#I wonder if she had anything to do with it all or if she just knew from Silverwolf's script and is fucking with us

[conkreetmonkey]

Fun story: My last job was at a restaurant. They hired me among many other workers all at once. This is because the kitchen had recently burnt down, thankfully after hours and without hurting anyone, so they had to temporarily close and rebuild; can't very well run a restaurant with no kitchen, after all. Presumably they'd laid everyone off and were completely restocking their labour pool in like a week. My first day was wonderful. People were patient about training me, the manager was sweet and made sure everyone was staying hydrated, and she even personally brought me a glass of water while I was on my break. Like any person would have, I took this as a good sign. Then, over the next few months, things began to devolve. There's like 5 stories in there about the extortion, ER visits, second-degree burns, and explosive stress diarrhea, but basically that once sweet manager slowly became a demon, and my once fun and kind coworkers began doing things like threatening to harm my work bestie unless I performed unsafe work that was guaranteed to burn me due to inadequate PPE, or yelling obscenities at me for asking perfectly reasonable questions. It went from heaven to hell over the span of a single damp, mild autumn. So, as you can guess, I came to resent the place. But there's another element to it:

in my time working there, I would come to learn that the fire that destroyed the place was entirely preventable; there was a known gas leak in one of the deep fryers, and management knew, but refused to shell out the $15 to patch the line (just like they refused to give us PPE, or generally fix anything ever). Quite a long time after they found out and after many staff reports of this gas leak, one night, it somehow finally ignited, and a $15 expense suddenly turned into tens of thousands of dollars. One night, while I was manning the fryers, I noticed one of them was producing bubbles of opaque white smoke from under the oil. My coworkers assured me it was "normal" and "just some food stuck under there." I've worked many a deep fryer, and had been working those particular ones for months, and never seen such a thing before. It was pretty easy for me to put two and two together on that one. The lifers weren't having it and insisted I ignore it and get back to work. A few weeks later, I quit on the spot after getting cussed out over asking if anybody had put an order in the oven yet. My work bestie was fired shortly afterwards, for what she claims was written down as "disobeying orders." She was very allergic to the fryer oil we used, it made her break out in painful, swollen hives, but the lifers kept insisting on making her clean the fryers, so it was probably that, I imagine. Who knows, though? There came a point where it was never enough, no amount of speed or cleanliness or quality. We were always understaffed, and now they'd fired one of their best workers. I met another one of the coworkers I'd bonded with working elsewhere. It was retail, under a notorious asshole boss, but at least it wasn't there. Her arms were covered in deep burn scars the day she'd walked in, so I imagine she's used to it. I hope she'd okay. I should probably try to check in on her, actually. I never asked if she left or was fired. I know they never patched the leak. They didn't the first time. Of course they didn't learn their lesson, the whole place was just a number in the bloated investment portfolio of some silver spoon fatcat from Toronto, he didn't give a fuck. None of us ever even met him, or learned his name. Fully hands off. We'd pull like $15,000 or even $20,000 some nights, but all made minimum wage, and were always one call-in away from total collapse. They kept cutting hours. They would send people home in the middle of dinner rushes because "we're spending too much money on labour." Schedules became mere suggestions. We were never given end times to begin with. 11 or 12 hour shifts weren't uncommon on my end, but sometimes I'd only get 3. It was a coin flip every night. My point is, the place was managed, on all levels, by people who'd drown if it rained. Thinking about how perfect the place could have been still makes my heart rate increase. It filled a niche with absolutely no local competition. Our profit margins were absurd. And yet the dullards filling the office chairs didn't understand that you need cooks to produce food, and the place began creaking under their weight. I left before something gave. I suppose me leaving was something giving though, in a way. I worked my ass off for that place. I made them thousands, IN PROFIT, every night. I feel like maybe that triggered the exodus that followed, idk. Don't want to aggrandize myself too much. As far as I know, the second burning hasn't happened yet. But it will. It's all but guaranteed to. I hope that, just like last time, nobody's there when it happens. But I also hope that, unlike the first time, this time the entire place completely, unsalvageably burns down to ash, reduced to a concrete foundation. I hope there's nothing left to rebuild. I hope the cycle finally ends. I pretty much never got to take my legally mandated break again after that first shift, btw. Should have seen it as a sign, but it was just one shift right? They needed me, they said. They needed me.

[st7rnioioss]

omg i'm so obsessed with your chris x inexperienced reader series 🙂‍↕️ hate to fill your askbox (i imagine you have lots to do !!) but could you please consider chris wanting inexperienced reader to sit on his face? even though she's shy and scared/embarrassed to do that, chris just wants to devour her

۶ৎ BSF!CHRIS x INEXPERIENCED!READER

˚𝜗𝜚 warnings... smut, oral (f receiving), kissing

“no- no, i promise it won’t hurt me. you just gotta trust me, alright?” chris had a smirk on his lips, though his tone was somewhat soothing, along with his thumbs drawing mindless circles on your inner thighs, his larger palms running up and across the soft skin beneath his own.

you nervously stare at him, your mind running in all directions. chris had asked if you could sit on his face, and you were scared shitless he would suffocate or something along the lines of it.

chris offered you a tiny smile when you nodded and cleared your throat. “o-okay.. but seriously, if you can’t breathe or something, push me o-“

“sweetheart, relax. i won’t suffocate.. you worry too much about me,” he chuckled, reaching up to cradle your face in his hand, pulling you closer for a soft kiss.

he suddenly moves you off his lap, a soft yelp escaping his lips when doing so, before he settles to rest on his back. carefully, he wraps his hands around your thighs, lifting you closer and closer to his face.

slowly and deliberately, he places kisses up the inside of your thighs, leaving a glistening mark. his expression curls up into an almost smug smirk when he spots the wet patch on your panties, laughing to himself.

“oh, baby.. i think you like this, don’t you?” he murmurs, his voice dark and quiet when you settled close to his lips, his warm breath fanning across your inner thighs.

it was pathetic. maybe you did like this, more than you’d like to admit, hence the fact you were clenching around absolutely nothing.

“m-maybe.. a little,” your voice was slightly whiny, the words fading out at the end when chris’s hands guided you closer until your soaked core was hovering directly on top of him.

his fingers snook to your inner thighs, his digit hooked under the bridge of your already damp panties, almost admiring your glistening folds right above him.

“shit.. such a pretty pussy for such a pretty girl..” he husked, pushing the wet fabric to the side to allow the pad of his thumb to brush across your swollen clit, down your wet folds to spread apart.

“f-fuck, chris.. i don’t know- you don’t think i’m too heavy?” your skin was already buzzing, and he had hardly even started yet, one hand holding you up, while the other reached for his hair for some sort of stability.

he shook his head with a gentle smirk, looking up at you to catch your eyes. “you won’t, baby.. you worry too much,”

by now, he’d told you enough times throughout the whole day that it wouldn’t hurt either of you that you convinced yourself it wouldn’t be too bad. he had done this before, just not in this position. so why not give it a try?

with a hesitant nod, chris didn’t waste another second wrapping his arms around your thighs to actually reach your sensitive mess. suddenly, and with a yelp from your swollen lips, he thumps you down carefully, immediately attaching his lips to your bud.

your jaw goes slack, both of your hands instinctively going to entangle into his dark locks, an almost desperate moan falling from your parted lips, your cunt clenching around nothing.

“o-oh my god,” you knew that no matter what, chris could work absolutely wonders with his mouth on your body. but this? this was beyond anything he’d done, anything he’d suggested.

chris could feel you were still holding back, and he knew you were too shy to even let a fragment of your weight on top of him—but he didn’t mind.

with his tongue running over your clit, he pulled you closer to him, and you gradually allowed yourself to put some weight on him.

chris didn’t want to push you further just get, so he continued to let his muscle lap at your folds, occasionally skimming your sensitive pearl. his eyes were stuck shut for the most part, though he stole a couple of glances at your fucked out expression here and there, eliciting whimpers and groans from him that went straight through your core.

“fuck, chris- that’s.. k-keep going,” your words came out as a moan, allowing more weight to rest on top of him when tongue swirled around your nub.

he felt a sense of pride bottle up inside of him, wanting this to nothing less than make you feel like you were on cloud nine, to send you into absolute bliss—which it did.

slowly, he lowered you further down, and you were way too lost in the pleasure to even notice you were fully sitting there, besides the ache in your thighs.

chris’s own head was spinning, your taste on his tongue leading him down a path that he was sure he’d never turn around from, his fingertips digging into the plush skin of your thighs.

“mmpph- please don’t stop,” you squeaked, taking your bottom lip between your teeth to not let the pathetically loud moan that were threatening to slip, fall from your lips. your eyes batted shut, your eyelashes fluttering against your skin.

oh, he didn’t plan on stopping. chris was savoring every second of it, fucking you slowly with his tongue, testing the waters. a sheen of sweat was beaded across your lower back and forehead, a warm pool starting to spread in your lower stomach.

the new change allowed your swollen bud to brush against his nose, your legs attempting to close around his head and your lip slipping from your teeth, wailing on a moan. you could practically feel his saliva mix with your wet mess, coating his lips and chin when he traced and ghosted his tongue over your hole.

“f-fuck! chris, i’m close, please-“

your grip on his hair drove him wild, driving him to fuck you rapidly and lightly with his tongue. one of his larger hands ran up the inside of your thighs, until his thumb met your clit, flattening his tongue over your folds to taste your sweet mess.

“chris, i’m gonna cum-“ your voice was weak, only coming out as a quiet yelp, moans of his name continuing to fall freely from your parted lips.

your cunt was leaking, your hips jerking forward when the circles on your clit sped up. it felt like all your muscles were tightening, a fire running down your spine while the heat spread under your skin.

the tension snapped in your lower tummy when you were pushed over the edge, a strangled moan of his name flowing from your slacked jaw. he let out a weak groan when your release coated his tongue, his eyes pinched shut as if he never wanted to leave this position ever again.

“chris- holy fuck..” you were panting by now, your chest heaving when he continued to glide his muscle from your drooling hole, up to ghost over your bud. broken whimpers of his name fell from your mouth, trying to warn him.

"y'taste so good.. like a fuckin' drug.." chris managed to groan between your legs, his words sending vibrations up your core, his fingers leaving marks on your skin.

your thighs were close to trembling around his head, carefully tugging on his hair as a way of telling him you couldn't take anymore, which he thankfully caught onto.

with a final lap at your leaking folds and a soft kiss to your clit, he gently lifted you from his face, your body buzzing from head to toe when you settled on his hips like before, looking down at his flushed face and glistening lips.

wiping the mix of his own spit and your release off his chin, he smiled up at you, "you don't think you liked that? just a little bit?". his tone was teasing, the smile curling up into a smirk.

"stop, chris.." you shyly giggled, playfully dodging his hand away from your cheek when he reached to cradle your face, a soft, pink hue taking over the soft skin of your cheeks. to say you liked it was a complete understatement.

more bsf!chris x inexperienced!reader here!

𝜗𝜚˚࿔ notes: thank u so much anon!!:3 i hope i got her embarrassment across without making it the whole plot lol. and it's ok!! thank u all so much for the absolute love on this au, it makes me giggle so bad.

۶ৎ taglist 1: @jetaimevous @missmimii @mattscoquette @pearlzier @witchofthehour @elizasturn @loveparqdise @delilahsturniolo @phone4pills @sturnsmia @hearts4werka @cayleeuhithinknott @strnilolover @sturnvxz @lovergirl4gracieabrams @ifwdominicfike @toftomgmf @emely9274 @sturnioloangell @blushsturns @sierrraaaaxz @slut4chris888 @marrykisskilled @sophand4n4 @sturnihoelooo @unknvhx @chrisslut04 @sturniolossss @slvtf0rchr1s @blahbel668 @starkeysturniolo @miolos @user1smvtysturniolo @lizzyzzn @sturnslutz @decimatedxdreams @chrissturnioloswife88 @sturn777 @sturniolonationsblog @frankoceanfanpage @priscillaog @courta13 @sweetrelieef @loverboysturn @sturns-mermaid @cutseylady @sofieeeeex @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @mattsturnii @conspiracy-ash

© ST7RNIOIOSS est. 2023

[hanniebaeee]

Clueless: Baby Bang

Bang Chan x fem!reader

Warnings: Reader is pregnant (just that, nothing deep)

Genre: established relationship, flufffff

Summary: You've been distant lately, and Chan can't understand why. Because this is very unusual for the two of you as you two are on each other all the time. And Chan panics as you guys are getting married in a few months, and this sudden change is unraveling him.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Chan paced the living room, a deep frown etched into his forehead. You hadn’t touched him in days. Weeks, actually. That alone was already a catastrophe, considering the fact that you two were basically like bunnies.

But now? Nothing. You were dodging his touches like he was contagious. He reached for your hand? Oh, look, you suddenly needed both hands to text someone. He tried for a kiss? Whoops, you conveniently yawned. Bedtime? You were already asleep. 

And that diamond ring glittering on your ring finger? It made him wonder if you were regretting saying yes to him already.

He’d spent way too many nights staring at the ceiling, feeling like the universe was punishing him for something he didn't even know he did.

Chan sighed and opened the group chat. This was bad. He needed to vent.

Chan: She’s avoiding me.

A rapid barrage of notifications followed, and Chan barely had time to process one before another arrived. 

Minho: Y/N? The one who’s practically glued to your lap 24/7?

Hyunjin: LMAO. Not possible. I won't believe it.

Seungmin: You obviously did something.

Chan: NO, I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!

Chan: She’s been acting weird for WEEKS. 2 weeks to be exact. No kisses. No hugs. No… anything.

Jisung: No sex? BRO. Are you okay?

Felix: What if she’s planning something? Like a surprise? Maybe a wedding thing?

---

Chan paused. That was… not unreasonable. But no. You’d never kept secrets from him before. Like you've given him enough surprises before so he knew this was different.

---

Minho: OR. She’s finally come to her senses about you seducing her into saying yes? 

Chan: Minho. I will come to your house and end you.

Jeongin: But seriously, hyung. Did you say something? Do something? Forget an important date? You’re kind of a workaholic.

---

That hit a little too close to home. Chan frowned, scrolling back through his mental timeline of your relationship.

---

Chan: I didn’t forget anything. I swear. We were fine until a couple weeks ago, and now she’s avoiding me like the plague.

Changbin: Well. There’s only one logical explanation.

Changbin: She’s been abducted by aliens and replaced with a clone.

Jisung: YES. I second this. The real Y/N would NEVER do this. 

Felix: Omg guys! 

Chan: GUYS.

Hyunjin: Okay. What if she’s mad because you’re not initiating? She’s waiting for you to grovel.

Seungmin: That makes no sense. If she’s mad, why not just say so?

Hyunjin: IDK, some people like drama.

Jeongin: That’s your toxic trait, Hyung.

Hyunjin: IS NOT!

---

Chan groaned, dropping his phone onto the couch. He missed you. Like, really missed you. Sure, he wanted to rip your clothes off 90% of the time, but he also missed the simple things - your cuddles, your soft laugh, the way you’d always need him by your side when you're stressed. 

The cold shoulders and polite smiles were killing him.

---

Minho: Just confront her, idiot. Corner her in the kitchen and ask her what’s wrong.

Chan: You think I haven’t tried that?! Every time I ask, she changes the subject.

Jisung: Okay, hear me out. Seduction.

Chan: What?

Jisung: Set the mood. Candles. Sexy music. Flex those ridiculous arms. She won’t stand a chance.

Felix: Worth a try. 

---

That night, Chan put the "seduction plan" into action. He dimmed the lights, skipped the candles, and put on a romantic playlist. He even went full drama, lounging on the couch with his shirt conveniently unbuttoned.

When you walked in, your eyebrows shot up as you asked, “What's up?”

Chan said nothing, just held held his hand out.  You froze, guilt flashing across your face, and Chan knew he had you. You placed your hand on his and let him pull you close.

“Baby, what’s going on? You’ve been avoiding me, and it’s driving me crazy. Did I do something wrong?” His voice cracked, and that set you off.

Your eyes filled with tears, and in an instant you were in his lap, clinging to him like your life depended on it.

“I’m sorry, Channie! I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Then why -”

“Shhh,” Chan fell silent as you pressed a finger to his lips. “Just know that I love you, Channie.”

Chan was suspicious. Because, well, you’d shut him up in the best way possible, last night - all he remembered was his shirt coming off and yeah.

You’d seduced him. Thoroughly. And while his brain had short-circuited at that time, he was now absolutely certain that you’d dodged his questions on purpose.

At least he can't complain about you not touching him anymore, right?

---

Chan: It didn't work.

Minho: WHAT didn't?

Chan: She kinda caught me off guard. And avoided my questions.

Jisung: I thought we agreed on YOU seducing her and you got seduced??

Felix: Soooo… you still don’t know what’s going on?

Chan: NO. She’s hiding something, I know it.

Hyunjin: Maybe you’re overthinking. Or, maybe she’s secretly a spy.

Changbin: She’s NOT a spy, Hyunjin. That’s ridiculous.

Hyunjin: And alien clones aren’t?

Minho: Why are we even helping you? You let her seduce you and then just… forgot your goal.

---

Chan groaned, flopping onto his back. It wasn’t his fault! He was weak when it came to you. All it took was a look, or a whisper of his name and his brain turned to mush.

Still, Minho had a point.

---

Chan: Okay, fine. What do I do now?

Felix: She’s probably just stressed? Weddings are a big deal. She might just need time to sort her thoughts.

That gave Chan pause. Weddings were stressful. Maybe that was it?

Hyunjin: My bet’s still on spy.

---

Meanwhile, you were in the bathroom, staring at the little plastic stick in your hand for the hundredth time now. You’d known for two weeks, but the reality hadn’t gotten any less terrifying.

You were pregnant. Pregnant. With Chan’s baby.

The thought sent your heart racing. You loved him more than anything, but… you’d never talked about kids. What if he wasn’t ready? What if he panics when you bring it up? 

There were only a few months until the wedding. You didn’t want to dump this on him now and risk throwing him into a spiral.

---

That night, Chan decided to take Minho’s advice (for once). No more distractions. He was getting answers tonight.

When you walked into the living room and his eyes locked onto yours - you froze. He looked so handsome, and a little…worn out? You felt so guilty for doing this. 

“Come sit,” he said, patting the couch beside him.

You hesitated, but complied, heart pounding.

“Baby, we need to talk,” Chan said, his voice soft but firm.

You swallowed hard as you murmured, “About what?”

“You’ve been acting weird for weeks. And you obviously don't trust me enough to talk it out. I’m worried. What's going on? Is it the wedding?” He was giving you that puppy eyed look, and your heart shattered.

“No, Channie, it's not like that...”

“Then what is it? Please, just tell me.”

You opened your mouth, ready to spill everything - but then you panicked. The words caught in your throat, and instead, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his.

Here he was - caught off guard (again) but quickly melting into the kiss. You climbed into his lap, your hands tangling in his hair, and within seconds, all thoughts of questioning were gone.

---

Chan: SHE DID IT AGAIN.

Minho: You’re hopeless.

Seungmin: At this rate, she could rob a bank and get away with it.

Felix: Honestly, I’m impressed.

---

Chan sighed, glaring at the group chat before throwing his phone across the bed. Whatever you were hiding, it was big. And he was determined to find out, one way or another.

Little did he know, in the bathroom, you were rehearsing how to tell him the truth: that in just a few months, he wasn’t just going to be your husband.

He was going to be a dad.

Chan was officially losing it. His imagination had gone to some very dark places (thanks to Changbin’s clone theory and Hyunjin’s spy nonsense), but now he just felt defeated. What was so big and terrifying, that you felt like you couldn’t share it with him?

Chan: I give up. She’s unbreakable.

Jisung: Hey don't lose hope.

Minho: Pathetic.

Jeongin: Just sit her down and don’t let her leave until she talks.

Chan: I’VE TRIED THAT.

Chan was ready to lock himself and you in a room till you cracked, but unfortunately he was already cracking under the stress. And then a lightbulb went off in his head. There was just one person in the world who might be able to get through to you.

