about cleaning your station.” His words are full to the brim with irritation. “I keep having to clean it after you.”

“I thought I was—” You stop. Calm down, you think, but it's getting harder and harder to repeat. “Sorry. I didn't realize.”

“I told you the other day that it was dirty. Were you even paying attention?”

“Of course I was!” Annoyance bubbles over inside of you, potent and unbridled. Carmy barely reacts to your raised voice. Somehow, that pisses you off more.  The cap on your contained anger has popped off, and there's no fitting it back on. “Are you always like this towards your employees?”

“Like what?”

“Like an asshole?” You're too irritated to hold yourself back. 

“Depends. Are you always like this with your boss?” He retorts immediately. 

“I don't usually have sex with my boss, so no, I suppose not,” you respond stupidly, and that makes him go dead silent. He narrows his eyes, fixes you with his gaze. Like you're a new problem that needs solving or something like that.

God damnit, you think to yourself. Why'd you have to say that?

“You've been thinking about it.” The air feels thicker, suddenly.

“I never said that.”

“Then why did you mention it?” Shit. “You said you were going to do better.”

“And I have been. I've been trying to do everything you've been telling me to do.” You don't know why you take a step towards him. “You said you were gonna be nicer.”

“And I have been,” he echoes, and his sincerity makes you roll your eyes. 

“Bullshit! You've been nit-picking me all week!”

“We have standards here, and you need to learn how to follow them. That's all.”

“You're right! I'm learning,” you argue, throwing exasperated hands up in the air. “Cut me some fucking slack!”

“Then learn. Improve.” He slams a hand down on the aluminum surface next to you, enclosing you partially in. Being this close to him, you can really see how dark his dark circles are. You could easily move to the side if you wanted to, but something in you stays put. “There's no excuse for a dirty workspace in a kitchen. I thought you would know that already.”

“I'm so fucking sorry, chef,” you spit back with about as much venom as you can muster. Which, right now, is a lot. 

That shifts something inside him. You see it flash across his face—surprise, anger, and then…something else.

“Dirty work station and a dirty mouth,” he murmurs. His voice is lower, quieter, and it sounds just like how it did in the walk-in. You hate how that change instantly makes your heart pick up speed. “You think you get a pass to act like this because of what happened in the walk-in?”

“You motherfucker,” you hiss, meeting his glare with your own. “So now you're going to acknowledge it? And for the record, I get to act however the fuck I want. Especially with someone like you.”

“Someone like me.” He doesn't ask you to elaborate. He just laughs, breathy and condescending, and he's so close you can feel his breath fan across your face. “You think you're above all this, don't you?”

“What?” The question takes you so off guard that it almost dissipates the strange mix of anger and arousal simmering in your gut. 

“I know it doesn't feel good to have to take orders from someone you hate, but here's the thing. You have to.” He's not smiling, but you swear he's getting some sort of sick satisfaction from all this. Why else would he be saying any of this shit?

“I could leave right now if I wanted to,” you threaten him. “You won't be able to find anyone else that wants to work in this shithole of a place.”

“You're right. You could leave if you really wanted to.” His eyes narrow curiously at you. “Then why haven't you?”

You’re well within your right to leave already—it checks all the boxes. Chaotic work environment. Awful management. General workplace misconduct. Unprofessionalism between coworkers. You suppose you're partially to blame for that last one, but still. 

If it's bad, I'll just find another job, you told yourself. You're not sure why you're not listening to your own advice. The simple truth of the matter, though, is that other jobs won't have him. They won't have the man that's been keeping you up at night, the man that you want to simultaneously devour and destroy. They won't have Carmen Berzatto, and for some reason, that's all it's going to take.

You don't understand yourself. It scares you, but not enough. Not enough to leave.

“...I don't know why I haven't left yet,” you say quietly after a while. “I have no clue.”

“I see.” If he's dissatisfied with your answer, he doesn't show it. “Then for the time you're here, let's make one thing clear.”

“What is it now?” You sigh.

“I'm in charge here,” he whispers. His other hand is on the counter now. You're completely blocked in. “I'm the one who runs this place, so you're going to be good and listen to me when I speak.”

“You're not really giving me a lot of incentive, chef.” You lower your gaze to the counters next to you. “Maybe if you gave me something to work with.” You don't mean for it to come out as suggestive as it does, but with him surrounding you like this… 

“Incentive?” He brings a hand to your face, tucking his fingers under your chin to pull your gaze back to him. His touch is achingly gentle, but it forces it to look straight into his eyes. Your fidgety gaze catches glances of the dark blue speckles that border his pale iris. “Hey,” he whispers, “look at me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Your heart's pounding like sprinting feet thudding on concrete. You can't place what feelings are excitement or anxiety or both, but maybe no separation exists. Shutting your eyes was a weak attempt to temporarily block him out, but now all you can focus on is the sensation of his rough hand on your hot face. 

Hesitantly, you open your eyes to face him. Ice blue and dark circles. His intense stare is difficult to match, but you try. 

“What do you want from me?” You ask quietly. 

“I want you to clean your station. Think you can do that?”

“Don't patronize me. Of course I can. I just—happened to forget.”

