#I’ll give them room for time creep. it’s fun

[seeminglyseph]

It is funny in my head I am imagining Odysseus Ultimate Family Man as in some way protective of his sister with like. No information whatsoever to go off of. Mostly because the idea of like “hey love respect and take care of my sister because she deserves all the best in the world” is endearing. But also being stuck on a ship with a bunch of horny soldiers and being like “don’t you dare tell me a word about your theoretical or possible sex life with my sister but also you fucking be loyal and be honest and be good and I am your *Captain* and right here all the time every day.” Is like. The thing comedy dreams are made of. Eurylochus had the patience of a monk.

But also my sister is visiting and I already had an argument so like lmaoooo couldn’t be meeee

[beenbaanbuun]

guard dog pt.2 w/ jeong yunho

idk if this will become a series (it absolutely will, i love him). if you have any asks about this little series then i’ll be more than happy to answer them 🥰

warnings - yandere!yunho, hybrid!yunho, role reversal, yunho calls reader puppy, talk of murder, talk of living in a bad neighbourhood, allusions to masturbation, choking

pt1

you were under the impression that by wearing yunho’s jumper, it might piss him off just a little bit

but as you walk into the living room where he lays, limbs slung across the couch that he deemed beneath him no more than a few nights ago, you’re shocked to see a smirk playing on his lips

if you had much more on beneath it, you might have torn it from your body and thrown it at his smug face, but you wouldn’t want to give the mutt the satisfaction of seeing your tits

“going somewhere, puppy?” it’s been three long, arduous days and he still hasn’t dropped the nickname

you’re this close to getting your name tattooed in hold across your forehead; maybe then he won’t forget it

“the shop,” you walk over to grab your boots; heavy and intimidating and perfect for kicking any creep that gets too close, “i want a snack.”

“there’s plenty of food in the fridge,” he deadpans as you make your way over to the sofa

he doesn’t move, not even when you glare so hard at his legs that he can practically feel you burning holes in them

annoying prick

you settle for sitting right on the edge of the cushion, just far enough on to keep yourself from toppling to the floor as you slip your shoes onto your feet

“i don’t want the food in the fridge,” you say simply as you tie your laces, “if i wanted the food in the fridge, i’d eat the food in the fridge.”

a few seconds of silence pass by, and you’re almost positive that he spends them rolling his eyes behind your back

“it’s dangerous to go out at this time on your own,” as if that’s not the most obvious thing in the world

luckily for you, you have the safe streets memorised, and you carry your keys tight in your fist as a make-shift shiv

yunho seems to forget that you’ve lived here far longer than he has; you’re far too used to how dangerous it can be when twilight hits

“nothing stopping you from coming with,” you suggest, although you hope to everything that is holy that he says no

“i’m not getting changed out of my pyjamas, puppy,” a sigh of relief escapes your mouth as he gives you what want

“well, i’m going either way,” you insist, and he nods in understanding, expecting no less of you

you’re not ashamed to admit that you’re stubborn, maybe even sometimes to the point of being a brat

it’s just so fun to see your victim’s get riled up as you push each of their buttons over and over again

part of you hoped you would’ve learned yunho’s buttons by now, enough to get a little rise out of him, at least

but as he looks you up and down with nothing but neutrality in his eyes, you know that yet again you’ve failed

perhaps you’ve met your match, at long last; the person who can turn each and every jab around and aim them back at you

as your annoyance rises within you, making your bones buzz and your heart clench tight in your chest, you understand just how true that is

and you’re fucking stuck with him

“have fun getting murdered down some dark alley, then,” he just waves you off, only serving to piss you off more

“you’re a prick,” you spit in retaliation

your footsteps are heavy as you head to the door, eyes already trained on the little table you stash your keys on for safekeeping

the little silver stash normally takes pride of place, sitting pretty in the centre so as to not go unseen whenever you’re in a rush to leave

but the table is empty, and you know you won’t have put your keys anywhere else

but then there’s a tinkle behind you; the gentle sound of metal upon metal drawing your attention away from where the keys should be to where they actually are

the mutt’s black ears twitch atop his head as he gently fingers the bundle

you watch as the light catches, reflecting back on his stupidly handsome face in dots of shimmering light

fortunately, his prettiness only makes him that much easier to hate; of course the bastard is a prick when he looks like that

“yunho, give me my keys,” your voice is stern, tired of whatever game it is he’s playing already

“don’t want to,” he says, amusement laced through his words

the keys clink louder this time as he takes them in his fist before slipping them into his sweatpants without another word

“yunh—”

“let’s play a game, puppy,” he cuts you off, “if you fetch the keys like a good pup, i’ll let you go to the store. that sound good?”

the smile he wears is wicked, all teeth like he’s a snarling beast

he might look human, for the most part, but the sharp canines that dig into his bottom lip are a harsh reminder that he’s closer to that beast than he seems

but you’re not in the business of losing, and you certainly refuse to give up without a fair fight

if he wants to play dirty, then dirty is what he’ll get

it takes a mere few seconds for you to cross the room back to the couch, shimmying round it until you’re standing in front of him, legs lined up with his crotch

you sink to your knees, not daring to look at his face despite hearing the deep chuckle he gives you in response

“which pocket?” you spit, words sharp and impatient

“work it out, pup.”

you jump at the feeling of a warm hand petting the top of your head, fingers curling around an invisible pair of dog ears to match his own

you try your best to ignore everything about the situation; the game of fetch, the way you’re knelt at his feet, the way his hand absentmindedly plays with your hair

everything about it screams puppy, and that is not your fucking name

your fingers dip into his left pocket, feeling around for a moment or two before coming out empty handed

you don’t even allow a second to tick my before you delve your fingers into his other pocket and feel around in a similar way

but you can’t feel anything in there either, and it stumps you

yunho hums as you draw your fingers back, finally shifting your unamused gaze back to his face

“you know what i think?” he starts, and you nod, desperate for a hint of some kind, “i think you’d be so pretty with a collar wrapped around that lovely little neck of yours.”

it takes you off guard a little, not at all what you were expecting to drop from his mouth

and yet somehow, as the words sink in a little, you find yourself rather unsurprised

you shoot him the harshest glare you can muster before pushing his hand firmly away from your head

“well i don’t have a collar around my nec—”

the warm palm you pushed from your skull not a second prior, now lies on your throat

you can feel it, gentle yet firm as it holds you in place and pushes your protests away

“are you sure about that, puppy?” he growls; a sound that travels straight to your core, “from where i’m sitting, it looks like you do.”

it takes everything in you to shuffle back, just far enough away that his hand slips free of your neck and falls flat against the leather of your sofa

you stand on shaky legs, taking a few steps towards the bathroom as you do everything in your power to not look at him

if you do, you’re not quite sure what will happen

but your avoidant eyes miss the way he slips the keys free of his waistband and tosses them onto the coffee table, satisfied enough in his win to know he doesn’t have to hide them anymore

“i’m going for a shower,” you say with a shaky voice, slipping out of his sight as he gives you a hum of affirmation

it looks like the shower head will come in handy tonight

[skzdust]

Ruin Me, Big Boy ;)

This is smut. MINORS DNI.

This fic was a request from @piratejoongie ! Thank you for the ask it very much inspired me ;)

Summary: You hook up with Mingi off Tinder one night.

Pairing: Mingi x reader

Includes: "good girl", "cocksucker", cock sucking, unprotected vaginal sex (USE CONDOMS PLEASE), tinder hookup but I've never done a tinder hookup so idk how they work irl but this is how I imagine it, PLEASEEEEE be safe with Tinder hookups though guys, Horny gay Wooyoung, Bestie Felix and Changbin, very background Chanlix

Word count: 1.4k

Taglist: @weirdowithaphone @caught-in-the-afterglow @palindrome969 @skzstan12345 @katsukis1wife @hyunjinsjeans @somethingkindazainy @silverstarburst

Network: @mirohs-aurora-society

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!

Masterlist

-----

“No.” You swiped left. “No.” Again. “No.” Again.

“God, when does this game get good?” Felix took a swig from his beer, leaning over the arm of the couch. 

“Yeah, I like playing tinder as much as the next guy, but come onnnnn, these men are lame as hell.” Wooyoung rolled his eyes. 

“Literally get interesting.” Changbin closed his eyes as he nodded in agreement. 

As if on cue, Mingi (25) popped up on the TV your phone was cast to, all dark hair and sharp jawline… and that smirk!

Your own jaw dropped. “Guys, I think I just fell in love.”

“I think I just got hard!” Wooyoung yelled. “Jesus Christ, look at that man!” 

“He’s mine!” You yelled back. “My tinder, my man! Claimed!” 

“Fuck!” Wooyoung collapsed back against the couch as you swiped right. 

The room erupted in screeches as hearts filled the screen, indicating you’d matched. 

“Message him, message him!” The voice was so high with excitement it wasn’t immediately recognizable as that of any of your friends, but you hit the ‘message’ button and stared at the text bubble for a second. 

“What do I even say to someone that fucking hot?”

“Here. Gimme.” Wooyoung wiggled his fingers, and you handed over your phone. Your eyes widened as you watched him type on the screen. “There.” 

You: Ruin me, big boy ;)

“God.” You laughed. “You’re gonna scare him off.”

“No, I’m not, we workshopped your profile forever. You look hot as hell. You’re gonna be thanking me.” You watched as he swiped into Mingi’s profile. “See, he’s looking for short-term fun.”

“Short-term fun.” Felix hummed. “I know that means hookups, but I kinda hope he sticks around. Just because he’s nice to look at.”

“He hasn’t even—” You started, but Wooyoung cut you off with a squeal. 

“He responded!” 

“Give me my phone!” You snatched it from his hand.

Mingi: I can do that, baby ;)

Your stomach leapt.

“Get his location right fucking now.” Wooyoung ordered. 

You began typing something out.

You: Time and place and I’ll be there

Changbin giggled. “Y/n’s getting some!” 

“Hell yeah, y/n’s getting some!” You took a sip of your cocktail as you went back to his pictures. “How do people even look like this? He’s so hot.”

Mingi: An hour and a half work? Here’s the address.

You looked up the address as soon as he sent it. It was a nice apartment building downtown. Felix’s boyfriend Chan actually lived there. 

“I’ll tell Chan you’ll be over there in an hour and a half.” Felix had a twinkle in his eye as he whipped out his phone. “If Mingi’s a dick, or a creep, you can go to his place.”

You nodded. “Sounds good.”

You: I’ll see you in an hour and a half <3

You went upstairs to get ready, showering quickly and changing into a matching underwear set and a cute but casual outfit. 

Wooyoung clapped as you walked down the stairs. “Beautiful, y/n. Tell me how he is. And if he’s into men. And if he might possibly be into me.”

“He’s hooking up with her, Woo. Not you.” Changbin said bluntly.

“Maybe he’s bi!” 

Felix ignored them, smiling at you. “Have fun and be safe, y/n, make sure your location’s on.”

You checked your phone to make sure you were sharing your location with Felix. “All set! Bye!” 

You made your way downtown, parking and walking the rest of the way. You texted him when you got to the lobby and leaned against a pillar.

You almost weren’t expecting Mingi to be real, but he walked out of the elevator with the gait and confidence of a supermodel. He was dressed in all black, he was tall, and in person that smirk had the cockiness of someone who could back it up, no matter what was required to do that.

Your pussy throbbed as he looked at you, his smirk growing. 

“Y/n…” He crossed the lobby, eyes looking you up and down. “You look even better than your pictures.”

“You’re pretty fucking hot yourself.” You managed to get out.

He laughed softly. “Oh, am I? A pretty girl like you telling me that is gonna inflate my ego.”

“Lucky for you, I like a man with a god complex.”

“God complex, huh? I think that can be arranged.” 

“Oh, can it?” You raised your eyebrows. 

“You’re gonna be worshipping me.” He winked. 

“I’d love to worship you.” You whispered back.

“Then come upstairs.”

—

As soon as you made it into his apartment, Mingi pushed you against the wall, trapping you in with one hand and kissing you hard. His lips were demanding, and his tongue licked into your mouth. You moaned, your head already growing dizzy from the kiss. 

“Good girl.” He hummed. 

“Mingi…” You whined.

He pulled away. “What do you want to do tonight?” 

You thought for a second. “I wanna suck your cock.”

He leaned in by your ear. “Can I call you a good little cocksucker?”

It felt like he’d lit you on fire. “Yes, please call me your good little cocksucker.”

“Then on your knees.”

You sank to the floor, unzipping his pants.

He pushed them and his boxers down, and his cock sprang free, already red and hard and big.

You reached around it, pumping the shaft a few times. “Fuck.” You whispered. You could barely wait to get it inside you.

“What, I thought you wanted to worship me.” He smirked. 

In response to that, you opened your jaw and pushed yourself down on his cock.

He groaned, his hand finding your hair and balling into a fist. “Fuck, such a good cocksucker. So good for me.”

You focused on the feeling of him in your mouth, the heat of his skin. He was easily the biggest guy you’d been with, but you didn’t let that intimidate you, pushing yourself further and further down on his cock. 

His grip on your hair tightened, and he gently began to rock his hips back and forth, gently fucking your face. “Good girl. Good fucking girl. Taking me so well, sucking my cock like you were made for it.”

You moaned around him, fighting to keep your jaw relaxed. 

His hips picked up the pace, quickly but gently fucking into your mouth. “Good girl, good girl, good— ngh!” He pulled out of your mouth to cum on your face, groaning as he stroked himself. As cum painted your features, you thought you’d never seen someone so hot. 

“You want me to fuck you now? Properly, not your mouth.” He panted.

“Yes.” You moaned. “Yes, Mingi, please.”

“Okay, my good girl. Lets’ go to my bedroom.”

You got up, following him into the bedroom. It was tidy, with grey sheets on the bed and an attached bathroom.

“Clothes off, and on the bed.” Mingi ordered. You hurried to obey, spreading yourself out on the bed for him.

“Fuck.” He said as he took off his own pants, his eyes raking over your form.

“Fuck me.” You whimpered. 

“Don’t worry, my good girl, I will.” He left his shirt on as he crawled over you on the bed. “I’ll fuck you within an inch of your life, if you’ll let me.”

“Please, Mingi, please fuck me within an inch of my life.”

“Fuck, begging?” He kissed you, hard. “You’re so fucking hot, y/n.”

He lined himself up with your entrance and began to push inside. You moaned as his tip stretched you.

“Perfect little— ngh, fuck.” Mingi pushed in further, his voice growing strained. 

You couldn’t say anything your mouth forming a little ‘o’ as you burned in pleasure. 

He seated himself fully inside you, and you stayed like that for a moment, with Mingi deep inside you, connected. 

And then he started moving, and you thought you might cum on the spot. He was big, but he felt even bigger inside you, especially as he started fucking you in earnest, pushing in and out with a fervor.

You moaned, clutching at the sheets. “Fuck, fuck, Mingi, ah, God…”

“Feel so good, my good girl, so tight around me, such a good little hole for me.” He grunted. “We gotta do this again, because God I love fucking you.” He caressed your cheek. “Takin’ my cock so well.”

“Yeah, anytime you want.” You breathed, meaning it.

“Anytime I want, huh?” He pushed into you in a hard thrust. “I’m gonna take you up on that, my good girl.”

“Please do.” You whined. “Your good girl.”

“I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else.” He whispered. “Ruin me, big boy, that’s what you said, right? I’m gonna fucking ruin you.”

[littlelovelunette]

vi with bratty reader but make it fluffy >>

Playful Brattiness

Vi knew you were trouble the moment you shot her that smug little smirk.

Arms crossed, chin tilted up, challenging her with nothing but the sheer force of your attitude. She loved it. Most of the time.

Right now? Not so much.

"Baby, quit being a little shit and get over here."

Vi sat on the couch, legs spread, arms resting on the backrest, looking every bit as exasperated as she was amused.

You, however, were standing on the other side of the room, arms behind your back, swaying innocently. Too innocently.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," you sing-songed, batting your lashes. "I’m being an angel."

Vi raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Uh-huh. That why you stole my gauntlets and hid them somewhere?"

Your grin widened. "Could be."

She groaned, running a hand down her face before pointing at you.

"Y’know, for someone who loves getting picked up and carried around like a damn kitten, you sure do push your luck."

You gasped dramatically, clutching your chest.

"Me? Pushing my luck? I would never."

Vi rolled her eyes, but there was warmth behind them.

"Alright, smartass. You had your fun. Now, come here before I make you."

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to, but because teasing Vi was just too much fun.

"What if I say no?"

Vi tilted her head, a slow smirk creeping across her lips.

"Oh, you wanna play it like that?"

Your heartbeat picked up, knowing that look meant trouble—but the good kind. Before you could react, Vi was already on her feet, closing the distance in a few quick strides.

You let out a squeak, trying to dart away, but she was faster, easily scooping you up over her shoulder like you weighed nothing.

"Vi! Put me down!"

She laughed, giving your ass a playful squeeze. "You had your chance, brat."

Spinning on her heel, she marched toward the couch and flopped back down, pulling you into her lap and wrapping her arms securely around your waist.

You huffed, crossing your arms, but you couldn’t hide the way you instinctively curled into her warmth. "This is unfair."

"Yeah? So is hiding my gauntlets. Where’d you put it?"

You shrugged, cheek resting against her shoulder. "Maybe I’ll tell you if you give me a kiss."

Vi chuckled, shaking her head. "Unbelievable."

Still, she cupped your face gently, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your lips. You melted instantly, and she knew she had you right where she wanted.

When she pulled away, her smirk was smug. "Now spill."

You groaned dramatically but grinned, finally relenting. "Fine. They're under the sink."

Vi snorted. "God, you’re lucky you’re cute."

You just nuzzled closer, content in her arms. "I know."

Vi sighed, pressing another kiss against your forehead, knowing full well that despite all the attitude, you were absolutely worth it.

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part thirteen

I don't even have anything to say besides good luck reading this one...and the next one...and the next... 🫣 Remember that I love you guys!

Warnings: ANGST!!!, panic attack, Richard Monroe being creepy and weird

“So,” Hotch checks his side mirrors before merging onto the interstate. “Strauss said she had already discussed this with you.”

You sigh, checking your watch. You’ve been on the road for barely twenty minutes. So much for the coffee being a peace offering.

“Yes,” you answer finally, rubbing your forehead. The caffeine did absolutely nothing for your headache. “When we had lunch before the last case.”

“Two weeks ago?”

“Yes,” you repeat, irritation rising already.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Sorry, is that a rhetorical question?”

If he wasn’t driving, Hotch would’ve glared at you. Hard.

You roll your eyes, continuing anyway. “Because a new case came in, so we had other priorities — and Strauss didn’t say it was a sure thing. It was only a maybe.”

“If she mentioned it, it was already a sure thing.”

“Well, pardon-fucking-me.”

Hotch says nothing. You say nothing.

Maybe the coffee did do something, because for some reason, you break the silence. And give him a genuine answer.

“I didn’t think you needed to know— Don’t make that face.”

“I’m not making a face.”

“Yes, you are,” you hiss. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. Because I knew you’d act like I didn’t tell you as a purposeful slight against you and for once, alright, that wasn’t my intention, I just—” You pause, voice quieting, “I didn’t want to think about it.”

Hotch stays quiet for a moment. “Are you nervous?”

“Yes, Hotch, I’m nervous about talking to a serial killer who seems obsessed with me and recognized me for some goddamn reason that I can’t place and it kept me awake last night — is that what you wanted me to say?”

The admission feels like you’ve cracked your chest open, baring your heart to him, goading him, daring him to make fun of you. You half expect him to, or you at least expect him to ask more prying questions, but he doesn’t.

He doesn’t do any of that, and it shocks you so bad that it takes a minute to register what he’s actually just said to you.

“You don’t have to do this. I won’t force you.”

It’s not said in a teasing manner, or even the least bit condescending. It’s soft, genuine.

You sigh, wishing you could take him up on his offer and ask him to turn the car around. “I do. I do have to. I want him to keep cooperating in the investigation because…I don’t know, maybe it’ll lead them closer to who kidnapped Lila.” You turn your head, looking out the window. “But yeah, I’m scared. He creeps me out.” 

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” Hotch says, still so genuine.

In any other circumstance, that would not have comforted you. You’re surprised that it comforts you right now. 