Felix.

---

Felix was, to put it lightly, concerned when Chan cornered him in his kitchen.

“Lix, you have to help me,” Chan said, his eyes wild and desperate.

“Help you how?” Felix asked cautiously.

“Can you please try to talk to her?” Chan literally begs. “She loves you, Lix. Maybe she’ll tell you if you ask?”

Felix hesitated, torn between loyalty to Chan, who was literally his brother and his friendship with you. But ultimately, his desire to help won anyway.

“Okay,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll talk to her.”

---

Later that afternoon, you opened the door to find Felix standing on your porch, holding a box of cookies and his sunniest smile. 

“Lixie?” you asked, surprised. “So good to see you!”

“Just wanted to check on you, love,” he said, coming forward to hug you.

You stepped aside to let him in, and the two of you settled on the couch.

“I baked these for you,” he said, watching your reaction closely as you opened the box and munched on a cookie immediately. “You’ve been looking a little stressed lately.”

You stopped mid-chew, guilt gnawing at you.

“I’m fine, Lix. Just… wedding stuff, you know?” you said, carefully avoiding his eyes.

“Is it really just the wedding?” Felix tilted his head, unconvinced.

You froze, your hands tightening around the box.

“You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is, I won’t judge.” Felix said, reaching out and placing a gentle hand over yours.

Your eyes welled up with tears, and as you put the box aside gently. Felix scooted closer as he saw the tears fall, and before you knew it, the truth came spilling out.

“I’m pregnant, Felix,” you whispered. “And I don’t know how to tell Chan. We’ve never talked about kids, and I don’t even know if he wants them. And now the wedding’s so close, and I’m scared I’ll ruin everything. I already got my wedding dress and I don't think I'll fit into it anymore because by that time-”

Felix’s eyes went wide, and for a moment, he looked like he might burst into tears himself. But then he let out a strangled laugh.

“You’re… you’re pregnant?”

You nodded, sniffled and managed a soft, “Yeah.”

Felix threw his arms around you, nearly knocking you over. 

“Oh my God, Y/N! I’m so happy for you! And for Chan! You’re gonna have the cutest baby in the world!” he gushed, his eyes sparkling with happy tears. 

You couldn’t help but laugh through your own tears. 

“You don't think this is a disaster?” you asked softly, wiping your tears away. 

“Disaster?” Felix pulled back, shaking his head. “Of course not. This is amazing! But you have to tell Chan. He’s going insane trying to figure out what’s wrong.”

“I know,” you said softly. “I just… I’m scared.”

Felix gave you a reassuring smile and said, “Chan loves you more than anything. Trust me, he’s gonna be over the moon. And I'll always be here for you. Seriously, sweetheart, this is the best news ever.”

---

Hyunjin: Well? Did she tell you?

Jisung: SPILL, FELIX.

Chan: Felix? Please. I’m dying here.

Felix hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He couldn’t betray your trust, but he also couldn’t leave Chan hanging.

Felix: She’s okay. She’s just… working through something.

Minho: And you’re being suspiciously vague.

Seungmin: Should've known that sending her best friend to investigate wasn't your strongest idea… obviously he's gonna take her side! 

Felix: I promised I wouldn’t say anything. But it’s nothing bad, I swear.

Chan: Seriously?? Nothing bad? Then why is she avoiding me?

Felix: Just… be patient with her, okay? She’ll tell you when she’s ready. I promise it's all ok. Trust me. 

Chan frowned at the message, his heart twisting.

You had spent the whole night rehearsing what to say to Chan, your stomach churning with nerves. Morning came far too quickly, and as you watched him shuffle into the kitchen with his hair messy and his sleepy face, you nearly chickened out.

But Felix’s words echoed in your head. He’s gonna be over the moon.

“Channie,” you said softly, placing your mug of tea aside and taking a step towards him. 

He looked up from the coffee maker, his sleepy eyes brightening instantly. You were trying to talk to him, and somehow that was enough. Anything was better than you avoiding him. 

“Morning, baby.”

You smiled nervously, gesturing to the table. “Can we talk?”

His brow furrowed, worry flashing across his face as he nodded and sat down opposite you.

“Is everything okay?”

You took a deep breath, your hands trembling slightly as you said, “You know how I’ve been… weird lately?”

Chan nodded, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of concern and curiosity.

“Well,” you continued, “there’s a reason for that. And I’ve been scared to tell you because it’s big. Like, really big.”

“Baby, whatever it is, you can tell me. I promise, I’ll handle it.” Chan said, reaching across the table and taking your hand in his.

Your eyes filled with tears as you finally said it.

“I’m pregnant.”

Chan froze. Completely. His mouth hung open, his grip on your hand tightening slightly as his brain processed your words.

“You’re… pregnant?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You nodded, tears spilling over.

“Yeah. I found out a couple of weeks ago, and I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know if you’d be okay with it, or if it was too much with the wedding coming up -”

Chan cut you off by pulling you into his arms, burying his face in your neck. His body shook as he let out a half-laugh, half-sob, and you realized he was crying.

“Channie, are you okay?” you asked nervously, your own voice shaking as you stroked his hair.

“Okay?” he choked out, pulling back to look at you with tear-streaked cheeks and the biggest grin you’d ever seen. “Baby, I’m better than okay. I’m… I’m gonna be a dad?”

You nodded, your heart swelling at the pure joy on his face.

Chan laughed, his tears flowing freely now.

“Holy crap. I don’t know what to say?! We’re having a baby. A baby!”

Before you could say anything else, Chan was  peppering your face with kisses, squeezing you in the tightest hug ever.

“I love you so much. Baby, you’re…I can’t believe you’ve been carrying this on your own.” he said, cupping your cheeks with his hands. 

“I didn’t want to stress you out,” you admitted, clinging to him as he pulled you onto his lap. “And…I've never been more scared about anything my entire life? I mean, I adore you, and I know I want this with you, our baby already means the world to me…but not knowing if you would want that too? It's been killing me, we've never even joked about this before, Channie… “

“You could’ve told me sooner, baby,” he said softly, kissing the tip of your nose. “I thought we were clear about this, with you, I'm ready for anything! But I get it. And I love you even more for worrying about me. But baby, we’re in this together. Always.”

---

Chan: GUYS. I HAVE NEWS. HUGE NEWS 🤩

Jisung: Finally!! 

Hyunjin: I told you she's a spy!! No one ever listens to me!! 

Minho: He’s too happy for that, you idiot.

Chan: WE’RE HAVING A BABY.

Jeongin: Excuse me, WHAT?

Changbin: STOP. Really?! 

Seungmin: Wow, plot twist

Felix: Oh thank godddddd😭😭😭😭

Felix: I was dying here

Chan: SHE TOLD ME THIS MORNING. I’M GONNA BE A DAD. WE’RE GONNA BE PARENTS. OMG.

---

It felt like everytime he said it, it felt a little more real.

---

Jisung: Congratulations, bro. Wow. 

Hyunjin: I AM CRYING. I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE REPRODUCING.

Chan: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Chan: MY BABYGIRL AND I ARE HAVING A BABY😭💖

Minho: Jokes aside, this is such great news!! Congrats. Now go take care of your pregnant fiancée instead of spamming us.

Chan: I think I'm gonna faint

Changbin: Congrats, bro. But also… HOW DID YOU NOT NOTICE SHE WAS GOING THROUGH SOMETHING?

Chan: I NOTICED! I just didn't think she was, you know

Jisung: Avoiding you because she was growing your spawn, apparently.

Hyunjin: “Spawn” makes it sound like a little gremlin. Oh my Gawd 🤣

Felix: STOP. My baby’s gonna be so adorable I’ll CRY 😭

Minho: Okay, Felix, you’re suspiciously calm about this. Did you already know?

Felix: 👀

Hyunjin: YOU KNEW.

Chris: WHAT?? FELIX, YOU KNEW BEFORE ME?!

Felix: SHE TOLD ME FIRST, OKAY? SHE WAS NERVOUS, AND I PROMISED I WOULDN’T SAY ANYTHING.

Jisung: Wow. Betrayal.

Chan: SO YOU JUST LET ME SUFFER FOR WEEKS??

Felix: Yes. And? I'd do it again for her.

Changbin: LMAO savage.

Jeongin: Shame on you for trusting him when everyone knows he works for her

Chan: Thanks for being on her side, Lix

Felix: Anytime 💖

Hyunjin: Omg, imagine Baby Bang. Tiny curls, tiny dimples 😍

Chan: STOP I’M ALREADY CRYING AGAIN 😭

Jeongin: I've never been this excited for a baby really. You'd let us babysit won't you? 

Changbin: Oh yeah. Group uncle duty.

Hyunjin: We're gonna be dancing before we can even walk Baby Bang 🤝

Felix: For sure!

Chan: THANK YOU GUYS FOR BEING EXCITED FOR US!

Jisung: Save your tears for the wedding, Daddy Bang.

Jeongin: When do we throw a baby shower? Felix?

Felix: Already planning it.

Hyunjin: This baby’s gonna be so loved.

Chan: THANK YOU, GUYS. I LOVE YOU ALL 😭

---

Chan added Y/N to the group chat.

Chan: SURPRISE, BABY! WELCOME TO THE CHAOS.

Jisung: AHHH THE QUEEN IS HERE!

Hyunjin: ALL HAIL THE BABY-MAKER 👑

Minho: Congrats on creating life and also tolerating Chan for this long.

Felix: YAYYYYYY YOU’RE HERE! 😭 We’ve been dying to have you here!!!

Jeongin: Thank you for gifting us Baby Bang. We promise to only slightly corrupt them.

Changbin: We’re all crying. I’m crying. Hyung is crying. Everyone’s crying.

Y/N:😂

Y/N: Oh my God, you guys.

Minho: This is us being tame.

Hyunjin: Soooo, what does it feel like, hm? Asking for research purposes, of course

Chan: Oh yeah, totally not gonna run off and impregnate someone 🙄

Hyunjin: What's it to you Christopher? You can do it, but I can't?! 

Chan: Oh please

Minho: I told her to get a collar for this damn puppy and look who's here yapping

Y/N: Leave him alone guys!

Hyunjin: I respect you, Y/N. I respect you. So I'm gonna shut up (Mr Know, let's do this face to face huh)

Minho: Gladly.

Felix: Honestly, Y/N, we’re just honored to be part of this. 

Y/N: Thanks guys, this means a lot to us. 

Changbin: And we’re going to spoil them rotten.

Jeongin: Rotten is an understatement.

Y/N: 🤭🤭🤭

Minho: You won't even know what hit you for the next 18 years. Or 30.

Chan: GUYS. Stop scaring her. Baby, they’re joking.

Felix: We’re not.

Hyunjin: Nope.

Jisung: Absolutely not.

Y/N: I'm all in for that hehe

Chan: I love you guys

Jisung: Chan’s in his feels again.

Felix: We have a wedding and baby shower to plan! 

Hyunjin: OMG. A pregnant bride. You’re gonna be so GLOWY.

Y/N: Thank you for being this excited for us. I love you guys 😭💖

Felix: We love you too!! 🥺💖

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8

[theminecraftbee]

Grian sits on the edge of a desert cliff, watching the sunrise. His knuckles are bloody. He's had this dream before, and he's lived this moment before. He's awfully tired of it, honestly. He's not even particularly sad anymore. It's hard to be particularly sad, this long after, this much more between them.

But his knuckles are bloody again. There's someone sitting next to him.

"Joel?" he says, baffled.

"Yeah, hi, really weird bloody dreamscape you've got. Literally and figuratively: bloody hell. Like, Scott, he's got this pretty cottage and all these flowers and the single most terrifying version of Jimmy that I've seen in my life. Which serves him right, since he's a bastard, and I told him that. Or, uh, Pearl. She's normal. She's got dogs and... shit, I don't know--"

"Why are you here?" Grian asks.

"Oh, right, I was tasked with asking you if you regret it," Joel says.

There's a long moment of silence. The wind blows.

"I mean. No?" Grian says.

"Right? That's what I said! Blumin' stupid question, that!" Joel says.

"Wait, you mentioned--are you asking everyone that?" Grian asks.

"Yeah! It was all, oh, you've got a car, you can travel, it'll be all poetic like. You've had a 'character arc'--like I'm some, some fake guy--and grown as a person, everyone else has to, would they do things differently now? And I said, man, that's stupid. That's really stupid. But the glowing purple eyes guys--"

"Wait wait wait wait, the who?" Grian interrupts.

"Sorry, do you not know the glowing purple eyes guys? Martyn was acting like you're all buddies or something. Then I punched him. Because it was funny," Joel says.

"No, I know the--they asked you to do this?" Grian says. He takes a moment to try to imagine it. He has some trouble. Joel and the Watchers don't really belong in the same place at the same time for so many reasons that Grian doesn't know where to begin.

"Apparently, I'm not being serious enough," Joel informs Grian. "I kinda get it, actually. Like, everyone but Cleo has been somewhere like..."

Joel looks out over the cliff. It is tall, and Grian knows he cannot see the ground from the top. He had been able to during the actual games, of course, but these aren't the actual games; these are the memories of what brought him to victory, made manifest.

"So I guess I kinda wondered, since you lot always seem so blumin' sad about it," Joel finishes.

"I'm not really," Grian says.

Joel raises an eyebrow.

"I mean, maybe once, but--nah. Not really."

"Cool. That's the last one then," Joel says. "Hear that, weird glowing eyes guys? You act like I'm all weird or whatever but none of them regret it either. Not a single one of them."

Grian looks over the cliff again himself.

"None of us?" he asks, very quietly indeed.

Joel sighs. "All of you asked that too. I'm getting back in the bloody car."

Grian doesn't watch Joel leave. He rubs the blood off his knuckles and watches the sky instead. When he's tired thinking in circles about how he didn't really expect that he would be telling the truth, just then, he starts trying to imagine the trouble Joel might be giving everyone else instead. It's much more fun to think about than the sand that's getting in his socks. He's never able to get sand out of anything, these days, and it leaves him always just a little bit uncomfortable. Oh well; the price of being in a desert. He wouldn't be anywhere else if he had the choice, though, grit in his socks or not.

[velvetvexations]

Chiming in on the whole "do tmascs/the transandrophobia community actually harass tfems on the scale that is claimed" thing, I've been wondering that for a while too, especially since back when [Popular Trans Blogger] was dealing with The Most Normal CEO Ever I saw literally EVERY SINGLE major voice in transandrophobia circles immediately drop everything, put aside all the harassment and hate they had faced, make it clear that trans people being harmed by cishet society comes before discussing deeper theory, and basically non-stop post about how she didn't deserve that and openly critique tumblr's transphobia and how it hurts tfems despite the fact that that user and her followers had been consistently vile to transmascs. Like they all jumped up to add their voices against the banning, it was so fucking clear they were able to prioritize protecting trans people no matter what, and no one ever really talks about it because they also don't gloat about putting the swords down for the greater good. It's just something they know needs to be done and they won't paint themselves as heroes or martyr for it.

On the other hand, I've never in my entire life seen a big TRF or anyone who travels in those circles ever stick their neck out when tmascs are experiencing harassment and transphobia, not once. Not even when it leads to the same unjust bans that tfems face(which do happen, at similar rates to tfem bloggers like the idea that the trans bans are a tfem only thing is simply not true). Like I've blogs that are constantly posting about how "if you never post anything about supporting trans women then you're probably a secret transmisognist" turn around and respond to people pointing out that they never post anything even vaguely supportive of tmascs(not even talking about discourse just the usual "trans men are valid and deserve support" positivity stuff that goes around) who are on their "side" by saying "um I'm a trans woman and this is my personal blog so I don't have to say nice things about trans men ever and it says absolutely nothing about me that I never have anything kind or nice to say about even the transmascs that are on my side/valid in my opinion and actually it's bigoted for you to demand I say nice things about other trans people fuck you kthxbye" and I just. What??

I know that there have been some cases of tmasc/transandrophobia bloggers harassing a trans woman, but like. It's pretty rare and usually only a couple of people. And that's still bad ofc but the scale is different for sure. In terms of big, influential tumblr users I swear every single time a popular tfem gets deactivated all the transandrophobia bloggers jump to their defense, meanwhile TRFs just gleefully go around attacking every trans guy who so much as breathes in their direction and calls you a transmisognist if you point out that it's fucked of them to have a double standard about trans rights. Or acts like "I said something bigoted and other members of my community got mad" is harassment. Like [Popular Tfem Musician] was def getting Harassed but I watched the whole thing unfold and while there were a few shitty tmascs chiming in, overall the harassment was led by an entirely different group who was mad about something unrelated, they just happened at the same time so everyone figured ALL the harassment was coming from tmascs when it very much was not.

(Also tmasc/transandrophobia bloggers are also constantly adding "if you're a follower and I see you bothering the person I'm talking about I'll report and block you myself" they like care a lot about all trans people and will show tf up for even ones they disagree with or who have directly harmed them when push comes to shove. [Popular MLP Tfem Artist] is still getting accused of harassing other trans women despite her constantly instructing her audience to leave everyone alone. And I have def seen way more transandrophobia bloggers call out any tmascs or other trans people on "their" side get ignored and deplatformed if they prove to be bad actors. I don't see TRFs doing that like. Ever. Like they go "take our the trash in your community" to tmascs but pretend they can't read when someone asks them to denounce people who openly harasses tmascs. Or just makes excuses for them because surely we can't actually harm a trans man, it doesn't count.)

But yeah I fully assume the reason TRFs say no one ever harasses tmascs but that they harass tfems all the time is because they simply do not think harassing trans people is wrong so long as it's directed at the correct target. I mean why would the "trans men don't have real problems" crowd ever actually say anything nice about them or help them when they're being harassed or tell their followers to leave them alone? It's just really sad to watch, big tmasc bloggers are not harassing people the way the TRFs want everyone to think, and they certainly don't harass other trans people the way TRFs do, but they get burdened with the harassment accusations and no one thinks to even check if that's actually what's happening.

10/10, I have nothing to add.

[dirtyvulture]

The Maid - Part 2

Socialite!Wanda Maximoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

Maid!Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 4705

Summary: You are married to a wealthy socialite, but your newly hired housemaid doesn’t approve of the marriage.

AN: Thank you so much for the response to part 1! And thank you to everyone who was so patient and understanding for this part taking a while to write. I hope you all like it.

*Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

Wanda seems to be in a better mood lately, Natasha notices, probably because the two of you rekindled whatever complicated romance you had going on. And as sad and lonely as it had made Natasha feel, at least Wanda was being less rude to her, and that would always be a win in her book.

The grocery trips and errands she sends Natasha on are less demanding, although Natasha’s unsure if she’s becoming more comfortable or Wanda’s gotten less picky. Wanda still requests Natasha’s help for her weekly meetings, and Natasha cannot understand why someone who is unemployed goes so out of her way to find the most mundane, meaningless things to participate in. But it keeps Natasha paid and busy, and she still gets to see you a few times a week.

“What are you doing this weekend, Natasha?” Wanda asks while the two of them are in the kitchen. Wanda is on her laptop while Natasha stands at the counter, cutting vegetables for dinner.

“Um…” Natasha knows better than to tell Wanda the truth, which is that she’ll be sitting alone in her apartment for the next two days and eating ice cream on her couch. “Some friends invited me to go shopping with them at the mall,” she lies. She doesn’t have friends and she certainly doesn’t have the budget to shop at a mall after all the debt she still owes.

“I’ll be gone all weekend with some girlfriends,” Wanda says, not even acknowledging Natasha’s plans, which makes her wonder why she had even bothered to ask in the first place. “I’m not into wine tasting much, but the girls go nuts for it. I’m just going for the spa at the resort, between you and me.”

Natasha has no idea what to do with this information. But she’s spared from answering when the garage door rumbles open.

Wanda slams her laptop shut. “Oh, Y/N is home early.” She gets up to greet you. Natasha can hear your voices carry through the hall.

“You’re early tonight,” Wanda says. “I was just telling Natasha about my weekend plans to Vermont with the girls–”

“Your weekend plans?” you interrupt. “Since when did you have plans to go to Vermont?” Natasha has never heard you sound genuinely angry before. She stops cutting the carrots to focus on eavesdropping.