“Hm.” He smiles briefly. It's just a bit mocking. “You don't have a good track record so far, so you'll have to prove it to me.”

“...And how would I do that?”

“Depends,” he replies vaguely. “Depends on what you want.”

“What I want? I thought you were supposed to be in charge.”

“When I touched you, you told me you wanted to touch me.” The realization clicks in your head. “Do you still want that?”

You hesitate. Memories of the walk-in flood in. You remember the silhouette of his tight jeans over his bulge, and you ache. You shouldn't say yes. You really shouldn't. A distant voice says, you don't want to do this. What have you been telling yourself? This is a bad idea.

Unfortunately, it's far past a matter of want anymore. It's a matter of need.

“Yes,” you whisper back. Your fate is sealed. “I do.”

That's how you find yourself in the cramped bathroom with him. It's dark with one of the lightbulbs having gone out, making it feel even smaller. An eerie green cast coats the room. 

“You're going to show me that you can listen. That you can clean up after your messes.” He's leaned up against the wall, broad hands unbuttoning his pants. Your eyes shamelessly zero in on the motion. “Think you can do that much?”

“Of course I can,” you reply, but it comes out a lot softer than intended. 

“Good.” You force your eyes away from the outline of his bulge in his boxers to look at his face. His darkened eyes are trained on you. “Get on your knees.”

Oh, you think. So this is how it's gonna go.

You wish you could say that you hesitate even a little bit, that there’s even a shred of contemplation left in you. However, there isn't any of that remaining. Obediently, you fall to your knees, resting them against the cold, hard bathroom floor. You're at eye level with his unbuttoned jeans. Slowly, you raise your eyes to look at him. 

His downturned face is framed by wild strands of hair. Looking down at you casts darker shadows across his face, but not enough to hide his expression. It's an odd mix of hunger and what you think to be admiration. Surely not, but that's immediately the thought that comes to mind. 

“Waiting for directions, chef,” you murmur. 

“Mm. Right,” he says, like he was lost in thought. “You look better like this.”

“Watch it,” you warn him. “I could still bite your dick off.” To that, he just briefly smiles, and then it's gone.

He's pulled his black pants down just enough to let his clothed bulge hang over the waistband. The sight of it goes straight to the simmer starting in your gut. You watch his veined hand disappear into his boxers. He's doing this far too slowly for your taste. 

Finally, he pulls out his cock, nearly completely stiffened, and you can't deny the way you begin to salivate. 

You were right. It's big, though not just in length. His cock is thick. You immediately know you won't be able to take the full length of him into your mouth, but what fits is going to be a stretch. You're already imagining how those bulging veins are going to feel against the flat of your tongue. 

“Use your mouth for something other than talking back to me. Make me come,” Carmy orders quietly. “Enough direction for you?”

“Shut the hell up,” you mutter, ignoring the feeling of the growing heat inside you, and you pull the reddened, shiny tip of his cock between your lips. 

His pre-come mixes with the saliva on your tongue. You savor the taste of his salty musk, suckling slowly, and you hear him exhale shakily above you. Looks like you've been given something of an opportunity to get him back for the walk-in. Not repayment—payback. The distinction is important. 

When you pull back, thin strings of spit connect the pink head to your glistening lips. One of your hands moves to hold the base of his cock as you close the gap again. You drag your tongue down the side of his length, licking the thick vein you were eyeing earlier. You feel him twitch. 

“Do that again,” he breathes. Without question, your tongue retraces its path, running back over the line of spit it created. That gets you a quiet, strangled moan, and it's music to your ears. 

“Is this part sensitive?” You ask as you stroke the vein with your thumb. You suck your way down the vein again, making small, wet seals of pleasure. 

“Somewhat.” He sounds good like this, breathless and flustered. A smile twitches on your lips. You lick across the inside of your hand, wetting it before lazily curling it around his cock. He slides effortlessly in your grasp. 

“You gonna come already?” You can't help but tease. He's surprisingly reactive, more so than you would've thought. It's not that you're complaining—it's not that at all. The sound of his low groans is making you drip. 

“Hah—no. You'll have to work harder than that.” You feel a hand pushing back your hair, and that makes you raise your head towards him. His touch is surprisingly gentle. You watch the movement of his lips when he speaks. “Open your mouth, and stick out your tongue.”

You can't quite figure out what it is about all of this that makes you submit. Just moments ago, you wanted to wring your hands around his throat. It was far too easy to abandon your anger and kneel in front of him. Maybe it's the incomprehensibly part of you that undeniably needs his validation. Maybe it's the soft, low tone of his voice, gentle yet commanding. Either way, it has you obeying with a thought in your mind. 

You do as he says. You part your lips and extend your tongue. As your eyes flutter upwards towards him, you're struck with the impression that you must look obscene. 

“Perfect,” he whispers, and just the one word sends something of a euphoric rush through you. “Doin’ so good for me.” 

You soak up the praise, basking in the warmth of it. Then, Carmy spits onto your tongue, and his saliva slides towards the back of your mouth. 

You can't hide your surprise. Your breath hitches, but you don't say anything. Fuck, that should've made you angry, but it just made your clit throb painfully hard. 