Part of you expected Hotch to force you to speak to Richard alone, just to watch you have another freak out, just so he can say he told you so. Admittedly, that doesn’t sound like something he’d do. Because as much as the two of you argue and get under each other’s skin, he isn’t a cruel person.

“Thank you,” you say, turning to look at him.

He glances at you for only a second, keeping his focus on the road. But he nods. “Of course.”

You let the silence hang for a bit, broken only by the soft sounds of The Beatles still playing on a low volume. Traffic is moving steadily; you’ll be at the prison in no time.

You contemplate telling Hotch the truth right now — ripping the band aid off, getting it over with before it can come out of Richard’s mouth. But then again, you don’t know if Richard will say the truth. He seemed to enjoy having one up on Hotch in the interrogation room, having a secret only the two of you knew, especially considering it was clear you weren’t going to disclose it.

You think of how Hotch has been the past few days. Reassuring you that you’re valuable to this team and deserve your place here. The peace offering of coffee that he somehow remembered correctly. The strange reassurance now, that he won’t force you to do this if you’re uncomfortable.

You think of what Rossi said that night at the hotel bar. How do you know that it’ll make Hotch look at you differently? You don’t know for sure.

But it’s all easier said than done. When it comes down to it, the words refuse to escape your throat, even as you’re finally giving them permission. It would be so simple to say it now, while you’re in the car, in private, and Hotch is behind the wheel so he’d be forced to control his emotions. You could say it right now.

You could.

But you don’t. You reach forward and turn the music up slightly, glancing in Hotch’s direction to see the tiniest of hints of a smile crawling up his lips.

That’s enough to make you stay quiet. You’d rather not ruin what little peace the two of you have found right now.

+++

You’re shaking like a leaf but doing your damnedest not to show it when Hotch parks at the prison. You unbuckle and go to open your door when Hotch places his hand on your arm, effectively bolting you in place. Slowly, your eyes drag over to his.

“The second you want to leave, you tell me,” he says, sincere and firm. “Okay?”

You nod, swallowing around the traitorous lump in your throat. “Yeah. Okay.”

He nods once to confirm, then removes his hand and steps out of the car, leaving you staring at the empty space. But you know if you don’t get out of the car in the next second, he’s going to make the executive decision that you can’t do this, and that’ll just piss you off. 

You can do this.

You force yourself out of the car, shutting the door mechanically. You reach into your pocket and find your badge, clipping it on the outside of your blazer. They’ll give you visitor badges when you head inside, but it’s easier to have this out. And somehow it makes you feel safer.

You follow Hotch to the entrance of the prison, going through the motions of checking in and locking your weapons away. You both knew you’d have to leave them at the door, but neither of you wanted to make the drive without them, just in case.

After finishing check in and sticking your visitor pass next to your FBI badge, you walk through the large steel doors. An officer waits just inside to guide you and Hotch to the block where Richard Monroe is already in a small room for you to speak with him.

“We didn’t think you’d come,” the officer says casually. “He’s been asking for you for weeks.”

You can practically hear Hotch’s scowl.

“Yeah, I know,” you reply, trying to sound just as nonchalant. “We had other pressing issues. He’s lucky I had a free afternoon.”

The officer chuckles, but says nothing else, weaving you and Hotch through other doors. You forgot how much prisons can feel like a labyrinth. You’re aware that that’s the point, but it does nothing to soothe your nerves.

You reach the final door standing between you and Richard Monroe, and it’s like your nerves skyrocket in one second, nausea threatening to buckle your knees.

Get yourself together, you scold internally. He can’t hurt you.

You mean for it to be reassuring, but your doubt creeps in. You don’t know for sure that he can’t hurt you. Physically, sure, he can’t, because he’s cuffed to a table that’s bolted to the floor and there are two officers standing guard directly behind him, and you have Hotch with you. But verbally? You have no idea what is about to come out of his mouth when he sees you.

“Ready?” the officer asks.

You nod, and Hotch does as well, only after seeing you do it.

The buzzer sounds out as the door unlocks, and the officer pushes it in, letting you and Hotch pass through.

“You came!” Richard’s voice echoes as soon as he spots you. “I told you she’d come!” he says, seemingly to the two officers standing behind him. He looks back at you, eager gaze hardening into a frown when Hotch appears behind you. “Oh. You brought him.”

Your mind finally kicks into gear, your countless hours of interrogation training flooding you as you offer a polite smile. “It’s nice to see you, Richard.”

His frown melts away just a fraction. “It’s nice to see you! I’d stand and properly greet you, but,” he holds up his hands, chains clanking when he reaches the end. “You know how it is.”

“That’s alright,” you say, pulling the chair out across from him and sitting down. “I heard you’ve been asking for me.”

“Took you long enough to answer,” he replies, only slightly bitter. His eyes flick toward Hotch who no doubt looms behind you. “Does he have to be here?”

You chuckle, threading your fingers together and resting them comfortably on the table. “Richard, you had to know there was no way I’d be allowed to speak to you alone, right?”

He practically pouts. “But why?”

You ignore him. “What is it you wanted to talk to me about?” you ask, checking your watch. “I don’t have long.”

Richard seems unphased  by this, but his eyes glance back at Hotch. “Can you at least make him sit? He’s making me nervous.”

His tone isn’t at all serious, but still you oblige, turning to look at Hotch and nod for him to sit next to you.

You know Hotch doesn’t smile that often, but the frown he’s sporting on his face right now looks deeper than any others. You knew already, obviously, that he doesn’t like Richard Monroe, but it’s starting to feel a lot more serious than what he’s letting on.

When Hotch sits next to you, he leans on his forearms on the table, staring Richard down.

On second thought, maybe you should have fought harder to speak to Richard alone if Hotch is going to act like he’s trying to set the man on fire with only his eyes.

“Richard,” you say, gaining his attention so he’ll stop looking at Hotch with his taunting gaze. “What is it you wanted to speak with me about?”

“How’s Lila?” he asks.

“She’s fine, as far as I know,” you reply. “I haven’t spoken with her.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” you shrug. You’re not going to bother explaining yourself to him. You know these aren’t the real questions he wants to ask. “Anything else?”

“How are you?”

Hotch tenses just a little, enough that only you would notice. Richard clearly doesn’t because he keeps his focus on you.

“I’m fine,” you say. “Thanks for asking. How are you?”

“Fine,” he shrugs, then goes quiet.

You sigh. “Alright, if that’s all, then we should be going, we have other—”

“Wait,” Richard nearly jumps forward, chains rattling. The officers behind him take half a step toward him, but you shake your head, telling them it’s fine.

“What?” you prompt. “As much as I love catching up with you, I can’t do this often. So ask what you need to because I can’t promise I’ll come here again.”

Richard glances at Hotch, then back at you. “Does he know?”

You hardly register what he might be getting at, so you parrot his question stupidly. “Does he know what?”

Richard smirks, eyes falling back on Hotch. “She hasn’t told you.” He pauses, smirk deepening the more he studies Hotch’s face. “Oh…but you do know,” he hisses, not unlike a snake. “But does she?”

Your eyebrows furrow, the panic starting to creep in. “Do I know what?” you ask, your voice firm. You turn to look at Hotch, finding him glaring at Richard, his jaw tense. “Hotch.”

He won’t look at you.

No. No.

“I think I know who kidnapped Lila, and why you haven’t found him yet,” Richard says, ever so casually, looking back at you, still grinning like the fucking cheshire cat. “And I think you know, too. Deep down. You just haven’t admitted to yourself yet.”

You don’t know what comes over you. The words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them. “My father is dead.”

“Oh, I know that,” Richard scoffs. “Not him, silly. Sorry for your loss, by the way. Well, for both losses.”

You feel Hotch’s gaze flick toward you for only a moment, but he doesn’t turn his head, keeping his glare leveled at Richard.

“Who, then?” you snap, barreling past all the emotions he’s dredging up, letting anger cover them all like a shield. “Give me a name, Richard, don’t fucking play with me.”

“Why not?” he starts to pout again. “It’s oh-so fun.”

“A name,” Hotch repeats, much harsher than you. “Now.”

“I don’t know his name,” Richard says, and you don’t believe him for a second. “Just that he was close with your dad. A little too close, I think, but,” he pauses with a dramatic sigh, lifting his fingers as much as he can to wave, “what do I know, right?”

“Anything else you’d like to spill?” you fume. “I’m not coming here again.”

“I’m surprised you came in the first place,” Richard taunts. “Though I’m not surprised you brought him. Bit of a guard dog, isn’t he?”

You clench your jaw so hard you’re worried you’re going to crack your molars. “That’s enough.” You push your chair back and stand to your feet, forcing your knees not to shake. “Thanks for wasting my time.”

“Always a pleasure,” Richard grins. “And please, shoot him when you find him?” he asks, bitterness curling his tongue. “The bastard was supposed to leave my daughter out of it.”

You have no fucking clue what that means, but you’re damn sure not sticking around to ask. 

You don’t even look behind you to see if Hotch is following you, but you know he is. You know his footsteps, especially when he’s irritated and walking briskly.

You stomp your way through all of the doors, saying nothing to the officer as he guides you back to the exit. 

You check out at the front, signing your name and collecting your belongings, securing your gun back on your hip. You rip the visitor badge off and hand it back to the officer at the front door.

You’re outside in the fresh air before you start breathing normally — if your deep, heaving breaths can be considered normal. You’re pacing in circles outside the car when Hotch finally catches up with you.

You brace yourself for some snide remark. For some prying questions. 

You brace yourself so hard for these things that you flinch when instead Hotch asks, “Are you okay?”

“Don’t fucking ask me that right now,” you snap, halting your steps just to glare at him. “How much do you know?”

“Get in the car.”

“No,” you say through gritted teeth. “Answer me.”

“Y/N.”

“Aaron.”

It’s the first time you’ve used his first name, and it causes him to physically take a step away from you. 

Somehow that’s as damning as when he wouldn’t look at you inside the prison with Richard.

“Unbelievable,” your voice is hoarse, breaking and tripping over every syllable. “I can’t— Oh my god, you—” You shake your head. “You’ve known—”

Alarm flashes over Hotch’s face. “Y/N…” he says, slowly stepping toward you like you’re a wounded animal that might flee. “You need to breathe.”

“Don’t,” you swat at the air, thinking he’s closer than he is. “Don’t.”

Hotch opens the passenger door, trying to herd you toward it. It doesn’t take much effort, your instincts acting on their own and forcing you toward a place where you can sit. It’s either the concrete of the parking lot, or the comfort of the car seat. You opt for the car.

He keeps his distance, standing at the edge of the door as he watches you sit and try to control your breathing again. You suck in gasps of air before you stop breathing entirely, and just when he thinks you’re going to faint, you exhale. 

It goes on, and on, and on, for what feels like hours. He stands there, helpless, knowing if he moves closer it’ll only make it worse. He will only make it worse.

Eventually, you gain control again and you turn, facing forward in the car, your knees pulled up to your chest. Hotch takes the opportunity to shut the door.

When he gets in the driver’s seat, you’ve let your knees down and buckled yourself in, and wrapped your arms around your middle.

He wants to hold you instead. He wants to make it better. He wants to fix this. He knows where he went wrong, but it was tearing him up inside, not knowing what was going on with you, and it’s tearing him up now, seeing you like this. Knowing now that you’ve been feeling this way this whole time, and you haven’t let anyone in. Haven’t let anyone help.

He wants to help. He wants you to want him to help. He wants you to let him in.

But you won’t. And he’s ruined all chances of that, and he has no one to blame except himself for the fury you’re about to rain down on him.

If you ever start talking.

You’re completely silent, and somehow that haunts him even worse than anything you could say or have said to him in the past. This silent rage where you stare straight ahead, not moving — he has to check to see if you’re even breathing — it’s terrifying. 

It’s like you’re not even in the car with him.

[spidercatweb]

Perfect Match ★ Spencer Reid x reader

Warnings: fem!bau!reader, a little bit of jealous!Spencer 😊, plenty of nervous!Spencer, fluff, a tiny bit of angst i guess, happy ending, r uses dating apps, Garcia and r are besties!!, umm nothing else!

Description: Garcia's wonderful idea of getting r to use dating apps to find her perfect match is not working very well. Spencer gets a little distant when r mentions her plans for a date. r confronts him about this, which leads to confessions, a cancelled date, and a date to take it's place. <3

Word Count: 1,843

Request: "for spencer x reader? early spencer is too shy to ask reader out but reader starts talking about dating and dating apps and Spencer gets really jealous and ends up telling reader he likes them but hes a stuttering mess the whole time?"

A/n: oh em gee 😈😈😈 i enjoyed writing this... i have no experience w dating apps so uhh idk 🤷‍♀️ but i hope this is what you asked for! <3

You weren’t desperate for a boyfriend, you were just getting tired of waiting for the right guy to miraculously appear. So, per Garcia’s suggestions, dating apps seemed to be the best choice. She had also suggested speed-dating at one point, but that was definitely not your thing. So, dating apps it was.

For the past few weeks, you’d spent around twenty minutes a day on these apps. So far, you haven’t had any luck.

Boring. Gross. Likely to become an unsub.

These were the types of men you’d been seeing on the several dating apps you had downloaded.

Maybe the problem was that you were looking for perfect.

On a slow day at the BAU, you sat in Garcia’s office. Her chair was pulled up close to yours as she peered over at your phone screen. It was fun to look at different men’s profiles with a friend.

“Come on, he’s cute!” Garcia swoons.

“No!” He looks like that enucleator we caught last week.” You laugh, swiping left.

Garcia sighs dramatically, “You’re no fun. If you keep up with that attitude you’ll never find a date!” She nudges you with her shoulder while catching a glimpse of the new profile that appeared on your screen.

“I just have standards! Unlike some people.” You tease.

Your attention flashes back to your phone screen. You swipe through the man’s several photos. Attractive. And none of him holding up a fish he caught, that’s a good start. “Hmm.” You go to read his profile information.

“Enjoys reading, quiet nights in, and… horror movies. Okay…” You nod slowly, “Average height, same age as me. Aww, he has a cat.”

“Perfect! I don’t need to know anything else! Swipe right, give him a chance!” Penelope urges you to swipe right.

“Okay,” you giggle, “But if he’s a creep it’s your fault!”

“Oh if he’s a creep, I’ll find out before you do. I am definitely going to background check every single one of your potential partners. Only the best for my girl.”

Your investigation of another man’s profile is interrupted by a knock at the door of Penelope's office.

“Come in!” She shouts loud enough for whoever’s on the other side of the door to hear.

Spencer enters the room with a slight look of confusion on his face, “Hi. What are you guys doing?” He closes the door behind him.

Garcia cheerily explains the situation, “Well, I’m helping Y/n find her dream man. She’s very picky though, maybe you could help find her perfect match with that genius brain of yours.”

“Oh, um-” he laughs nervously, “how exactly are you finding her perfect match? And, statistically speaking, it’s incredibly rare for someone to find their so-called perfect match. There are too many variables to consider. You’d need a very specific set of traits, and of course, nobody is perfect-”

Garcia cuts him off, something she doesn’t do often, “Ah ah ah! You will not make her feel like this is useless!” She points a finger in his face. “And we’ve got her on a few dating apps, of course. Also, not that I don’t enjoy your company, because I love it very much, but why are you in here?”

“JJ wanted you to see her in her office, something about a new case, I think. She texted you but you weren’t answering.”

“Oh I’m so sorry! I guess I was pretty distracted. I’ll go see her right away!” She hops up from her chair and heads towards the door, “You two lovelies have fun while I’m gone! Don’t touch my tech!”

You both giggle as she leaves the room.

An awkward silence washes over the two of you as you’re left alone. You swivel slightly in your chair, phone in hand, your bright screen shows a photo of a man you and Penelope were looking at before Spencer came in. You catch Spencer staring at it from across the room, so you shut your phone off and laugh nervously.

“I, um- Garcia wanted me to try some dating apps, she thinks I’m lonely.” You laugh slightly, “I really don’t know how people are okay with just dating absolute strangers who they know nothing about. That’s really scary to me, I’d much rather date someone I’m already friends with.” You hope Spencer doesn’t think too hard about that last part. Because it would certainly be embarrassing if he figured out you meant him. You’d much rather date him.

“Romantic relationships started online do tend to have a higher failure rate than relationships started in person. And romantic relationships started with someone you’re already close with have the highest rate of success. I really don’t see how people could form a meaningful connection with someone they’ve never met or even spoken to before. I think I would find it hard, not even hearing someone’s voice.” Spencer fidgets with the sleeve of his sweater.

You nod your head, agreeing with him. “I don’t know why I’m using dating apps. It’s not like I have time to date anyway. I spend all my time here.” You huff out a sad laugh.

“No- you- you deserve to have someone, you shouldn’t say that.” Spencer strides closer to you, leaning against Penelope’s desk. “I’m sure you’ll find someone eventually. I mean, you’re incredibly intelligent, you’re funny, kind, attractive-” He pauses, stopping himself, “It’s really only a matter of time.” A slight blush tints his cheeks, he gives you a kind smile.

You look up at him, mirroring his smile. “I guess so.”

“I’m guessing you haven’t had much luck then? With dating apps, I mean.”

“No, not really. But there is this one guy I’ve been talking to.”

“Oh.” he nods, you notice something in his eyes. Disappointment? He was never very good at hiding his feelings. “What's he like?”

“Well, his name is Nick. We’ve been talking for about… a week? I think? We might go on an actual date soon, I think I’m going to ask him.” You grin, thinking about the kind exchanges you’d been having with the man.

“That- That’s really nice. I hope it goes well.” No extra statistics, straight to the point. Odd.

***

A conversation later that day led to you actually asking Nick on a real, in-person date. You only have so much free time, why not spend it enjoying yourself? So, that was it. You officially had a date scheduled for Saturday night. Only three days away.

***

Nothing of note happened for the next three days,though you did see Spencer acting differently. Less rambles, less conversations in the break room, more silent glances he thought you didn’t notice.

At the end of the day on Friday, you catch him before he gets to the elevator. “Spence!”

He turns around to face you, clearly a little startled, “Yeah?” He clutches the strap of his satchel that goes across his chest.

“Are you- Did I do something? Why haven’t you been talking to me?” You attempt to keep a neutral tone, but sadness seeps through.

“I have been talking to you, what do you mean? We talked about the case today-”

“No. You know what I mean, Spencer. You haven’t- went on a fifteen minute ramble about like- sea urchins and their contributions to the ecosystem- or whatever. You’ve been avoiding me.” You can barely look him in the eyes. He’s been one of your closest friends for years and now he’s acting differently. It hurts.

He rushes to explain himself, “Y/n, no. I- You were um-” He pauses. Lying will only make it worse. “You told me about how you were going on dating apps, and how- how you’re going on a date this weekend and-” He takes a breath, “It just really- I was jealous.” He sighs, his face reddens immediately.

“What?” Did I just hear that correctly? Jealous?

“I was jealous I-” He runs his hands over his face, “I am jealous. I’m sorry.”

“So you… are jealous… that I’m going on a date?” You’re still confused.

He nods slowly, avoiding eye contact with you. His face gets more red by the second.

“Because… you want to go on a date with me?” You feel your cheeks warming up, your tone is soft, you ask the question carefully.

“I-” He clears his throat, “Yes. I really- Yeah.” He sighs like he was holding his breath. “I’m sorry, that’s so unprofessional, and I know I shouldn’t treat you differently because of how I feel. I should’ve been thinking about how it would affect the team-”

It takes you two tries to interrupt his nervous ramble, “Spencer.”

His mouth hangs slightly open, you stopped his train of thought completely.

“If you really feel that way, then I’d love to go on a date with you.” You give him a reassuring smile.

He stays silent for a few moments, processing. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You nod.

His smile grows, “Yeah?” he huffs out a surprised laugh. “But what about your other date?”

You giggle, “He- I think he’ll understand. I’m also pretty sure Garcia found some weird stuff about him while she was snooping around so…”

“Ah. Okay.” He nods, “So when… When were you thinking? I mean you don’t have to decide right now of course.”

You can’t hold back a giddy smile. “How about tomorrow? Lunch at the cafe by the used book store?”

“That sounds really nice.” He nods again, eagerly.

“Okay, great. Um- does sometime around twelve work? I can text you when I’m on my way?” You fidget nervously with your necklace.

“Yeah, of course.”

You both stand silently for a few moments, both in disbelief that this is actually happening.