“Carol wanted to go for her birthday!” your wife says.

“Wanda,” you say, your voice lowering. “Our anniversary is this weekend. I booked us a stay at the Ritz and got us tickets to see Wicked–”

“Well, just ask for a refund!” Wanda hisses. Natasha is stunned that this is her first response to forgetting about her entire anniversary with you. “And we can celebrate when I get back–”

“‘Get back?’” you repeat. “That’s not the point, Wanda. Why don’t you ask for a refund for your trip–”

“I can’t do that to the girls,” Wanda says. “Carol’s been looking forward to this for months!”

You mumble something that Natasha can’t hear. She feels awful for you. Clearly, you had spent a lot of money and time planning a nice outing, and your wife didn’t seem to care one bit. In fact, she tried to put the blame on you for intruding on her plans. Natasha felt herself shaking with rage for you. You deserved so much better.

The two of you trudge into the kitchen and Natasha hastily goes back to cutting the carrots. Wanda is hanging onto your arm, tiptoeing to whisper into your ear but you shake her off and walk through the kitchen to the staircase. Natasha knows that Wanda is glaring at the back of her head, probably upset that she had overheard, but for once she doesn’t say anything and disappears after you.

The mood is particularly subdued when Natasha serves up roasted salmon with a colorful vegetable medley and mashed potatoes. 

“Thank you, Natasha,” you say as she hands you a loaded plate. 

Wanda doesn’t say anything when Natasha gives her a plate.

While the two of you eat in awkward silence, Natasha cleans up the kitchen, her final task of the day. She grabs her purse and heads towards the door, when she hears footsteps behind her.

It’s you.

“Can I walk you out to your car?” you ask. “I know it’s a safe neighborhood, but I don’t want you walking out in the dark by yourself.”

Natasha is so flattered by your offer she doesn’t stop to consider how Wanda might feel about this.

“Sure, I really appreciate that. Thank you.” She leads the way out of your house.

“Sorry you always have to park around the corner,” you add, maintaining a respectful distance from her on the sidewalk. “I’ve told Wanda the whole neighborhood knows you work for us. But she’s…” you trail off, clearly not wanting to speak ill of your wife.

“I’m sorry she forgot your anniversary,” Natasha blurts out. 

You seem startled that Natasha had been eavesdropping, but quickly recover. “Well, it’s…it’s not the first time she’s done it,” you admit in a soft voice. “I don’t know why I bother trying to do anything special anymore. It’s just another day to her. And it seems like she’d rather spend it with anyone but me.”

“She’s missing out,” Natasha says, surprised by her own confidence. “You’re a wonderful person and you deserve someone who will appreciate the efforts you go to celebrate important milestones like that.” She stops before she can offer herself up.

“Oh. Well, thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.” 

The two of you stop at Natasha’s beat-up Nissan. 

“Thanks for walking me to my car–” she starts.

“Are you busy this weekend?” you ask suddenly, in a rushed whisper as if Wanda is around the corner listening. “If you’re not, would you like to see Wicked with me at the Gershwin Theater? I told Wanda I could probably get a credit with the Ritz, but I don’t want to deal with the hassle of exchanging the tickets, too. You can come over Saturday night and I’ll drive us?”

Natasha is so shocked by your proposal she doesn’t even have the words to agree at first. Growing up, she had loved watching musical movies until the VHS tapes wore out, but she had never had the opportunity to see a live performance. Even now as an adult, she still didn’t have the time nor the budget to see a show. To hear you ask that you wanted her to join you, when you had bought the tickets for you and your wife to enjoy on your anniversary she had forgotten, sounded almost too good to be true.

But if Wanda found out you had taken Natasha instead of her…Natasha shuddered at the thought. Maybe this was stepping over the line of professionalism. Natasha wanted to keep her job (and her head), and as much as the opportunity was a dream come true for her, she didn’t want to take advantage of your kindness or weakness.

“Um, I’m supposed to go shopping at the mall with some friends on Saturday,” Natasha says, cringing at the patheticness of her life. “But really–thank you for inviting me. I’m sure you have friends you’d rather take over your maid.”

“I don’t have any friends,” you say, so deadpan that Natasha almost laughs but quickly turns it into a cough when she realizes you’re being serious. While you seemed more reserved than your wife, Natasha refused to believe you didn’t have a strong social network. You were in charge of your own company and clearly doing well if you lived in this neighborhood and could afford a personal housemaid like her.

“Good evening!” The two of you startle when a cheery voice comes out of nowhere.

“Hello, Mr. Vision,” Natasha says, spotting the eccentric man first as he walks by at a rapid pace.

“Late night walk, Vis?” you call out, and he nods with a wave, pumping his arms faster and milling away. The only thing Natasha knew about Vision was that he lived by himself at the end of the street. He had no wife or kids that she knew of, not even a job as he was constantly seen walking around the neighborhood at odd hours. But he never approached Natasha or made her feel uncomfortable, which was more than she could say for most of the people living here, so she was happy to ignore him.

When Vision moves out of sight, you say, “Well, if your plans happen to change…” You fumble in your pockets awkwardly, pulling out a bent business card and handing it to Natasha. “My cell number is on there. Text me before Saturday if you’re still interested.”  

“Okay.” Natasha doesn’t want to get your hopes (or hers) up, but she still isn’t convinced this is a good idea. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Natasha.”

She loves the way her name sounds coming out of your mouth.

***********************************************************************

Natasha is still unsure she made the right decision to turn down your offer to see Wicked. She even called her only friend, Clint, to ask if she should’ve said yes.

“Well, you’re just seeing a show together. Think of it like a work bonus or something. Bosses give their employees nice stuff like that all the time,” Clint says as Natasha picks at a box of takeout in front of the television. Cooking at home was not her favorite chore after doing it all day for her clients.

“Yes, but it’s just the two of us,” Natasha stresses. “Y/N got the tickets to celebrate an anniversary and Wanda already hates me as it is–”

“Nah, she doesn’t hate you,” Clint says.

“You haven’t met her! You don’t see the way she treats me.”

“Exactly. Maybe this is Y/N’s way of apologizing for her behavior,” Clint says.

“I don’t know…” It was already Friday night. Natasha didn’t have much time now to change her mind if she was going to.

“Be nice to yourself, Nat. Let someone do something for you,” Clint goes on. “You work so hard for these people all the time. And I know how much you’ve always wanted to see a live performance.” Natasha feels tears well up in her eyes. She wishes Clint was here in person so she could give him a hug. “Nothing bad will happen. Just tell Y/N you want to go before someone else takes your spot.”

Natasha takes a steely breath. Clint is right. It wasn’t a date. It just was her nice boss treating her out to a Broadway show. Never mind the fact that you had intended to take your wife initially. Wanda would never have to know, right?

“Okay. Thanks, Clint.”

“Enjoy!”

As soon as she hangs up, Natasha goes into her texts. She already created a contact for you the night you gave her your business card. Her anxiety is through the roof as she types out a message to you, then deletes it and starts over. She gets more and more frustrated trying to find the right words, before she finally throws in the towel and clicks “Send.”

Less than a minute later, you respond.

Happiness explodes inside of Natasha. She can hardly believe her luck. Not only does she get to see her first Broadway show, but she gets to see it with you, and have dinner on top of it. She darts over to her closet, looking for the nicest dress she owns.

Wanda be damned. Natasha was going to have a great night with you. 

***********************************************************************

“Table for two, please.”

“Did you have a reservation?” the blonde woman at the podium asks.

“No,” you respond.

“Oh, well, I’m so sorry, but we’re all booked out for the evening,” she apologizes. 

Natasha stands behind you meekly. She can’t even pronounce the name of the restaurant and doesn’t know what kind of food they serve, but it’s probably far beyond anything she could ever afford. She’s wearing a dark green dress that almost reaches her ankles and is conservative in protecting her assets, and spent over an hour doing her makeup, and she wonders if strangers will look at the two of you and assume you’re a couple. She wouldn’t go out of her way to correct them.   

“That’s okay. This was a last-minute plan for us,” you explain. “If Tony is working tonight, can you please tell him Y/N stopped by to say hello?”

“Wait, you know Mr. Stark?” the woman pales. “Don’t go anywhere. You said your name is Y/N?”

You smile and nod. The woman steps down from her podium and dashes into the back. 

“I thought you said you didn’t have any friends,” Natasha boldly teases. 

You turn and wink at her. 

“Tony and I went to college together,” you explain, although this implies you shared a friendship of some kind. “And clearly, his business is doing better than mine–”

The woman quickly returns with a short bearded man wearing a gray suit with red-tinted glasses that match his tie. 

“Y/N!” Tony shouts, embracing you in a dramatic hug. “You should’ve told me you were coming tonight! I could’ve put together a private booth in the back–”

“It was last-minute,” you say. “This is Natasha, by the way. She’s a friend.” Natasha is thrilled at the way you associate her with you.

“Hello, Natasha, I’m Tony.” He takes her hand and gently kisses her knuckles. He doesn’t seem surprised you haven’t brought Wanda along instead. “I take it you haven’t been here before, Miss Natasha? You won’t need a menu, I’ll have the chef bring out the best dishes we have tonight.”

“That’s very kind of you,” you say. 

“Follow me! You can have a table in our east wing. Where’s Wanda?” Tony says rapid-fire, turning around and leading them deeper into the restaurant. You step out of the way and motion to let Natasha go first, and she feels your hand graze her back as she walks past you. 

“She’s out with her girlfriends for the weekend,” you answer from behind Natasha. 

“Your anniversary is coming up, right?” Tony asks.

“Yes,” you respond, your voice suddenly tense.

The restaurant is packed, every visible table filled with customers, until they turn around a corner to a quiet, completely empty area.

“Pick any table. I’ll have a waiter come out with some drinks shortly,” Tony says.

“Thanks, Tony.”

“Thank you, Tony,” Natasha echoes, unsure if she likes this special treatment. You pick a table near the corner and pull her chair out for her. As soon as the two of you are seated, a waiter in a vested suit appears with a few bottles of wine, making suggestions and pouring samples into the glasses. Natasha doesn’t have enough knowledge to understand what he’s saying or differentiate the tastes, but she enjoys the experience. It feels strange to have someone serve her, when she’s normally the one waiting on people’s every demand. 

The two of you share several appetizers together. Natasha feels like she’s floating in a dream. You have been nothing but generous and respectful to her, but every time your left hand reaches across the table for the caviar, the wedding ring on your finger taunts her. 

The dinner itself is a four-course affair, including a rich chocolate cake that Natasha devours faster than she can fully enjoy. When the bill arrives (which Tony has already chopped in half), Natasha still asks if she can chip in (despite knowing full well she doesn’t have the money to cover even her portion), but you push her card away and give the waiter your black card.

The theater is three blocks from Tony’s restaurant, so you leave your car in valet parking and ask Natasha if she’s okay walking. She had not planned ahead very well, so she only has a thin cardigan to cover her shoulders. You notice her shivering and offer her your heavy black jacket that completely engulfs her frame. Your scent completely surrounds her now and Natasha swears she won’t wash this dress ever again.

The line into the theater moves quickly and Natasha follows you all the way down to the front, where your seats are perfectly center to the stage. She crawls over a few people, feeling a little smug about getting some of the best seats in the house. You had truly spoiled her tonight and she was never going to forget this. 

She leans over to whisper to you before the show begins. “Thank you for everything tonight. I’ve already had so much fun and the dinner was amazing.”

“You’re very welcome. Thank you for joining me, and thank you for all the hard work you do for my family,” you say and Natasha beams. “Me and Wanda really appreciate it.” Natasha deflates a little at the mention of your wife, but she pushes her out of her mind to focus on her time with you. 

As they wait, Natasha props her arm up on the armrest between you two so she can hold the playbill at a comfortable angle to read. Suddenly, your arm drops heavily on hers and she looks at you in confusion. You’re reading your own playbill and don’t seem to notice that your massive arm is practically crushing hers.

“Um, Y/N?” she prompts, clearing her throat.

“Hmm? Oh!” You quickly move your arm off hers. “I’m so sorry, I thought that was Wanda’s arm,” you explain with a nervous chuckle. Natasha laughs too, although she isn’t sure if she should be happy or worried that she reminds you of your wife. She’d be happy to take Wanda’s place any day, though. 

The musical is amazing, impressive beyond anything Natasha had ever expected. She cries when Elphaba defies gravity, and after the whirlwind of the second act, she is among the first to give a standing ovation. She’s floating on cloud nine as she walks with you out of the theater back to the car.

The drive back to your home is quick at the late hour. Just as you're about to pull into the driveway, you slam hard on the brakes, jolting everyone forward. Vision power walks past the beams of your headlights, only breaking the pump of his arms to wave in thanks.

“What is he doing out so late?” you ask, and Natasha is relieved to know she’s not the only one who thinks his habits are a bit odd.

“No idea,” she mumbles, watching you pull onto the driveway and stop.

“Thank you so much, Y/N,” Natasha says, still giddy with excitement.“This was the best night of my life. I’ve always wanted to see a Broadway show, ever since I was a little girl. I never thought I’d get the chance, even after I moved here–”

“You’re very welcome,” you interrupt, seeming almost shy with the praise.

“I’m sorry Wanda wasn’t able to join you for your own anniversary,” she adds, although she’s not sure why.

You shrug. “Nothing we can do about it now. Besides, I’m glad you were able to join me and had such a fun night. I don’t think this would have been nearly as fun by myself.”

There is a pause and Natasha has to force herself to stop looking at your lips. If she had no self-restraint, it wouldn’t have taken much for her to lean over the center console and kiss you.

“Have a good night, Natasha. Drive home safely,” you say as the two of you get out of the car.

“Thank you again!” Natasha doesn’t even listen to music on her way home, riding out the high of what was easily one of the most memorable nights of her life in over a decade.

***********************************************************************

A few weeks later, Natasha is working a double shift: the first one at Steve’s house, and the second at yours. You’re away at work, as usual, but she knows you’ll be home before she leaves for the day, and she never takes any glimpse of you for granted. Wanda is also back to being demanding and cranky, and Natasha has no idea if you told her about the night the two of you had together. She had felt the silent instruction from you not to blab about her taking Wanda’s place and was happy to keep the memories to herself.

She’s in the front hall, mopping while quietly humming “Defying Gravity” to herself, when Wanda clacks by in high-heels.

“Natasha!” she hisses. “Didn’t I tell you to start in the kitchen? If I slip out here because the floor is wet–”

“So sorry!” Natasha apologizes, hoping that she doesn’t finish her sentence. “I’ll put a fan on.” She rests her mop against the wall and darts off for the $300 Dyson fan in the closet. After pointing it towards the gleaming floor, she pushes her cart into the kitchen and continues mopping. She makes sure to open the window to air out the smell, and notices Steve across the street mowing his lawn. 

She stares at him, wondering if he can see her, and her question is quickly answered when Steve waves to her. She returns his wave with a smile, then goes back to her task before Wanda can complain she isn’t working hard enough. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him back away from his lawn mower and answer his phone; he disappears into his house hurriedly. 

“Natasha! Always make sure you open a window when you mop!” Wanda’s screech comes out of nowhere. “The chemicals you use give me a headache!”

“Oh, but the window is open–” Natasha tries to explain, but Wanda silences her with a wave of her hand.

“I’m on the phone!” she says, pointing to the cell phone held up to her ear. Natasha bites her lip, but holds her tongue. “Sorry, honey, what was that? No, I was talking to the maid,” she says. Natasha perks up despite the way Wanda titles her. You’re clearly on the other line, and maybe you’ll be home sooner than expected.

But Wanda disappears into a guest room (your house had so many of those), and Natasha can no longer hear her conversation. She dutifully continues to mop the floor, careful to fan the mop in a semi-circle pattern so as not to trap herself in a corner. She moves the chairs to the hallway one at a time, cursing their awkward shape that makes them difficult to carry and taking special care not to scrape the feet along the floor. 

Wanda’s shrill voice carries through the house again, this time covering a topic that makes Natasha’s cheeks heat up.

“Oh my God, yes, I’m still thinking about last night,” Wanda says. “When you had my legs behind my head–”

Natasha tries not to picture Wanda folded up like a pretzel while you plow into her. But she can imagine herself in a similar position (she’s not so confident in her own flexibility, but she’d make it work for you). Your hands could probably fit around her whole thighs as you push her legs apart wider, thrusting your hips in long strokes to fit your big dick into her. Natasha is embarrassed to admit that the last time she had masturbated, she had thought of you the whole time.

How much more you’d fill her compared to the flimsy toy she was using. How you would feel throbbing inside her, your body pressed hot and heavy against hers as you beg for her permission to finish. Imagining having you like that, with that kind of control, brought Natasha to the most amazing orgasm of her life. If only you had been there to share it with her. 

“I didn’t know if you’d be able to go another round, but you proved me wrong,” Wanda continues, and Natasha picks up on how breathless she sounds. She wonders if she’s touching herself right now, with Natasha mopping in the kitchen. Somehow, that wouldn’t be shocking to her. “You were still so hard when I put you down my throat.”

A lightning bolt of arousal strikes Natasha’s core. She can’t focus on mopping anymore, staring blankly out the kitchen window, lost in the new filthy fantasy playing in her head, guided by Wanda’s narration. 

Natasha lies between your legs, her lips barely brushing your hips as she takes your cock down her throat. She prays her gag reflex doesn’t protest at the obstruction in her airway, but despite the slight discomfort, she wants to do this all day. Your pants and moans are like music in her ears, urging her on to suck harder and take you deeper.

“Please Nat,” your voice wavers. The muscle fibers in your thighs are visibly tensed and your back arches off the bed when Natasha pushes your hips down, trying to maintain some kind of control over you. But your body seems to have a mind of its own, with only one goal in mind. 

“It’s almost like I can still taste you.”

You poke at the back of her throat and Natasha can feel the hot throbbing of your cock in her mouth. She’s so eager to swallow anything you’ll give her, she’s almost embarrassed in her desperation, but when your hands cup the back of her head, pushing her down so she can fit the last inch down her throat, she knows the two of you are on equal planes of passion.

Your entire body flexes and the anticipation for Natasha is overwhelming. You finally inhale sharply as the first hot spurt lands on her tongue. 

“Being on your knees for me is a good look for you.”

Natasha tips her head back against the wall, her fingers tangling in your hair. One of her legs rests on your shoulder while the other is spread far apart so you can kneel between them, your mouth pressed against her heat. Your tongue swirls around her clit and Natasha fears she won’t be able to stay standing much longer. 

“Y/N,” she pants, clutching your head tighter and rocking her hips forward. “I need you.”

Your fingernails dig harder into her thigh to still her. You look up into her eyes and Natasha thinks she’s going to finish right there. “You have me, baby. I’m all yours.”

“But there’s really only one place you belong.”

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” you grunt, almost sending Natasha headfirst into the headboard with every one of your thrusts. “I could stay inside you forever.”

Natasha hums at the praise. She’s holding on the bedsheets for life, spasming and clenching around you, trying to pull you in deeper. You fill her so perfectly, she’s convinced her body was made for yours. 

“Tell me I’m better than her,” Natasha gasps, fighting to delay her own release.

“Fuck Wanda,” you grunt, pulling back on Natasha’s hips at the same time you thrust forward, burying your entire length into her. “I love you, Natasha. You’re the only one I ever want to be with.”

A noisy car engine pulls Natasha out of her head. Her face feels flushed with arousal, and she knows what she’s doing the second she goes home. Your green car suddenly pulls into the driveway but stops. You get out and walk to the street, grabbing one of the trash bins and pulling it towards the house.

“I can’t wait for you to fuck me again,” Wanda says in the background.

The realization crashes down on Natasha’s head like a cold shower. She watches you grab the second bin with both hands, carefully walking backwards with it.

You’re not on the phone and you’re standing 30 feet away from Natasha. If Wanda’s not on the phone with you, then who is she talking to?