He drags his thumb down your tongue, slow and sensual. You have half the mind to suck on it until he glides the head of his cock on your tongue, leading it into the heat of your mouth. 

“Ah—” You lose the words you were going to say, along with the empty space in your mouth. The tip of his cock's nearing the back of your throat. You breathe shakily through your nose. You were right again—you can't take him fully in. It's enough of a stretch as it is. 

“Fuck, that's it…” Carmy sighs. “Just like that…”

His hand holding your hair turns into a tighter grip as you begin sucking up and down his cock. It's an awful mess, the size of him forcing spit to drip down your chin. It's not just that, though. He's thrusting his cock back into your mouth quicker and quicker. You wish he would slow down so you could lean back and suck on his dribbling tip, but his hand has you anchored. 

Time slows as he starts fucking your mouth. Your hands fall to your hands. Your knees are starting to hurt. You care surprisingly little about that fact, instead opting to care about rubbing your clit as quickly as possible. When you get your hands under your underwear, you find your whole pussy already smeared in wetness. You've seeped through the fabric. 

When he pulls his cock out of your mouth (or rather, when he tugs you off), you think he's going to give you a new order. Or that he's going to say something. You don't realize what's really happening until it's too late. 

You watch him bring a hand to his cock. He strokes it twice, keeping his hand tight in your hair, and with a low groan, he comes.

With his hand on you, you can't move away. Not that you try. When the first glob of cum streaks your cheek, you freeze. All you can do is pause as he comes on your face. Even your hand under your pants has frozen, your palm pressed up tight against your pulsing clit. 

With each rope of cum across your face, you feel yourself throb. Carmy is a sight to behold as he comes, long-lashed eyes falling shut with his parted, gasping mouth. He's jaggedly fisting his cock as he just keeps coming. You feel the cum starting to drip down the slopes of your skin, even your lips. 

By the time he's come down, he's left your face an absolute mess. Your jaw feels heavy, and his cum is hot against your swollen lips. You've come down as well, and it's left you with the irate realization that he just came all over your face without asking.

“You could've at least told me you were gonna come on my face,” you snap. Your cheeks are burning. Your argument feels weak with how worked up you feel over watching and feeling him come, but the irritation is still very real. 

“Clean your station, chef,” he responds, infuriatingly smug even as he catches your breath. “Practice makes perfect.”

“Are you kidding me?” Of course. That's what this all was. A fucked up lesson, a twisted sort of discipline. 

“I'm not.” He uncurls his fist from your hair. “Stand up—your knees must hurt.”

You pause for a second before you shakily get back up on your legs. One minute he's messily fucking your mouth, and the other, he's worrying over your sore knees. He continues to become more and more confusing. 

“You're gonna make me clean up your mess.” You catch your face in the small, shitty rectangular mirror hanging on the wall. God, are you a filthy sight, cum and spit all over your face. 

“I had to clean up yours for the past week, so yeah.” He's zipped himself back up. He's clean, not a drop of anything on him. Unlike the mess parading itself on your face. At least there's not any in your hair. 

“This is not the same. This is—” You frustratedly search for the right words. He's remaining as stoic as ever. “You didn't even kiss me,” you blurt out, and as soon as you say it, you regret it. 

Carmy stills. You can't tell what he's thinking with his unmoving expression. You're sure he's about to insult you again, but then he’s leaning in and sealing his lips against yours. 

You're stunned. A small noise escapes you as he kisses you deeply, thoroughly. His tongue drags up a trail of cum and spit up your chin and back into your mouth. Or back into his. You're unsure, with the way they're all blending together. 

“There,” Carmy murmurs against your lips. When he pulls back, you see his tongue running across his lips, collecting the pearlescent sheen that was on them. 

“Um—” You start and immediately stop. You’re speechless. 

“Now clean up.” You hear the sound of distant company. Your other coworkers must be arriving now. “I expect improvement now, chef. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” you reply bitterly. “I suppose I met your expectations, then?”

“Sure. Closely enough, anyway.” Potent aggravation hits you like a cast iron pan. He drags his thumb in one last infuriating line across your cheek. He sucks it into his mouth and cleans it off. “Don't take too long. I have a lot planned for you today.”

Without waiting for a response, Carmy leaves. He leaves you alone in the shitty bathroom with a now flickering lightbulb, left to clean his cum on your face with water, hand soap, and thin paper towels. You don't know if you've ever been so angry before. 

The anger doesn't make the arousal go away. You rub your needy clit to orgasm, your back pressed up against the wall like Carmy's just a moment ago.

As you come with Carmy's cum slowly trailing on your face, you wonder if there is any coming back from this. If there's anything left to be done to stop whatever's happening. You can't come up with any solutions or suggestions. Only one thing is undeniably clear:

You hate Carmen Berzatto, and you're already thinking of ways to get his cock in your mouth again soon. 

~

taglist: @zorrasucia @carmenberzattosgf @thehouseofevangelista @alastorssimp @talas-starlight @jmamas92

[drowned-captain]

The Rebound - Pitfighter! Vi x Fem! Reader - Ch.2

A/N: Hey y'all! Happy New Year. I just want to thank you guys for the love on my first chapter! It's very encouraging and lets me know that I'm doing something right, haha. Anyways, I greatly appreciate you all for checking it out and I look forward to continuing the story between you and our favorite edgy girl. Btw if anyone knows the name of currency in Zaun, please let me know. A quick search brought me to a reddit comment that said the currency might be called 'cogs', so until I know what it is for sure, I'll be using the word 'cogs'. Enjoy!