“Um- I should-” Spencer points behind him to the elevator doors.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Your face warms even more, you’d forgotten he was about to leave, “See you tomorrow.”

He echoes back, “See you tomorrow.” He grins as he walks into the elevator. As the doors shut in front of him, you both wave happily at each other.

***

Penelope comes running out from the glass doors of the BAU, “What was that!?” She rapidly waves a pointed finger between you and the elevator.

“Nothing! It was nothing! I was just saying goodnight!” You laugh nervously.

“Liar!! I know that face!” She gasps, “You asked him out!? Oh my gosh! Finally!!” She takes your wordless grin as a yes, and catches you in a tight hug. “You two are going to be so cute, I just know it!” she lets you out of her grasp, “And I won’t tell anyone, pinkie promise.”

***

The Tuesday after your’s and Spencer’s date –which went extremely well, ending with a promised second date after your next case– you notice the rest of the team snickering about the two of you not-so-subtly. The next time you see Penelope, you give her a knowing glare, but you don’t scold her. Really, it’s better the team finds out now rather than later, in some horribly embarrassing way. Unfortunately, this means you’ll have to be signing some paperwork soon.

Thank you for reading! <3

Feedback is very much appreciated!

My requests are open!

🪻

[riordanness]

sweet nothing - [w.wonka]

wordcount: 1.1K

warnings: willy freaking wonka’s curls

requested: no

Something about this laundry place was giving me the creeps, but I’m sure if it’s the scary man who’d brought us here, the overly cheery lady with the awful teeth, or the much-too-convenient cheap as chips room.

Willy seems to be completely trusting in these people, though, and I trust him with anything, so I decide to just take it as it comes, and keep my eyes open for anything else strange.

We’re lead upstairs by Bleacher, with Mrs Scrubbit following from behind. She chatters the whole way up, bombarding us with information about the place and our room and how much impact this laundry business has had on the town itself.

Bleacher pushes open a door, and lets us pass. I step inside after Willy, and glance quickly around the simplistic room. It’s pretty, very white, and has little daisies on the wallpaper.

“There you two are,” Mrs Scrubbit says happily. I wonder to myself if her name, or Bleacher’s for that matter, are actually their real names, or if they just made them up for the glamour of it all. They are pretty catchy names.

“Thank you, Mrs Scrubbit,” I say, and Willy chimes in after me.

“Thank you both.”

Mrs Scrubbit, flustered, grins at us both and waves her hand in the air vigorously. “There’s a bar of soap and a washing cloth on the sink, and fresh linens in the cupboard over there.”

I give her a smile, and my worries from earlier are almost forgotten. This place truly is a miracle.

After they leave, and the door has closed, I realise how exhausted I am. I collapse onto the floor, leaning my head against the wall and closing my eyes. I let out a sigh. “Who knew one single day could be so busy, huh?”

I can hear Willy dropping his coat to the floor, and laughing quietly to himself. “Yes indeed, y/n.”

I open my eyes to the sight of him sitting on the edge of the bed, and it is only then I notice the most obvious of facts. There is only one bed in this room.

Willy seems to realise this at the same moment I do. “Oh,” he says.

“Oh,” I echo.

There’s a heat beat of silence, then Willy quickly gets to his feet. “I’ll sleep on the floor. You take the bed.”

“What?” I’m almost annoyed. My best friend is my favourite person, and I love him dearly, but he is almost too kind sometimes. Kindness is a virtue, but in Willy, it often hurts himself in the process.

“You take the bed,” Willy repeats.

“Don't be ridiculous,” I say, still on the floor. “It’s a big enough bed for us both. I won’t have the best chocolate maker in the universe sleeping on this cold stone floor. It’s uncomfortable.”

He raises an eyebrow at me. “You’re literally sitting on the ground right now.”

I shrug. “Floor time is fun for me. Not for sleeping though. That would be kinda awful.”

Willy smiles softly. “Alright, bean. We can share.”

I have no idea why he calls me that, but I’ve long since given up on asking. He always just grins his wicked little smile and says something like, ‘I’ll tell you one day’.

I close my eyes again, and yawn. “I’m so tired, Will.”

“Don’t call me that.”

I laugh, and open my eyes again. “Sorry not sorry. Help me up.” I hold both my hands out to him.

Willy walks over, rolls his eyes at my antics, and pulls me to my feet.

“Come on,” he says softly, his fingers lingering near my unbrushed, unruly hair. “Let’s get you to bed, bean.”

“Okay,” I mumble, suddenly even sleepier. His quiet tone and gentle touch are pulling me even closer to the darkness of sleep. I let Willy pull off my jacket, and I slide out of my dress, leaving just my petticoat and undergarments on. I crawl under the covers, shimmying as close to the wall as I can to allow room for Willy.

He shrugs off his vest and shoes, switches off the light above us, and climbs in after me, lying as far away as possible on the other side of the bed. I understand the politeness in his gesture, but my tiredness is fogging my brain up, and I want him to be close.

“Willy?” I almost whine.

“Yeah, love?” he whispers.

“Can you hold me?” I mutter, my eyes shut tightly. I barely register his reply, but I do feel his strong arms as they tighten around my waist, and pull me close to him. Then, the darkness takes me.

I wake up slowly the next morning, my senses taking longer than usual to begin working. Smell is first. Chocolate and mint and rain. Then sound. The familiar sound of my best friend’s breathing. Then touch. Warm blankets, warm arms, my cheek pressed against a warm, moving, yet somewhat hard surface. Then, finally, sight.

My eyes clear, and I blink the sleep away, and I’m met with something extremely unexpected, but also very pleasant.

Willy’s sleeping face, only inches from my own, his dark curls spread across his forehead and the pillow we share. His arms are around me, holding me tightly even in his sleep. My head is resting on his chest, which is slowly rising and falling with his gentle breathing.

I myself try not to breathe, not daring to even move. I want nothing more than to extend this moment for as long as possible, maybe even forever.

Willy’s eyes flutter open, and their soft chocolate gaze lands on mine.

He smiles, and I’m almost certain it’s the prettiest thing in the world.

“Good morning, bean.”

“Hi,” I whisper. “You still owe me the reason behind that nickname.”

Willy smiles, his eyes flitting all over my face, as if he’s relishing the closeness between us as much as I am.

“Because,” he says slowly, drawing out the word. “You are as important to me as a cocoa bean is to chocolate.”

I let that fact sink in. “Oh,” I manage, my chest filling with all the love I have for this boy beside me.

“What’s wrong?” Willy tilts his head down to look at me properly, concern filling his features.

“Nothing,” I answer. “I just… love you, Willy Wonka. I really love you.”

He smiles again, wider this time. “And I love you, my little cocoa bean.”

[thereoncewasagirlnamedjane]

BREATHE AGAIN.

PAIRING — lumberjack!bucky barnes x f!reader

CONTENTS — one-shot(?); alternate universe—small town; lumberjack au; angst angst angst; mentions re: death of a loved one; estranged childhood friends; bucky has lots of self-deprecating thoughts, but honestly what’s new?

SUMMARY — Bucky could never bear to look at you for too long because of how brightly you shone. But now, it’s somehow unbearable for the same and entirely different reasons.

WORD COUNT — 3.0k

NOTES — this is my last entry for @avengers-assemble-bingo’s bucky barnes birthday bingo event. i didn’t think i’d make it, but i made it by the skin of my teeth! thank you to everyone who expressed love for the stories i wrote for this, i had a lot of fun writing for my first bingo!

✩ masterlist ✩ library blog ✩ bingo event masterlist

Out of breath, I am left hoping someday I’ll breathe again. —SARA BAREILLES, “Breathe Again”

Thin shafts of pale light creep through a gap in the faded curtains, stretching across his face and tugging him from a restless sleep. 

A few seconds later, a calloused hand sneaks out from beneath the threadbare covers and fumbles for the blaring alarm clock on the bedside table, silencing its ear-splitting toll with one firm tap. 

Bucky blinks his clearly eyes a few times, squinting against the intruding brightness, and pushes himself up onto his right elbow. The covers are then thrown off, and he doesn’t even flinch at the bite of chilled air against his bare skin. The springs of the narrow bed creaking under his shifting weight as he swings his legs over the side, bare feet finding the cool floorboards. 

Pushing himself to his feet with a soft grunt, Bucky pads over to the bathroom with his eyes still half-closed. After brushing his teeth and a quick shower, he heads back to his room and dresses quickly, pulling on some clean underwear, a trusty pair of Levi’s, and a form-fitting t-shirt. 

He searches around for his flannel, only to find it hanging off the back of a wooden chair in the kitchen. Bucky grabs it, shaking it once, then twice, before shrugging it on. His fingers move automatically doing up the buttons, but they slow as they reach the left sleeve, hovering for a heartbeat over the pinned-up fabric covering the space where his arm used to be. 

Shit. He should probably wear the arm today. 

He normally goes without, especially on days when he’s got nothing better to do but hole himself up in the squat brick building of Barnes, Torres & Wilson Logging. It’s easier not wearing it, much less hassle—never mind that the damn thing hurts him more often than not. 

Besides, if people were going to whisper and stare anyway, he might as well give them something to talk about. 

But things are different today, he’s got a job to do and people to meet… and the last thing he wants is to see that look of pity on your face when you realize that, in the years since you’d left Cobble Hill, he’s become mangled and broken and incomplete. 

He didn’t want to see it on you, the same look everyone had given him when he woke up in the hospital after his surgery, when he’d sweated through the nights that followed in excruciating pain no matter how many painkillers they’d pumped into him. 

Bucky had made everyone promise, especially Wanda and Natasha, not to call you. He made threats not to forgive them if they did, closing his eyes against the burn of shame and agony, swearing that he’d rather die than let you see just how damaged he’d become.

So Bucky grits his teeth now, grabbing the metal limb propped up in the corner of his bedroom that’s gathering dust—Jesus, he thinks he actually pulls it out of a cobweb—and shrugs out of his shirt again. 

It takes him a moment to remember where he keeps his socks and liners, sighing in mild frustration as he takes the extra time to put them on before attaching the arm and putting his shirt back on. 

He flexes the false fingers a few times, trying to familiarize himself with the prosthesis again after not wearing it for so long. Bucky doesn’t take the time to check his reflection in the spotted mirror propped up against the wall. He already knows what he’ll see—eyes shadowed from too little sleep, his long hair shaggy and unkempt, the lines around his mouth carved a little deeper, harsher. 

Gone is the boy from the dust-covered pictures on his dresser, the ones that captured moments of carefree laughter from years and a lifetime ago—back when he was still whole—and in his place is an angry and resentful man Bucky doesn’t recognize or like. He’d rather not look. 

For good measure, he tucks a pair of work gloves into his toolbox. With those, you’ll be none the wiser, even he does have to spend all morning at your house. Sam had mentioned you needed help clearing those old dead trees in your backyard, so you could finally put the place on the market.Just another reminder that even though you are back, it doesn’t mean you’re staying. 

However, they didn’t have enough hands… Sam and Joaquin would be busy on another job, which just left Bucky. 

“You sure?” Joaquin asked carefully when he ultimately volunteered to go in their place. “I mean, we can—” 

“It’ll be fine, alright?” Bucky barked, rougher than he intended, regretting it instantly. His business partner just patted his shoulder in understanding. 

Bucky grabs his tools and stomps into his heavy work boots, not bothering with the laces. The chill of winter takes its time moving on despite the dawning of spring, but he simply drapes his old Carhartt jacket over his good arm before heading out the door, snagging his keys from a bent nail driven crudely into the frame. 

The pink of sunrise is long gone, replaced with a vast and clear blue sky, golden light from the sun reflecting off windows and pooling on sidewalks. 

The stairs creak underfoot on his way down, his truck’s faded red door groaning in protest as Bucky wrenches it open and hoists himself up into the cab. He twists the key in the ignition and the old Ford grumbles to life, then he guides it out of the driveway and onto the main road. 

It doesn’t even take ten minutes to reach Orchard Street, the road soon giving way to gravel and then dirt. The houses around these parts are older, painted clapboard with wide porches and overgrown yards. He’d been to most of them in his youth, bringing homemade pies to neighbours, visiting friends and classmates, coaxing them out to play until the sky darkened. 

But it’s the old Victorian at the end of the road that’s the most familiar, its blue paint peeling and shutters slightly crooked. Bucky pulls up next to the curb rather than parking in the driveway, as there’s another car already parked there, a shiny black sedan sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the ancient-looking buildings and weed-choked lawns. 

Shutting off the ignition, Bucky jumps out of the truck and grabs his tools from the trunk. There are butterflies gnawing at his stomach as he balances the handle of an axe over his shoulder, the nervous feeling growing sharper and sharper with each step up the driveway. 

The yard is overgrown now, the grass, although still slightly matted from a long winter, is so tall and unruly it almost reaches his knees. Dead weeds crowd the path to the front door, dotting the cracks in the porch. 

It didn’t used to be this way. It used to be tidy and trimmed, with small beds of pink and white impatiens lining the path. Your mother’s garden, besides you, was always her pride and joy. 

An old tire swing sways from the large oak out front, its large sturdy branches still bare as they snake towards the sky, the thick rope hanging from one of them all frayed and worn. 

Memories push against his ribs, of laughter and skinned knees and the buzz of cicadas in the heavy summer air. Your mother, wearing her big sun hat, would be humming to herself while she gardened. Bucky would be lying in the grass next to you watching the clouds roll by, laughing when you grabbed his arm and screamed at a big fat dragonfly buzzing overhead. 

But that was a long time ago now, before everything changed… before it all went wrong. 

Finally reaching the door, Bucky raises his hand to knock and hesitates, his fist hovering an inch from the weathered wood. His jaw tightens, a muscle flickering in his cheek. He curls his fingers, nails biting into his palm, and drops his hand to the side. 

Regardless, the curtain in the front window twitches, a face appearing briefly in the gap. Eyes meet his, widening a fraction before the fabric falls back into place. There’s a beat, then the sound of the lock turning. The door opens, its hinges whining. 

And just like when he was that hopeless teenage boy so long ago, not so secretly in love with his best friend, Bucky almost forgets how to breathe. 

High school feels like a million years ago, but the memories come so easily. All those walks together on your shared lunch periods to the ice cream parlour just a few minutes from school. He’d open the door for you, calling out to the shop owner your usual order—two scoops of strawberry in a waffle cone, maraschino cherry on top. 

The two of you at Joaquin’s baseball games in a show of support, but always ending up in your own little world, sitting side by side on a picnic blanket next to the bleachers, hands so close to touching but never quite. 

And despite your fears of leaving Cobble Hill’s safe and quiet borders, the only ones you’d ever known, he had been the one to tell you to go. Bucky had placed his hands on your shoulders, lowering his head so your eyes were level with his, and insisted that you weren’t allowed to be afraid of success. 

“You’re too good for that, you know?” And even though it felt like his half of the world was ending, you beamed up at him through tears because you knew that he’d never lie to you. 

He decided in that moment he’d be brave for you. Four years will go by so quickly, you’ll see. You could call, and so could he. Maybe you could come home during your breaks, or maybe he could go visit you in New York for a weekend. You could show him all the sights, wouldn’t that be fun?  

And when news came that you would be staying in New York for a little bit longer, Bucky tried not to be discouraged. Then as he, Sam, and Joaquin decided to start their own logging business, and as you painstakingly climbed up the corporate ladder, the calls became less frequent. After your mom got sick, plans to visit one another had to be put on hold—just until she got better. 

Regrettably, she did not. And regrettably, all of it stopped after he lost his arm.

It didn’t matter that he once promised himself he’d wait for you. It didn’t matter that you once had a way of making him feel invincible, regardless of the fact that he knew himself to be anything but. It no longer mattered that you were once able to make him feel like he’d been struck by lightning, with just one look. 

“Bucky,” you breathe, the cadence of your voice so familiar it’s like he’s being transported back in time. He swallows hard, not saying your name back. He doesn’t think he can handle the sound of it out loud, and certainly doesn’t feel like he deserves the taste of it on his own tongue. “It’s really nice to see you.” 

Still a sweetheart, he thinks, even if he doesn’t call you that anymore. Bucky can’t bring himself to look at you. Even now, you still shine so bright. He dips his chin in greeting instead, not meeting your eyes. 

“Thanks for coming, I really appreciate it,” you say when you invite him inside, closing the door once he’s in the foyer. It’s so formal, not at all how like the two of you used to be. 

“Sure,” is all he says, bristling under your stare, the air thick with unspoken words and fractured history. Bucky can feel your eyes scanning him even as he turns away, trying to ignore the fact that he hasn’t been this close to you in so long. He gestures towards the backyard, the reason he’s here—to help you prepare this place for sale, so you can go back to your life in New York. “I should… get to work.” 

“Oh, right,” he tries not to lean into the idea that you sound disappointed, as though you were expecting him to stay and chat. “Yeah. Thanks again.” 

He doesn’t know what to say, so he strides away without another word towards the sliding glass doors. The backyard is just as familiar, though so much smaller than he remembers. There is a haphazard row of half-dead pines standing sentinel along the back fence, their needles carpeting the ground. 

The screen door bangs shut behind him as he steps out into the morning sun. Dew soaks through the toe of his boots as he crosses the yard, gleaming on the overgrown half-dead grass like scattered diamonds.

He keeps his eyes on the trees, not letting them stray to the old shed where you used to hide to scare him when you were kids, not letting the memories crowd in like hungry ghosts. 

He sets down his tools near the deck, rolls his shoulders, and gets to work. The first swing of his axe cuts deep into the trunk of the smallest tree, sending a judder up his arm. He welcomes the sting in his good palm, the stretch of muscles long unused. 

Bucky loses himself in the rhythm of the work, in the strain of his breath and the heat building under his flannel. The air fills with the clean, sharp scent of resin and the drumbeat of the axe finding its mark over and over. Each impact of steel on wood feels like a small, necessary violence—both a penance and a promise. 

To your mother whom he remembers fondly as an affectionate woman with a kind smile she’d passed on to you, and a pair of warm hands in which flowers always seemed to grow. 

He’s sorry that she had to go so soon and so painfully, that he couldn’t be there for you when you needed a friend the most. He promises that you’ll have no reason to feel sad because of him again. 

When the first tree finally falls, he barely notices the burn in his arms, the sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. He moves onto the next tree, and the next, until—at least for these short moments—his world narrows to the bite of the axe and the shivering pines and the distant ache that never quite leaves his chest. 

But as he goes to lift the axe again, pain lances through the ghost of his missing limb, hot shards of agony stabbing into an arm that’s no longer there. 

A gasp rips from his throat, his shoulder spasming. The phantom sensations intensify, invisible muscles clenching, nonexistent tendons straining. Bucky braces himself agains the trunk of a nearby pine with his good hand, knuckles white, as a wave of nausea washes over him. 

He should be used to these by now, but the episodes never seem to get easier no matter how much time has passed. More beads of sweat trickle down the side of his face as he tries to breathe through the pain. Don’t let her see, he tells himself, damn near pleading. 

Bucky’s eyes dart towards the glass doors, his fingers fumbling for the axe again, determined to keep working and to act normal. But his movements are jerky, uncoordinated. His tools clatter to the ground, unnaturally loud in his ears even as it lands on the softening earth. He makes a frustrated noise, halfway between a growl and a whimper. Then he hears the sound of the sliding door open. No. Please, anything but that. 

“Bucky?” Your voice, laced with concern. He looks up to see you hurrying towards him, setting down a glass of water on a nearby stump. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” he grits out, but another bolt of pain makes him hunch over involuntarily, jaw clenched. 

“What’s wrong?” You reach his side, your hands fluttering helplessly. You frown at the sight of his distress. “What can I do?” 

“Nothing,” he says a little too harshly, flinching away from you instinctively. “You can’t do anything.” 

This is exactly what he didn’t want, for you to see him like this—weak, diminished. Bucky straightens with effort, trying to shove the pain down to where it can’t reach him. His left shoulder aches, the muscles around his prosthesis socket sore and tight.

“Is it your arm?” You ask carefully, and his eyes snap to yours. 

“What?” 

“Steve told me,” you confess, your hand finding its place on his, a hundred emotions flickering through your eyes—sadness and compassion, two things he does not want right now, and then something a bit fiercer. “Don’t be angry with him. He was afraid this would happen and wanted to warn me.”

 “Of fucking course, the punk could never keep his mouth shut.” 