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

AN: Who do you think Wanda was talking to? 👀

To be continued...(hopefully)

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

THIS WAS A PRANK?!

drew starkey x fem!reader

(mood board does NOT depict readers’ appearance !!)

SUMMARY: y/n pulls her family into a trending prank where you pretend to embarrass your partner in front of your family…i wonder how drew reacts?

based on this ask!! i really hope you enjoy this @xoxosblogsblog , and i hope it’s what you asked for <3

WARNINGS: i think maybe one curse word?, just pure fluff really, me crying because i used ‘mom��� instead of mum because they’re american </3 (lmk if i missed anything!)

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

SECOND PERSON +

Drew always tried his best to make a good impression on your parents. Even after three years of dating you, meeting them countless times, and attending every family barbecue or holiday dinner you invited him to, Drew still got a little nervous around them. You found it sweet, honestly—how this confident, charming actor, adored by fans worldwide, could still feel the need to impress your mom and dad.

You were currently spending the week at your parents' house, a cozy rural home in Vermont that felt like a world away from the bustling chaos of Los Angeles where you and Drew lived.

Drew had taken the week off from filming to join you, and so far, everything had been going smoothly. That was, until you saw a TikTok prank trend earlier that morning.

The prank was simple: embarrass your partner in front of your family by saying outrageous things and watch them squirm. You couldn't resist. Drew had pulled plenty of pranks on you in the past, and this felt like the perfect opportunity for some playful payback.

While Drew was in the shower, you shared your plan with your parents.

"Are you sure he's going to find it funny?" your mom asked, trying not to laugh.

"Oh, he will," you grinned. "Eventually. After he panics a little bit."

Your dad chuckled. "I'm in. But I'm not holding back—I'll really sell it."

Your mom rolled her eyes fondly. "You two are terrible."

"We'll keep it harmless," you promised.

By the time Drew emerged from the shower, fresh and smiling in a casual hoodie and jeans, you were ready to set your plan in motion.

The four of you were gathered around the dining table, enjoying your mom's homemade lasagna—a dish Drew had raved about during every visit. You decided to start small.

"You know," you said casually, "Drew actually told me he doesn't like your cooking, Mom. He says it's too... plain."

Your mom froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. "Really?" she asked, her tone clipped.

Drew's head whipped toward you so fast you thought he might get whiplash. His eyes widened. "What? No! That's not true at all! I love your cooking!"

"Hmm," your mom said, narrowing her eyes. "That's funny, because you always seem to clean your plate."

"Exactly!" Drew said quickly, holding up his hands. "I do, because it's amazing! I don't know what Y/N's talking about. I would never say that!"

You bit back a grin and focused on your lasagna, mumbling, "If you say so."

Drew shot you a bewildered look, his brow furrowing. You could tell he wanted to press you on it, but he let it go—for now.

Later that evening, the four of you were in the living room watching a football game. Your dad had always been a big fan, and Drew had made it a point to bond with him over it.

"He doesn't actually like football, Dad," you said offhandedly during a commercial break. "He told me it's boring."

The room went silent.

"What?" your dad asked, turning to Drew with a stern expression.

"No, no, no!" Drew stammered, his cheeks flushing. "I never said that! I love football! We've watched games together! We’re both huge fans of the Kansas City Chiefs!"

"You mean the team you pretended to like just to get on my good side?" your dad said, raising an eyebrow.

Drew looked like a deer caught in headlights. "No, I swear, I really like them! I even looked up their stats before we came here so I could keep up!"

Your dad folded his arms, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "I thought we had something, Drew."

"I—Mr. Y/L/N—I mean, sir—I promise, I'm not lying!" Drew's voice grew more frantic, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

When your dad turned back to the game with a dramatic sigh, Drew leaned over to you. "What's going on?" he whispered.

You shrugged innocently. "I don't know what you mean."

The final straw came later that night when you were all sitting around the kitchen island, enjoying dessert.

"Mom," you said with a sigh, "Drew said he's still hungry. He wants you to make him something else."

Drew nearly choked on his forkful of pie. "What?! No, I didn't!"

Your mom gave him a sweet but pointed smile. "Well, Drew, if you don't like the pie, I suppose I could whip something else up for you."

"I love the pie!" Drew insisted, looking panicked. "I never said that! Y/N, why are you doing this?"

You shrugged again, fighting the urge to burst out laughing.

When your parents finally went their separate ways—your dad retreating to the living room and your mom heading upstairs to fold laundry—Drew cornered you in the kitchen.

"Okay," he said, crossing his arms. "What is going on?"

"What do you mean?" you asked, feigning innocence.

"Don't give me that," he said, narrowing his eyes. "You've been throwing me under the bus all day. First the cooking thing, then football, now this? I swear I didn't say any of those things!"

You tilted your head, pretending to think. "Hmm, maybe you did, and you just don't remember."

"Y/N," Drew said firmly, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice now. "Are you messing with me?"

Before you could answer, your parents reappeared in the doorway, both looking serious.

"We need to talk," your dad said, crossing his arms.

Drew paled. "About what?"

"About all these things Y/N's been saying," your mom added. "We just want to know if there's something you need to get off your chest."

"I—I don't know what she's talking about!" Drew stammered, his hands flailing as he tried to explain himself. "I love your cooking, Ms. Y/L/N and sir, I love football, and I would never ask you to make me more food! I swear!"

That was it. You couldn't hold it in any longer. You burst out laughing, doubling over as tears streamed down your face. Your mom quickly followed, and even your dad cracked a smile.

Drew stared at you all, realisation dawning on his face. "Wait... this was a prank?!"

"It was a TikTok trend!" you gasped, clutching your stomach. "I had to try it!"

Your mom patted Drew on the shoulder. "We're sorry, Drew. It was all in good fun."

He shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "I can't believe you all ganged up on me."

"You've pulled worse pranks on me," you reminded him, wiping your eyes.

"Fair point," he admitted, pulling you into a playful headlock. "But don't think you're getting away with this. I'm going to get you back."

"I'd like to see you try," you teased, grinning up at him.

As Drew laughed along with your parents, you couldn't help but think how lucky you were to have someone who fit so seamlessly into your family—even if he was already plotting his revenge.

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such an adorable one :’)) i really hope you enjoyed it my lovely !!

i’m still trying to figure out a master list, so fingers crossed i’ll have it up tonight !! but for now, you can click on my personalised tags to access my fics <3

likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated !! <3

[atzloverr]

Stay with us - Wooyoung & Mingi x reader

pairings: Wooyoung’s roommate!Mingi x f!reader, boyfriend!Wooyoung x f!reader

cw: yandere behavior, stalking, kidnapping, bondage, dubious consent, drunk sex, blackmailing, biting, use of Y/n, smut, drugging, manipulation, non-idol au, female reader

You stood outside of your door with your bags in hand, flabbergasted by the thing that just happened. Tonight you came home to all of your things packed up in bags, and a note from your roommate.

Leave or I’ll kill you.

Any other night you would’ve called her and cussed her out, but you couldn’t do this anymore. Maybe it was a great idea to move out after all, leave this shitty roommate and your miserable living conditions behind.

You weren’t even shocked when you found the note, this was just like her. She was simply a mean girl, straight out of the story. You had only lived here for two months, and the first month was great. Your roommate was nice, always asking before bringing people over, respecting you and your boundaries. But after the first month, something about her changed.

She started practically bullying you, not letting you live a second in peace, and always making sure to ruin your day in some way. She made fun of you, made fun of your boyfriend, and the only thing that made you stay was the fact that you couldn’t afford anything else.

You sometimes wondered what made her change. She seemed so unsure of her own words when she first changed. She always paused before delivering a mean comment, but as time passed, she grew more confident. By now, it was as if it went against her nature to not treat you like total garbage.

”Darling? What’s up?” you heard Wooyoung’s voice in your ear. You sat down on the bench at the bus stop, sighing deeply into the phone. ”I got kicked out…” you said. ”What!?” he gasped. You just hummed a yes. You were so ashamed to ask Wooyoung to stay at his place, but you didn’t have a choice. Wooyoung lived with his roommate Mingi in a small flat, and you just hated to take up space in their home.

”Oh my god, baby,” Wooyoung gasped into the phone. ”Come to my place!” he said with excitement. You smiled with confusion and took a deep breath. ”Wooyoung, I’m so sorry for intruding, you know I hate—”, ”Baby no!” he interrupted. ”I love it when you come over, even if you’ll stay longer than usual.”

You bit your lip in thought. ”What about Mingi? Are you sure he’ll be okay with it?” you asked nervously. ”Of course he will!” Wooyoung almost laughed into the phone. ”Can you ask him?” you suggested before hearing footsteps.

”Mingi?” you heard him yell. ”Y/n can stay here for a while, right?” you heard Mingi’s faint voice in the background, but you couldn’t make out what he said. You held your breath. ”See, I knew he would agree!”

You sighed. ”Did you really give him a chance to say no? Maybe he didn’t feel like he had a choice?” you stressed, hearing Wooyoung’s airy laugh in your ear. ”Stop worrying okay? I swear he’s fine with it, hell, if I know him he’ll probably love having you over!”

You answered with a quiet ’mm’ before standing up to get on the bus. ”My bus is here, I gotta go.”, ”Alright! See you soon baby!”

————

”Promise me you’ll behave now that she’s going to live here, kay?” Wooyoung smiled, looking up at Mingi’s smug grin. It was safe to say that your boyfriend’s roommate was more than happy when you called Wooyoung. ”I’ll be good, you should probably be asking her that question, y’know?” Mingi teased. Wooyoung’s eyebrows furrowed in question. ”We’ll see how well your little baby will be able to control herself around me.”

Wooyoung laughed a hearty laugh and was about to respond with a cocky remark when the doorbell rang. ”I’ll go get that,” Mingi sang, his long legs moving towards the door, not letting your boyfriend catch up.

You watched the door open, and when you saw the tall man, your jaw dropped ever so slightly, but just enough for Mingi to notice it. ”Hey, Y/n,” he said melodically before wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. You gasped at his unusual closeness, but smiled when you heard your boyfriend’s sweet voice.

”That’s enough,” he patted Mingi’s shoulder, making him laugh before letting you go. ”There’s my baby,” Wooyoung said with a pout before you ran into his arms. You almost started like tearing up when you felt his hands roaming your body lovingly. ”Welcome home,” he giggled, making you laugh. You let go of him, turning around to speak to Mingi.

”I’m so sorry for intruding you guys’ place like this I— I swear I’ll start looking for a new place immediately and—”

”Hush now, sweetheart,” Mingi smirked, interrupting your rambling. You had always found his vocabulary with you odd. The way he spoke to you as if you had known each other for much longer than you actually had, almost as if you were dating. ”You can stay here for as long as you need.”

⊹ ࣪ ˖

You had only stayed at Wooyoung’s place for about a week when you started noticing his and Mingi’s odd behavior. The exchanged looks, the sentences you couldn’t help but question mentally and of course, Mingi’s eyes. His eyes always seemed to be on you, no matter the situation. Hid gaze so piercing, his eyes seeming to follow you as you walked around, always dripping with what you would guess to be lust.

”Y/n? Love?” Wooyoung said, snapping his fingers to regain your attention. You snapped out of your thoughts, smiling at him. ”I asked what you wanted to get? We’re planning on eating takeout tonight!” Wooyoung winked. You smiled and thought. ”I’ll just have the same as last time, I don’t remember the name—”, ”Got it!” Mingi said from across the room, writing it down on his phone. You blinked.

Yet another thing that was odd about Mingi. He seemed to remember every small detail about you. Every little thing you said, all of your habits, what food you liked, even how long you used to shower.

”Longer than usual today,” he said as you exited the bathroom. ”Excuse me?” you smiled in confusion. ”You showered for thirty minutes today, that’s longer than usual,” Mingi stated. You didn’t know how to answer him. ”Just saying!” he put his hands in the air at your lack of an answer. ”O-okay,” you meekly answered.

”And baby,” Wooyoung said, regaining your attention once again. ”We’ve got beer, shots, wine, whatever you want!” You smiled. ”It’s been so long since we got really drunk together! I miss those nights we used to spend together, drinking until we could barely walk straight!” Wooyoung said, reminiscing about old memories.

The day went by smoothly, and suddenly, it was dinner time. You always loved nights like these with your boyfriend, ordering takeout and drinking. Only now would you be accompanied by his roommate. While you did enjoy Mingi’s company, you couldn’t ignore his creepy behavior.

Your smiled when you heard a whistle from the corridor as you tried on your long dress for the night. You turned around to greet your boyfriend, but your smile dropped when you saw the man standing in the doorway. Mingi.

”Why the long face, darling? Just because I’m not your boyfriend doesn’t mean I can’t find you hot,” he smirked. You blinked, putting on a small smile despite your discomfort. Darling. That’s what he had called you. The only person you were comfortable with calling you that was Wooyoung, your boyfriend, not his creepy (but hot) roommate.

”Food’s here by the way,” Mingi stated before leaving the room. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. You weren’t comfortable with this, so why were your cheeks turning red? Why did you feel butterflies in your stomach when you saw Mingi in that tight shirt, showing his toned body?

”Baby!” Wooyoung entered the room, snaking his hands around your waist from behind. ”You look so cute,” he said into your neck, placing a small kiss where your shoulder met your neck.

”Hey Wooyoung,” you sighed, gathering the courage to say what you were about to say. ”I feel a little… I don’t know uncomfortable?” you started, making his eyebrows furrow in worry. ”With what? The dress?” he asked. Your lips pressed into a thin line. You got ready to speak again, when a knock interrupted you. ”It’s dinner time, lovebirds,” Mingi said. Your head turned to meet his gaze, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes only looked at you. Not at Wooyoung, just at you.

”Alright,” Wooyoung smiled, turning you around to walk out of the room. ”Looks like you’ll have to save what you were going to say for later.” You swallowed, hesitantly letting Wooyounglead you to the table, mentally preparing for the night you were about to spend with your lovely boyfriend and his roommate that you just couldn’t seem to read.

You gasped in excitement at the food plated out on the table. ”Yum!” you let out squeezing Wooyoung’s hand. He smiled at your reaction, pulling out a chair before sitting down on the one next to it. Your smile dropped slightly when Mingi sat down by the small and round table, feeling his knee brush against yours for a split second.

”Let’s eat!” Wooyoung clapped, keeping his wide smile on his lips. He always succeeded to cheer you up when you felt a little down. Mingi started playing some music in the loud speakers as you and Wooyoung started eating the delicious food.

Before you knew it, the three of you had had perhaps just a little too much to drink, starting to slur your words and loudly sing along to the music in the speakers. Wooyoung was clinging to you like never before, his mouth attached to your neck and hands roaming your body. ”Woo, stop it,” you whined with a grin on your face. You both knew you didn’t mean it, your arms thrown around his neck, pulling him closer.

You had almost forgotten that Mingi was there, watching everything unfold. But getting drunk was exactly what you needed. You didn’t think about Mingi’s stares, his lingering touches or the fact that your body reacted to him in a way that you couldn’t admit to yourself.

”Wanna move to the couch?” Mingi said, catching your and Wooyoung’s attention. ”Yes please!” Wooyoung sang, standing up to walk over there. You happened to sit in a corner, so it took you a minute to get out of your seat, the moment Mingi had been waiting for.

”Think I haven’t noticed?” Mingi whispered, suddenly standing right in front of you. In your drunken state, you didn’t fear him, you didn’t feel as intimidated. ”Noticed what?” you challenged, looking him right in the eye, drawing out a wide-eyed smirk from him.

”The way you feel about me,” he said, his hand meeting the back of your waist. You gasped when he pulled you towards him. ”I can see the way you react,” he whispered. ”The way your body reacts.”

You blinked, wondering if these words were really coming out of his mouth. ”I bet you’re really turned on right now, aren’t you?” he smirked, and that’s when you decided that you had had enough of this. You pushed him away from you and stormed off to the living room, where Wooyoung lay sprawled out on the couch, clearly about to fall asleep.

You sat him up and immediately took a seat next to him, basically gluing your body to his. ”Baby, I missed you,” he whined, body inching even closer to yours. You watched as Mingi entered the room, his gaze plastered on you. You shrunk slightly at the attention.

”Sorry, your girlfriend had some trouble getting out of her seat,” Mingi lied. You swallowed, wondering if you should speak up or not. ”Thank you for helping her,” Wooyoung smiled. You rolled your eyes, and before you could have a say in the matter, Mingi sunk down by your other side, maybe even sitting closer than Wooyoung was.

You held your breath, feeling Mingi’s warm skin press against yours as Wooyoung buried his face in your neck. You couldn’t stop a small whimper from escaping your lips when Wooyoung bit you lightly on your neck, and right as he did so, Mingi’s big hand landed on your thigh, giving it a firm squeeze.

You looked at Wooyoung, but your boyfriend’s eyes were closed. What would he think if he opened his eyes to see Mingi’s hands on you? If he found out that that whimper wasn’t just because of him, but also because of his roommate?

You glared at Mingi, who just smiled innocently. His hand travelled further up your thigh as he held eye contact with you, and you put your hand over his in a weak attempt to stop him, but you barely even tried. Because deep inside, you knew you were attracted to him, and he seemed to know it as well.

You hated this feeling, because you truly loved your boyfriend. He was your everything, your best friend and your one true love. And the fact that Mingi could see right through you, was enough to make you fear him.

His hand rested incredibly close to where you ached it to be, but begged for it to not be. ”You like this baby?” Mingi whispered into your ear. Your eyes widened, your head turning towards Wooyoung immediately, but he didn’t react. He must’ve not heard it. ”I know you do” Mingi’s lips touched your ear, making you squirm.

”Mingi?” Wooyoung said suddenly, making you freeze in anticipation. ”Yeah?” said man answered, tone very cool considering what he was currently doing with his friend’s girlfriend. ”Can you pass me my phone?”

You were so confused. How on earth didn’t he notice anything? Sure, he was drunk, but still!?

”I wanna go to bed honey,” Wooyoung finally said, making you sigh in relief. As Wooyoung stood up, Mingi’s hand immediately left your thigh. Your boyfriend went over to him, to give him a hug. ”Goodnight Mingi,” he said. ”Sleep tight,” said man replied, looking at you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

”Baby, right there please,” Wooyoung moaned out as your lips closed around his length. It seemed he didn’t actually mean going to sleep when he wanted to ’go to bed’, but you weren’t complaining. ”Wait no,” he whimpered, grabbing your head to stop you. ”Don’t wanna come yet, baby,” he smiled, hands patting your head gently.

You raised your head from between his legs, meeting his lustful eyes. ”Can I fuck you? Please I’m so—”, ”Yes you can,” you nodded before he could finish his sentence. He almost ripped off your dress when he heard those words, oozing with excitement.

”I wanna taste you first though,” he smirked, not preparing you further before shoving his face between your legs. You moaned loudly when you felt his skillful tongue on you. Everything felt so good when you were drunk. You were both dripping with pleasure, not being able to hold yourselves back. ”So wet, baby,” he hummed. ”How did you manage to get like this, hm?” Wooyoung asked before continuing to pleasure you.

Your eyes widened at the question. Mingi had been right. You were turned on by him, and it made you hate yourself. You wanted to cry from how bad you felt, and decided to just hum as an answer. You felt your orgasm approaching you, but Wooyoung soon stopped, biting his lips and getting ready to fuck you.

”Ready baby?” he almost breathed out, making you nod enthusiastically. When he finally entered you, you felt as if you could come right away. You moaned his name as he thrusted into you at a rapid pace.

”Shit, I might come already, I’m sorry,” Wooyoung rambled while letting his hips slow down slightly. ”It’s okay baby, I will too,” you assured him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He fastened his pace at those words, making the two of you approach your orgasms quickly.

Wooyoung’s loud moans filled the room, and so did yours as he finally finished inside of you. You were both breathless, sweaty and absolutely exhausted. The alcohol only made you more tired.

”I might fall asleep,” he informed, making you let out a tired giggle. ”Me too, don’t worry.”