MDNI (18+ only)

TW// Mature themes like violence, drinking, possible drug use, infidelity, mean/triggering thoughts

Word Count: 3k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ache of a hangover was Violet's usual alarm system. Her eyes fluttered open as she brought her hand to her forehead as her face twitched into a grimace. Despite the lack of lighting in her room, the lights of Zaun peeking through the slits of the makeshift curtain was enough to make her eyes squint. Her legs were elevated on her bed, the rest of her body on the floor. She slowly rolled over and stood up, empty glass bottles around her clinking and wheeling away with every nudge of her body.

A low groan erupted from her mouth when she picked herself up all the way, and she staggered a bit on her way to the bathroom. Oddly enough, she did not throw up from the hangover as she normally does each morning. The headache was still pretty bad, but compared to the past few weeks it seemed like one of the more tolerable ones. Did she do anything differently last night? She ran the sink and looked at her reflection as she tried to remember any unusual forks in the road that interrupted her continuous downward spiral. Maybe Loris took her home earlier than usual-- she couldn't remember too well.

Violet splashed her face with water, not bothering to clean off the entirety of the black smudges of makeup on her face. Instead, she just used yesterday's makeup smears as a guide for today's makeup. When all was done, she dragged her feet back to her room, kicking away empty bottles. She jumped slightly when her boot kicked something that did not sound like glass. It sounded way different. Her eyes tracked an empty plastic cup that was in the middle of rolling underneath her bed. She bent down to pick it up before she lost interest in it. With furrowed eyebrows, she rotated it in her hand before bringing it to her nose. It didn't smell like alcohol, so what gives?

Her mind fog cleared up slightly when she remembered a blurry image of (s/c) skin and (h/c) hair. A bitter feeling. The shape of that stranger disappearing into the crowd. A plastic cup of water.

Instead of tossing the empty cup aside like she has countless of bottles, she set it aside on a higher surface. Before she walked out of her little apartment, she glanced back at that cup once more before leaving.

Violet's self-destructive cycle continued. Pregame before the fight, whoop ass, party, go home, tear up the punching bag, pass out. Pregame, fight, hookup, home, scream, wake up. Pregame, brawl, drink, go home, keep punching the bag, look at the plastic cup, wake up. Look at the plastic cup, fight, hookup, go home, punch it out, watch the dust collect on that plastic cup, wake up. Pregame . . .

*

It had been a few days since you went out to that club/bar thing. When you had woken up the day after, you had a nasty headache and the longest episode of nausea you've had in a while. That alone was enough to deter you from going back, but the temptation lingered and grew as time passed. All of your ex's stuff that you swore you'd give back or throw out? It's all still there. It's all still painful, and you want to get away from it. Yesterday you were about to start the cleanse with throwing at least one of their shirts out of your window, but instead you captured the scent of them on the fabric and couldn't bear to let it go. Not having the mental strength to get rid of at least ONE item pissed you off.

You really wanted to go back to the bar. The mind-numbing poison was just so delicious, and it took away a lot of the mental anguish. If people pour alcohol on flesh wounds to prevent infection, you can too. After all, your heart feels absolutely necrotic. One more trip tonight shouldn't hurt, right? Even if the last time ended on a somewhat bitter note because of that Vi girl. But it's okay! A person as wasted as she was definitely wouldn't remember such an interaction.

You had your own little cycle. Lay in bed, neglect your needs, cry, scream, wake up. But as the days passed, your food supply was running dangerously low. You had to search every inch of your apartment for spare change to pay the month's rent, so you don't have enough for food anymore. You could have sold your ex's things, but if you couldn't even toss a shirt out of the window then there was no way you'd be able to hand their belongings to a stranger.

Your ex-partner was the main provider of your needs, and you were unemployed. Finding a secure job that pays well in Zaun was as easy as unbaking a cupcake, let alone finding a job that was not shady as hell. Your ex was the reason you were able to even have a nicer apartment in the first place. It was far from being as nice as the idea of a Pilty's boiler room, but an apartment like yours is considered luxury in most Zaunite eyes. But like hell you would try to find a job like theirs-- a shimmer distributer. Too much competition, and it would take ages to become one of the big dogs like the ex is. Not only that, but the thought of contributing to ruining lives makes you feel a bit queasy.

Nonetheless, you were no stranger from doing what you had to do to keep yourself alive. You have to eat.

You are now walking the streets of Zaun, keeping your head low as usual. You lurked around the market area of the city as you tried to remember your old shoplifting strategies from when you were a kid. Unfortunately, there were not as many people around as you'd like to use for cover in case you get caught by any vendors. To help yourself blend in with most people, you wore some striped pants that most Zaunites had made a trend out of. Furthermore, you wore a face cover that hid the lower part of your face, and had applied dark makeup around your eyes to help you conceal your identity.