“In his defence, he only told me two days ago.” 

“Forget it,” Bucky jerks out of your grip, turning away as shame simmers louder in his gut, hot and sour. “Just… I’ll be fine. Go back inside.” 

“I really think you should take a break—”

“I mean it, just go. Please,” he hates the way his voice cracks on the last word, but after a tense beat of silence, the soft scruff of your footsteps cross the yard, fading into the distance. The bang of the door closing behind you has a horrible finality. 

Alone again, Bucky slumps against the tree, all the strength draining out of him, and finally lets the tears come. His nonexistent left arm throbs and tingles, a cruel reminder of everything he’s lost. He wonders if he’ll ever stop feeling like a ghost in his own life, haunted by the past and unable to grasp the future. 

He tries, as he closes his eyes against the pain, to remember what it was like to hold you with two good hands.

Or will he spend the rest of his life reaching for things he can no longer have?

fin…?

AFTERWORD — this may turn into a miniseries eventually… i honestly can’t say either way lmao. not for a while though, so… yeah 😇

© 2025 by thereoncewasagirlnamedjane. do not repost, translate, or copy to third party sites. no part of this work may be fed into any AI software or websites. minors are asked not to interact with my blog; you are responsible for your own media consumption. followers with zero engagement, serial likers, and blank/ageless blogs will be blocked.

[nevieeland]

title: normal girl

pairing: ex boyfriend!k.namjoon x reader

synopsis: if someone were to ask you why you'd broken up with kim namjoon, you'd tell them it's simply because you weren't compatible. which was partially true. you wouldn't tell them it was because of a debilitating self loathing, or a lack of communication, or the fact that he was so embarrassed of you he didn't even tell his parents of your existence. but it was an amicable breakup, all in the past. or it would be, if he didn't have a habit of popping up everywhere.

rating/warnings: pg ; angst. party, drinking, mentions of weed. reader and namjoon make out. miscommunication if you squint. not proofread.

last updated: 11.02.25

word count: 6.8k.

the first time you see him after the breakup is at a party.

you don't know why you're surprised to see him there. all of your friends are his friends, and vice versa. you ran in the same, tight fucking circle.

so why does your stomach practically lurch out your throat when he laughs with one of your mutual friends like it was the easiest thing in the world. why does his presence here bother you so much?

you don't know.

you don't know why you're standing there, watching him from across the room like some fucking stranger. the same guy you used to tell everything to, the one who used to make you laugh until your stomach hurt. he’s talking to someone else now. laughing like he’s got it all figured out. and here you are, just staring, trying to remember when it stopped hurting.

you told yourself you were over it, but you’re not. you can feel it creeping up, the ache, the fucking tightness in your chest. you thought seeing him would make it easier. it’s not.

so why the hell is he standing there, looking so... fine?

jimin’s hand is warm on your shoulder, grounding in a way that makes you blink, makes you realize you’ve been standing there, stuck, for way too long.

"are you gonna spend the whole night staring at your ex, or are you actually gonna have fun?" he leans in, his voice pitched low so only you can hear. "because if you’re just gonna be weird about it, i’ll take your drink and your dignity right now."

you scoff, finally tearing your eyes away from namjoon—who hasn’t even noticed you, by the way, which somehow makes it worse. "i’m not staring," you mutter, even though you definitely were.

jimin gives you a look, one that says don’t lie to me, dumbass, before tipping back the rest of his drink and setting the empty cup on the nearest table. "sure. and I’m not the hottest person in this room."

you roll your eyes. "you’re unbearable."

"and you’re deflecting." he tilts his head, studying you like he’s deciding whether to push further. he must see something in your face, because his tone softens. "you good?"

the question makes your throat tighten. you swallow around it, force a shrug. "yeah. just… wasn’t expecting him to be here."

jimin hums like he doesn’t quite believe you, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he loops an arm through yours and tugs you toward the crowd. "come on. if you keep standing here looking tragic, he’s gonna think you’re still in love with him."

you make a noise of protest, but jimin’s already dragging you away. you let him. anything is better than standing still.

jimin tugs you deeper into the party, past clusters of people you barely register, past the pulsing bass of the music that thrums in your chest. you try to focus on the warmth of his hand around your wrist, on the familiar comfort of his presence, but it’s hard when you can still feel namjoon in the room. like gravity, like muscle memory—like the aftertaste of something you don’t want to admit you still crave.

"drink," jimin announces, shoving a red cup into your hands. "dance. flirt. do literally anything other than mope in the corner like a sad victorian widow."

you glare at him over the rim of your cup. "that’s dramatic."

"and you’re predictable." he nudges you with his hip, grinning. "what happened to i’m totally over it, jimin, it’s fine, i’m fine?"

you sigh, tipping your head back as you take a sip—cheap vodka, too much mixer. "i am fine."

"uh-huh. that’s why you looked like you were about to throw up when you saw him."

you don’t have an answer for that, so you take another sip instead.

jimin huffs, his expression softening. "look, i get it. it’s weird. but it’s been, what? two months? you don’t have to let him ruin your night."

two months and thirteen days. but who’s counting?

you press your lips together, exhaling slowly. "he’s not ruining my night."

"great," jimin chirps, too fast, too pleased. his hands find your shoulders again, squeezing before he turns you toward the crowd of dancing bodies. "then let’s go. if i don’t see you at least attempt to have a good time, i’m calling a priest to exorcise the ghost of your failed relationship."

you let him pull you along because you know he’s right. because standing still feels worse than moving. because you can pretend for a little while that the memory of namjoon’s laugh isn’t still echoing in the back of your head.

and because, if nothing else, jimin will make sure you don’t drown in it.

the bass thrums in your chest as jimin pulls you toward the dance floor, the heat of too many bodies pressing in around you.

someone’s perfume lingers in the air, something sweet and floral, but all you can focus on is the way jimin spins you around, his hands landing on your waist like he’s daring you to let loose.

"you remember how to do this, right?" he teases, close enough that you can hear him over the music.

you roll your eyes but sway your hips anyway, letting the beat carry you just enough to keep him satisfied. jimin grins, triumphant, and starts moving with you, rolling his body like he was born to do this. which, honestly, he probably was.

"see?" he says, his voice light, easy. "way more fun than standing in a corner looking like you just got dumped."

you give him a halfhearted shove. "i did just get dumped. two months isn’t that long."

"feels long enough to me," jimin shrugs, his hands still on your hips, keeping you anchored. "besides, it’s not like he died. he’s just some guy you used to date. and if he can act like everything’s cool, so can you."

you want to argue. want to tell him that it’s not the same, that namjoon has always been better at pretending things don’t affect him the way they affect you. but you don’t, because that’s exactly the kind of thing jimin would pounce on.

instead, you let yourself focus on the music, on the way your body moves without thinking, on the way Jimin keeps you moving forward instead of looking back. for a few minutes, it almost works.

and then—

then you feel it.

a prickle at the back of your neck, the weight of someone’s eyes settling over you. it makes your movements stutter, just slightly, but jimin notices immediately. his hands tighten, grounding, but it’s too late. you already know.

you don’t have to look to know who it is.

but you do anyway.

and there he is.

namjoon, standing just a few feet away, watching you with something unreadable in his expression. his drink is half-forgotten in his hand, his jaw tight. and the moment your eyes meet, something shifts in the air between you—something heavy, something unsaid.

jimin follows your gaze and sighs, muttering something under his breath before stepping closer, like he’s preparing for impact.

"okay," he murmurs, his fingers curling around your wrist, "i know I said you should act like everything’s cool, but if you want to bail, just say the word."

you swallow hard, pulse thrumming in your ears.

you should look away.

you should turn around and let jimin drag you into the crowd and pretend this never happened.

but you don’t.

because Namjoon is still looking at you.

and for the first time since the breakup, you think maybe—just maybe—he’s not as okay as he’s pretending to be.

jimin must sense it, the shift in your energy and the way your breath catches just slightly, because his grip on your wrist tightens.

"hey," he murmurs, barely audible over the music, "don’t do that."

"do what?" you say, but it’s weak, barely a protest.

jimin sighs, tilting his head toward namjoon. "that thing where you look at him like he still belongs to you."

you flinch. "i’m not—"

"you are," jimin cuts in, no softness left in his voice now. "and i get it. i do. but if you let yourself go down that road, you’re gonna end up right back where you started. and i’m not picking up the pieces again."

that stings more than it should. You don’t want to be a burden. don’t want to be someone people have to fix. but it’s hard when namjoon is still looking at you like that—like you’re something familiar in a room full of strangers.

your fingers tighten around your cup. "i don’t know what to do."

jimin exhales sharply, his lips pressing together before he shifts, stepping fully in front of you, blocking your view. "then do nothing," he says. "don’t go to him. don’t let him come to you. just… let it be, for once."

you chew on the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to nod. jimin’s right. you know he’s right.

but then you hear it.

your name.

low and careful, spoken in a voice you know better than your own.

you don’t even get the chance to think before jimin reacts. his eyes flick past your shoulder, his mouth pressing into a tight line.

"not tonight, namjoon."

jimin says it like a warning, like he already knows how this ends.

but namjoon—stubborn, stupid namjoon—only sighs. "i just want to talk."

you hate how much your body betrays you. the way your shoulders tense, the way your breath shudders just slightly. the way you feel yourself swaying toward him before jimin gently pulls you back.

"you don’t have to do this," jimin murmurs, low enough that only you can hear.

and maybe you don’t.

maybe you should walk away.

maybe you shouldn’t look up, shouldn’t meet namjoon’s eyes, shouldn’t let yourself get caught in whatever storm is brewing in them.

but you do. you never were very good at letting go.

jimin’s grip is still firm around your wrist, an anchor you could hold onto if you wanted. if you were smart.

but when you finally meet namjoon’s gaze, something in your chest folds in on itself.

he looks… tired. not just in the way he always does, like he’s been thinking too much again, but in a way that makes your throat tighten. his shoulders are tense, his jaw is tight, and despite how carefully he said your name, his eyes are anything but steady.

you shouldn’t care.

you shouldn’t feel anything.

but you do.

jimin must see the way your resolve wavers, because he sighs sharply and lets go of your wrist. "fine," he mutters. "but if you start spiraling, i’m dragging you out of here myself."

you swallow, nodding once before turning back to namjoon. he watches the exchange, his fingers curling around his drink like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t—not yet.

instead, he jerks his chin toward the back hallway, quieter, less crowded.

"can we talk?"

you hesitate. you shouldn’t. you shouldn’t.

but then you nod.

namjoon exhales like he’s been holding his breath, and that alone makes you feel like you’ve already made a mistake.

jimin doesn’t say anything as you step away, but you can feel his eyes on you, like he’s mentally tallying up every bad decision you’re about to make.

namjoon walks ahead, leading you toward the hallway, and you follow.

because of course you do.

because you never learned how to walk away from him first.

the music fades the farther you go, replaced by the distant hum of conversation. the air back here is cooler, less suffocating, but it does nothing to settle the uneasy weight in your stomach.

namjoon stops near a closed door—bathroom, maybe, or just some random room in whoever’s house this is. he turns to face you, fingers dragging through his hair like he’s trying to gather his thoughts.

you cross your arms over your chest before he can say anything. "if you’re gonna ask me if i’m okay, don’t."

namjoon huffs a quiet, humorless laugh, shaking his head. "i wasn’t."

you shift your weight from one foot to the other. "then what?"

his jaw flexes, and for a second, he looks like he regrets pulling you aside at all. but then he meets your gaze again, and something in his expression turns serious.

"why did you do it?"

your breath catches.

"do what?" you ask, even though you already know.

namjoon’s eyes don’t waver. "why did you break up with me?"

the words settle between you like a stone, heavier than they should be.

you could lie.

you could tell him what you told yourself—that it just wasn’t working, that you needed space, that it was for the best.

but the way he’s looking at you now, like he’s begging for something real, you’re not sure you have it in you to lie to him again.

you inhale sharply, feeling the weight of the question press into your ribs. namjoon is staring at you like he expects an answer that will fix everything—something clean, something that will finally make sense of it all. But there is no clean answer. there never was.

"i ask myself that all the time," you say slowly, carefully, "and every time the answer is the same. we weren’t compatible."

namjoon’s lips part slightly, but you don’t let him interrupt.

"and that’s true," you add. "we weren’t."

it’s the easy answer, the one that doesn’t dig too deep, the one that keeps things polite and distant. the one you’ve told yourself over and over again so it doesn’t hurt as much.

namjoon exhales through his nose. "that’s it?"

you let out a humorless laugh. "what else do you want me to say?"

his fingers tighten around his drink, his knuckles going pale. "i don’t know," he admits. "something real. the truth, maybe."

the words hit harder than they should. you shift your weight, suddenly feeling too exposed. "it is the truth."

namjoon scoffs, shaking his head. "no, it’s the version you tell everyone else. but not me. never me."

your stomach twists, but you force yourself to hold your ground. "you don’t get to be upset about that," you say, sharper than you mean to.

his jaw tightens. "why not?"

"because you never told your version either," you snap. "because I spent a year feeling like i was screaming into a void while you just—" you pause, forcing down the lump in your throat. "you never even told your parents about me, namjoon."

silence.

his expression doesn’t change, but the way his grip tightens around his drink tells you enough.

you laugh, but there’s no humor in it. "what? you didn’t think i knew?"

he doesn’t say anything.

"you think i didn’t notice? the way you changed the subject every time i asked about them? the way you made sure I was never around when they called?" you swallow, throat burning. "i spent so much time making excuses for you, telling myself i was being paranoid, that maybe you were just private, maybe it wasn’t that deep. but it was, wasn’t it?"

namjoon shifts, exhaling slowly, like he’s trying to choose his next words carefully. but you don’t want careful. not anymore.

"did i embarrass you?" you ask, voice quieter now, but no less sharp.

his head jerks up. "what?"

you force yourself to hold his gaze. "was I embarrassing? is that why you never told them?"

namjoon looks pained now, like the question physically hurts him. "no," he says quickly. "god, no, it wasn’t—" he exhales roughly, rubbing a hand over his face. "it wasn’t like that."

"then what was it like?" you push. "because that’s what it felt like, namjoon. like i was something you wanted to keep hidden."

his shoulders rise and fall, and for the first time, he looks almost… small. like he’s carrying something heavy, something he never figured out how to say.

"i was scared," he says finally.

you blink. "scared of what?"

namjoon lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "i was scared of fucking it up. scared of them not approving. scared of what would happen if i let them into that part of my life and they decided you weren’t—" he cuts himself off, jaw going tight.

you stare at him, pulse pounding in your ears. "weren’t what?"

namjoon hesitates, looking at you like he knows whatever he says next is going to break something.

"enough," he says quietly. "weren’t enough for them."

something sharp twists in your chest, and suddenly, you feel sick.

"right," you say, stepping back. "so you just made that decision for them, then. for me."

"that’s not what i—"

"do you even hear yourself?" you let out a shaky breath, shaking your head. "you didn’t want them to decide i wasn’t enough, so you just... never gave them the chance to know me at all?"

namjoon presses his lips together, but he doesn’t deny it.

and that—that hurts worse than anything else.

you nod, even though it’s not really for him. it’s for you, to ground yourself, to remember.

this is why you left. this is why none of this matters anymore.

it’s in the past. or at least, it should be.

your heart stumbles.

"you’re ridiculous," you murmur.

"am i?" he meets your gaze, something raw in his expression. "because i know you, and i know how hard you are on yourself. i know that you think you ruined this, that you walked away because you thought i deserved better, but—" he exhales, shaking his head. "it wasn’t just you. you weren’t the only one who didn’t know how to talk about things."

your breath feels shallow, like there’s not enough air in this hallway.

this isn’t how you thought this conversation would go.

you thought he’d be angry. thought he’d want some kind of closure. thought he’d say something to make it all easier to leave behind.

but instead, he looks at you like he’s still holding on.

and you don’t know what to do with that.

the walls feel like they’re closing in. the air is too thick, too heavy, pressing against your ribs, making it hard to breathe. you don’t want to hear this. you don’t want to know this.

namjoon is still looking at you, still waiting, like he expects you to say something, to offer him some kind of reaction—but you can’t. you won’t.

so you don’t.

you inhale sharply, then push past him before he can stop you. your shoulder brushes his arm, the touch fleeting and electric, but you don’t let yourself look back. you just move.

the bass of the music hits first, a welcome distraction as you step back into the crowded party. the sound drowns out the lingering weight of namjoon’s words, the heat of his gaze still burning into your skin. you weave through the bodies, through the noise, searching for the only person who can pull you out of your own head.

jimin.

you find him by the drinks table, chatting with someone you don’t recognize, his mouth twisted into a lazy smirk. but the second his eyes land on you, the expression drops.

he takes one look at your face and sighs.

"that bad?" he asks.

you grab a bottle of vodka off the table, unscrewing the cap with shaking fingers. "i need to get drunk tonight."

jimin blinks. then his lips curl into something that’s not quite a smile but almost—something that says i told you so but also i’ve got you.

"okay," he says, plucking the bottle from your hands before you can take a straight swig. "but let’s do it the fun way, yeah?"

he pours a generous amount into a cup, mixing it with something vaguely fruit-flavored before handing it back to you. his eyes flicker over your shoulder, like he’s checking to see if namjoon followed, but he doesn’t ask. he doesn’t need to.

instead, he clinks his own drink against yours and grins. "let’s make some bad decisions."

and for the first time all night, you let yourself breathe.

the world is spinning.

or maybe it’s just you.

you don’t know, and you don’t care, because everything feels light—your limbs, your head, your fucking heart.

the music is loud, pulsing through your veins, and you’re pressed between jimin and yoonah, both of them laughing as you sway, barely keeping balance. jimin’s boyfriend—taehyung, you think?—is off to the side, watching with amusement, while jungkook keeps up with the reckless pace of your movements, grinning like this is the funniest thing he’s seen all night.

"you’re gone," yoonah giggles, gripping your waist to steady you.

you throw your head back, laughing at nothing. "i needed this," you slur, arms flinging around jimin’s shoulders. "you’re the best for making me do this."

jimin huffs a laugh, his hands tightening on your hips as he keeps you upright. "i always know what’s best for you, babe."

"you do," you say, nodding so hard the room tilts. "you’re so smart. sooo wise. like a little… glittery buddha."

yoonah practically shrieks with laughter at that, doubling over.

"glittery buddha?" jungkook echoes, barely holding it together. "oh my god, i’m using that forever."

jimin rolls his eyes but smiles, shifting to keep you from stumbling as you sway too far to one side. "alright, okay, i think you’ve hit your very drunk quota for the night."

you pout, leaning against him heavily. "but i like being drunk."

"i know you do," he coos, smoothing a hand over your hair like you’re a particularly chaotic pet. "but i like you alive, so maybe let’s get some water, yeah?"

you open your mouth to protest, but the dizziness catches up with you, making your head spin. you press a hand to your forehead, giggling again. "whoa."

jungkook reaches out, steadying your arm. "okay, yeah, we need to sit her down before she actually eats shit on the floor."

taehyung, who’s been mostly observing, finally steps in, shaking his head with a fond smile. "come on, let’s get her outside for some air."

jimin nods, already shifting to loop an arm around your waist. "good call."

yoonah pats your cheek gently. "you good, babe?"

you grin, leaning into her touch. "never better."

and it’s true.

because in this moment, with the alcohol buzzing in your veins and your friends keeping you steady, you’re not thinking about namjoon.

not even a little bit.

the cool night air hits your skin like a blessing, crisp and fresh after the suffocating heat of the party. you breathe in deep, letting it settle in your lungs, hoping it might clear some of the haze from your head. it doesn’t. you’re still warm, still loose-limbed and giggly, still swaying slightly where you stand.

taehyung watches you with amusement, fishing something out of his pocket. “cigarette?” he offers, holding one out between two fingers.

you blink at it, then at him. “are you trying to corrupt me?”

he smirks. “wouldn’t dream of it. but you look like you need something to do with your hands.”

you hum, considering. then, just to be a little shit, you ask, “you got any weed?”

taehyung barks out a laugh, shaking his head as he tucks the cigarette between his lips and lights it. “i’m not trying to be responsible for your overdose tonight, babe.”

you gasp dramatically. “you can’t overdose on weed.”