Just as you were about to close your eyes, you spotted a tall figure standing in the doorway. You rubbed your eyes, not wanting to believe what you had just seen, and when you looked again, there was no one there. Had you really begun hallucinating now too? You wanted to barf at the thought of how much power Mingi had over you. He knew your innermost desires, didn’t hesitate before breaking boundaries and made you question yourself like never before.

You fell asleep, and that night, you dreamt of Mingi. You dreamt of him touching you, him having his way with you, and even though your mind was so against the idea, your body seemed to crave it.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

You used Wooyoung’s soft shirt to wipe your tears away as you sniffled into his shoulder. He looked down at you sympathetically before looking at the TV once again. ”I can’t believe he just left her like that!” you cried, watching the end credits roll after the fourth movie of the night.

Somehow, both you, Wooyoung and Mingi had all ended up with the flu. The three of you had spent the last few days cuddled up on the couch, binge-watching movies and TV-shows while coughing and sniffling.

You hadn’t spoken to Mingi about that night yet, because honestly, you didn’t know what to say. For these few days, he had actually been nice for the most part. He had kept his distance, and reminded you why you used to enjoy his company so much.

His funny and charming demeanor was back, and everything felt just right, well, except for one little thing.

Your things were disappearing. It started with your favorite skirt. You basically turned Wooyoung’s room upside down when looking for it. You ran out of the room, hurriedly asking if any of the guys had seen it, to which they both shrugged their shoulders.

Then, it was your underwear, then your hairbrush. You searched Wooyoung’s face to see any signs of a lie, but he really looked clueless when you asked about your favorite black pair of panties. He loved to play pranks on you, but why on earth would he do this?

Aside from that little detail, everything was going great. Maybe he had stopped doing it, or maybe you had just started to get used to Mingi’s piercing gaze, you honestly didn’t know.

”It’s getting late,” Mingi stated, getting up from the couch. ”Hey,” you stopped him from leaving. ”Can I just borrow your phone for a second? I need to look up one of the actors,” you asked, reaching out your hand.

You couldn’t read Mingi’s face, and you couldn’t understand why he looked at Wooyoung in such a panicked matter. ”Hello?” you asked, keeping your hand outstretched.

”Don’t you have your own?” Mingi smirked, continuing to walk away from you. ”Don’t be a dick, it’s not here,” you yelled as he walked away. ”Just let me search it up!” you whined.

Mingi came back a second later, you phone in hand. ”Here you go, princess,” he smiled making you roll your eyes at the nickname. ”I didn’t ask you to get it,” you muttered before opening up your phone.

Later that night, when you lay in bed next to Wooyoung, you thought about that moment. Why couldn’t he just give you his phone? Was he just really private? Or was he just this secretive with you? You had seen Wooyoung use Mingi’s phone, so why was it different with you?

A few days later, you showed Wooyoung the apartments that you were thinking about moving into. You had a few alternatives, each one having their own strengths and weaknesses. ”This one’s in good condition, but it’s a bit pricey…” you said with a slight pout, furrowing your eyebrows.

”And this one’s really small, but it looks cute, right?” you looked over at Wooyoung, who looked deep in thought. ”What?” you asked, seeing his small frown.

”Do you really think that this is necessary?” he asked, making you pause. ”What do you mean?” you questioned.

”Well, you could just stay here…” he said quietly, eyes glued the floor. You tried to find words, but didn’t really know what to reply. His hands held yours, caressing them slowly. ”I feel like I love you more and more for every moment we spend together and—” Wooyoung’s voice was almost shaky, filled with emotion. ”I want you to stay with me here, okay?” he proposed.

You pressed your lips into a line, meeting Ten’s gaze as he lifted it from the floor. ”I—I don’t,” you tried to find your words. ”Listen, I would love to move in with you too,” you said, making Wooyoung’s eyes light up, a smile already starting to coat his lips. ”B—But, it feels different like this. Y’know, with Mingi and everything—”

”Oh don’t worry about him, he really won’t mind!” he tried to reassure you. You avoided his gaze. ”But what if—” you stammered. ”What if I mind?”

There was a pause, a loud silence that filled the air between you. ”What I mean is just—”, ”You don’t like him? Did he do anything to upset you? Did he hurt you baby?” Wooyoung stressed, worry lacing his tone. ”No, it’s just that he.. well we,” you sighed. ”It just feels weird for me to keep staying here, and whether you agree with me or not, I still feel like I’m intruding,” you said. Maybe that wasn’t the only reason, but there was no need for Wooyoung to know that.

He was about to protest, but you spoke first. ”I really want to find a new place, and I’ll gladly have you move with me if that’s what you want, but I know you love living here with Mingi.”

You watched his expression slowly contort into a large frown, his bottom lip starting to loll out. He took a shaky breath before finally giving you a reply. ”I get it baby,” Wooyoung sighed. ”But can you just think about it for a moment? You can pause your apartment hunting for now, and just consider staying, right?”

His eyes were glimmering with hope, making you feel like a villain for even thinking about denying him. ”…Okay,” you finally said, to which Wooyoung squealed in excitement, squeezing your hands tightly in his. ”I knew I would be able to change your mind!” he smiled. You smiled, but when he wrapped his arms around you, your smile completely dropped.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

When you had finally managed to get rid of the flu that had haunted you for two miserable weeks, you decided that you wanted to celebrate it by going out with some of your friends.

It had been way too long since you went to the club, even since you met your friend group. Your best friend squeaked in excitement when you called her and asked if she was up for a night out.

You hummed happily while applying your makeup, finally feeling really pretty again after being sick for such a long time. You heard the sound of Wooyoung and Mingi’s voices as they entered the apartment, having gone shopping for the last few hours.

With how much money Mingi seemed to have, you never really understood why he chose to live in this small flat with your boyfriend. Wooyoung always told you about how Mingi always payed for their food, how he suggested going on luxurious trips, and how the man seemed to have an unlimited supply of money.

Maybe their years-long friendship is what kept them together, even in such a small place.

”Baby? What are you doing?” Wooyoung asked with a smile on his face, but a hint of worry in his tone. ”I’m getting ready! I’m going out with the girls tonight!” you said in excitement, going up to give him a hug.

”Oh, okay,” he replied, voice void of emotion. You backed away from him, eyebrows furrowed. ”Why? What’s up?” you asked. ”No, it’s just..” he avoided your gaze. ”Can’t you stay here tonight? We were thinking of having dinner together,” he pouted. Your mouth opened slightly.

”I’m sorry, but I’ve already made plans with them,” you said, your hand meeting the back of his head. ”You know it’s been a while since i hung out with them.”

Wooyoung almost looked angry, his gaze still refusing to meet yours. ”Have I done something to upset you or something?” he asked. You almost laughed at the absurdity of the question. ”What? No, why would you think that?”

He cleared his throat. ”It’s like you don’t want to spend time with me anymore,” he spat. ”First the apartment now this…”

You huffed at his words. ”I’ve basically been with you every second of every day for this past month?” you said, letting go of him. For the first time, he looked at you, and you couldn’t help but feel bad.

”You love me, right?” he asked, hands raising to meet your shoulders. You blinked, not understanding hid thought process at all. ”Of course I do, but that doesn’t mean I can’t spend time with my friends as well,” you stated.

Wooyoung came closer to you, holding you in a tight embrace. ”I’m sorry baby,” he sniffled. ”I just don’t want to lose you, that’s all.”

You swallowed, feeling his arms almost crush you. ”Of course you won’t,” you reassured. You would’ve probably understood his motives more if you saw the satisfied smirk on his face as you uttered those words.

”Thank you baby,” he said, leaving a small kiss on your neck before letting you go. ”I’ll go help Mingi with the groceries,” he said before leaving the room, and also leaving you almsot speechless. What on earth was that?

Thirty minutes later, you found yourself in such a stressful state, trying to find the dress that you had mentally picked out for tonight. You stood on chairs to look where you couldn’t reach, searched every single corner of the room, got on all fours to search under all of the furniture, and of course, that’s how Mingi found you.

”Oh,” he said when he found you, digging under the bed to find it. You turned around in shame, immediately standing up. A thing to take into consideration, was that you were only in your underwear. ”I don’t have time for this,” you sighed before closing the door in his face.

You quickly put on a robe to cover yourself before opening the door, meeting Mingi again, who was stuck in the same spot you found him in. ”What?” you said, seeing the teasing look in his eye.

”Nothing,” he said, starting to walk away. ”It’s just not everyday that you find a prudish girl like you in such a state,” he said in the distance, making you run after him.

”Shut up, you! At least I’m not a slut like you!” you pointed at him, making him raise his eyebrows in amusement. ”You know what, you’re probably the one responsible for all of these disappearing clothes!” you said, darting towards his room. You missed the way his smile dropped before his long legs followed you.

You threw the door open, entering the dark and messy room. You had never seen Mingi’s room before. You always followed the ’DO NOT ENTER’ sign on it, but today was a different day.

You turned on the light, scanning the room for any of your things, but only saw his own huge supply of clothes coating the floor. ”Y/n,” Mingi warned when you walked towards his closet.

His legs scrambled towards you in a matter of seconds, his voice yelling your name again, but this time, in such an alarming way that you actually believed something was seriously wrong.

But it seemed he was just a second too late, because when he stood behind you, you had already opened the closet door to see what was inside.

You stared into it in silence, your jaw having dropped ever so slightly.

There they were. All of your lost things, maybe even more than you knew you had lost. Underwear, trash you threw away, makeup products, and the thing that made you feel instantly sick: pictures.

A pile of pictures, either printed or polaroids, and they were all of you. Pictures of you in your old apartment, pictures of you when you were younger, pictures of you and Wooyoung, pictures of you when you were asleep.

You flinched when Mingi harshly slammed the door closed from behind you. His arm caged you in between him and the door, and you didn’t dare to turn around. You heard his heavy breathing, you felt his hot breath against your neck, and worst of all, you could feel him against you. His erection against your body, as he inched closer. You felt your instincts take over.

”Wooyoung!—”, ”Shut up,” Mingi put his big hand over your mouth, making you squirm even more in the tight space between him and the closet door. ”Stop squirming,” Mingi warned, making you hold your breath.

His hand slowly left your mouth, causing a small whimper of fear to be heard from your now parted lips. Mingi turned you around, making you face him. He leaned down until you could feel his breath fan your face. He still wore that same smirk that he more almost all the time, but his eyes had this newfound glow, this unknown width and fire. It made you fear him even more.

”Please, I promise I won’t tell Wooyoung if you just—” you started, before Mingi hushed you, his eyes closing shut. You gasped when he crouched down, positioning himself to pick you up. ”No, please—”, ”I said shut up.”

Your breathing quickened when he walked over to the bedroom door, still with you in his arms. You watched as he shut the door carefully, twisting the lock before walking over to his bed.

He dropped you down rather harshly, positioning himself right on top of you. As if trying to make yourself small, your body scrunched up, arms caging themselves around your form.

”Don’t hide from me baby,” Mingi said in a giggle, his strong hands pinning yours above your head. ”I’ve already seen everything.”

You shivered, eyes avoiding his. You could feel yourself starting to tear up, to which Mingi’s fingers wiped your eyes. ”I might’ve even seen more than your precious Wooyoung,” he smiled menacingly. ”And you’ve had no idea this whole time.”

You clenched your eyes shut, not even wanting to adress that the situation was actually happening. ”He’ll never forgive you,” you spat, finally looking into his eyes. ”Aww, you think so, huh?” he said with faux concern. Your wide eyes following his head as he leaned down, growing wider for every inch closer he came towards you.

You squealed when his lips met your neck, your hands meeting his shoulders, slightly pushing him away. ”Mingi—”, ”Don’t lie,” he interrupted once again, making you blink in confusion.

”Don’t act like you don’t enjoy this,” he smiled, his kisses traveling further and further down your neck. His hand moved your silk robe to the side, revealing your shoulders. ”I know you do.” You gasped when his teeth sunk into the flesh of your now exposed shoulder.

”I’d bet you’re so turned on right now,” he whispered. You squirmed, a newfound energy making you fight back finally. You pushed him off, sitting up to get away from him. It wasn’t long until he wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you back down into the bed with him.

”Please, just let me go out with my friends tonight, I won’t tell him—” you stopped yourself this time, realizing how weak you sounded. How utterly pitiful and pathetic your tone rang in your ears. ”You really don’t understand, do you?” Mingi said in amusement.

He stood up, unlocking and opening the door. You watched as he pointed towards the open door with his hand. ”Why don’t you go ahead and tell Wooyoung, hm?” Mingi said, waiting for you do dart towards the door, which you did a second later.

You ran to the kitchen, looking back at Mingi, who slowly exited his room, his arms crossed and a look in his eye that you could only describe as evil.

You found Wooyoung in the kitchen, preparing dinner for him and Mingi. ”Hey babe—woah,” his eyes widened when he saw your panicked and disheveled state, the thin robe almost falling off of your body.

”What’s going on?” he asked with urgency. ”It’s Mingi, he— he—” your breath caught in your throat, the panic catching up to you. You looked back, seeing Mingi enter the kitchen with slow steps, looking deep into not your eyes, but Wooyoung’s. You looked back at Wooyoung, wrapping your arms around him as if it would keep you safe from the man behind you. Wooyoung smirked without you seeing it, his eyes still stuck on Mingi’s.

”What’s wrong baby?” he asked, rubbing your back soothingly. You sniffled into his shoulder, and finally felt your shoulders starting to relax at Wooyoung’s next words. ”Mingi, why don’t you leave us for a minute?”

You heard the tall man’s footsteps slowly fade away, making your fear dial down just a tiny bit. Wooyoung sat you down by the table, his warm hands slowly leaving your shoulders. ”I’ll get you a glass of water,” he stated. ”Tell me what happened.”

You took a deep breath. ”I was just looking for my dress for tonight, oh shoot— I almost forgot that I’m going out,” you looked around, searching for a clock somewhere. Finally finding one, you realized that you were going to be late. ”Shit, I have to—”, ”No, shh baby,” Wooyoung came back with your water. ”I’m sure they’ll be fine with you being a little late,” he reassured you, pulling out a chair to sit down next to you.

You sighed, taking a big sip of water. ”Anyway I entered Mingi’s room, and well— In his closet,” your voice was shaky, brimming with fear. Wooyoung pushed the glass towards you, to which you took another big sip. ”Woo, I found my things, and— and I found pictures and—”, ”Shh, shh,” he hushed you, inching closer to you and placing his warm hand on the backside of your neck, rubbing soothing circles into it.

”Let’s just calm down,” Wooyoung said. Your looked at him, blinking in confusion. ”You’re really worked up right now, and—”, ”Of course I’m worked up! Do you have any idea of how scared I was—”

”Calm down, please.” Wooyoung interrupted, his grip on your neck tightening ever so slightly. ”Have some more water, and then we can talk about this.”

You were about to question him, but finally obeyed his wish, finishing the glass. ”Do you want to go to my room instead?” Wooyoung asked and you immediately nodded, following him into the room with hurried steps, but as soon as you were on your feet, you felt an odd sensation. Your vision was slightly blurry, but you figured it was nothing.

When you were finally positioned on Wooyoung’s bed, you noticed how the moments you experienced seemed to blur together. You blinked, trying to gather your senses.

”Baby? You alright?” he asked, wrapping his arms around you once again. You felt your eyelids starting to close together, small whines escaping your lips in confusion. ”Let’s lie down,” you heard Wooyoung’s voice, but as if in the distance. The last thing you saw before you finally lost consciousness was the sight of Mingi standing in the doorway, just like you imagined that night you had prayed to forget.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

”I can’t believe you’re such an idiot,” Wooyoung laughed, resting his head in Mingi’s lap. Mingi’s fingers slowly ran through your boyfriend’s dark locks. ”Oh come on, we were going to do this sooner or later,” Mingi argued, eyes lingering on Wooyoung’s.

You heard the two’s voices, but it was as if you couldn’t grasp reality. You couldn’t fully reach your senses quite yet, you could just hear and feel slight sensations, but not enough to know if you were truly awake.

”Imagine her cute little face when she sees that you’re responsible for this,” Mingi said, interrupted by his own giggles. ”Turns out her sweet little boyfriend wasn’t so sweet after all.”

Right after Mingi uttered those words, Wooyoung seemed to pick up on something, his head twisting around towards you. He slowly crawled towards where you lay on the floor. ”Baby?” he smiled, hand meeting your cold cheek.

Your eyes slowly opened up, laying themselves on Wooyoung’s wide smile, his anticipating eyes. As your senses came back, you noticed something rough against your skin, slithered around your legs and arms.

You let out a small involuntary moan of discomfort, eyes searching the room. You saw the thick rope around your body, and you felt as if your heart stopped.

”She awake?” a voice said from behind Wooyoung - who was carefully examined your face. ”Mm-hmm, but still a little confused,” Wooyoung said, his smile creeping back onto his face. ”How are you feeling baby?” he said, both thumbs stroking your cheeks.

You tried to speak, but couldn’t utter a single word. ”Hmm, not quite aware yet,” he frowned, backing away from you. Who now entered your field of view made your eyes go wide instantly.

You grew more confused by the second, but also more aware. The slow realization that was happening inside your brain made your heartbeat quicken, as you started struggling in your restraints.

”None of that,” Mingi said, making your head snap towards him.

”What’s going on?” you finally managed to say, now that you were almost completely aware. The two men looked at each other for a second, before Mingi nodded towards your boyfriend.

”Don’t be scared baby, everything’s just fine, okay?” Wooyoung said, coming closer to you again. ”We just thought that you might need some safety precautions,” he said, as if that would clear anything up for you. ”Why am I tied up!?”

Wooyoung took a deep breath. ”We didn’t want you to get scared and try to run off, okay?” he said, trying to grab your face again, to which you immediately flinched from his touch.

”Baby, just listen okay?” you heard Mingi. You almost gasped at his familiarity, when you started to remember the events that occurred before this.

”You creep!” you spat out at Mingi, seeing that annoyingly amused face on him. ”How dare you? What about my poor feelings?” Mingi made fun of you, a childish pout on his lips.

”You’re a stalker!” you said, ”and you!” you directed towards Wooyoung, tears starting to seep out of your eyes. ”You don’t even care?” your volume lowered for every word you said. You couldn’t even keep his eyes opened any more, not wanting to look either of them in the face.

”Listen baby—” Wooyoung tried, but you immediately shut him down. ”Let me go.”

The silence that followed gave you the answer you had been expecting. ”You don’t have to pretend anymore, baby,” Wooyoung said lowly. ”I know you’ve been into Mingi for a while now,” you opened your mouth in disbelief.

”Oh, come on,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes playfully. ”I’ve seen the way you look at him,” he inched closer. ”The way you react when he looks at you.”

”That’s not true—” you said, voice cracking as tears continued to flow down your face. Wooyoung’s fingers wiped them away as he hummed. ”Then why haven’t you told me about how he’s been acting?”

Your eyes shot open again. ”Why haven’t you told me about that night when he touched you like that? When he looked at you like that?” Wooyoung’s breath fanned your face, his lips almost touching yours as he spoke. As much as you tried to inch away from him, his strong hand holding your head in place made it impossible.

”It’s okay to be attracted to him,” he smiled. ”But pretending that you don’t, is not.”

You gasped when Wooyoung’s lips crashed against yours, his tongue exploring your mouth without your consent. When he finally disconnected from you, his face wore an unreadable expression.

”What’s the point of lying anymore, hm? Why don’t we all share our little secrets?” Mingi proposed, standing up, making Wooyoung turn his head before also raising to stand.

You watched as Wooyoung’s arms snaked around Mingi’s waist from behind him. ”You think it’s a coincidence that you had to move? Have you ever really thought about why your roommate started acting like that out of the blue?” Mingi asked. Wooyoung laughed into Mingi’s shoulder.

You took your eyes off of the two, slowly shaking your head as you started to realize what he was implying. ”That’s right,” Wooyoung sang. ”Think it was just a coincidence that you just had to move out so suddenly?” Mingi mocked. ”If it weren’t for Mingi and his incredible blackmailing abilities, you wouldn’t be here in the first place,” Wooyoung informed.