You stuffed your hand in your pocket and felt what little currency you had, which was just half of a handful of cogs. You slowly walked by a little shop selling a variety of fruits. The vendor was busy conversing with a couple of people. A part of you started to hesitate, but you knew that it was either act now or go hungry.

You grabbed a fruit, quickly hiding it away in your bag. Luckily, the vendor didn't notice. You let yourself walk around some more, disappearing into an alleyway to let some time pass before trying again. Your adrenaline was through the roof! It had been about three years since you've last stolen something. A part of you missed this thrill, so the guilt wasn't hitting you as hard as you thought it would.

You came back around, noticing another vendor that sold some bags of fish. This one would be a bit harder. That little stand was not busy, and the vendor seemed wide awake. You take a deep breath and walk confidently to the stand.

"Welcome. How many pounds of fish meat are you asking for?" asks the vendor. The young lady smiles at you, brushing her thumb against the large blade in her hands. She can't be that much younger than you, which is a good thing for your scheme.

"Hmm," you place your hand under your chin in thought, scanning the display.

"Everything is fresh enough," the vendor says with a chuckle, "the further to the left you get, the more meat there is." She fans her arm across her products, and you take note of the bigger bags on the left. Too big and too risky.

"You catch these yourself?" you ask, smiling at her.

"I do. My father taught me everything I know," she says proudly.

"Your father sounds like he really cares about you to teach you such a valuable skill. You must make him very proud! I wish I knew how to fish well enough to catch this many!" Your voice is very sweet, and your charm seems to be working because the girl's body language has relaxed tremendously.

"It's really fun. I can go on and on about all the strategies I've learned, but I don't want to bore you with all that," she muttered.

"No, no, please do tell! You might help me out one of these days."

"I mean I could, but that would mean less business for me!" she jokes. You make yourself laugh at her teasing, but you honestly do not care right now.

"It's so refreshing to speak to someone so kind here," she says, "Everyone is so on edge all the time."

"Tell me about it," you agree, sweat beading at your forehead from your internal tension.

"Anyways, have you made your choice?"

"I think I might have enough for that big bag over there," you point to one of the bags on the leftmost side.

"Ah, thirty-five cogs."

Of course you don't have thirty-five freaking cogs. You reach your hand into your pocket, only grabbing just a few.

"I might have enough--" you hold out your hand to give it to the vendor, but you make yourself drop them. They roll on the counter, and you can hear some of them fall to the ground.

"Oh, crap! I'm so sorry!" you gasp.

The girl bends down to grab some of the fallen cogs, "Oh, no worries!"

While she is distracted, you snag one of the smaller bags of fish and quickly stuff it into your bag. The girl stands back up with the fallen cogs in her hand, "Uhm, you only gave me seven cogs."

"What? Hold on, let me check my pocket for more," you shove your hand in your pocket and grab three more cogs.

"Dang. I think I overestimated how much I have."

"Ten cogs can get you a smaller bag," she waves her hands over the right side of the stand, "but it also has older meat in it."

"It's better than nothing," you utter, handing her three more cogs reluctantly. The downside of this ploy is that you have to lose a bit, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

She hands you one of the smaller bags, and you nod a quick thank you. As you depart, you hear her voice yell in a demanding tone.

"Hey! Wait a minute!"

In the past, those words were a telltale sign that you should run now. But for some reason, maybe because it has been a long time and your confidence isn't at its highest, you freeze.

She already caught up to you, and you turn to face her. Her blade was held securely in her hands. Your legs are tense, like they knew they should run but you cannot.

"I couldn't help but notice something," she says, her eyes narrowing at you. Your eyes dart to her weapon, and on instinct you slowly clutch on to your bag of loot.

"You're a fellow Jinxer!" she says, lightly bumping your stripe-panted leg with her shoe. You breathe a sigh of relief, but you mask it quickly with a laugh. You were finally able to look at this girl properly. She looked like an ordinary 'Jinxer' -- dyed blue hair, striped pants, and bold makeup.

"Yeah! Totally!" You reveled, looking down at your pants.

"I couldn't tell at first because I could only see your upper half, but I had a feeling you were cool like that!" she squeals, "Jinx is literally the best thing to ever happen to Zaun. Piltover will never catch her. Am I right? Her wanted posters are so iconic that I bet it'll end up on a flag one day," she gushes.

'Wow. I had a feeling that she was annoying, but she might be worse than I thought.'

"Yep! She's too quick for them! And... stuff."

Looking past this annoying girl, some man was in the middle of checking out the unattended stall. He was grabbing some of the bags and beginning to scamper off with his pillage. As if this vendor girl had some sixth sense, she throws her cleaver in the direction of the stand, and it hits the man in the knee. The man yells out, falling to the floor.

"What's your name?" she asks.

Your eyes went from watching the man try to crawl away to looking at the merchant in front of you, "My name? It's Caitlyn," you lie. Your brain threw out the first name that came to mind; the one that Vi called you for some reason.

"I hope to see you again, Caitlyn," she beamed, "Now if you excuse me, I have a crook to take care of."

And with that, she leaves you alone. You let go of another breath that you didn't know you were holding.

"Holy shit," you whisper to yourself. To think that could've been your kneecaps or something. You make a mental note to avoid the fish stand for a long while.