“yeah, but you can pass out on the grass and wake up with ants in your hair.” he exhales a slow stream of smoke, tilting his head toward you. “and i really don’t feel like carrying your ass back inside when that happens.”

you laugh, leaning back against the railing of the patio. “fair point.”

for a moment, it’s quiet. just the distant bass of the party, the hum of cars on a nearby street, the flickering glow of the cigarette between taehyung’s fingers.

you close your eyes, letting the dizziness settle into something softer, more manageable. the night air is nice. It makes everything feel farther away—the party, the noise, the weight of namjoon’s voice still lingering in your head.

“you okay?” taehyung asks suddenly, voice lower now, gentler.

your lashes flutter open. he’s watching you, smoke curling around his face, his expression unreadable.

you shrug. “i’m drunk.”

“no shit,” he says, amused. then, after a beat: “but I mean… are you okay?”

something tightens in your chest, and you look away, down at the wood grain beneath your fingers.

“i’m not not okay,” you murmur, noncommittal.

taehyung hums like he expected that answer. he takes another drag, then flicks the ash off the edge of the railing. “breakups fucking suck,” he says, like it’s just a fact of life.

you let out a breathy laugh. “yeah. they do.”

another pause. more silence. more space to breathe.

then Taehyung nudges your arm with his elbow. “want a hit?”

you glance at the cigarette, then at him, and for the first time tonight, you don’t feel like running.

so you take it.

you bring the cigarette to your lips, inhaling just enough to feel the burn at the back of your throat. it’s been a while since you last smoked, and it’s probably not the best idea when you’re already drunk, but at this point, what’s one more bad decision?

taehyung watches you with a lazy sort of amusement, like he’s waiting for you to cough. you don’t, but the way your nose scrunches at the taste makes him smirk anyway.

you exhale slowly, watching the smoke curl into the night air. “how do you and yoonah do it?” you ask suddenly.

he raises an eyebrow. “do what?”

“be so… normal.” you gesture vaguely, handing the cigarette back. “especially considering, y’know. everything.”

taehyung hums, taking a slow drag before tilting his head at you. “you mean the part where i’m dating her brother?”

you nod. “yeah. like… wasn’t that weird at first?”

he exhales, flicking the ash off to the side. “not really.”

you blink. “seriously?”

taehyung shrugs, passing the cigarette between his fingers. “i think she always knew.”

you frown. “knew what?”

“that i liked him,” he says simply. “probably before i even knew it myself.”

you stare at him for a long moment, trying to imagine what it must feel like to have everything fall into place like that—to have someone just know, to have things unfold without the weight of self-doubt and miscommunication crushing it before it even has a chance.

you press your lips together, glancing down at your hands. “do you think i’ll ever get over it?”

taehyung doesn’t ask what you mean. he doesn’t have to.

he leans against the railing beside you, looking out over the backyard, the glow of his cigarette the only bright spot in the dark.

“time will tell,” he says finally.

you sigh, tilting your head back to stare at the sky. the stars are faint, barely visible against the city lights, but they’re there.

you rub your hands over your face, exhaling hard. the alcohol has loosened your tongue, made your thoughts spill out faster than you can filter them. but maybe that’s okay. maybe, for once, you just need to say it.

“i hate him,” you murmur, staring down at the ground. “but i still love him.”

taehyung doesn’t react, just smokes his cigarette like he’s heard this kind of thing a thousand times before.

“i want to punch him in the face,” you continue, voice thick. “and then i want to kiss him. and then i want to hit him with my car.”

that makes Taehyung snort, but you’re not done.

“and then i’d stay with him at the hospital,” you add, chest aching. “i’d be the one sitting in that awful plastic chair all night, making sure he’s okay.”

you swallow, throat burning. “i just want to be his again.” the words feel raw, fragile, like they might break if you say them too loud. “but i can’t.”

taehyung takes another drag, eyes steady on the horizon. “no,” he agrees. “you can’t.”

it’s not cruel. it’s not dismissive. it’s just the truth, and you hate how much you need to hear it.

your arms wrap around yourself, like that’ll somehow hold you together. “i don’t know how to stop loving him.”

taehyung hums, flicking his cigarette away before turning to you fully. “maybe you don’t have to.”

you furrow your brows, confused, but he just shrugs. “maybe love isn’t something you stop doing. maybe it just… changes. maybe one day, you wake up, and it doesn’t hurt so much.”

you scoff, bitter. “you sound like a fortune cookie.”

taehyung grins, bumping his shoulder against yours. “i have my moments.”

you shake your head, but your lips twitch despite yourself. the ache in your chest is still there, still deep and gnawing, but at least now you’re not alone with it.

the night air is cool against your skin. the party hums in the background, voices and music blending into something distant, something that doesn’t belong to you right now.

you let out a slow breath, watching it disappear into the night.

maybe taehyung is right. maybe one day, you’ll wake up and the weight of namjoon won’t feel so heavy.

but tonight isn’t that night.

teh night air has cooled further, the party still pulsing behind you, but out here—alone on the patio—it’s quiet. the alcohol has loosened its grip on you, dulled the edges of your thoughts without making them disappear entirely. you’re sober enough to think clearly but tipsy enough not to care too much.

taehyung had gone back inside a while ago, leaving you with nothing but the distant hum of laughter, the glow of porch lights, the lingering smell of cigarette smoke clinging to your fingers.

and then you feel it. that subtle shift in the air. a presence behind you. familiar, even without turning.

you don’t have to look to know who it is.

namjoon.

for the first time in months, his presence doesn’t make your stomach churn. it doesn’t feel like a gut punch, doesn’t send you spiraling into a mess of emotions you don’t know how to handle.

you feel… still. at peace, almost.

neither of you speaks at first. he doesn’t move closer, doesn’t try to force the moment into something heavier than it already is. he just stands there, quiet.

eventually, you break the silence.

"you always do this," you murmur, not turning around.

"do what?" his voice is careful, measured.

"pop up when i least expect it." you tilt your head, staring at the night sky. "like some tragic ghost of relationships past."

namjoon huffs a quiet laugh, but there’s no real humor in it. "not a ghost," he says. "i’m still here."

you let out a slow breath. "yeah. you are."

another pause. another silence. but it doesn’t feel suffocating this time.

"you seemed like you were having fun tonight," namjoon says eventually.

you nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. "i was."

he shifts behind you, like he wasn’t expecting that answer. like he was bracing himself for something else.

"i’m glad," he says after a beat, and you think he means it.

you glance down at your hands, at the faint smudges of ash still on your fingertips. "i was thinking about you earlier," you admit, voice softer now. "about how much I hate you."

namjoon hums, not sounding surprised. "and?"

"and how much i still love you." you exhale, shaking your head. "how i want to punch you and kiss you and run you over with my car."

you hear him huff out a laugh, short and breathless. "that bad, huh?"

you shrug. "you’ve always had that effect on me."

another pause. another breath of silence. then, "do you think we’ll ever be okay?" namjoon asks, voice quiet, almost tentative.

you turn slightly, not enough to meet his eyes, but enough to glance at him from the corner of your vision.

and for the first time, you don’t feel the need to run.

"maybe," you say honestly. "but not yet."

namjoon takes that in, his lips pressing together. then he nods, like he understands. like, for once, you’re finally on the same page.

the silence stretches between you, neither heavy nor light, just there. a shared moment in the quiet of the night, both of you lingering in something neither of you knows how to name.

then, after a beat, you ask, "are you still studying philosophy?"

namjoon exhales, a small, familiar huff of amusement. "yeah."

you nod, staring at the railing in front of you. "that makes sense." another pause. another breath. then it’s his turn.

"are you still…" he trails off, the rest of the sentence left hanging between you. you don’t need him to finish. you already know what he’s asking.

you hum, eyes flicking up to the stars. "yeah. still doing nothing with my life."

namjoon shifts beside you. "that’s not what i meant."

"it’s fine," you say, waving a hand dismissively. "i know what i am."

"do you?" his voice is quiet, but there’s something sharp beneath it, something frustrated, like he’s tired of you talking about yourself like this. you don’t want to go there. not now.

so you take another breath, pushing past it, keeping your voice light. "we were never gonna work anyway."

namjoon exhales, but it’s not quite agreement.

"we’re too different," you continue. "you with your philosophy books and your big ideas, and me with…" you gesture vaguely at yourself. "this. we were always fighting an uphill battle."

namjoon shakes his head. "that’s not true."

"it is," you say simply. "you can’t flog a dead horse, namjoon."

his jaw tightens. "i don’t think we were dead."

you shrug, smiling faintly. "then we were dying."

namjoon doesn’t answer right away. he just watches you, eyes flickering with something unreadable. then, after a long moment, he sighs, shaking his head.

"maybe," he says. "but that doesn’t mean we didn’t matter."

you swallow, the words sitting heavy on your tongue before you let them slip free. "i miss you," you say, barely above a whisper.

namjoon inhales sharply, like the words winded him. he doesn’t hesitate. "i miss you too."

you press your lips together, staring at the railing, at the wood grain beneath your fingers. "i wish things were different."

namjoon shifts, and you feel the weight of his gaze settle on you. "me too."

that’s all it takes for you to turn, finally, fully, to face him. and when you do, when you finally meet his eyes, you realize just how close he is—close enough that you can see the crease between his brows, the flicker of something raw and aching in his expression.

and then he steps closer.

the space between you shrinks, the air between you charged, crackling like something fragile and electric.

namjoon’s voice drops to a whisper. "do you want to know what i would have done differently?"

you don’t answer. you just watch him, heart hammering in your chest.

his hands find your waist, slow and deliberate, his fingers curling into the fabric of your dress like he’s anchoring himself there.

"i would have told them about you," he murmurs, breath warm against your skin. "i would have been better at talking to you. i would have told you how much you meant to me, over and over, so you never had to wonder."

your breath hitches.

namjoon tilts his head, eyes flickering between yours. "i wouldn’t have let you walk away so easily."

you don’t know who moves first. maybe it’s you. maybe it’s him.

but suddenly, you’re leaning in, and he’s pulling you closer, and before you can second-guess it, before you can think at all, your lips meet.

it’s soft at first—tentative, almost careful, like you’re both testing the waters, seeing if this still fits, if this still works.

but then namjoon exhales against your lips, and his grip on your waist tightens, and the kiss deepens, and suddenly it’s not careful at all.

it’s desperate. It’s aching. It’s everything unsaid spilling into the space between you, mouths moving like they never forgot how to fit together.

namjoon kisses you like he’s been waiting for this—like he never really let go in the first place. jis hands tighten at your waist, fingers pressing into your skin like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold you steady. and maybe you would.

maybe if he weren’t holding you like this, you’d come to your senses, step back, remind yourself why this can’t happen.

but you don’t.

you let yourself fall into it, into him. into the way his lips slot against yours, warm and familiar, the way his breath hitches when you tilt your head just right. his hands slide up, trailing along your sides, and your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, gripping tight like you need something to ground you.

like you need him to ground you.

a shuddered breath leaves his lips as you press closer, chest against chest, the space between you vanishing entirely. his hands slide up your back, one settling at the nape of your neck, tilting your head just enough for him to kiss you deeper.

it’s dizzying.

it’s dangerous.

it’s everything.

when you finally break apart, you’re both breathless, foreheads resting against each other, his hands still gripping you like he’s afraid to let go.

your heart is pounding. you don’t know if it’s from the kiss or from the weight of what it means. you close your eyes. "namjoon…"

"i know," he whispers, his thumb brushing over your hip.

you swallow, fingers still curled in his shirt. "we shouldn’t have done that."

he exhales, a soft, almost defeated sound. "i know."

but neither of you moves. neither of you steps back.

because even though you both know, it doesn’t change the way your body still leans into him, how his hands still linger at your waist, like he’s memorizing the way you feel.

it doesn’t change the fact that you still love him.

the silence between you stretches, thick with everything that neither of you are saying. his hands are still on your waist, your fingers still curled into his shirt, but the moment is starting to settle now, starting to shift into something more fragile.

you let out a slow breath and step back just slightly, just enough to put a silver of space between you. "i should go inside."

namjoon’s fingers twitch against your skin before he lets them fall away, hands curling into loose fists at his sides. he watches you carefully, searching for something in your expression.

"do you have someone to take you home?" he asks, voice low.

you nod, swallowing. "yeah. jimin’s got me."

namjoon hesitates, his lips pressing into a thin line before he asks again, softer this time. "are you sure?" you know what he’s really asking.

he’s asking if you’ll let him be that person tonight. if you’ll change your mind, if you’ll let this moment spiral into something neither of you will be able to walk away from in the morning.

and for a brief, reckless second, you consider it.

but you don’t.

instead, you give him a small, sad smile and nod again. "i’m sure."

his shoulders deflate just slightly, like he was holding onto some last shred of hope, and now it’s slipping through his fingers. but he doesn’t argue. he just nods, looking down, jaw tight.

your heart clenches.

maybe you shouldn’t, but you do anyway—you reach out, sliding a hand up to his cheek, guiding his face back up so he’s looking at you again. his eyes flicker with something heavy, something pleading, and you think about how easy it would be to let yourself fall back into this.

so, just this once, you let yourself have it.

you lean in and press a kiss to his lips, slow and lingering, like a goodbye that neither of you is ready to say out loud. namjoon doesn’t move at first, like he’s afraid this is a trick, like he doesn’t trust himself not to pull you back in.

but then he exhales into the kiss, and his hands ghost over your sides, barely touching, like he’s memorizing the shape of you one last time.

when you finally pull away, you let your hand trail down to his, giving it a small squeeze. then, before you can second-guess it, before he can try to stop you, you say, "find a girl your mother would be proud of."

namjoon’s lips part slightly, like he wants to argue, but you just smile at him, soft and bittersweet.

and then you let go.

you step back, turning toward the door, walking away before the moment can swallow you whole.

[slasherbvnnie]

Rated X

Hello! Enjoy this poly ghostface smut. Modern day AU, all characters 18+, the boys aren't killers, just psychos.

Word Count: 2882

“What about Texas Chainsaw?” “It creeps me out too much,” you said as the boys laughed. “You? Freaked out by Leatherface?” “I don’t like Marilyn’s screams,” you justified as Stu giggled. “Her screams make it the best part!” “You sound like a psycho,” you said as you threw some popcorn at him. “Night of the Living Dead?” Billy suggested as you sighed, “I’ll fall asleep,” Stu said. “Invisible man?” “*I’ll* fall asleep,” you said this time as you looked at the screen. “Prom night…two?” “Die,” Stu said as you giggled. “Stepfather!” He suggested as you looked up, “Penn Badgley’s?” You asked as both the boys looked at you questioningly. “I’m putting on X and nobody gets a say,” Billy huffed out as you and Stu looked at each other before agreeing and sitting back into the couch.

You relaxed into Stu’s hold, a strong arm wrapped around you as you three watched the movie. Billy was focused on the movie, Stu more so on the snacks laid out in front of them, but you were slowly drifting off into sleep after a while. Your eyes had closed, not sure how long you were asleep yet when you heard Stu’s ringtone. You looked up to him sleepily when he moved his arm and answered his phone. Billy had also looked over, seeing Stu sigh before rubbing his face, “yeah, I’ll be there,” he said before hanging up. He turned to the both of you, offering a half smile, “I gotta get back, my mom's car isn’t working so she needs to borrow mine to get to some meeting in the morning,” he said as you pouted. “It was supposed to be a sleepover,” you whined. “We can follow and bring you back here!” You suggested, looking to Billy who gave a nod. “C’mon, you know how grumpy the princess gets,” he said as Stu chuckled. “My mom would totally have my ass and guilt trip me into staying,” he said as he smiled, leaning in to give you a kiss.

“Tomorrow I will come over and make it up to you, ‘kay?” He said as he held your chin, you pouting as you nodded. “yeah, okay,” you said as Billy hummed. “Be careful, Stu,” he said as Stu got up and smirked. “Don’t have fun without me, I’ll feel left out,” he teased as he got up from the couch. You watched him walk out and frowned before Billy kissed your cheek. “Sleepy?” He asked as you focused on him and nodded. “Let’s get you to bed before you become a total grump,” he said, squeezing your sides, earning a small giggle from you as you squirmed out of his hold.

Pretty soon you were in Billy’s room, cuddled up together under the blankets. You did miss the warmth Stu would have provided- he was practically a walking, talking space heater- but Billy was so warm tonight that you didn’t mind too much. “Bunny,” he called out softly to grab your wandering attention, “yeah?” you whispered back. “Get some sleep. We can pick up Stu in the morning,” he said as he pecked your forehead. “He’s never awake before noon,” you giggled, Billy smiling softly.

You were out like a light again but woke up when you didn’t feel as warm as before. You thought Billy had just taken the blanket from your side, opening your eyes and reaching out before feeling the comforter over yourself still. You frowned, looking into the darkness and noticing his outline missing. “Billy?” You whined out, usually he was a light sleeper and responded anytime he heard your voice, even the times you sleep-talked. You reached over for your phone, turning on the flashlight and frowning when you saw the door wide open, “Billy,” you called louder this time, wondering if he had gone to the bathroom. You sat up, waiting for him to walk in or respond before you heard the sound of groaning. “Billy?” You asked as you got out of bed, rubbing your eyes as you made your way to the hall. You could hear more groaning then what sounded like glass breaking from downstairs. You felt your body go cold, frozen in place as you stared down the hall and to the stairs. “A-are you okay Billy?” You asked, a shaky hand gripping your phone as you slowly walked down the hallway and the stairs. You moved your phone around, searching for him quietly. You walked into the living room, looking around before hearing footsteps behind you, turning quickly and coming face to face with a masked person. Just as you were about to scream you felt a pair of hands grab you, one arm wrapped around your waist as the other covered your mouth. You dropped your phone, screaming underneath their hands as you tried to kick at the other person coming at you. An all too familiar laugh sounded from in front of you, whining as they grabbed your flailing hands. “Woah there, princess,” they said, laughing as they lifted the mask. You stared at the taller person, eyebrows furrowing as the person behind you let go of you. “Assholes!” You yelled, hitting Stu’s shoulder before turning to see Billy and doing the same to him.

Both boys laughed, quieting when they saw tears that were pricking your eyes. “Oh, don’t cry, baby,” Billy said as you swatted away his hand. “Fuck off, you two suck,” you grumbled, picking up your phone from the floor. “Oh c’mon baby,” Stu whined as you glared at him. “I thought Billy fucking died, not funny. Shouldn’t you be at home?” You questioned as Stu grinned, leaning against the stair railing you were currently climbing up. “A part of the prank,” he said as you glared once again. “I’m going to bed, alone.”

“Oh, what, I can’t join?~” He teased as you shook your head. “Jerk each other off if you get horny, I’m tired,” you said as you went back into the bedroom. You lay down, cuddling back into the covers, heart still racing from the scare. The boys had gotten into pranks before, but not ones where you thought one of them died, they always had stupid and meaningless pranks, never this. So you gave them the silent treatment even when they went upstairs after a little while, ignoring them as they laid beside either side of you. You had to admit, it was hard to ignore them when you were sandwiched between them, but you were stubborn as hell.

Stu was the first to snake his arm around you, gently running his fingers along your back as you pretended to be asleep. “You really asleep, sweetheart?” Billy whispered in your ear as he pulled you to his chest. He was still warm, if you concentrated hard enough you could still smell his cologne from earlier in the day. “I think she is,” Stu said softly, gently tracing shapes on your back. “We should check,” He mumbled, moving closer, his lips pressed against your neck. He gave you soft kisses, you tried to keep your breath from hitching to alert them that you were indeed awake.

“Hey, hasn’t she told us before she really wanted us to do her in her sleep?” He questioned as Billy smirked. “Yeah,” he said, his grip on you tighter as Stu chuckled. “We should do it, you know, as a sorry,” he said as Billy moved you slowly, laying you on your back now. You felt them move, the bed dipping near your legs before you could feel warmth over you. This time you smelt Stu’s cologne, feeling his fingers dip into your pajama shorts as he slowly pulled them down. Billy’s breath seemed to hitch as he watched, his ring-clad fingers slowly trailing over your bare thighs. Stu was quick to move, positioning himself between your legs, Billy helping spread them as Stu kissed your navel. He slowly trailed the kisses lower, which made you do your best to not give yourself away. You bit down on your tongue as he pressed a kiss to your core, feeling Billy’s fingers trailing up your body now, reaching under your shirt.