You felt yourself starting to hyperventilate, the information crashing down on you. ”No,” you sobbed.

”Oh yes,” Mingi said, crouching down to look you in the eyes. ”We both love you, and we would never let anything get in the way of that.”

”Let me go!” you thrashed around in the rope, feeling them burn and tighten against your skin, but you didn’t care. ”Please,” you begged, feeling Mingi come closer and closer to you until he was eventually on top of you on all fours.

”Now you’re all ours baby,” Mingi said with satisfaction, tilting his head to the side before leaning in and whispering. ”And we’ll never let you go.”

a/n: I’VE HEARD YOUR PRAYERS! And yes this was originally a Ten and Johnny x reader fic, but I hope you enjoy this instead!!! Tell me if you want a part two, and thank you all for your support!! I always appreciate your asks/comments!

masterlist

[amxritt]

Stay

Rafe Cameron x f!reader

Summary: inspired by Stay by Gracie Abrams

Word Count: 4.4K

Warnings: angst (lots of it), brief mentions of addiction, uhh more probably idk

“You told me something when I left but I don’t remember. Maybe ‘cause all I could do then was stare at the floor”

The fight had been brewing for weeks. Rafe had been spiraling—late nights, glazed eyes, erratic moods. Y/n felt the weight of it all pressing down on her. She had known something was wrong, had seen the signs, but she had hoped he’d stop before things got this bad.

Now, they stood in his bedroom, the air thick with tension. Rafe paced back and forth like a caged animal, his voice rising with frustration. He shouted about how she didn’t understand, how this wasn’t her problem to fix. Y/n flinched at the sharpness in his tone, staying rooted to the edge of his bed, her gaze fixed firmly on the carpet beneath her feet.

She hated when he yelled. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried to shield herself from the storm brewing inside him.

“You don’t get it, Y/n,” Rafe spat, his voice breaking. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. This is my life.”

“And I care about it!” she shot back, finally looking up. Her voice wavered, but her resolve didn’t. “I care about you, Rafe. But I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself.”

He froze mid-step, his back to her. For a moment, she thought he might actually listen. But then he shook his head, muttering something under his breath she couldn’t quite catch.

Y/n exhaled shakily, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to scream at him, shake him until he understood how much this was breaking her. But all she could do was sit there, staring at the floor as the words she wanted to say died in her throat.

“I held myself ‘cause you wouldn’t, all wrapped in my sweatshirt Wonder if you even noticed that that one was yours”

The room was chilly despite the summer heat outside. The Camerons always kept the AC cranked up, and the breeze from the window only made it worse. Y/n pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around them. She was wearing a hoodie—one of Rafe’s, though she doubted he’d noticed.

He had given it to her back when they were sophomores, one night after a bonfire when she’d forgotten to bring a jacket. She’d meant to return it, but somehow it had become hers. Rafe never seemed to mind; he used to say it looked better on her anyway.

Now, as she sat there clutching the fabric like a lifeline, she wondered if he even remembered that it was his. Probably not. Not with how high he was right now. His eyes were glassy, his movements erratic. He didn’t seem to notice much of anything anymore.

“And maybe I should’ve, but I never told you, ‘I’m sorry.’ Know that I tried, but my words always got in the way.”

That night was the breaking point. Y/n had stood in his doorway, tears streaming down her face as she told him she couldn’t do this anymore.

“I can’t watch you hurt yourself, Rafe,” she had said, her voice cracking. “I love you too much to stand by and do nothing. But I can’t save you. You have to want to save yourself.”

He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, his jaw clenched, his hands curled into fists at his sides. She waited for him to stop her, to say something—anything—that would make her stay. But he didn’t.

As she turned to leave, he muttered something under his breath. She couldn’t hear it over the pounding in her ears.

Now, months later, she replayed that night over and over in her head. She wished she had stayed longer, had said something different. She wished she had told him she was sorry—for leaving, for not being enough to make him stop. But the words never came out right, no matter how many times she rehearsed them in her head.

“Could you hold me without any talking? We could try to go back where we started ”

Y/n’s day had been hell. Her parents had been on her case all morning, snapping at her for things that weren’t even her fault. By the time they told her to “go stay at a friend’s house” for the night, she felt like she was about to break.

Typically, when stuff like this happened, she just went to Rafe’s, but she hadn’t talked to him since that night a few months ago.

She ended up at the beach—their beach. It was a quiet, secluded spot they had discovered years ago. It had always been their escape, their sanctuary. Now it was just another place that reminded her of him.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, she pulled out her phone and stared at his name in her contacts. She shouldn’t call him. She knew that. But the weight of the day was too much to carry alone.

She had called him a few times since that night, and each time he picked up right away and stayed on the line, even though she would never actually talk to him. She just needed to hear his breathing. She needed to know he hadn’t overdosed, that he was okay.

Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before she pressed call.

He picked up on the first ring.

“Y/n?” His voice was rough, but there was a softness to it that made her chest ache.

She didn’t say anything for a moment, struggling to find the words. Finally, she whispered, “Can I come over?”

“I don’t even have to stay”

Rafe didn’t say anything when she showed up at his door, just stepped aside to let her in.

They didn’t talk as she changed into one of his t-shirts and climbed into bed beside him. He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over hers, before she turned to him and whispered, “Can you just hold me?”

He nodded, pulling her close. She felt the tension in his body slowly melt away as they lay there in the dark, their breathing syncing.

“Don’t worry, I won’t stay,” Y/n whispered, breaking the silence.

“It’s okay if you do,” Rafe whispered, but Y/n cut him off, “I won’t.”

For a little while, it felt like nothing had changed. Like they were still the kids who spent their summers on the beach, dreaming about a future that didn’t seem so far away.

But morning always came too soon.

When Rafe woke up, she was gone. Her side of the bed was cold, her clothes neatly folded at the foot of his bed.

“I don’t remember the last time I heard from your sister, Didn’t expect to, but I sorta thought that I would.”

Y/n had always been close to Wheezie, even when she and Rafe were arguing. They spent countless days together shopping, watching movies, having spa nights, and talking about everything and nothing. She was like the little sister Y/n always wanted.

Rafe would sometimes barge in, rolling his eyes at whatever ridiculous movie they were watching, but Y/n would catch the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Those nights felt safe. Whole.

After Y/n left, she half-expected Wheezie to text her, to ask if she was okay or if they could still hang out like they used to. But weeks turned into months, and the silence stretched out between them.

Y/n thought about reaching out herself, but every time she opened her phone, the weight of what had happened with Rafe stopped her. What would she even say? That she missed her? That she wasn’t sure if she could face Rafe’s family without falling apart?

Sometimes, she’d scroll through old photos of them together, her heart aching for the easy sister-like bond they had. Wheezie’s smile stared back at her from the screen—bright, carefree, and untouched by the storm that had torn everything apart.

“Wish I could tell you by now that i felt more indifferent”

Y/n sat with her knees to her chest on the beach, their beach—the one where they had spent countless evenings watching the sun melt into the ocean. The waves stretched out before her, their rhythmic crash and retreat, a cruel reminder of the ebb and flow of her relationship with Rafe.

She always knew walking away would be hard, but she thought she’d feel more indifferent by now, that the ache in her chest would dull over time. Instead, every day felt like a battle against memories that refused to stay buried.

She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply, trying to ground herself. But the moment she did, images of Rafe flooded her mind: his lopsided grin when he teased her, the way his hand lingered on hers, the quiet moments when his walls came down, and he let her see the man he could be.

“Why can’t I let you go?” she whispered, her voice trembling. The wind carried her words out to the sea, where they dissolved like everything else she’d tried to hold onto.

A seagull called overhead, snapping her back to the present. She ran her fingers through the sand, letting the grains slip through them. She wanted to feel indifferent. She needed to feel indifferent. But how do you stop caring about someone who was your whole world? She would give anything to have him back, but not until he quit the drugs.

“Catch myself thinking about you more than I should”

Y/n stood in line at the coffee shop, waiting for her order, when a man with Rafe’s build walked through the door. Her breath caught, her heart skipping a beat before logic kicked in. It wasn’t him.

But for those few seconds, her mind betrayed her, painting a picture of what it would be like if it were him. Would he smile at her? Would his eyes light up the way they used to when they saw her? Or would he look past her, as if the memories they shared were as distant to him as they were vivid to her?

Even in moments like this, she caught herself thinking about him. She wondered what he was doing now, if he was happy, if he ever thought about her too. It had been months since they’d spoken, and yet he was still there, lingering in the corners of her mind.

“And maybe I should’ve but I never told you I miss you I almost said it but don’t know if you feel the same.”

The fluorescent lights of the grocery store buzzed as Y/n walked down the produce aisle, her list in hand. She was focused on selecting the ripest lemons, reaching on her tiptoes to get them off the top shelf, when a familiar hand reached past hers and plucked one off the shelf.

She looked up, and her heart stopped. It was Rafe.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. His presence was like a punch to the gut—familiar and painful all at once. He looked healthier, steadier, but his eyes still held that same quiet sadness she knew too well.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Y/n swallowed hard, her mind racing. She wanted to say something, to bridge the gap between them. I miss you, she thought. The words sat on the tip of her tongue, heavy and unspoken.

Instead, she managed a weak smile. “Hey.”

They stood there, awkward and unsure. She wanted to ask how he’d been, if he was happy, if he ever thought about her. But the fear of what his answers might be kept her silent.

As he walked away, her heart ached with all the things she wished she had said. He was respecting the boundaries she had set, and she was grateful for that, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what she could’ve said. Maybe I should’ve told him. Maybe it would’ve changed something. Or maybe it wouldn’t have mattered at all.

“Could you hold me without any talking? We could try to go back where we started I don't even have to stay”

Y/n sat cross-legged on her bed, absently scrolling through her phone when it buzzed. Rafe’s name lit up the screen.

She wasn’t expecting it, but her thumb hovered for only a moment before she answered. “Rafe?” she said softly.

The line was silent except for the sound of his uneven breathing. Her heart sank. “Rafe, are you okay?” she asked, her voice tight with worry.

Finally, he spoke, his voice strained and shaky. “I…I need your help.”

Y/n sat up straight, her pulse quickening. “Where are you?”

A pause followed before he replied, “I’m at Topper’s.” His words were slurred, and she could tell he’d been drinking. “Listen, Y/n/n, you… you don’t have to do this.”

“Rafe, it’s fine. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

She didn’t hesitate. Throwing on her shoes and grabbing her keys, she was out the door.

When she arrived, Rafe sat slouched on the front porch, his head in his hands. As she pulled up, he stood slowly and made his way to the car. Sliding into the passenger seat, he looked at her with tired, bloodshot eyes.

“Thank you… for coming,” he muttered.

“Of course,” Y/n said softly. “You called.”

Her voice was calm, steady—exactly what he needed. Rafe didn’t respond, but the corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile.

The drive back to Tannyhill was silent. When they arrived, Rafe hesitated before opening the car door.

“Can you… come in?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n nodded. “Yeah, I can.”

Inside, as he opened his bedroom door, she noticed his hands—bruised, scratched, and swollen knuckles.

“Rafe!” she gasped, reaching for his hand. Her heart raced as they touched. She hadn’t felt his touch in so long. “What happened?”

He pulled his hand back, avoiding her gaze. “It’s nothing. Just… got into a little disagreement,” he mumbled, dropping his keys on the dresser.

“Rafe…” she began, her tone firm, but she stopped when she saw the exhaustion in his eyes. “Here, let me clean it up.”

In the bathroom, she sat him down on the closed toilet seat and retrieved the first aid kit. Quietly, she began tending to his cuts.

He didn’t flinch when she dabbed rubbing alcohol on the wounds, but she noticed the way his jaw tightened. Neither of them spoke as she worked, her touch gentle and precise.

When she finished, she stood and said, “Go get in bed. I’ll clean this up and be right there.”

By the time she returned to his room, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders slouched. He glanced at her as she walked in, shifting to make space for her beside him.

Y/n slid into bed, and they lay there in the dark, the faint hum of the air conditioning the only sound. Rafe wrapped his arms around her, holding her like she was his anchor to the world. She held him just as tightly, resting her head against his chest.

No words were spoken. None were needed.

“If I woke up with you in the morning I’d forget all the ways that we’re broken I don’t care if you’ve changed, I don’t even have to stay”

Morning light filtered through the blinds, painting golden streaks across the room. Y/n woke slowly, her senses adjusting to the warmth of Rafe’s arms wrapped around her. For a moment, she forgot the heartbreak, the arguments, and the nights spent crying herself to sleep.

She stayed still, savoring the rare peace. His breathing was steady, his chest rising and falling against her back. It felt like old times, like they were still those carefree kids.

Quietly, she slipped out of bed and made her way to the kitchen. She brewed coffee, cooked eggs, and relished the grounding normalcy of it all.

When she returned with a tray of food and Advil, Rafe was awake, propped up on one elbow, watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

“I thought you’d left,” he said, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

She set the tray down and sat beside him. “I just wanted to make sure you had food and Advil,” she said softly.

“Thank you.” He reached out and took her hand, his touch hesitant. “Look, Y/n, I-I know you said you wouldn’t…” His voice faltered, as if the words were too heavy. “Until I… Until I stopped. But do you ever think we could—”

“Don’t,” she cut him off gently, her voice steady. It hurt to see him like this, a shadow of the confident man she remembered. “Rafe… I meant what I said. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be here for you. Even if you haven’t gotten better yet… I’ll still be here when you need me.”

Her voice trailed off, and he nodded, understanding despite the hurt. For now, they had this moment—fleeting, imperfect, but theirs.

She didn’t stay much longer, not wanting to overstep. As she walked to the door, Rafe stopped her. “Will you ever stop leaving?”

Turning to face him, she gave a sad, genuine smile. “I’ll stop leaving when you get better, Rafe. I promise.”

With that, she walked out of the Cameron house. Leaving him was never easy, but she knew it was the only way for him to heal.

Authors note: Long story for my first post, I hope you like it! I take requests but I'm not sure how to set that up yet so messages, comments, or whatever works if you want to send one in. I am tempted to make a part 2 to this, so if anyone is interested lmk!

[shybluebirdninja]

Bite-Sized Betrayal

Summary: When Logan realizes your blowjob is too good to be a “first-timer” move, he launches a full-blown “detective mission,” trying to uncover the truth of your “so-called innocence.”

Pairing            : Logan Howlett x Gf!Human-reader

Note                : Fluff, suggestive themes

Logan’s jealousy is always kinda… cute. For a guy who’s survived literal wars, he’s got no clue how to handle feelings that aren’t anger or fighting. And now? Oh, you had him in a real mood.

It all started when you decided to surprise him with a little something extra. Y’know, testing out that thing you read about online. A blowjob. Logan being your first—and let’s be real, only—boyfriend, you thought you were doing okay. More than okay, apparently, because halfway through, he completely froze.

“Whoa, whoa, babe,” Logan said, pulling back with a hand on your shoulder, eyes narrowed. “That was a little too good.”

You sat there, blinking up at him, wondering what the hell he was talking about. “Uh… thanks?”

But he wasn’t letting it go. The Wolverine squinted at you like he was analyzing every moment of your past life. “No way you’re that good at this without practice.”

Now, let’s be real here—you know Logan. He’s got this whole rough-and-tough exterior, but the second something doesn’t fit into his perfectly controlled world, he turns into a paranoid mess. And today? That paranoia was locked and loaded.

“Logan…” You started to say, but the man was already up, pacing like he was solving some kinda murder mystery. He ran his hands through his wild hair, muttering something under his breath.

“Who was it?” he suddenly growled, turning to face you like you had just admitted to world domination.

“Who was what?” You blinked, trying so hard not to laugh.

“The guy,” he said, jabbing a finger in your direction. “Who taught ya? Some douchebag in college? Or maybe that asshole at the bar last month—you did talk to him for a bit.”

Now, it’s one thing to have your tough boyfriend jealous, but this? This was next-level ridiculous. You sat back, biting your lip to stop yourself from bursting into laughter. “Logan, babe, what are you talking about? You’re literally my first.”

He narrowed his eyes, clearly not buying it. “Don’t gimme that, darlin’. No one’s that good the first time.” He crossed his arms like he was about to grill you with hard evidence. “I’ve been around the block, ya know.”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. The laughter came out before you could stop it, making Logan scowl even harder.

“This isn’t funny,” he snapped, pacing again. “I’m serious. I’m startin’ to think you’re hidin’ somethin’.”

“Logan, for the love of—” You wiped away the tears of laughter, finally getting up to stand in front of him. “I’m not hiding anything! You’re my first boyfriend. You know that.”

“Yeah, but that move—” He pointed vaguely toward the couch, still frowning. “That was some professional-level shit.”

You couldn’t stop giggling, and it only made him more irritated. He ran his hand down his face and groaned. “Alright, tell me the truth. You’ve been Googlin’ this stuff, haven’t ya?”

You almost doubled over. “You think I Googled how to give you a blowjob?!”

“Well, I don’t know!” Logan growled, frustration dripping from his voice. “Maybe you did. I’m just sayin’… that was too good to be natural.”

“Logan,” you said through fits of giggles, “I’m not some secret blowjob expert, okay? Maybe I’m just, I don’t know, naturally talented?”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly still unconvinced. “Nah. Somethin’ doesn’t add up here.”

You threw your hands up, finally losing your patience. “Okay, so what are you gonna do, Sherlock? You gonna interrogate every guy I’ve ever spoken to? ‘Hey, did she happen to give you a blowjob once upon a time?’”

Logan actually looked like he was considering it for a second, and you lost it all over again. This man, this absolute idiot, was serious.

He huffed, crossing his arms again like he’d already decided on his next move. “Look, babe, I just don’t like not knowin’ things, alright?”

“Oh my God, you’re jealous because I’m good at blowjobs. That’s what this is about.”

Logan’s cheeks actually flushed. He muttered something about it “not being like that,” but you knew better. This was the same guy who once picked a fight with someone for glancing at you in a diner. Of course, he was jealous.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Logan sighed. “Alright, fine. Maybe I’m a little jealous. I just… don’t want anyone else takin’ credit for somethin’ we’re supposed to figure out together.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “You mean you don’t want anyone else getting the benefits of my natural talent?”

Logan shot you a look but didn’t say anything, clearly trying to figure out how to navigate this weird conversation. Finally, he huffed again. “Alright, fine. But for the record… there’s a right way to do it, and I could show ya.”

You raised an eyebrow, biting back more laughter. “Oh, you’re gonna give me a lesson now?”

He nodded, dead serious. “Damn straight. Been around long enough to know what works and what don’t. Consider it… proper education.”

[sloaneispunk]

“it’s all fun & games”

frontman!in-ho x you

a certain sweetheart in the game knows in-ho’s real identity, but will she care when in-ho feels the same way about her?

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒.

“let’s go one round and introduce ourselves, it’s lame calling everyone by their numbers.” you chipped in excitedly, hand rest on the palm of your hands as you eyed in-ho.

he knew the game you were playing, you just wanted to see how long he could keep his identity concealed.

“i’m jung-bae.”

“i’m dae-ho.”

“my name’s jun-hee.”

“and i’m seong gi-hun.”

“i’m y/n and i guess that just leaves you.” you pointed to in-ho who was nervously looking down at the floor.

“i-i’m… young-il.” he said in a low voice.

“young-il!” you giggled, “hey, that matches your number! i wonder if it’s a coincidence!”

“ah, she’s right! 0-1, young-il!” junb-bae clapped his hands as the team laughed.

but in-ho couldn’t care less, he gave you a glare as you tirled a few strands of your hair between your fingers.

this was going to be fun.

even as big of a compromise as you were to his plan, in-ho found himself liking it. not only was it a challenge, but he got to see the cheeky, not-so innocent side of you that no one else could.

by now, he was almost a hundred percent positive that you knew exactly who he was, the frontman. but did he care? no. it was all fun and games, just a little tiny ruse of yours to keep him on his toes.

that night when everyone was tucked into their beds, getting ready to sleep, in-ho sneakily walked up to the side of your bed.