As you make the journey back to your apartment, keeping your haul close to you, you notice advertisements on the walls for The Pit. You walked past the fliers, and after thinking for a moment, you take some backwards steps to read it again. You tear one of them off of the wall and stuff it in your pocket before continuing on your way home.

When you finally get there, you sort through your two bags of fish meat. You cringe slightly at touching the raw meat, slightly disappointed that you were not able to snag at least one more bag. This amount would probably last you a week at most. When you were done cleaning them and putting them away, you return to your room with the fruit that you took. The skin of the fruit crunched in your teeth as you emptied your pockets. You had about eight cogs left to your name.

The folded paper slipped out of your pocket when you tried to search your pockets for more cogs. You pick it up and read it over again as you eat the fruit.

Your eyes glance over at the scarce amount of currency, then back at the paper. Your mind went to the scraps you call 'this week's ration' that you had to steal, then you focused on the paper in your hand again. You heard the man's scream in your head, being able to picture yourself getting cleaved in the legs too. Again, you read the paper. You look around your comfortable apartment. Back to the paper.

You trace your finger to the list of the names of the contestants, trying to figure out which name sounds the toughest. Which one of these names sounds like a winner?

The name 'Vi' catches your attention. The memory of her trying to peacock herself to you by proclaiming herself as "top of the food chain" or whatever comes to mind. Her knuckles were pretty damn bloody. Her name wasn't as intimidating as all the other show-offy names, but what the hell.

You quickly change your clothes, shedding your Jinxer disguise. The area The Pit is in is quite the distance from your area, so you make haste. You grabbed the last of your cogs in your hand, holding them close to your heart before taking off. You had to evade a lot of crowds as you ran through the city, fearing to be late for the fight.

Luckily, you made it pretty early to the arena. Your dark makeup from earlier was smeared down your face, your chest heaving from all the running. This is not your most graceful moment.

You waited in a queue to place your bet, bouncing on your heels anxiously as you contemplate changing who you're betting on. Your ears are picking up on people discussing who and why they are betting on specific people. But you frequently hear the name 'Vi' among the people, which is a little reassuring. You look into the palm of your hand at your last cogs, a worried look on your face.

'I guess I'm really going to bet the last of it,' you think to yourself.

Then, you're up next. You walk up to the person behind the counter.

"Let me guess, you're placing a bet on Vi," says the man. You blink at him, wondering how he knew. He makes a gesture with his hand around his face, "Your makeup. Lots'a her fans got that whole smeared black makeup kind of look."

Oh.

You place your eight cogs on the counter. The man looks up at you with a raised eyebrow, "That's it?"

"Yeah." You answer shortly. The man stifles a laugh while he picks up the currency, shaking his head as he grabs a ticket for you and says, "Okay then."

You follow the rest of the crowd to the seating area. You take a seat in the far back of the arena while you wait for the match to start, which seems like it's only a matter of minutes. With your leg bouncing in anticipation and ticket clutched in both hands, you say a soft prayer to whatever god will listen.

For a moment, you wish you never placed a bet in the first place. The only memory of Vi you have is her being completely wasted. How in the world is a person like that a frontrunner? You should have just grown a pair and sold your ex's things. If Vi loses, you might as well make the most of your last month in your nice apartment before fleeing from the area completely to avoid being put on some kind of hitlist for not paying rent. Or worse: ask them to come back.

Before you know it, the announcer's voice is filling the entire arena. The fight has officially begun.

End of Ch. 2

Ch. 1 Ch. 3

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Disclaimer: Please do not pour alcoholic beverages on wounds.

If you are struggling with alcohol use, I found a website that can help you find resources here.

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Taglist Cupcakes: @ren-ren23 @captain-crabbo

[ssentimentals]

okay last one here... so prompt 36 and 38 from the soft prompts with George its just relly cute and goofy at the same time like george

never stop baby 🫶🏻 hopefully you will like your request!

fluff prompt: 'you're the only one who calls me that. it's kinda cute.' 'don't you dare to throw that snowba- goddammit!'

'pookie!' you call, entering the house.

george blinks. he never heard this before and when you started calling him that, at first he didn't really pay much attention to it; he was always more of a traditional 'babe' or 'love' kind of guy, not very big on petnames in general. but this one from you stuck and after a while he can admit that he actually quite likes it.

'you're the only one who calls me that,' he says, welcoming you into his arms. he kisses your cheek. 'it's kinda cute. hi, babe. how was your training?'

'it was great but oh my god, did you see? it snowed yesterday night, everything is so pretty, come outside!'

george haven't even look at the windows since he woke up. in his defense, it's literally nine in the morning and you're the crazy one who can go to the training at seven thirty on saturday. letting you pull him out in his comfy pjs to the front porch. your excitement is contagious and when you show him around with loud 'ta-da!', he can't help but also feel excited and happy at the crystal white scenery in front of him. it is pretty and it's also cold as fuck, but when you run down the stairs, giggling at him like a little kid with: 'do you wanna build the snowman? come on, let's go and play!' from frozen, he can't deny you. george in general is very weak towards your whims and desires, so it's not a shock for either of you when he simply grabs nearest coat, appropriate shoes and walks out.