Stu pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing gently as he let his tongue run down your folds. “Christ, s’wet already,” he groaned against your core, you wanted to squirm as he lapped at you. Billy squeezed your chest, running his fingers over your nipples as you moved your head a little. He chuckled, “I know you’re not asleep,” he whispered as he leaned down to your ear. “Could tell with how hard your heart’s beating,” he hummed, pressing a kiss to your throat, gently nipping at it, causing you to whine out.

“There’s that pretty voice, sucha pretty girl,” Stu groaned against your pussy, you whined again, reaching down to grip his hair. Billy chuckled, moving to the side of your neck and giving you a hickey. “What happened to being mad at us?” He questioned as you pouted. “I can forgive both of you if you just fuck me,” you said, moaning as you felt Stu’s tongue enter you. You tried squirming away from the sudden pleasure, but his hands were quick to hold you in place.

“What are we? A piece of meat?” Billy laughed as you whined, gasping as Stu rubbed at your clit. “N-no, just- want both of you…” you moaned. He smirked, pulling away from your neck, hovering over you. “Is that why you were so sad Stu had to leave? Wanted both of our cocks in you?” He asked as you nodded eagerly. “Words, bunny,” he said as you let out a small wail as Stu switched his fingers and tongue, sucking on your clit. “Yes! Fuck, wanted- wanted it s’bad,” you moaned out, eyes closing as you felt another of Stu’s fingers enter you.

You pulsed around his digits, getting close to cumming from his movements before Billy moved. You felt his cold ring against your hand as he pulled it away from Stu’s head, whining at the loss of his mouth and fingers. But you were soon picked up into Stu’s arms as you felt the bed dip again. Billy’s lamp on his bedside table was turned on, you squinted from the sudden brightness, watching as Billy undressed. You bit down on your bottom lip as you saw his dick slap against his stomach when he took off his pants, his tip leaking precum before he climbed back into bed. Stu was also undressing, pulling you into his lap, his erection pressing against your lower back. You grew more wet as Billy covered between your legs, cupping your cheeks as he kissed you. “Think you can take both of us, sweet girl?” He asked as you nodded. “Want..want both of you,” you begged, Stu groaning in your ear as he pressed a kiss to the new hickey Billy made. “You’re such a good girl…you know that?” He asked, you blushed at his words before moaning as Billy ran his tip against your folds. He reached over, grabbing a bottle of lube, and coating his dick before tossing it to Stu. He leaned closer, kissing Stu as he uncapped it and lubed up his cock. You watched, growing wet at the sight of them making out, reaching behind you to Stu’s cock, gently stroking him. Stu keened into Billy’s touch, groaning into his mouth as you stroked him. “Fuck,” he said with a breathy chuckle when Billy pulled away. “Gonna put it in, okay baby?” Stu said as you nodded, relaxing as your back pressed to his chest. You felt his tip press against your hole, gently pushing into you. You put one hand on his thigh to support yourself, eyes closing as you whimpered from the stretch. “Feel so good, princess,” he hummed as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

Billy smirked, watching the two of you closely, his fingers gently rubbing at your clit. You moaned, Stu moaning in unison from feeling you clench around him. Billy chuckled, “don’t bust already,” he teased as Stu shot him a glare. “Shut up, Loomis…” he said as you looked to Billy. “Please Billy,” you begged softly, Billy looking up to you through his lashes. If he wasn’t your boyfriend, if you didn’t find him totally hot, he would have given you chills with that stare of his. “What? Use your words, doll,” he said as you whimpered. “Need you in me too,” you begged, Billy twitched at the innocent tone of your filthy words. “God bunny, you’re gonna kill me,” he laughed as he kissed you again. He grabbed the bottle of lube, slicking himself up before pressing himself at your hole. “Relax for me,” he said softly, pushing in slowly.

Although you had taken them both before, the boys knew how spent you would be after this. The first time both of them were scared as hell of hurting you, doting on you for hours after to make sure they didn’t tear you or hurt you. It took them a day to leave you alone. Little had changed on the nights you took both of them, but they slowly became less scared after a few times, still waiting on you hand and foot after a session. The two gently studied your face as Billy slowly entered, Stu and you moaning in unison again from the stretch. Stu pressed his forehead against your shoulder, shuddering as Billy slid against him. Once Billy bottomed out you adjusted slightly, gasping at the feeling of both of them moving inside you.

Stu groped at your boobs as Billy circled your clit with his thumb, adding some pressure as he felt you loosen up more. Stu’s lips pressed against your skin, one hand holding your hip as you wiggled in their hold. “If one of you don’t start fucking me I’m going to die,” you whined, both boys laughing softly. “So needy,” Billy hummed. “Thought you wanted us to jerk each other off?” Stu asked in a teasing tone before you turned to glare at him. “You can still do that after you fuck me,” you said as he smirked. He gently thrusted up into you, eliciting a moan from your lips. Billy circled your clit again as he gently thrusted, following the opposite of Stu’s movements.

You started to feel your awareness and thoughts fall away at their touch, eyes closing as you were surrounded completely by the feeling of pleasure. Shock waves ran through your body as they moved, whimpers and pleads of stuttered words falling from your lips as you were littered with kisses everywhere. You reached one hand to the nape of Stu’s neck, the other gripping onto Billy’s shoulder.

Billy panted above you, his arms caging you in as he thrusted. Stu held onto your hips, helping give himself some leverage to move you enough to thrust up into you. You moaned as you felt the familiar burn in your stomach, your body feeling like it was electrified as they pushed in and out. They groaned each time you clenched around them, your body slowly reacting to their touch. “Fuck, gonna- Stu…Billy,” you whimpered out. Stu pressed a sloppy kiss to your neck, Billy looking into your eyes. “Be a good girl and cum for us, baby. Wanna feel you squeeze our cocks,” he said, his words pushing you over the edge.

You let out a loud cry as you came around them, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your body shook from your orgasm. You were practically deafened, not hearing the boys moan from the way you squeezed them. Stu was the first to cum after you, filling you up before Billy followed suit.

You whimpered at the feeling, looking up to Billy as he began to slowly pull out. You whined, pouting as he left the bed and headed towards the bathroom. Stu moved you slowly, pulling out before setting you down beside him. His hand gently rested on your cheek, trying to bring you back down to earth. You looked at him, eyes slightly glazed over as you gave him a tired smile. “There’s my pretty girl,” he said softly, Billy walking back in with a washcloth. “Gonna clean you up, you need anything doll?” He asked as you shook your head, “no, ‘m good,” you said softly, voice a little dry as you whimpered from sensitivity as he cleaned you up.

“You were sucha good girl,” Stu praised, littering your face in kisses, making you giggle and push at his chest. “Sorry for scaring you,” He said as Billy tossed the rag somewhere, climbing back in bed and pulling you close. “I forgive you, both of you,” you said as Stu sandwiched you between them again. “Next time we can try out the mask,” you hummed, both of them laughing. “Really?” Billy asked as you nodded. “Yeah, maybe we can make it a whole date. Y’know, running away from two masked psychos in the woods, being caught by them,~” you purred out, Stu rubbing your hip and pinching it slightly. “Keep talking and I’ll drag you out right now,” He said as you giggled, closing your eyes.

[only-lonely-star]

hi! Can you do a Curtis sister imagine (she's older than pony but younger than soda) and the boys are sooo protective over her and scare away any boys who look at her so they think she's never even kissed a guy. Then she's at home alone and thinks the boys won't be home for a while and is making out with a guy in her room when Darry bursts in with the boys and they all lose their minds

୨୧ Not What It Looks Like ୨୧

~ Curtis Brothers (Curtis Sibling Reader)~

Warnings - Kissing, mild shouting and cursing, mild violence

Summary - You thought you had hours…

Author’s Note - Hii! I won’t be as busy this week so I’ll be sure to finish more requests as the week progresses, so sorry for the wait! Thank you so so much for the request, this one was fun to write, enjoy! 😽🫶🏼

Word Count - 2.4k.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄☆ ⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

(Quick A/N || I decided to name the boy’s character ‘Thomas’ just because I find it easier than saying ‘the boy’ a hundred times or something 😭)

The Curtis residence was always a busy place. Whether friends were over, or it was just another chaotic night - there was never a dull moment. Tonight, however, you were declared as '(Wo)Man of the House' by your oldest brother, Darrel. Ponyboy and Sodapop didn't seem to mind lending you the title for the night, you did most of the housekeeping and whatnot anyway.

Ponyboy could be found slicking his hair back, standing in front of the bathroom mirror attempting to look tuff - or so he thought. Sodapop was occupied with Darrel, the pair pacing around the house as they rallied themselves up for the night. They were all going on a ‘guys night out’…whatever that meant. You were standing around, waiting to wave them off for the night.

Ponyboy emerged from the bathroom, a look of excitement in his eye as he approached the others.

“You ready?” Darrel asked, giving him a firm pat on the back, smiling down to him. Ponyboy nodded and hooked his fingers into the belt loops of his jeans, admiring Sodapop who stood beside him.

“Finally, took you ‘bout an hour to grease that hair up,” Sodapop chuckled, gently grazing his fingertips along the swoops of Ponyboy’s hair, combed back to utter perfection.

You let out a small sigh, a knowing grin creeping up on your face. You dismissed it as relief that your three rowdy brothers would give you some alone time. “So, are you guys…leaving…yet?”

Darrel raised an eyebrow, slowly stepping for the door as the other two followed. “Boy, someone sure is sick of us,” he snorted, the doorknob in the palm of his hand.

You sarcastically played along, shoving Sodapop and Ponyboy by the back of their shoulders with a scoff. “Sure am, get out.”

They exchanged small glances, Ponyboy holding up his hands in defense. “We’re goin’, we’re goin’…”

It didn’t take long for the two to file out, Darrel staying behind to have a word with you. He popped his hand on his hip, the other moving a stray strand of hair to rest behind your ear. His eyes met yours, a look of concern etched on his face. “Listen, you know I don’t like leaving you home alone,” he began, sensing your rebuttal a mile away.

“I’ll be fine, you ain’t gotta worry,” you assured him, your voice a rather gentle one. You knew that was the key to fooling him - it always was.

Darrel took your word for it, wrapping up his lecture before it even began. “No boys, no cookin’, no driving,” he spoke with finality, his index finger pointed to you as he reinforced the rules he set since the loss of your parents.

“I know!” you exclaimed, mildly frustrated with how protective he was acting. It would only be a few hours before he, Ponyboy, and Sodapop returned. It wasn’t like you were about to cause a disaster home alone - you’d done this countless times.

Darrel shook his head, wrapping an arm around the small of your back as yours wrapped around his chest. “Be back at eleven,” he murmured, pulling away and stepping outside the front door. You stepped outside as well, your feet kept on the steps as your brothers began to cruise on down the road. Waving them off with a smile, the boys reciprocated before disappearing into the horizon of the night sky.

You leaped for the side of the house, looking around frantically with a giggle of excitement. Your voice echoed, a mix of a whisper yet a beckon. “Thomas! Thomas, where are - …”

A hand grabbed your forearm, the boy hoisting himself up from within the small bushes along the side of your house. “I’m here.”

You leaped into his arms, picking away at small twigs and leaves that had fallen into his messy brown hair. Your legs wrapped around his waist the gentle feeling of your body against his, the boy’s hands holding you up from your hips. You chuckled, feeling the sweat practically dripping from his hair as you pecked his cheek. “How long have you been out here? I told you seven p.m!”

Thomas spun you around a few times before walking towards the front door that still stood wide open. “I left my place around six-forty, got here a minute ago,” he replied softly, carefully setting you down on the soft, beige sofa.

Your arms still yearned for him, even as he took a seat beside you, resting his arm over the top of the couch. He had only love in his eyes, admiring you from head to toe. “So, what’s the verdict?” he posed, grinning down at you, his free hand running through his hair.

“No boys,” you restated, remembering Darrel’s rules with a small sigh of annoyance. You’d gone this far anyway - so what did it matter? “But Darry said he’ll be back ‘round eleven with Soda and Ponyboy.”

Thomas’s grin only widened from there, settling himself into the couch further. “Oh so we got lots of time, hm?”

You tilted your head to the side, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Somethin’ like that,”

This felt a little too risky, sneaking a boy around in the living room of all places. They wouldn’t be home for a few more hours, but it still felt strange. Standing from the sofa, you tugged on Thomas’s wrist. “Let’s go to my room, I don’t feel safe here,” you joked, a small shake of your head as you glanced to the unlocked door. Thomas was more than happy to oblige, following you to your very empty yet feminine bedroom.

“So this is the little hide-out, huh?” he spoke teasingly as he glanced around, taking in the sight of clothes everywhere and a small vanity pushed to the corner of the room, across from your bed. He shut the door behind him, hesitating on whether to lock it or not. You sat down on the edge of the pink, ruffled bedding, clutching a pillow into your arms tightly.

“I guess it is,” you smiled softly, his charming gaze reeling you right in to where he wanted you. He stood in front of you, his hand moving to cup your jaw. You didn’t mind the touch of course, you were addicted to any touch from him.

Thomas removed his hand before sitting on the bed beside you, reaching out for the pillow. You reluctantly let go of it, knowing Thomas was about to make a bold move of some sort. You two were alone and absolutely infatuated with each other. He set the pillow aside, pressing his hand to your waist as he leaned his head closer to yours. “You’re beautiful,” he grinned, closing the distance between the two of you as his lips met yours.

Your eyes darted shut, one hand holding you propped up, the other resting atop his shoulder. This was no short peck, this was a deep and almost passionate kiss. You obviously reciprocated, the situation of being home alone too good to go to waste. You doubled his passion and added force to your kisses. Thinking fast, Thomas began to lean back as his head rested against the mattress. His hand found your waist, pulling your body flush against his. Thomas could feel your grin against his lips, his other hand moving to keep your jaw in his palm, ensuring your kisses didn’t stop any time soon. You pulled away panting, your smile never once faltering. “I think we should stop, I hear a car…” you began to say, a car door shutting nearby. The sound was eerily close - but then again your brothers weren’t scheduled to be home for a few hours.

Thomas gave a firm head shake, pulling your jaw closer. “Nope, it hasn’t even been an hour,” he reminded you, locking his lips onto yours once more.

You weren’t about to turn him down, so you did as told and continued, your head moving up and down with slight movements. Thomas’s tongue slipped in between your lips, the sensation was both new and a bit alarming. A small groan left your now parted lips, running your hand through his hair.

The sound of shuffling feet outside your bedroom door should’ve been a dead giveaway to stop - but your mind was cloudy and only focused on Thomas. It was far too late to stop now, even as the doorknob turned and you were aware someone was home, you didn’t have the time to stop.

“I forgot to bring my w-…” Darrel began, the door opening in a swift movement as he stood in the doorway absolutely baffled. His knuckles were now white as he squeezed onto the brown leather wallet in the palm of his hand. His instincts led him to toss the wallet with all of the force he could muster, landing directly on the boy you were laid atop of.

You pulled away in an instant, a small trail of shared saliva being wiped away using the back of your hand as the soft groans came to an immediate halt.

Your other brothers, Ponyboy and Sodapop, stood behind Darrel with displeased looks. “Come on, it doesn’t take this long to -…” Sodapop was quickly hushed as he too caught sight of scene.

Darrel stomped forward, his hands shaking with anger as he shouted at Thomas - the boy unbeknownst to their early arrival. “Get the hell out, the fuck are you doing with my little sister-?!” he shouted, his fists unraveling themselves to tug at Thomas’s shirt, stretching it out as he yanked him closer for answers.

You had never heard Darrel shout like that ever. You sprinted off the bed and stood in the opposite corner of the room as you watched Thomas nearly get a beating for the kiss.

Sodapop caught you off guard, his hand firmly grasping your bicep as his eyes bore into yours. “Who’s this boy?” he asked, his tone filled with utter disappointment - but at least it wasn’t anger like Darrel’s.

“It’s not what it looks like - Thomas and I just…” you began sheepishly, your eyes unable to make eye contact with him out of guilt.

Your eyes flickered over to Darrel briefly, watching him holler like you’d never seen before. Thomas nodded his head along vigorously, his eyes wide with fear as he desperately tried to free himself from Darrel’s grasp. Ponyby’s annoyed voice snapped you out of it, your attention directed towards him. “That boy from school? Really?”

Sodapop spoke up again, shoving your shoulder slightly as his expression held a stern look. “It don’t matter where he’s from, you know you ain’t allowed to have boys over.”

You glanced between Sodapop and Darrel, watching as he had to drag Thomas out of your bedroom, the yelling not yet ending. You swallowed the guilt down and nervously chewed the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry~” you began, your hands fidgeting as you thought about the hour long lecture you’d receive from Darrel.

Sodapop began mumbling words of annoyance under his breath at the newfound information you’d had some secret boyfriend going on. None of your brothers ever would have expected such a thing from you - hell, the last thing they would suspect from you was to be caught kissing some boy while they were gone. “Can’t trust her… we just can’t…” he mumbled to Ponyboy who looked equally as pissed.

Moments later, Darrel had his jaw still clenched with Thomas now long gone. He made his way to you with his fists balled up and resting by his sides. “You’ve got explaining to do,” he grumbled, his voice thick with anger. You’d betrayed his trust, Sodapop’s, and even Ponyboy’s.

Exhaling deeply, you took a step back, your hand trembling in fear. “I just thought -…” your voice was interrupted by Darrel’s.

“It would be fun to sneak a boy around? Behind our backs? Especially after I said no boys?” His arms crossed as his stern gaze seemed to deepen further.

You didn’t reply, you stood there matching his stance only yours was out of shame. You knew you were going against their set rules.

Darrel shook his head as he let out a sigh he’d been holding in for way too long. “We just wanna protect you, that’s all. That’s all I want,” he said in a somehow gentle tone, wrapping an arm around your back, the other gesturing for a group hug.

Sodapop and Ponyboy circled around you, hugging you tightly. It felt as if the mood had lightened a bit now that Thomas was gone and you were back in the protective arms of your brothers. Sodapop nuzzled his forehead against the top of your head, chuckling softly. “So you’ve had some boyfriend all along?”

Darrel stiffened but held back from lashing out yet again. Ponyboy grimaced and swatted your back with a teasing snort. “Him of all people too?”

You broke the hug off, having to pry off their arms as you finally cracked a sheepish smile. “Not anymore - I think Darry traumatized that poor guy,” you giggled, the guilt subsiding to a feeling of amusement. Sure it was a messy way to break the ice with your brothers - but it was bound to happen eventually.

Darrel gave your back a firm pat, Ponyboy and Sodapop stepping for the door to your bedroom, snickering and cracking jokes. “I forgot my wallet, I came back and thought I’d check on you,” he explained, picking up the wallet he used on Thomas.

You winced at the memory of it hitting him upside the head, the shock initially hitting you as you scrambled off of him. “I was wondering why you came so early…” you remarked playfully.

“I know why you were tryin’ to kick us out so bad now,” Darrel shot back, an equal amount of sarcasm laced in his voice. He shoved the leather wallet back into his pocket.

He stepped for the door to your bedroom once more, glancing back at you. “No boys. Ever.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, stepping closer to him to argue on the topic. Darrel was already down the hallway as you chased him down. “You said when i’m eighteen - …”

Darrel cracked open the front door with a head shake. “Eighteen, but I better not catch you and *Thomas* again,” he huffed, hopping down the stairs, his feet on the white cement, “or any boy for that matter.”

You sighed and waved him off for a second time, this time with the intention of following the rules. You vowed you’d never risk something like that again. “Eighteen!”

[danikamariewrites]

Poly Week Masterlist

@polysjmweek is finally here! I’ve been looking forward to this event since we did it last time and I’m so happy to be participating again. I also love it’s expanded from just ACOTAR to cover all these SJM worlds. Unfortunately you won’t find any worlds crossing over here (I’ll leave that to others and Sarah) BUT I do have some fun pairings, fluff, angst, and of course smut 🤗

Day 1: Torn (Aelin x reader x Manon)

Being with Aelin and Manon is like walking on air. But being romantically involved with both queens (and kings) comes with its struggles as they constantly fight over which kingdom you spend more time in.

Day 2: That Funny Feeling (Lysadeion x reader)

Everyone around you is happy and in love. You’re happy for your friends, you just keep wondering when it’ll be your turn to be happy. The problem is you see yourself being happy with a pair that’s already mated and married. But that funny feeling in your chest gives you hope.