“can i help you?” you chirped, eyes doe-wided as you smiled at him. but he saw right through, you wsnted this to happen.

“what do you think you’re doing?” he gritted out, sitting down beside your bed.

“trying to sleep but some bozo won’t let me.” you scoffed playfully, laughung at your own joke while in-ho didn’t even crack a smile. “what do you want?”

“what do i want? i want you to stop whatever games you’re playing here.” he said sternly, “i don’t know how you figured it out, but they don’t know so keep it down!”

“can’t a girl have some fun?” you looked at him with a pout on your lips. “isn’t it more exciting for you this way, i know you like the thrill as much as i do.”

in-ho took a hold of your jacket, giving you no choice but to lean down towards him, face centermeters away from him as you felt his breath on your cheek.

“look, i don’t care that you have anything to do with the game, i really don’t!” you lifted your arms up subtly in surrender. “but i gotta say, you’re pretty hot for the frontman.”

“yeah? is this what you wanted? you just couldn’t help yourself, huh? you needed my attention?”

“maybe.” you shrugged, causing him to shake his head, chuckling in disbelief.

“you’re something else, y’know?”

“all for you.”

after that, you both went to bed. your mind was racing. was this really going to end well? maybe it was just a stupid crush you had on him, it didn’t really matter. but in-ho had other plans, he’s never met someone so sweet yet cunning at the same time. you had awoken a flame inside of him that he swore was already gone.

during breakfast the next day, you sat close to in-ho legs and arms touching as you got comfortable beside him.

“so what’s your real name?” you whispered to him as the others carried on with their conversation.

“you gonna tell anyone, you minx?” he teased, smiling down at you.

“i promise i won’t.”

“it’s in-ho.”

“in-ho, huh? that goes pretty well with y/n.”

he laughed out loud at your obvious flirting, making the others stop to look at you both.

“sorry.” you apologised to the team as they resumed their talk.

when it came to the ‘six-legged pentathlon’ game, you were paired with in-ho, gi-hun, jung-bae and dae-ho.

“oh, inh-i mean young-il, which game do you think you’ll be good at?” you asked, purposefully slipping up to get a rise out of him once more.

in-ho clenched his fist, he knew it was intentional.

“uh, spinning top, i suppose.” he replied.

“great!” you cheered as the game began.

when it came to your turn, everyone was at the brink of either puking or shitting themselves. yet somehow, you remained composed. in-ho took glances of you many times but he couldn’t figure out how you of all people were so calm.

little did he know, you already knew there was no way you would be able to fail these games. for god’s sake, you had the frontman here with you. and if you would’ve guessed? he wasn’t going to stand there and watch you get shot doen by the guards, you knew you already meant more to him than that.

as an act of revenge for your little ‘slip-up’ earlier, in-ho ensured to fail multiple times at his game, making the team even more so uneasy than they already were. he had to admit, it was satisfying to finally see some hints lf fear in your eyes as he failed.

but eventually, the team had made it out alive at the very last second. you let out a deep breath that you were subconsciously holding in.

“scared now?” a voice came from behind.

you whipped your head around, but was only met with the mischievous grin of in-ho.

“are you fuckin’ crazy?!” you practically yelled at him.

in-ho pulled you into the bathroom as the team continued to make their way to the room without you.

“will you shut up?” he scolded, holding you against the wall.

“you’re telling me you did that on purpose?!”

“wasn’t it ‘exciting��?” he mocked you from earlier, causing you to roll your eyes. “and you’re not so innocent too, calling me by my real name in front of everyone like that?”

“it’s my way of flirting.” you joked, snorting a laugh as he gently put you down.

“flirting?”

“yeah, can’t you tell?” you questioned. “and i think it’s starting to rub off on you too.”

you weren’t wrong. in-ho didn’t only find himself liking your cocky remarks more, but he started to copy them too.

“you’re a minx you know that?” he said.

“i know, and you love it.”

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒.

a/n: this is a lil twist on the sweetheart!reader x in-ho trope and i think it’s pretty cute! i’m still a sucker for lee byung hum, send help.

[zepskies]

Aw welcome back, Wayne!! 😘 I'm so happy to hear that you've been thinking of this series. 🥰 And I'm so excited to see what you thought of Part 2...

I'm so in love with their little bonding sessions. Being stuck inside a cabin and playing games? I want that 😍

Aww it's the little moments with Dean that I would so love -- along with just being snowed in, in a cabin with him. 😏

And lol it's gotta be so awkward for true mates when they're still strangers. I absolutely adored her thought process throughout 😆

Lolll YEP exactly. 😆 Like, realistically how do you broach that conversation with someone? I'm glad you liked that attempt to inject some realism there. 🤣

Love how Dean doesn't realize he's oversharing and that his whole childhood might not have been normal 😂

ahaha Dean got so into his story he didn't realize he was giving himself away there! Bit of a rookie move, but she's his literal soulmate, so he's probably a little distracted. 🤪

And oh God, all those journal entries 😭😭😭 I know they're from the OG journal, but it just rips my heart right out again rereading it 😢 Those portray John's despair and heartbreak way better than the show did...

Girl I had never read the official journal, and it hit me in the feels in just the same way. 😭 I had that exact same thought -- that they served to humanize John and explain why he became the way he was with the boys way better than the show did.

Ooooh, let's think about it, shall we? 😏 Her dad might have totally been snatched by something supernatural. Considering their location and how it happened in her memories, it might have been a Wendigo?? 🤔

Ooh you're red-hot! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Dude! Goosebumps! Wendigos scare the shit outta me 🙈 It's still why The Descent is the scariest movie for me. I die from a heart attack every time 😂 🫣

ooooh my God, I haven't seen The Descent, but if it's anything like the Wendigo episode, than I don't wanna know. 😭 Legit when I was first starting to watch SPN I had to take a break after that episode -- and it was only episode 2!! 😩

No! Alex!!!! YOU KNOW THIS IS WHY I HATE SNOOPING Girl, you're killing me here... 😆😆

LOLL I love that you referenced Smoke Eater -- it's those same vibes from Part 8, isn't it? I have a little less sympathy for the reader in this situation, but she is ultimately sorry for going through his private journal/invading his privacy to the nth degree. 😅

OMGG I LOVED that gif of the little polar bear. 🥹🥹 Took me right out with the cuteness lmao. I laughed so hard at all your commentary with the reader and her lack of bear knowledge. 😝

N'aw, I know it was necessary but poor bear – wrong place, wrong time for the fella 🥺💔

Aww I know, I felt bad for writing that part. Poor Ted. 😭😭

My heart is full 😭❤️❤️❤️ (Also, I doubt he can ever stand to let her go her own way after this lmao)

Ha! You're right about that one. I just love me some protective Alpha Dean. 😏

Huh. Never eaten bear before... Never even thought about it before lol Also seems like something the Shaws would've done 😂

Me either lmao, but I've read about people who actually hunt for a living who survive off bear, caribou, bison, etc. I imagine it's a hard way to live, but omg yeah I could see Ashton making his kids learn how to shoot, but them not wanting to shoot a bear or a deer. 😭

Omg I love that ending! Dean's finally coming around, and she's putting the puzzle pieces about her dad together. I wonder what Dean will do when he hears the full story? Would he go hunt the thing? Is it even still out there??? Questions upon questions... 🤔

Aw I'm glad! Yesss it's about time with him lol. Good thing all your questions there will be answered in Part 3...

So excited for the next part!! I'm loving this story and everything you've put in it, and the dynamic between them is amazing. So well done, friend 😍🩵🩵

Aw thank you so much, my friend!! I tried to balance the slower "getting to know you" parts with some of this actiony/dramatic stuff as they slowly grow closer. 🥰💜💜

Also, don't think I forgot about the last two chapters of Polaris. I'm so looking forward to diving into those chapters soon!! 😘

Against the Wind - Part 2

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback on Part 1! Now, most of your theories and questions will be answered...

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, and peril, the other kind of "hunting."

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 2: Seems Like Yesterday

“I’ll raise you 25,” you say, tossing five chocolate covered pretzels into the middle pile. It’s a risky bet, considering how much you lost in the last hand. Dean regards you with an amused, if critical eye while he holds his cards.

“Ooh, you’re bluffing,” he says. You pop your brows at him, a subtle smile tugging at your lips.

“You want to test that theory? Put your money where your mouth is,” you challenge.

He tilts his head at you with a raise of his own brows.

“Cheeky omega,” he mutters. His attention returns to his cards as he deliberates on his next move.

You attempt to be nonchalant as you glance down at your cards again. It’s a shitty hand, but he doesn’t need to know that. The alpha’s won the last two hands of Texas Hold ‘Em, but you did win the first one. Though you suspect he let you win.

You want to at least even the score before he resumes his work out in the shed. He spends most of his time there during the day, or making sure the firewood is stocked. It seems like he takes any excuse not to spend too much time in your presence.

More than anything, you want to ask him if he feels what you feel—the same tug in the pit of your stomach every time he’s nearby. You just haven’t found a way to broach that with him.

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too?

You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

So you have to be content with mornings like this and in the evenings, where he lets you put on one of his records, and you two share dinner together, maybe another round of cards. Or you’ll read a book while lounging on the chaise, and he lays out on the couch, listening to his music with his eyes closed. You like watching him like that, with a relaxed, damn near peaceful set to his face.

Too often he holds that harder, stoic expression, or that divot between his brows that makes you want to soothe two of your fingers there; or better yet, lean in and press your lips—

“It’s your move,” Dean reminds you. He’s finally played his hand, but you were too distracted to hear what he said.

“What’d you do?” you ask, surveying the piles of cards.

“Call,” he repeats, popping a few pretzels into his mouth. He washes it down with beer and more barbeque chips. Those are worth $10 in this little fantasy betting. He points a finger towards you with the same hand that holds his beer, teasing, “You got all the lights on in there? Or am I boring you?”

You glance up at him, fighting a smile. “All right, keep your pants on. Let me see…”

As the dealer, he’s already turned over the River: the last card in the hand. It’s a 10 of Clubs, which means your One Pair is actually a Two Pair. It’s still not a great hand, but it’s decent enough to maybe let you get the best of your opponent.

After you go “all in,” Dean’s lips twitch at a smile, and he humors you, going all in as well. You’re on tenterhooks when he finally reveals his hand.

“Ooh, it ain’t a cheesy ‘90s sitcom, but it’s still…a Full House,” he brags as he lays out each card in a smooth line of overlapping cards, the mix of glossy red diamonds and black spades showing the truth. He won again.

You huff in defeat, your shoulders sinking in your seat at the kitchen table. You turn over your measly hand. Sweeping the winnings toward himself (a mound of chocolate covered pretzels, a stack of barbecue chips, and a handful of Oreos), Dean chuckles and tosses you a wink.

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve been hustlin’ poker for a long time. Hell, I’ve been playing this game before I even knew my times tables,” he says as he collects the cards.

“That young?” you reply. “Who taught you?”

“My dad,” he says. “Oh, believe me, I used to get my ass kicked many a’ time, but by the time I turned sixteen, I was hustlin’ grown ass men in skeevy bars out of their daily paycheck.”

“You were hanging out in bars at sixteen?” you ask incredulously. There, Dean seems to realize he’s said too much. He becomes more guarded as he puts away the deck and cleans the crumbs off the table.

“My dad was always working. You could say I didn’t really have a curfew,” he says.

“A latchkey kid, huh?” you reply, hiding the way you’re trying so hard to glean any more hints of truth between his words.

“Heh, yeah.” He gets up from the table and tosses the breakfast dishes in the sink, then travels to the front door to don his jacket and boots.

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says.

Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’ve learned another small tidbit about him, one that feels more important than it seems on the surface. And yet, it only elicits more questions you doubt he’ll be willing to answer so easily. He’s more than tight-lipped about his past, only giving vague outlines and general pictures.

Even his stories—like being raised up in a family of traveling mechanics, putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo when he was a kid, or the guy’s serious fear of clowns—feel like they’re missing some key details.

You decide to take up your crutches and head for your room. There you unearth the journal from its hiding place under your pillow. This time, you turn to the very beginning. Before all the jargon about mythology (and an odd footnote about a “Turducken Slammer”), there are actual journal entries. The first one dates back to November 6, 1983. The first line already captures your attention.

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

He writes about their house burning with all their memories inside, along with Mary. Somehow, he saw her pinned bloody to the ceiling.

Along with these pages is a clipping from a news story:

House Fire Kills Mother of Two

Lawrence, Kansas.

You’re spellbound by it all. You keep reading.

November 13, 1983

…Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe—the safe with Mary’s old diaries, the boys’ savings bonds, what little jewelry we had…all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?

The police don’t believe his story, about how she died before the fire, about what he saw. So he tries to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t real. Still, he can’t find rest, and he worries about his sons’ safety.

December 4, 1983

I haven’t let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side—or from his brother.

Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he’s trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night.

Sammy cries a lot, wanting his mom. I don’t know how to stop it, and part of me doesn’t want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won’t remember her at all.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

John becomes convinced that someone, or something, started the fire that destroyed his life and took his wife away from him and his sons. He leaves his job and the remnants of that world behind, to venture deeper into the darker one. But in that darkness, he finds truth.

He visits a psychic, Missouri, who leads him back to his house and senses the echoes of an evil presence—something that shakes her to the core, and John too: the creature that killed his wife.

December 20

…She told me that it was the most powerful, awful thing she’s ever come across.

On January 1, 1984, John makes a New Year’s resolution. He determines to find the answers himself.

A shiver runs down your spine. In John’s words, your heart breaks for Dean, but you also see yourself. You try not to think about why.

You keep flipping through the rest of the journal past January. There are translations of a Latin exorcism, and like you read before, strange drawing of evil looking creatures—as well as what they are, scraps of their history, and how to kill them.

Silver bullet to the heart, can’t withstand iron, salt and burn.

You pause on a certain page, more filled with lore than the rest, and a primitive drawing in the center.

WENDIGO

Cree: Evil that devours.

Wood spirit. Eats live flesh. Lives in forests.

Perfect hunter.

Your breath stills in your lungs as a cold sweat forms across your skin. The more you read, the faster your heart beats.

The crunch of dead leaves. Your father shouting at you to run, and keep running.

The coarse shout of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short. You turn around with your rifle in hand, poised to shoot blindly.

Your stomach churns as bile rises into your throat. You feel sick, and wrong, and you suddenly have the urge to throw the journal against the wall.

“Omega?” calls Dean’s sharp voice. “You okay?”

You jolt badly at the sudden noise. You didn’t hear him reenter the house. He likely caught the scent of your distress. He pushes the door of your room open to find you, but he stops short in the doorway. His surprise quickly morphs into a frown when he notices what you’re holding in your lap.

You gasp, freezing where you sit, but there’s no point in trying to cover up what you’ve done. With an angry purse of his lips, he reaches over and takes the journal from your hands.

“What the hell are you doing with this?” he demands.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just—” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I was just curious. I wanted to know more about you. I thought it was…a normal journal.”

“So this is how you go about it, huh? Got everything you wanted, Columbo?” he says, his sarcasm cutting into you. He flips through the journal to make sure all the pages are intact before he tucks the journal under his arm. “Seriously, going into somebody’s stuff? Who the hell raised you?”

At that, you begin to bristle.

“My dad,” you snap back. Though remembering the passages you’ve lived with for the past few hours, you soften with a painful twinge of sympathy in your heart. 

“And it looks like yours raised you to be some kind of…well, what are you, a ghostbuster or something?” you ask.

His jaw locks. “Or something.” 

With an exasperated sigh at his hedging, you swing your legs around the edge of the bed and haul yourself up with your crutches so you can at least match his stance (more or less).

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—”

“Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating.

“The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.” 

Your mouth actually falls open in shock. His vehement words feel almost as powerful as a physical blow, if to your soul. They make your arms tremble while holding yourself upright on your crutches. Hot tears well up in your eyes, though you try to blink them away. After a moment, you’re able to collect yourself enough to speak.

“I’m sorry for going through your stuff,” you say, in a quiet voice.

You hobble awkwardly past him out of the room. You don’t stop until you reach the front door, where your snow boots are. You manage to get them on by yourself so you can go outside and get some fresh air, not to mention some much needed distance from the alpha’s burning presence. You can still feel him trailing behind you. You hear his heavy boots.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grits out.

You hobble faster.

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin. 

The snow depth has lightened somewhat since the storm, but it’s still not easy to navigate on your crutches. You get some distance from the cabin, mindful not to go too far. You know you’re limited, and you didn’t even take a gun with you.

Finding a solid tree to lean on, you rest there and try in vain to stifle your tears. You know you were wrong for snooping, and he had a right to be mad, but did he really have to be such a freakin’ bear? 

Fucking alphas. I swear.

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life. 

Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate?

You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Just then, you hear the crunch of snow nearby. Twigs snapping.

Your body stiffens with a terrible memory—of that day in the woods. Your breath comes out in short puffs on the cold air, your eyes wide as you listen closely.

Hearing nothing, you allow yourself to breathe a little easier. You venture a few paces forward and to the right, but you stop shy of how it slopes downward. Some unnamed feeling tells you to look over the edge.

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

Oh shit…

You remember Dean mentioning something about a bear passing by his cabin a couple of days before the storm. Looks like he’s back to make his rounds.

His fur is dark; from this distance, you can’t tell if it’s a black bear or a grizzly. It doesn’t make much difference when all you have on your person is a can of bear spray. His gait is massive, unhurried, but he lets out a braying sound when your gaze meets his, as if acknowledging you. He stops there for a moment, assessing. Your body locks up with fear.

The bear groans again, this time sharper. You finally snap out of your reverie and force your body to move slowly backward with your crutches spearing into the snow. The cabin isn’t that far, maybe thirty or forty yards at most. Still, the bear can probably beat you.

Instead of trying to run, you stand your ground and shout at the bear, hoping he’ll back off. Your voice dies in your throat when he rears up on his hind legs, with a loud roar. Trembling, you miss a step and get knocked back into the snow on your ass, your crunches falling out at your sides. You scramble inside your jacket for anything that might help you. 

Bear spray!

You hurry to get the cap off with shaking hands, but before you can even aim, the creature’s heave paws thudding into the ground in front of you—a gunshot rings out and hits the animal in the chest. 

The bear falters, then roars in pain and anger.

Two more shots finally bring it down to an even heavier thud, not far from your feet.

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester:

For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach.

Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

Instead, his lips purse as he wracks his rifle and slings the strap of it over his shoulder. He stalks toward you and scoops you up, crutches and all. He brings you back to the cabin without a word.

His jaw is once again locked with silence and strain; he doesn’t trust himself to speak until he’s brought you inside and carried you over to the chaise. He sits beside you there and takes an inventory of you with his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks at last.

You manage to meet his gaze and give a little nod.

“Okay. Don’t move,” he says shortly. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, where he grabs a foldable set of knives and a cooler from under the sink.

You watch him in silence, and you realize he’s going back to gut the bear. You didn’t know that he actually hunted out here…well, hunted to eat. He continues to gather items in silence. It gets to a point where you can’t stand it, or his curtness, any longer.

“Thank you,” you say, halting his steps. Dean glances at you over his shoulder, then continues strapping up his supplies. He huffs in response.

“We’re gonna be eatin’ good for a while,” he says without looking at you. 

His attitude both hurts you and aggravates you, so much that you refuse to take it anymore. 

“Look, Dean. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have butted into your life,” you say. Frustrated tears well up in your eyes. Expelling a sharp sigh, you amend yourself. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy. I’m sorry about what you went through, and I’m…I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry for today. I’ll just…stay out of your way, and I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Dean finally turns your way, but your lips tremble as you turn your face away from him and shut your eyes tightly against the salty burn of tears. Deep inside, his heart withers in his chest. He sighs and drops his supplies on the couch. He walks over with those heavy boots, and he sits on the edge of the chaise beside you. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he rests a warm, calloused hand on your arm and earns your tearful gaze. 

“I’m sorry. I, uh…shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says. 

You sniff, quickly wiping away your embarrassing tears as they come. Your cheeks are hot with it.