'it's sticky, so we can actually work with it!' you grin, pointing at the snow. 'i can start with his head!'

george grins, watching how you enthusiastically get to work. he loves seeing you this happy, loves how the simplest things can you make this happy - it's precious. being cheeky, he walks down and quickly forms a snowball, gasping at the coldness of the snow.

'i don't see any sticks anywhere though,' you comment, turning around. 'for like his arms. and i also-' you freeze, finally noticing his posture. 'wha- no. george. don't you dare to throw that snowba- goddammit!'

it hits right at your left side even when you tried to move way. george laughs as you fall dramatically, lying on the snow for the few seconds before springing up with a newlyfound desire to play snowball fight with him. 'oh, it is on, pookie!' you shout and george is grinning madly, because yes, it is on with him in his pjs and no socks in those winter boots on a saturday morning at nine am. it is on and he won't have it any other way.

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[ateezscupid]

mingi smut 46,57

46. “can you feel how much I want you?”

57. “please, don’t ever stop!”

ATEEZ PROMPT FEST

seductive ✩ mingi 𝗑 f!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

plot - mingi’s horny after work !!

genre + warnings - smut, fluff and overall crackhead energy, switch!mingi, switch!reader, oral, dirty talk(?), praise, mingi’s being a cute whiny baby in this one

wc - 1.28k

tags - @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna check pinned post for tag list info!

“mingi!” you call out from your bedroom window. you just saw him leave his car and now he’s walking into the building. he heard your voice from down below and waved. seeing you made him feel better after going through hours of work.

you jump out of bed and run out of your shared bedroom, skipping to the door opening it. just as he turned the corner in the hallway, you were peeking your head out waiting for him. you squeal in excitement and dart out, running down the hallway and jumping into him. he dropped his bag and wrapped your arms around you.

“i guess you missed me?” mingi looks at you. “you haven’t run out and hugged in a long time.”

“i missed you so so so much, i was bored!” you pout. “but you’re home now so i feel better! how was work? was everyone annoying? did you get stuff done? did you guys have a pizza party?”

“y/n, we don’t really bring food into the studio. i mean, we had a few donuts and chips. and before you ask, yes, i did save you some.” mingi kissed your cheek.

he sets you down and picks his bag up again, putting his arm around your shoulder and walking back to your apartment. once you two went inside, he threw his bag on the couch then plopped down next to it. you were always confused to why mingi would come home worn out. all he did was stay in a studio? what could be he doing that makes him this tired?

“do you want a massage or something? you’re always so exhausted whenever you come home. now that i think about it, why are you so tired when you come home?”

“i have to repeat the same lines over and over again, baby.” he groans as he sat up. “and i go there early in the morning. i cant sleep while i’m there, and if i do, it’s only for ten minutes.”

“aw,” you coo, strolling over to the couch and sitting next to him. “poor min. do you want something to eat? will that make you feel better?”

“no,” mingi looked you up and down, leaning into you and pushing his face into your chest.

“mingi, no.” you tilt your head. “you’re always horny whenever you come back from work, can’t you take a break?”

“how the hell did you know i was horny?” his eyebrows raise.

“you always push your face into my tits when you’re horny.”

“no i don’t!” he scoffs sarcastically. “i grab your thigh when i’m horny. they’re two completely different actions, i don’t know how you messed that up. and i thought you loved me!”

“mingi, shut up, i do love you! but you need a break, my legs are still worn out from yesterday.” you okay with his hair gently.

“they didn’t seem worn out when you ran up and tackled me like a quarterback in the hallway.” he muttered as he glared at you. you roll your eyes playfully.

“why are you glaring at me?” your head tilts.

“i’m hoping you’ll spontaneously combust.” mingi says jokingly. you push his chest and stand up, but he pulled you back down onto the couch. though this time, you were on his lap.

“okay, let’s make a deal.” you turn to face him. “if we do have sex, i wanna be in charge.”

“what? you cant even get on top of me without being embarrassed, so how are you gonna take charge?”

you narrow your eyes and place your hands on his shoulders, turning around completely and straddling him. you push him back against the couch cushions and bring your hand down to his sweatpants, which were tightening around him because of his boner. you chuckle slightly and rub slowly, earning a hushed moan from him.

“dude, how are you moaning and i just touched you?” you smile, leaning forward and kissing his cheek. “i just wanna try topping for once.”

“can you feel how much i want you?” he whispers, thighs shaking slightly. “oh fuck me,”

“shush, that’s what i’m trying to do.” you felt his raging boner through his pants, and it almost made you want to drool. his size never really intimidated you, it only excited you, and he was aware of it. you’d always be excited to suck him off or jerk him off when he asked you to. it was fun hearing him groan knowing you were the one bringing him pleasure.

you pulled his pants and boxers down just enough for his cock to come out. you didn’t expect it to be all red and veiny; pulsing, in need of someone to touch it. he was in the studio all day, so to see him this hard kind of surprised you. you grabbed onto it with your palm, causing mingi to flinch and throw his head back.

“eyes on me.” you demand, using your free hand to grab his chin and pull his head back down. you gently start to stroke him, squeezing whenever you got to the top to play with his tip.