Day 3: One Hotel Room…Really? (Hunt x reader x Baxian)

You’ve had dreams where you’re squished between two hunky angels. Not when you’re pissed off at said hunky angels though. After being annoyed with Hunt and Baxian all day the last thing you want to do is share a bed with them.

Day 4: The Hunter (vampire!Neris x reader)

It’s been months since Nesta and Eris have turned you. Still getting used to your new vampire senses has you jumping at every noise and peeking around every corner just in case of monsters, forgetting you are the monster now. You find one in the shape of a human man creeping around your home.

Day 5: Play Again (Cassian x reader x Feysand)

The sight of Rhys and Feyre at Starfall has your brain turning to mush. The only thing you can think of is the night you all shared just a few weeks ago. And how badly you want them again.

Day 6: Locked Away (Cadre x reader)

Standing up to Queen Maeve with your loves doesn’t go as planned. To save them and stall for time you do the only thing you can think of. Making the ultimate sacrifice.

Day 7: Discipline (Cazriel x reader)

You already had your why choose moment with these two. Now you’re exploring the dynamic between the 3 of you and just how far you can push your new mates.

[daceydeath]

Blood & Sweat

Pairing: Mafia San x Reader Word Count: 1.3K Genre: Mafia Romance, Smut 🔞 Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Explicit Activity, Swearing

San covered in sweat, dirt and blood was a normal event so was helping him clean up.

San coming home covered in sweat, dirt and blood was not unusual, it was a hazard of his job. When you had first met San you had hated that he fought for fun but you accepted it along with the idea that he didn’t really want to tell you about his real job, San had told you he could give you the world as long as you only asked what you absolutely had to know about that side of his life but told you that he made good money and was something called an enforcer. You agreed and never asked what an enforcer actually was or what he actually enforced just pretending that the fighting was his job. 

What made tonight unusual was a couple of things. One he was wearing black pants and a black shirt instead of his usual fight gear, his leather jacket had been thrown on the chair by the bed. Ignoring the drastically different attire you instead just continued like normal helping him clean himself up, look over any wounds and make sure he wasn’t badly injured before making sure he got into bed for you to dote on. And two he wasn’t radiating the normal soft sweet San energy that you were so used to tonight there was something distinctly dark and a little dangerous about him that you had never seen before.

“Baby, I’m not too bad this time you can go to bed if you like, I’ll clean myself up” he smiled fondly at you, one large hand cupping your cheek carefully. His eyes were softer but still serious, almost harsh so you knew that this was not going to be a night where he told you the details of the fight, where he had been or who he was with.

“Sannie, let me see if I need to bandage anything, please” you pressed gently not wanting him to get angry at your actions but you were worried about whether he was actually injured under the dark clothing. He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment obviously trying to reign back whatever was on his mind to hide it from you before dropping his hand from your face and letting you check him over.

Unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it as gingerly as you possibly could down his shoulders you looked over his ribs, back and arms not finding any cuts or wounds that would need cleaning, but lingered on his abs absentmindedly running your fingers across the hard muscles that made up most of his perfect body. Next you cupped his handsome face while he patiently waited for you to decide he was alright. You ran your fingers across his cheekbones and lips only finding a small nick from what looked like his own tooth kissing the corner of his lips lightly you stepped away from him chewing on your lower lip. Knowing he was actually fine the worry you were feeling was steadily turning into something much needier at the sight of him half dressed standing before you like a piece of art

“Did I pass my beautiful nurse's inspection?” he teased trying to sound playful, watching you stare at him, his eyes starting to cloud with lust.

“I guess I will let you get cleaned up then” you mumbled stepping back to leave the room.

“Or you could help me wash up?” he smirked, eyes darkening slightly before wetting his lower lip as a flush began creeping across your cheeks. “Just to make sure I’m absolutely fine”. 

Sensually he unbuckled his belt and undid his pants, stepping closer to you so he could help you remove your sleep shirt, dropping it on the floor away from his clothes, his hands coming up to cup your breasts as he leant it to press his lips to yours passionately. Your hands instantly went to his chest bracing yourself while he shimmied your sleep shorts down your hips so you could step out of them and tug his own pants off. Pulling you against him he backed you both into the shower turning the water on and standing in front of the spray until it heated up his hands roaming your flesh squeezing roughly and teasing your skin until you whimpered against his lips.

“Such a good girl taking care of me” he whispered against your mouth lifting one of your legs to wrap around his waist so he could run his fingers through your folds easily slipping on finger inside your entrance while his thumb worked your clit.

“Oh god” you whined bucking your hips slightly into his hand needing more stimulation that he was giving you. He smirked again kissing across your cheek and down your neck leaving his mark in the juncture of your neck and shoulder and making you yelp. He slid a second finger into you, massaging your walls and stretching you so you would be ready for him, the tips of his fingers effortlessly finding your g spot and pressing against it getting you closer and closer to your high with each passing second.

“Fuck baby, the noises you make” he groaned slipping his fingers from you and backing you against the wall before you could protest the cold tiles making you gasp as the hot water ran down your chest. San dropped to his knees picking your leg up to rest on his shoulder, his tongue quickly replacing his fingers as he ate your pussy like a man possessed.

“San…ngh…ah” you couldn’t even think of any words all you could think about was the feeling of San’s tongue circling your clit in between him sucking it between his lips. Grabbing his hair you felt him moan into your folds the vibrations on your cunt making you cry out as he worked you to the edge again. Just before you came he stopped again ignoring your whimper at a lost orgasm, picking you up he easily impaled you on his cock holding you so he could control how fast you suck down his length growling when he bottomed out inside you.

“Fuck baby, how are you still so tight?” he ground out pressing you further into the wall and snapping his hips into you bruisingly hard making you hiss. San pounded into you, each of his thrusts making your head spin as you clawed at his back to hold on his cock stretching you like he was trying to tear you in half. Panting you could feel fire spreading through you as he pushed you back towards your orgasm, his pace not faltering even when you cried out his name again and again like a prayer.

“I got you baby, come on my cock like a good girl” he grunted his hands gripping your thighs tight enough to leave bruise marks for days to come.

“Ah…San….San” you screamed your orgasm tearing though you like lightening and making you feel like you had shattered and been fucked back together again. San kept pumping into you while your body spasmed around him, your walls clenching him until he followed you over the edge letting your walls milk him of his seed. Slowly he lowered you back down until you stood on your unsteady legs leaning against him while he rinsed you both off and grabbed a towel to wrap you in.

“Guess I went too hard huh?” he laughed breathily carrying you into the bedroom and laying you on the sheets “Now I’m gonna have to look after you baby”.

“Sannie” you squeaked, hiding your face in your hands as he covered you with the quilt to keep you warm, making him laugh properly all the darkness that had been surrounding him earlier was now gone .He padded still naked to the kitchen to get something to drink for you both before climbing into bed beside you and pulling you to him.

A/N: Thank you for reading my loves, I seem to be on a bit of a mafia kick at the moment (oops). All your love and support is appreciated always xxx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz , @armystay89 , @damnyouficc , @roamingpolar @tara-skyhold @bakedlilgoonie , @krishastumblernow , @mrsseals16 , @fawnpeaks , @leeknowinggg @uno7 @tanzen-ist-gold

[midnighthazee]

Greenridge ABO Series

Series Masterlist Masterlist

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, a little smut, 18+ MDNI, Male x male, explicit language, fear, pet names, mention of needles, mentions of past trauma/abuse/neglect

WC: 4424

Chapter 8

You rolled over in your bed, feeling cozy and warm as your arm stretched and laid on a pillow. This was a firm pillow…and it was warm. You picked up on a heartbeat and breathing next to you. You gasped, popping your eyes open. Turning you see Chan laying next to you, looking lovingly at you. It melted your racing heart.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

His scent washed over you, his calming pheromones relaxing the tension in your muscles. He was laying on top of the covers, a respectful distance away.

“What are you doing here?” you question, unable to hide the worry in your tone at being in the same bed and vulnerable.

“I hadn’t seen you all day.” He pouted, moving slowly as he tucked some hair behind your ear. “Plus you were whimpering a little. You’ve been kinda restless.”

He had been watching you sleep like a creep?

“What?” he asked at the sight of your furrowed brows.

“How long have you been in here?”

“Ummm… maybe a few hours.” he smiled sheepishly. 

You shifted under the covers, moving away slightly. As you breathed in his scent, you realized you had been missing him too. The only people you ever find yourself missing are your parents and younger brother. This must be part of the soulmate bond - you crave their closeness and miss them when they’re gone.

Chan picked up on your nervousness and moved to stand. He fixed your sheets and smiled at you. “The doctor is here. She wants to check on how you're healing and ask more questions.”

“Okay.” you say, pushing the sheets off and standing.

A dull pain in your ankle reminded you of yesterday’s events. It was almost healed, thankfully so that was good news.

“How’s the ankle? Minho told me what happened.” Chan was at your side, ready to help should you need it.

“A lot better. I can walk without limping.” you say, rotating it in a circle.

“Good. How was the lake?”

“So pretty. And lots of fun!” You exclaimed. “I really like swimming.”

“Well we should go more often. I want to go next time.” Chan smiled warmly at you. “I missed you.”

You blush, too nervous to admit you missed him too.

“Get dressed. I’ll see you downstairs.” He spoke, hesitating briefly before leaning slightly down and kissing your forehead.

Your heart fluttered, your stomach flipping. He had such an affect on you - one you weren’t used to but liked. He left with a smile and you noticed Jisung’s shirt at the foot of your bed. It barely held his smell anymore so you decided to wear it for the day and give it back. Then he could have your scent.

After brushing your teeth, you put on a sports bra and some leggings, Jisung’s shirt and some socks before heading downstairs. As you made your way down the hall, you heard noises coming from Felix’s room. You tiptoed closer, putting your ear to the door, slapping your hand over your mouth as you realized.

“Fuck. You feel so good. Ah…” Felix moaned.

“Faster, please.” It was Jisung, his voice desperate and whiney.

Felix was pounding Jisung in missionary, hands rubbing all over the fellow beta’s body. He pinched his nipples, as Jisung returned the favor. Felix leaned down, kissing him messily as he snapped his hips at a faster pace.

“I want to feel you… all of you.” Felix growled.

“Mmm, Lix…fuck.”

They were a mess of whines, whimpers, and moans as they held each other close. So desperate to feel more and make each other cum again, this having gone on for nearly an hour. They were covered in each other’s cum, the sheets too, and yet they wouldn’t stop - both so sensitive and needy. It was pathetic but arousing at the same time to hear two subs pleasing each other. Not that they didn’t have their dom moments, Felix more so than Jisung, but that was not the case this morning.

You felt a throb between your legs, urging you to join them. This never happened with the Nykos - you never felt them turn you on. But here? With the Greenridge pack? Let’s just say, it was surprising your heat hadn’t shown up already with all the testosterone and arousal wafting in the air. You squeezed your thighs together but remembered the doctor was waiting.

You descended the stairs, you realized the warm yummy smell of breakfast was not welcoming you. You pouted at the thought of no breakfast as you came into the kitchen.

Chan was there, looking in the fridge as Doctor Quinn sat at the island. She smiled at you, standing up from her seat.

“Morning.” She greeted. “You look much better than when I saw you a couple days ago.”

“Thanks.” you look to the floor.

“What do you want for breakfast?” Chan asked.

You shrugged.

“Minho is with Jeongin so we didn’t do the spread today.” Chan ran his fingers through his hair.

“It’s okay.” 

“You haven’t eaten yet? Well that’s good for the blood draw.” Doctor Quinn smiles. “Shall we get started while Chan makes some breakfast for you?”

You look over at Chan who’s pulling out different ingredients before nodding. Following Doctor Quinn downstairs, you pause in the doorway to the med room. You weren’t a fan of this room and could do without it. But alas, you step inside, looking around warrily.

“I heard you might have sprained your ankle and scraped the side of your leg. But you seem to be walking well.” she noted.

“Yes. It feels much better.” you say.

“And how are the boys treating you?”

“Good.”

“Just good?” she raises an eyebrow at you.

You smile, blushing. “Wonderful.”

“Glad to hear it. Because otherwise I would be beating them up.” She smiles. “Step on the scale. Let me get your current weight.”

You step up and she weighs you before having you sit on the patient chair. She takes your vitals and inspects your ankle before asking you to remove your pants so she can see the scrap. It was slightly bruised but the skin was no longer broken or bleeding. And your ankle was no longer swollen.

“Your injuries from yesterday are healing very nicely. Your other injuries are completely gone and no scars.” she reported. “I’m just going to draw some blood and ask a few questions.”

She pulled out a needle and test tubes, making you panic. You were not a fan of needles, the Nykos drugging you often. If you weren’t compliant enough for their guests, you got a sedative. Fighting back or mouthing off to them and you got a sedative.

Doctor Quinn turned around and gave you a sympathetic smile. “I know needles can be scary. But I’m going to use this butterfly catheter which is more comfortable and just fill these three tubes with some of your blood. I’m not injecting you with anything. You have nothing to worry about.”

You swallow, but nod, taking a deep breath. “Okay.”

She ties off your arm and cleans your inner elbow, telling you to make a fist. She finds the right spot and lines up the needle telling you to take a deep breath in. You do as she asks, and when she asks you to exhale, she quickly stabs the needle in. It was so quick it didn’t really hurt.

“See. Easy.” she smiled. 

You couldn’t help but watch what she was doing. She was seamless in her movements, her expertise obvious. Not even a minute later, she was pulling out the needle and having you hold gauze to your arm. It was only for a few seconds so the prick could heal.

“Now tell me,” she said, clipboard in hand and taking notes. “When was your last heat?”

You looked down, twiddling your fingers and shrugging.

“You don’t know?”

“I only ever had one…that I remember anyway.” you mumble.

“You’re twenty three, correct?”

You nod and she writes some notes down.

“Don’t worry. The stress that your body went through with the Nykos is probably the contributing factor. I would like to do a pelvic exam though, just to make sure everything looks alright down there.”

Your eyes went wide. Surely she didn’t mean what you were thinking.

“Y/n?”

“No.” you said, squeezing your eyes shut. “No. NO!”

She reached out to touch your arm, but you flinched, knocking over the tray next to you.

“Don’t touch me!” you growled.

Chan was there in an instant, having heard the commotion. He walked in to see you on the wall opposite of her.

“What happened?” he questioned.

Doctor Quinn cleared her throat. “I suggested a pelvic exam and she refused. I went to comfort her and she flinched.”

“Y/n? You don’t have to if you’re not comfortable.” Chan comforted, his pheromones already calming you.

You shook your head. 

“Okay. No pelvic exam. Can you please sit back down so I can continue my questions?” Doctor Quinn asked.

“Doc, maybe we should wa-” Chan begins to say.

“It’s okay.” you interrupt, kneeling to pick up the tools from the tray.

Chan bent down and helped you clean up. Once you were sitting back in the chair, he relaxed a bit.

“Want me to stay?” Chan asked.

“I’m fine.” you force a smile. 

Chan studies you before conceding, leaving the room as he goes to finish breakfast.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Doctor Quinn said.

“I’m sorry…I um..I guess I just…” you swallow.

“You’re not over everything that’s happened. I get it. It will take time.”

“What’s your next question?”

After ten minutes of questions, Doctor Quinn urged you to go eat. She asked about your previous living situation, how often they sedated you, how they punished you, and if you experienced any symptoms of or was treated for any STDs. You kindly replied, “No I have not. And they wouldn’t have treated me if I did.”

She nodded, her lips pursed the whole time. She debriefed Chan on the basics but didn’t go into too much detail, not wanting to break confidentiality. But Chan needed to know some things as her alpha and future lover. If they wanted to conceive an heir one day, he would need to know the details. For now, they were in a report should they need the doctor’s help in taking down the Nykos.

After breakfast with Chan, Jisung, and Felix, you headed back up to your room. You looked at it with a pout, huffing. You didn’t like the blanket at the end because it was too scratchy. So you tossed it on the floor. And the curtains were icky - you swear the Nykos had the same ones. So you pulled those down, accidentally knocking down the whole rod. It made a loud thump heard by Jisung as he was heading to his room. He came down the hall and looked at you in amusement.

It was cute watching you study the room and get frustrated. You were trying to nest even though you didn’t know how or have supplies you liked. You pouted, crossing your arms at one point and he couldn’t hold in his laughter, making you jump.

“Why are you laughing?” you whined.

“You’re cute when you’re trying to nest.” Jisung stepped inside with a shrug.

“You all keep talking about ‘nests’. What is that?”

“It’s like your safe space. It’s made just for you, by you and is meant to bring you peace and comfort. You put a bunch of things you like in it and usually something with each pack member’s scent. When it’s done, you will feel comfortable and relaxed. Without a nest, one can get… anxious and restless.” 

“Well it’s not that the room isn’t comfortable…”

“But…. It’s just not you?”

“There’s something missing… I just don’t know what.”

“I think it’s a lot of ‘somethings’. Should we go shopping today?”

“Shopping? Like at a mall?”

“Yes.” Jisung giggled. “Only if you want to.”

“I’ve never been shopping.” you mutter to yourself.

“Really?” Jisung is surprised. “Get your shoes. We are going.”

Before you can say anything, he’s gone. Shaking your head, you look around the room once more. It was unnerving and you didn’t know how to fix it. So you got your shoes on and headed downstairs ready to go “shopping.”

Jisung put on his shoes and headed into Chan’s office.

“Hey. I was going to take y/n shopping…” Jisung began.

“Ji, you can’t take her shopping right now.” He spoke without looking up from his papers. “If anyone sees her, they could bring her back to the Nykos. Her leaving the house is too dangerous.” 

“I wasn’t going local…” Jisung argued. “And I’ll bring Felix and Changbin too. There will be three of us to protect her.”

“No.” Chan stated.

“Alpha…she needs to nest. She won’t feel comfortable and fully relax without one.” Chan finally looked up at him, so he continued. “I just saw her attempting to redecorate. She has no idea what she's doing. But she needs stuff she likes. You know that.”

Chan thought it over. 

“She literally ripped the curtain rod from the wall…” Jisung gave Chan a look.

“Why can’t you just order it online?” Chan asked.

“She needs to feel it to know it’s right. You can’t feel it online.” Jisung explained.

Chan rolled his eyes. He knows she needs to nest. And she should have what she needs to do so. Omegas and Betas were heavy nesters but Omegas need it to thrive in their home. Chan sighed.

“Fine. Take Changbin and Felix with you. Where did you plan on going?”

“The outlets. They have some stores that would have what she needs for her room.”

“Let her get some clothes too. She’s going to need more.” Chan reached for his wallet. “Take the credit card, BUT….don’t go crazy.”

Jisung bowed under Chan’s harsh gaze before scurrying off to get Changbin and Felix from their rooms. Changbin groaned at being woken up but was eager to go out on the town. Felix of course was dressed and ready by the time Jisung got to his room.

They all came downstairs to find you sitting on the couch waiting. Felix hurried over, standing in front of you. You looked up at him, his smile infectious. You blushed, smiling back.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Is it a long walk again?” You whined.

“We aren’t walking. We are driving.” Changbin said amused.

“Oh. That’s good.” you mumbled. 

When was the last time you were in a car? The Nykos never took you anywhere. It’s been over a decade but still… you don’t remember ever being in a car.

“I’ll drive.” Changbin stated, grabbing keys from the hook by the garage door.

You followed them into the garage, Changbin climbing into a four door jeep. It was dark green with mud splatters on the sides. The interior was black cloth as well as the soft top that was folded back. 

“Shotgun!” Jisung called out and hurried over to the passenger side.

Felix opened the back door and you climbed in, looking around at the interior. Felix shut the door and walked around, climbing in next to you on the other side. The trunk had a flat cover to it, so its contents were not exposed with the top being folded back.

Felix put on his seatbelt, looking over at you watching him.

“It’s the thing behind you.” he informed.

You turned around and looked to find the strap behind you hanging. Pulling on it, it stretched. Felix took the end from your hand and clicked it into place.

“It’s to keep you safe.” Jisung smiled.

“How does it keep me safe?”

“In case the car…” Jisung started before Changbin hit his arm. “Well nevermind. Just trust us.”