“What is it you wanna know? About me,” he asks, surprising you that much more.

 Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out. It takes you some time to think, but the first thing that comes to your mind is…

“Everything in that journal,” you say, licking your dry lips. “Is it real?”

Dean holds your gaze steadily. You know the truth without him having to say it, but he does.

“I was a hunter,” he says. “Those things you read about, I found ‘em. Killed ‘em. It was my job.”

“And now?” you ask, once that large bit of information has time to set into your brain.

His lips tug at a half smile. “Consider me…mostly retired.”

You exhale softly, and you nod. It earns a furrowed look from Dean.

“You don’t seem all that freaked out by this,” he says, with a more scrutinizing gaze on you.

“Should I be?” you say, with an unsteady laugh.

He raises his brows. “In my experience, yeah.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you should even put into words what you’ve been holding onto for months. Like John, no one believed you. Even your own mother had started to look at you like you needed a shrink.

“Omega?” Dean presses. His green eyes are perceptive as they take in the conflicted look on your face. “There something you wanna tell me?”

You deliberate for a moment longer. Then, you release a sigh and glance down at your hands clenching in your lap.

“A few months ago, I lost my dad,” you begin.

Dean nods. “Yeah, you said—”

“I lost him in these woods,” you say.

That quiets the alpha.

You shake your head, and you find your words as the memories that have been haunting your nights return to you.

“Like I said, we used to go hiking here every year…”

AN: Just so you know, all of the journal entries appear in the official "John's Journal" SPN merch. 😉

Next Time:

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name louder, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 3

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[ikkyfics]

Whispers of the Sea

dad!Remus Lupin x mom!reader

Summary: Remus looked at her with a mixture of wonder and reverence. It was as if no matter how many times he held her like this, the miracle of having her there never ceased to amaze him. "Look at that, my little star," he whispered, his voice low and filled with tenderness. "Do you see how the sea seems endless? It's as big as the world waiting for you."

Warnings: flufy, est. relationship, no war au, no use of a baby name, no use of y/n, after hogwarts (obviosly), Remus was born to be a dad

A/N: I hope the quality hasn't dropped here

Masterlist

The salty breeze of the beach was gentle, carrying with it the rhythmic sound of waves breaking on the sand. The sky was painted in soft shades of blue and gold, and the sunlight danced lazily over the water, creating a scene so serene it felt like a dream.

Remus walked slowly, each step sinking slightly into the warm sand. In his arms, his daughter was nestled, her curious little eyes taking in everything around her. She was leaning against his chest, one tiny hand clutching the fabric of his shirt as if that small gesture could ensure she would never drift away from the safe harbor he provided.

He looked at her with a mixture of wonder and reverence. It was as if no matter how many times he held her like this, the miracle of having her there never ceased to amaze him. "Look at that, my little star," he whispered, his voice low and filled with tenderness. "Do you see how the sea seems endless? It's as big as the world waiting for you."

She didn’t respond, of course—she was still too young to understand his words. But the way her eyes sparkled, reflecting the infinite blue of the sky and sea, said she was absorbing it all in her own way. Remus smiled, leaning slightly to let the breeze touch her tiny face.

"Can you feel that?" he asked, his voice almost like a shared secret. "That’s the wind, sweet girl. It comes from places you don’t know yet, but one day... one day you’ll explore every corner of this world. And when that day comes, I’ll be here, helping you find your way."

The baby made a small sound, something between a sigh and a murmur. Remus gently ran a finger over her little face, brushing away a strand of hair that the breeze had stuck to her cheek.

"You know I’d do anything for you, don’t you, my little star?" he murmured, as if making a promise. "I’ll always be here. Always."

She responded in the only way she knew—letting out a soft sound that resembled a giggle and reaching out her tiny hand toward his face.

Watching the two of them from a distance, you felt a sweet ache in your chest. The scene was so full of love it was impossible not to be moved by it. Remus was completely absorbed in his daughter, his movements slow and careful, as if holding her was the most sacred thing in the world. But he noticed when you approached, and the smile he gave as he lifted his eyes was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

"Someone’s eavesdropping," he teased lightly, his tone still filled with that softness he reserved for the two of you.

"How could I not?" you replied, closing the distance between you and placing a hand on his arm. "You speak as if you’re reciting poetry. It’s hard not to be enchanted."

Remus chuckled quietly, but the laughter faded quickly as he looked at you. "It’s just... sometimes I still wonder if all of this is really real." He lowered his eyes to the baby, now distractedly tugging at the fabric of his shirt. "Having you two... it’s more than I ever thought possible. And yet, here you are."

Your hand moved to his face, your fingers gently stroking his cheek. "We’re here, Remus. And we’re not going anywhere."

He closed his eyes at your touch, leaning slightly into your hand as if that simple gesture could ground him. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze locked onto yours, intense and filled with emotion. "I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m going to spend the rest of my life being grateful."

He leaned forward slightly, and you closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that seemed to convey everything he hadn’t yet put into words. When the kiss ended, he rested his forehead against yours, breathing deeply.

You kept your hand on his face. "You do deserve this, Remus. You deserve so much."

When he opened his eyes again, you couldn’t help but notice the details that made him who he was. The soft curve of a scar running across his jaw, a reminder of the battles he faced every month. His tousled brown hair, with a few prematurely gray strands, the result of stress and pain he had carried for so long. But to you, every detail was perfect. Each mark told the story of the man he was—strong, resilient, and so full of love that it seemed impossible he had ever doubted himself.

You smiled, your eyes tracing every familiar inch of his face. "You know how beautiful you are, don’t you?"

Remus chuckled softly, the sound almost disbelieving. "Beautiful, huh?" He shook his head, but a slight blush colored his cheeks.

"Yes," you said firmly, letting your hand slide from his cheek to his neck, where your thumb traced a small circle. "And not just because you gave me her." Your gaze shifted to the baby, still nestled in his arms, her rosy cheeks and curious eyes darting between you and him.

As if she realized she was the topic of conversation, the little one began babbling something unintelligible, her chubby hands reaching determinedly toward you.

Remus looked at his daughter, his smile softening even further, if that were possible. "Oh, you want to go to Mommy, little star?" he asked, his voice brimming with pure adoration.

He adjusted her in his arms with care, moving with the ease of someone who had performed the gesture countless times, and handed her to you. As soon as you held her, she snuggled into your embrace, one tiny hand gripping the fabric of your blouse as if to ensure you wouldn’t go anywhere.

"Well, I guess I’ve lost my spot," Remus joked, crossing his arms and watching the two of you with a satisfied smile.

"Maybe," you replied with a playful grin. "But only because she knows where the best lap is."

"She’s smart," Remus agreed, marveling at his daughter’s tiny hands with a look of fascination. "She knows exactly where she wants to be."

You laughed, gently stroking the baby’s soft hair as she gazed at Remus, clearly still expecting his attention. "She knows she has the best dad in the world," you said, smiling at him.

Remus ran a hand through his hair, the gesture slightly self-conscious, but the light in his eyes gave away how much your words meant. He stepped closer, leaning in to kiss his daughter’s forehead and then pressing his lips softly to yours. "I have the two most incredible people in the world," he murmured, his voice low but full of sincerity.

Remus wrapped his arms around the two of you, holding you in an embrace that seemed to promise that no matter what happened, you would always be home to each other.

"She’s mesmerized by the sea," he remarked, looking at the baby in your arms, now blinking drowsily as if the motion of the waves and the gentle rocking of the sea breeze were lulling her to sleep. "I think someone’s going to have sweet dreams tonight," he murmured, his voice full of affection.

And you knew he was right. Because with him, all dreams—hers, yours, and his—had found a safe place to exist.

[gf2bellamy]

hi!!!! first off absolutely love your fics i’m obsessed :) !!! i was wondering if you could do something with steve harrington? (this is my first time requesting so i’m sorry it’s kinda wonky) but like maybe the user is almost attacked by a demogorgon and steve saves them? no pressure!! thank you!! :)

demogorgon — steve harrington

pairing: steve harrington x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: mention of gun / knife and bat , description of demogorgon, reader trapped under demogorgon , takes place in szn 1 a/n: thank you so much for you request ! i hope you enjoy it <33 i dont't remember szn 1 all to well so apologies if anything is innacurate <3

Nancy’s voice was sharp but not unkind as she turned to Steve. “Just go home.” She pushed him out of the door and closed the door behind him.

It was probably for the best. Steve had looked like he was on the verge of a full-blown crisis, his eyes had darted between the shattered window and the flickering flashlight in Nancy’s hand.

But, then again, you weren’t exactly far from a meltdown yourself.

The difference was that you weren’t nearly as obvious about it as he was.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy as Nancy practically pushed Steve out the door, her patience clearly at its limit.

He gave one last uncertain look over his shoulder, before turning on his heel and rushing to his car. 

You exhaled slowly, gripping the kitchen knife in your hand a little tighter. The weight of it was comforting, even if you weren’t entirely sure what good it would do against whatever might be lurking out there.

Nancy took a step forward, her flashlight sweeping over the dimly lit walls, and the three of you turned your heads at every creak and groan the old house made. 

And then, without warning, every light in the room flickered to life. 

The sudden brightness was almost blinding, and you instinctively raised a hand to shield your eyes. The colorful bulbs weren’t just glowing—they were flashing in a rapid, almost hypnotic pattern. 

Your grip on the knife tightened as your heart raced. “What the hell is this?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the hum of the lights. 

Nancy and Jonathan didn’t answer. They were too focused on the display, their eyes darting from one blinking light to another as if trying to make sense of the chaotic pattern. 

And then you felt it—a shift in the air, subtle but unmistakable.

Suddenly, Nancy’s scream ripped through the tense silence, shrill and panicked.

You barely had time to turn toward her voice before something slammed into you with a force that knocked the breath from your lungs.

Big, clawed hands—or what felt like claws—shoved you aside, sending you sprawling onto the cold, hard floor. 

Your knife skittered from your grasp, but you scrambled to grab it, your fingers trembling as you turned to face the thing looming over you.

The demogorgon.

Its jagged, petal-like face stretched open, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth, and its growl vibrated through the room. 

You held the knife up in a desperate attempt to keep it at bay, slashing wildly as it lunged toward you.

The blade barely fazed it, glancing off its thick, rubbery skin.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to crawl backward, but the demogorgon kept coming towards you, its claws swiping dangerously close to your face. 

Nancy’s voice cut through the chaos. “Get away !” she yelled, firing shot after shot at the creature. The bullets only seemed to enrage it, its attention flicking briefly toward her before returning to you. 

Jonathan grabbed a lamp from the nearby table and swung it with all his strength, the makeshift weapon shattering on impact.

It bought you a moment—just enough time to scoot back—but the creature barely flinched. It snarled, its claws slashing through the air as it stalked toward you again. 

You braced yourself, your hand gripping the knife tightly even though you knew it wouldn’t be enough.

Your mind raced, searching for a way out, when suddenly Nancy’s voice broke through again, this time louder and filled with shock. 

“Steve!” 

Your head whipped toward the doorway just as Steve Harrington burst into the room, his familiar spiked bat in hand.

His eyes locked onto the demogorgon—and then onto you, sprawled on the floor with fear written all over your face. 

He charged forward with a ferocity you’d never seen from him before. The bat connected with the creature’s side with a sickening crunch, causing it to reel back momentarily. 

Steve didn’t stop. He swung again and again, his movements relentless, each strike landing with brutal precision. The demogorgon screeched, its claws flailing as it tried to fend him off, but Steve didn’t give it a chance to recover. 

“Are you okay?” he called over his shoulder, his voice breathless. 

You nodded shakily, though your heart was still pounding in your chest. “I’m fine!” you managed to say, even as your legs felt like jelly beneath you. 

The demogorgon staggered, weakened from Steve’s relentless assault. Jonathan seized the opportunity to shove the trap into place, heavy chains clanking as they fell into position.

Nancy tossed her emptied gun aside, grabbing a canister of lighter fluid from the table and dousing the creature with it. 

“Now!” she shouted, striking a match and throwing it into the trap. 

Flames erupted instantly, engulfing the demogorgon as it let out a deafening, inhuman shriek. The fire consumed it, the heat and smoke filling the room in seconds. 

Steve was at your side in an instant, helping you to your feet. His hands lingered on yours as he steadied you. 

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his brown eyes searching yours for any sign of injury. 

You nodded, a small, breathless laugh escaping you. “I think so. Thanks to you.” 

Steve gave you a crooked smile, still holding your hand as if he wasn’t quite ready to let go. “I wasn’t about to let that thing hurt you.” 

For a moment, it was just the two of you, the world fading away as you stood there with your hands entwined. His grip was strong but gentle. 

“Guys, let’s go!” Nancy’s voice jolted you back to reality. 

Steve kept a firm hold on your hand as the four of you ran out of the room, the demogorgon’s fiery trap blazing behind you.

And when you glanced at Steve, catching the slight grin he shot your way despite the madness of it all, you realized that maybe, just maybe, the night hadn’t been all bad. 

[tsundanire]

Whore

“Boo, you whore,” Dream groans as his beloved daughter slips out of his lap and trots towards George—actually trilling in greeting. 

“Well hello to you too gorgeous girl,” George replies, adding in the occasional meow when Patches responds. “Who’s the best, sweetest, most darlingest girl? Yes, it’s you. Don’t listen to Daddy. He’s just jealous you like me better.” 

“You’re a whore too, George. You both are.” Dream sighs, hands in the air like he’s giving up the fight.

George strides over, Patches tucked firmly in his arms. When he sits, it’s pressed right against Dream’s thigh. Where they touch is warm, and leaves Dream’s brain feeling a little fuzzy. 

“You okay?” It’s the first time George has broached the topic—one they steadfastly ignore out loud. 

Dream inhales, then exhales very slowly through his nose as he considers the shit show of the last few days. “I’m..” Dream opens and closes his mouth a few times but the words don’t come out.

Instead of saying anything, George slips his whole body into Dream’s lap. Patches is still wrapped in George’s arms, but they’re all huddled together now, with George’s head pressed to Dream’s chest. It takes a few minutes, but Dream can feel the tension and stress slowly melting away. 

“I think I should call Martin.” There’s a heavy weight to these words, and he knows George can feel it too. 

It’s like saying ‘I love you’ in so far as each word is innocuous on its own, but you put them together and say them to someone specific and it can change everything. And yet, saying them to George was still far easier than what he wants to do now.

“Do you want any help with that?” George replies, fully aware of the gravity of what Dream is saying. And Dream loves him even more for not making it out to be a huge deal. “I have nothing on for a bit so if you want me to go too?”

“No that’s—” Dream inhales again, exhaling a shaky breath. “It’s fine. I think we might be able to do it over video call.” 

Patches hears a sound in the distance and it has her scurrying out of George’s lap—probably Milo or Naomi, or God forbid..both. When she’s gone, and only George remains in his lap, Dream still feels surprisingly calm. 

“You know those whole emotional support pets?” George chews on his lip as he mulls the thought in his head. 

“Yeah? What, you think Patches? Nah, she’s great for me but neither of us are particularly great at actually going places.” Dream laughs quietly.

“No, I was wondering if they did that for people? Like emotional support people?” 

“Isn’t that just therapy?” 

“Idiot,” George huffs like he’s trying not to laugh, and is, instead, mildly annoyed that his idea was shot down. 

——

Later, when George is busy torturing Sapnap with his presence, Dream sits on his bed, his phone in hand, just staring at the call screen. It’s a stupid button, that’s all he had to press. But the weight was strong. 

At the door, a little trilling noise grabs his attention.

Patches pushes her way in, hopping onto the bed at his side. Immediately she sank into a loaf and purred, filling Dream with an almost ethereal calm. His large palm sinks into her fur, grounding himself in the vibrations of her pur. He hits ‘call’.  

“Hello?” Comes an older, cheerful male voice. 

“Dr Martin? It’s Clay. I-” Dream inhales like he’s gearing himself up to kill the Ender Dragon. “I’d like to schedule a therapy appointment with you.”

-END-

For @alittledizzy I hope this is fluffy enough. <3

[kingjasnah]

idk if this has been discussed but i do wonder if there was a way jasnah could have won over fen. jasnah calls her very emotionally intelligent and she only started responding positively to dalinar in ob once he got truthfully frustrated with her and did some yelling and idk i wonder if jasnah had set aside all her philosophical talk and made a passionate and emotional plea if fen would have been more receptive. but of course jasnah wouldn't do that

short answer: agreed. long answer: ive been wanting to talk about this for weeks. so you're getting kinda a long one.

jasnah is obviously one of my favorite characters and that's almost why i was clapping and cheering during the taravangian takedown--like all of her flaws and everything that makes her compelling was completely cracked open. if jasnah cares about anything at all, it's how she is perceived. we dont know what happened to her when she was a child and we dont know why it seems that she was institutionalized or at least in confinement for a period of her youth but we do know that every single thing she does is a measure to keep her from never going back to the kind of powerlessness she felt back then. i remember shallan commented on her perfect her hair and makeup and clothing was waaay back in book 1/2 and thought how interesting it was for a self professed heretic to still take care to make sure the darkeyed sailors on their ship to the shattered plains never saw her out of makeup. jasnah has been vulnerable in this series, sure, but only to her family. or maybe shallan. or maybe hoid? persumably. every single page she has appeared on in this entire series has reinforced that to her a huge part of the way she does her job (and im considering hiring a spy to follow her sister in law her job too, not just being queen. i mean what she considers her role to be in her family) of statecraft is in the perception that she is perfect. and yeah, that's why it was never going to work with fen

dalinar did have a hard time cracking fen because i think that in the beginning of their interactions they both made fundamental misinterpretations of each other based on where they came from. fen only thought of dalinar as a warmonger who would walk all over her country in the name of conquest, and dalinar straight up did not understand that fen's perspective was so heavily influenced by the thaylen mercantile culture. they still found common ground and yeah it was a frank conversation and an abandoment of diplomat speak that did it. jasnah's made emotional pleas before but i think the crux of her error with fen is that she DID know how important the mercantile culture was but she interpreted it as "fen is going to leave the alliance if she gets a better deal for her country so i need to prove that im her best option" instead of "fen values exchange of commerce but she really values relationships. fen's culture involves building relationships with other merchants so that they can trade with each other and understand each other" (please see the original two rysn interludes). fen didn't need a perfect argument from jasnah but she also didn't need dalinar's approach either. all she needed was for jasnah to TRUST her enough to treat her like an equal partner in their alliance instead of a marker to be moved around a war map.

cause let's be honest. fen is an extremely capable ruler. she's smart and she's been in power for a long time. i do not think for a second that she was genuinely aghast that jasnah sent spies after aesudan or well, the kharbrath murders were pretty bad but im certain that a middle aged to senior member of ruling nobility has seen worse. it's not a bad thing for jasnah to put her people first. i am convinced that fen felt betrayed because jasnah had already set the parameters of their relationship by even engaging in this debate with taravangian. fen saw her logic backfire on herself and went "oh. okay. you are putting YOUR people first because you do not see the thaylen people as having the kind of relationship to you as, for example, vstim had with the shin or with the reshi king. you see us as an argument to be won over, as numbers on a map, as a thought excersize. not onyl withh you walk all over my country in the name of conquest (like dalinar might have) but you'd do it for the sake of what, rhetoric??" in that way, at least taravodium was honest.

but yes. jasnah would never do that. jasnah put on a full face of makeup every morning in her cabin just in case a handful of sailors that she never learned the names of would see her. of course she would never let a queen that she respected see her worry for her kingdom on purpose but it's over now. the mask has cracked, she lost, and she knows that the trap she fell into only closed around her because of her own hubris/the kind of love you have for winning that you'd have to have in order to spend your pre-apocalypse time actively arguing about heresy with every scholar and ardent out there. taravangian's arguments would not have worked on fen if jasnah had never put her in the position to be won over in the first place. i cannot stress enough that jasnah was my first love in this series and watching her finally crack and expose what i have always considered to be the most interesting thing about her was easily one of my favorite moments in the book. insane shit. i can't wait to see how she builds herself back up.