“fuuck,” mingi groans, hands grabbing onto your backside. “please, i’m so hard. it hurt so fucking much to walk.”

“i bet it did, huh?” you bring your hand down, now using both hands to stroke him. you twist and turn your hands, looking down for a moment to spit on it and continue your movements. mingi didn’t know where to put his hands. he was grabbing onto you, then the couch, then your thighs, he was everywhere.

“oh fuck, shit shit shit, where the hell did you learn to do this!” he looks at you, eyes puffy and lips swollen, aching for you to kiss them. you lean forward and peck him on the lips.

“i watched a few videos to prepare for this very moment.” you say as you scoot off his lap and get down on your knees in front of him, now shoving his cock into your mouth.

“good fucking go—fuck, i feel like cumming!” mingi whined as his hips bucked up a few times. he was falling apart and struggling to hold himself together in front of you, which made you want to keep going. you continue to stroke and suck him off at the same time, earning all types of pornographic sounds to come from mingi’s mouth.

“y/n—y/n, slow down,” he sucks in a breath. the urge to cum was gradually increasing and it was bubbling in his stomach, like butterflies flying all over the place.

“y-y/n, i’m—“ he stammers, chest heaving up and down. “f-fuck, please, don’t ever stop! don’t fucking stop, ah—“

mingi’s hand goes to grab a handful of your hair, pulling like his life depended on it. your nails dug into his thigh but he could care less. all he was thinking about was cumming into your mouth.

“please, please, please,” he begged. mingi begged. that was the most attractive thing you’ve ever heard him do. you bobbed your head faster, which helped him reach his breaking point.

“oh god, oh fucking hell, stop stop stop, shit, i’m cumming—i’m-“ his body twitches as he dumped his load in your mouth, shameless moans leaving him. you help him ride out his orgasm as you slowed your movements, slightly overstimulating him and making him whine. you take your mouth off and let go, swallowing everything and not leaving a drop.

“that was fun, right?” you giggle. “you did so good, you sound so adorable when you moan! you should do it more often!”

“oh, shut up.” he blushed from your words. “but, it was…nice. thank you, love.”

[http-finnick]

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐬 - 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫

finnick odair x fem!reader

summary: as finnick sneaks back into your cart during the victory tour, you start to pity him as he wraps his arms around you, knowing that this is all for the captiol and none of it is true...at least not for you.

cw: almost one-sided love, katniss and peeta trope, no smut, and lots of crying.

with how the trains speeds you feel as tho you're flying, laying in your bed with the new weather outside your window. yesterday it was snowing, now it's spring.

the silk bedsheets mold your skin as you lay there, regretful.

a hand snakes under and up to your abdomen, the scent of musk heavy on your nostrils as he pushes himself closer to your back.

he sighs once he has your touch back into his grip and you stay put, hoping he falls back to sleep.

it was a mistake, letting him back into your bed again.

it wasn't like you two did anything..it's just for the nightmares. but still.

he thumbs your shoulder softly, brushing the finger on your body to test your awareness, you feel his eyes on your neck.

once he gets no indication of your conciseness, he dips down to lay a soft, quick kiss on your neck.

it makes you shiver, a little fever sparking in your spine for that moment. it wasn't forced for his own excitement, it was a little good morning for you.

and that just makes it worse.

you pretend to flutter your eyes and he quickly sinks back into the silk sheets. you sit up and drowsily grab a towel before walking towards the bathroom that's connected to your cart.

you eye him as you take tip-toe steps, as if not to wake him. but you catch his lips flashing a soft smile before forcing down into a line.

you sprint into the bathroom and turn on the shower as you feel your chest heavy with breaths. you lock the door and sink down as you choke on air and have tears rush out of your eyes

he loves you

he loves you so much.

your mind brings you back to Annies sobs and pleas for you to return finnick to her, safely. to bring her love back.

I wonder how she felt seeing you brush his hair back in the arena before dipping down to kiss his puffy lips.

I wonder how she felt when 'her love' came home with a new love.

you confessed to him on the train that it was a lie. your love wasn't real and you watched him fight back tears while putting on a sad smile

"it's okay, really"

that's what he told you when you turned to look back out the window of the train car. you knew it wasn't your place but your cloudy mind thought it was a good idea

"fin...um...Annie was talking to me before the games and-"

"please. I don't want to hear anything about annie cresta."

so you both sat in silence as the train brought you back to four.

and now, on your victory tour with the capitol and everyone breathing down your neck, you realize that you will never have a life without odair being next to it.

you can't help but claw at your chest with sobs as the shower spits water at you, because finnick takes this as a chance, a chance for you to love him.

but you would never give yourself that chance

not with that promise you gave to annie.

and not with that vow you gave to yourself.

an: I might do a part 2 for this, katniss and peeta trope is such a good one I just had to make some angst for it. I hope that you guys liked it even though its short :( I'm sorry I cant do super super long ones, I just write when I can and post right after lmao. Also my babies!!! We got to 70 followers! I love you guys so much, when I started this acc I didn't think anyone would still be around for thg content, but you guys came through and made me love the fandom even more...I love you guys so much! mwah!

part 2