The car started and they headed out of town to the outlets. You were nervous at first, Felix holding out his hand to you. You took it, squeezing if Changbin hit a bump or turned too fast. It also was a little unsettling on your stomach but that could have been more the nerves than motion sickness. But eventually you settled, enjoying the breeze in your hair and the sights. There had been so much beyond the pack properties, it was amazing. 

It took a little over an hour to get there and when you did, you were buzzing with excitement. You got to go out into the world and see things. New smells, sights, sounds.

“Ready?” Changbin asked, turning off the car and looking at you through the rearview mirror.

You nodded eagerly.

“Just stay close, okay? And don’t go anywhere without at least one of us.” Changbin speaks firmly. 

“Okay.” You say in a small voice.

With that, you head off to the stores. The first store was home decor themed. Inside you were overwhelmed with all the shiny decorations. So many fragile statues and trinkets, and in the middle, an array of pillows and blankets. You were so excited. Changbin pushed the cart around as you grazed your fingers over the soft textures.

“Pick what you like.” Jisung said. “We want you to make your nest how you want it.”

“I don’t know how I want it.” You complained.

“Just get what feels right to you.” Felix encourages.

So you took their suggestions and walked around the store, the three of them following you. They would pick things up and suggest them, but you shook your head at each one. You made it through the whole store, Changbin still pushing around an empty cart.

You groaned, squatting so your knees were to your chest, and hid your face. “This is so hard. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I think you’re stressing too much about it.” Jisung says.

You sigh, looking up. His face softens at the tears falling down your cheeks. He leans down and wipes them with his thumb.

“C’mon. Just me and you. We will walk the aisles again. Don’t worry about what I like or don’t like. It’s about what you like.”

You nod, standing.

You two walked back over, leaving Felix and Changbin in the chair aisle, and he guided you to the blankets. He told you to walk to the end of the row and see what jumps out at you. Sighing, you walk forward slowly and take in all the designs, fabrics, and colors. 

You stop, pulling one that was tucked in between two oversized ones. It was a yellow knit made of soft yarn. It also had thick rows of cream in it to offset the yellow and fringes on the two long ends. Your eyes lit up and you smiled, feeling warm inside.

“This one.” you presented it to Jisung.

“You found one! I knew you could. Why this one?”

“Because the yellow reminds me of you and Felix.” you say with a big grin.

Jisung blushed. “It does?”

“Yes. You smell a little like lemons to me. And Felix is warm and bright…like sunshine.” you explained, Jisung saying ‘like sunshine’ in sync with you.

“Plus, this color in the fringes reminds me of Felix’s hair.” you giggle.

Jisung stares lovingly at you. “It kinda does.”

You hug the blanket to your chest. 

“Should we keep looking?”

“I want little lights.” You say.

“We can do fairy lights.”

“Fairy lights?”

“That’s what they are called. I’ll show you.”

Jisung found the fairy lights, and you nodded your head excitedly. Then you made your way to the curtains. Jisung texted the other two to come over with the cart and you placed your stuff in.

After an hour and a half in this store, you had more pillows (neutral in color but some with fur) and a couple blankets along with your fairy lights and new curtains. You were excited and wanted to keep going. Changbin dropped those bags off at the car and you all went to the next store.

You were in awe of the store - it had everything. The boys got you some snacks, body care essentials, and you even got a rug and comforter for your room. They got you a bluetooth speaker and headphones as well since Jisung insisted you needed to learn all about music. You had heard a bit but the Nykos barely played any.

Then there was a plant nursery. You got a few potted plants, liking the idea of some greenery in your room. You even got some lavender and lemongrass too. 

Jisung started complaining he was starving so you stopped at a pizza restaurant, sitting down to eat. You were overwhelmed with the smells, making you realize just how hungry you were. You had never had pizza before so he suggested a simple four cheese option. Changbin got meat lovers, Jisung pepperoni, and Felix got hawaiian. 

When it finally arrived at the table, your mouth was watering. You all dug in immediately, savoring every bite. You moaned in pleasure. This was definitely your new favorite food. Everybody let you try theirs so you could see if you liked it. You liked everyone’s but you happily finished your whole twelve inch pizza. 

“Well this is the most I think I’ve seen you eat.” Jisung comments.

“It’s so good.” you say with wide eyes, making everyone laugh. 

After lunch was clothes shopping. You were unsure about the lady in the store measuring you but you allowed it. She gave you your sizes and then you bought some clothes you liked. Some were comfy lounge wear, some some bra and panties, and some were shirts. You even got a few swimsuits for the lake.

They took you to a few other stores to fill out your wardrobe. You even got a few books at the bookstore, intrigued to read some of the stories. And when they had too many bags for the trunk, Changbin called it quits. You even had to get a chair shipped since you didn’t have the space for it in the car. It was one of those floating macrame chairs that Changbin said he would install for you. 

Once you got home, the boys helped you bring your bags to your room and left you to start. Chan had already fixed the curtain rod and removed the curtains, blanket, and whatever else was in what he assumed was the ‘throw away’ pile. 

You stripped the bed and attempted to change the sheets, groaning in frustration when it wasn’t working. You heard a chuckle in the hallway and turned to see Chan walking in. He smiled at you and you smiled back even though it wasn’t a laughing matter.

“It’s not funny.” You whined.

“Let me help you, baby.” 

Chan helped you put your sheets on, teaching you how. Then he let you decorate the pillows as you wanted, handing you blankets to place in the room.

“These are soft. This one is really thick.” He said, rubbing them with his hands.

You nodded, taking them and figuring out where to place them.

“Can you take this bench out?”

“Um, sure. You don’t want it?”

“No. Changbin is going to hang a chair.”

“Hang? A chair?” 

“Yes.” You looked at his face and froze. “Is that okay? Oh no, you don’t like the idea-”

“Baby, relax. I was just confused. You can have whatever you want. I’ll buy you whatever you want.” Chan rested his hands on your shoulders, grounding you. “If you want a floating bed, I’ll buy that too.”

You both laugh.

You turn back to your room, placing the plants and figurines you also bought. You found a place for your speaker and headphones to rest and plug them in to charge. Curtains were now on your window while some transparent ones hung around your bed with fairy lights. 

Thirty more minutes went by and you didn’t even notice Chan slip out. Once you felt that your room was comfy how you like, you smiled in contentment.

Knock knock.

You turn to see Minho at the door. He smiled at you, coming into the room.

“Just wanted to let you know dinner's nearly ready.” He stepped closer to you, watching you study him as he slowly leaned forward and kissed your check.

“Okay.” you blush.

“It looks much better in here. There’s more….color.” he smirked. “I like it.”

“Thanks.” 

Minho hands you a pillow you didn’t notice he was holding. “I don’t know if it goes with your decor, but I made sure it had my scent on it.” 

You studied him, noticing his ears were turning pink as you took the pillow. You looked around, decided to put it on your cushion in the corner of your room. There was a thick, almost mattress thick, cushion in the corner. It was round and decorated with pillows, creating a cozy corner. There was a small bookshelf with your five new books and a canopy with some of the fairy lights.

“Cute.” He nods. “Come eat.”

You follow him downstairs, deciding to put away your bathroom stuff later. Jeongin was still at the rut house and you found yourself missing his company. Seungmin was currently helping him out, leaving the rest of the pack home and currently at the dinner table.

You loved these pack dinners together. It made it feel like a family - like you were part of a family. And it warmed your soul to finally feel involved. You smiled, looking around the table at everyone talking. You were finally home.

There was a knock at the door of Lewis’s office. He told them to enter, looking up from his computer. A man from an allied pack walked in and sat down in the chair across from the table.

“Nate, what brings you here at this hour? Everything okay?”

“My mate, Maddie, wanted me to take her shopping today. We went to the outlets and, obviously I didn’t do anything, but we saw her there.” Nate stated.

“Who?”

“That omega of yours. Members of the Greenridge pack were out shopping with her.”

“You sure it was them?”

“Positive. I’ve run into one of them before with Alpha Chan. He was there with her.”

“Well…if it’s a war they want.. I’ll happily oblige. Agreement null and void.”

“Well you know the Okami have your back.”

“Thanks, Nate. I’ll keep you updated.”

With that, Nate was dismissed. And Lewis was left to plan his first move.

TAGLIST:

@estella-novella @lxvxchxrlxttxbxrsx22-blog @butterflydemons @readr1221 @gaby105-skz @notevenheretbh1 @bah2004 @sinfulfic @bowsnbang @just-a-blackthorn-cookie @dreamerwasfound @motheraiya55 @m00njinnie @writeuntilthebitterend @jutdwae-flower @staytinyluv @emmxxsworld @galaxy4489 @wolfo2027

Shout out to my beta for inspiring, motivating, and pushing me! @its-the-solar-system

[houpss]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐊𝐙 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬

aggression, a little angst, vanilla and fluff

Some members will have not only points, but also background. Some won't have it (!)

𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧

This man is possessive and quite jealous. Chan is an adult man with formed emotions and convictions, and one of his convictions is that he never shares his own, be it members or his personal belongings.He, of course, knew personal boundaries and understood what was possible and what was not. But when it came to jealousy...

It was the evening of a closed fashion show in France, where SKZ flew and you flew with them. You were also a significant figure in the modeling industry and that is why you were invited to the show. K-pop stars and American industry stars gathered there: singers, directors, models and actors. Absolutely everyone was there. Chan knew that this was a noisy event and that's why Stray Kids fit in perfectly there. There was a fashionable party, an atmosphere of fun filled the halls and Chan liked it, until the moment he saw that you were surrounded by male attention.

This man will literally become overprotective and he will follow you with his eyes unless you are near him.

No, Chan didn't get jealous often. He has 8 members, Chan has a big and generous heart!

Only small children of their parents are jealous when they pay attention to someone other than their child. But Chan, after all, could and knew how to be jealous, he did it.

You felt his cold and patronizing gaze from meters away in the hall, this aura hovered around you.

As soon as you are near him, he will immediately calm down.

He will immediately return to the state of the kind and smiling Chris!

"Awww my Y/N is so beautiful todaay"

"My princess stole the show here."

He's literally very soft.

After such a scene he will be your "bodyguard", when you talk to someone, he is nearby. He quietly check that no one is doing unnecessary things.

When you return to your hotel room, Channie will become very soft and clingy.

"Y/n! Chris is tired and wants your hugs!"

"Chris wants Y/n's soft kisses"

You laugh softly at him and you clearly give him what he asks for.

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰

Minho wasn't one to get jealous a lot. He was deeply convinced of his and your feelings. Jealousy is too stupid. But this was only the case up to a certain point.

You were also a dancer and for a large-scale show you were given a dance number with your colleague. The dance was quite energetic, sexy and literally amazing. Minho saw your training and didn’t pay much attention to it. You would never cheat on him. You talked about it so much that it made Minho nervous, but he remained silent. He knew it was important to you. There was a show tonight where you performed with your colleague. Minho sat in the hall with Jisung and Jeongin. Some time passed before your number began, it was the middle of the show. Oh, it seems this fellow colleague is too close to you, this was not planned.

Minho's eyes instantly narrowed as he watched this creep touch and dance with you.

The muscles in Minho's face began to flex as he clenched his jaw.

He arches an eyebrow and snorts, he could have done it much better.

By the end of the performance, jealousy consumed him.

He wanted to kill this guy. Minho was cruel.

After the performance, he left Jisung and Jeongin in the hall while he went to your dressing room.

He urgently wanted to see and feel you.

You sat in front of the mirror and took off your makeup.

"That guy allowed himself too much, my dear."

"What are you talking about, Ho?"

"No one dares to touch you the way I touch you."

He leaned towards you and buried his nose in your hair, his hands on your shoulders.

“Next time, I’ll dance with you myself.” He would like to add to his sentence: “I’ll fuck you in front of that guy so that he understands everything himself,” but he remained silent.

Your gentle kiss will even improve the situation somewhat. Minho is your home cat again.

𝐒𝐞𝐨 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐢𝐧

You and Changbin go to the gym together, he works out his muscles, and you do stretching and yoga. You and Changbin were passionate about sports, it was an integral part of your couple! There were many men and women in the room, Changbin was always a little jealous. He just loves you too much!

But this time it turned out that you were training in different halls of the same sports complex. You worked out in the gym with other women, but Changbin was paranoid that men were staring at you.

This man will not be able to train normally and will only think about you.

He won't be able to continue training until he checks on you.

He will spy on you 🥷

From time to time he will run from gym to gym and watch you do yoga surrounded by other women.

It calmed him down...

After your training, he will hug you tightly and kiss the top of your head.

This man will become very loud and happy in your presence.

"My Y/n is so sweet! Binnie is happy again"

𝐇𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧

Hwang Hyunjin was perfect, such a guy had everything he wanted, but most importantly he had you. He wasn't overly jealous, but "you're mine" and that wasn't discussed. He hated the idea that there was someone else who could touch you the way he touched you and tell you the things he told you.

When he left SKZ on tours or events in another country, he would definitely become overprotective from a distance. He's just afraid that someone will take his place, maybe you can find someone more ideal than him? Expect constant video calls and unobtrusive questions from him, he may be too dramatic or whiny, this is normal. One evening you will be talking via video call, because you stayed in Seoul and Hyunjin in France.

"I saw your posts on Instagram, are you hanging out with someone?? 🥺"

"Yeah,Jinnie, I finally met a friend I haven't seen for a very long time."

"Let him not allow himself too much—"

"ARE YOU JEALOUS?"

Hwang Hyunjin and jealousy? never.

"She was holding your hand too tightly in that photo! This woman allows herself a lot."

"You're literally jealous right now~"

"This is not jealousy, but ordinary boundaries 😡"

"You're very cute when you're jealous, I love you"

He will turn into a puddle after these words.

𝐇𝐚𝐧 𝐉𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠

Han Jisung doesn't know how to be jealous.

He is absolutely confident in both you and himself.

But some trainee from JYP ENTERTAINMENT became interested in you and showed you signs of attention.

At first he didn't pay attention to it.

It didn't bother him because you were always near.

But then he began to notice that you would either smile at this guy or talk to him in the corridors of the company.

He, he'll get worried.

You will notice this.

Jisung will become less cheerful or tender with you, slowly moving away.

You sit him next to you and make him talk.

"Have you found someone better than me?"

"Why do you think that, Hannie?"

He will look at you sadly, now he is not happy and will not joke.

"You spend so much time with that trainee guy...–”

"Oooh...he doesn't know Korean, so he asked me to help him! but between us there is only a working relationship"

will this calm him down?

Not really.

He will reach out for your hug and sigh softly when you hug him back.

"Tell me right away if he bothers you 😡"

"HAN JISUNG–"

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱

This boy is very shy and touchy :((

When he is jealous, he will be like a pet...In the sense that he will follow you everywhere and he will look so sad.

He just overheard your talk on the phone and didn't like the content.

"Do not you love me anymore?"

He sniffled, it seemed the boy had been crying for a long time.

He was a flower, and you were his sun.

He will sit next to you on the couch and press against your side. His head is now on your chest and his legs are wrapped around yours, he's like a koala.

He's just afraid that you'll leave.

"Why do you think that, freckle?"

You haven’t really changed into your home clothes, because you just came from the street.

You stroke Felix's blond hair, looking at his tear-stained face.

"You...you...went somewhere, before that I heard your telephone talk...sorry"

He literally wouldn't be able to speak properly because the tears were choking his throat again.

He will cry and bury his nose in your chest. Please don't leave him.

"Baby, I was at a meeting of directors, I was urgently called there"

You chuckle quietly and tuck his hair behind his ear.

He is your gentle angel.

"Really...?you won't leave me?" his eyes brightened as he sniffled and looked at you.

You nod affirmatively and kiss his forehead.

He will cry even more because he will be ashamed...

𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐒𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐢𝐧

Seungmin wasn't someone who got jealous a lot or often, he didn't care about that. But he reacts quite brightly when Someone allows himself too much towards you.

He would be angry and not understand alone, he would come up with a lot for himself and would be even more offended by you. He would pull away and give you freedom. Moreover, you can not communicate like this for several days, that suits him.

It really made you nervous that Seungmin could leave so easily and then come back as if nothing had happened, he never explained the reasons. The boy did as he saw fit. You may be able to catch him and get him to talk, he will be quite rude, but eventually he will break down and quietly admit that he feels insecure because of your actions. You felt so offended because Seungmo didn’t tell you right away, but only confessed now. Now you will agree to immediately talk about your jealousy and fears every time. Seungmin will really try his best for you.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧

Maknae is also quite jealous, due to the fact that his hyungs are loving guys, this extends to you, but Jeongin doesn’t like it. You spend time with boys a lot, which can cause Jeongin to get nervous and say something like "Hey! Don't touch her", then SKZ will turn their attention from you to Ninnie.

In general, you and Jeongin are like two big children for SKZ, even if you are older than Jeongin. You are a sociable, bright and talkative person, people are drawn to you. Jeongin notices this and tries to tone it down a bit, he wants all your attention. He just gets a little angry when there is increased attention to you and tries to immediately concentrate your attention on himself!

"Why Hyungs coming at you like that..."

"They just love me too much~"

"THEY CAN'T LOVE YOU THE WAY I LOVE YOU"

The maknae is furious, you are his only one.

You immediately start laughing and kiss him on both cheeks, making him squint like a fox.

No one will want to offend this beautiful little fox.

[valyrianvibranium]

SUSPICIOUS SILENCE.

Modern!Daemon Targaryen x pregnant!wife!Reader

WARNINGS: Family fluff, hinted lactation kink lol

WORDS: 986

NOTES: Here is the fluff everyone (me lmao) wanted!! Love me some nice happy family scenarios with our favorite men, tbh. And I'm stuck in limbo with Object of Desire right now! This is not beta read!

Daemon was working from home today to take care of your daughter while you were out for brunch with Floris, his nephew’s wife that’s also winding down the halfway mark of pregnancy just like you. 

And although it’s around your toddler’s daytime nap time, it’s too quiet when you open the front door to your penthouse. Suspiciously quiet. 

You should be hearing Daemon talk on the phone or type on his keyboard, very rarely even doing the cleaning. But the door to his office is ajar, the light is turned on, however, there’s complete silence. 

As you walk towards it, peeking into the room, you notice it’s vacant, the large office chair empty. 

You frown, and continue to walk along the hallway. There’s nervousness creeping up on you, mostly because Daemon would’ve messaged you if he decided to go outside with your daughter, and you start to rub your protruding bump in a reassuring manner. That is, until you stand in the door to the living space; the sight you’re greeted with immediately melting your heart. 

Daemon is lying on the sofa, bare chested and a towel still clutched in his right hand, and your little daughter is firmly tucked into his left side, her cheek pressed against his chest with his hand resting on her back. 

The sight of your little daughter sleeping soundly in his arms is enough to make you smile. Despite his rough exterior, your big, tough husband also is a loving father who doesn’t hesitate to do anything for his family. 

You walk over to him, and press a gentle kiss to his forehead which slowly makes his mesmerizing blue eyes creak open. Squinting them to adjust to the brightness of the room, he doesn’t move a muscle besides that to not wake the sleeping toddler up. 

Daemon gazes up at you with a soft stare, before finally speaking with a low voice. “Hello, darling. How was your day?”

Caressing his arm tenderly, you smile at him. “It was alright. You two are enjoying some quality time, I see,” you whisper. “Had a nice nap?”

“Aye, we had quite a fun time. Wanted to take a quick shower while she was asleep, but she woke up and needed me to comfort her.”

You gently fondle your daughter’s hair, smoothing it as you both just watch her for a moment. “I’ll watch her for a little while if you still want to take a shower,” you eventually propose. 

But your husband isn’t having any of it. “Nah, how about you join us now, and we both take that shower together once this little monkey’s in bed, mh?” His hand clasps around your wrist, and he gently tugs you towards the sofa, not giving you any chance to reject his offer. 

His proposition makes you chuckle softly, and you feel your cheeks turn red. If there is one thing your husband knows, it’s how to take care of you, too. After the birth of your daughter, you’ve been feeling insecure about your body, especially with the weight you’ve gained throughout the pregnancy. But there hasn’t passed one moment where Daemon hasn’t made you feel desired and wanted by him, and the look he currently gives you is enough to send your hormones raging again.

Throwing the towel aside, you sit down to his right and snuggle up against him. His right hand snakes around your waist, instinctively coming to rest atop your swollen belly, and you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his irresistible scent. 

The toddler stirs slightly in her sleep, but isn’t too fazed by the slight commotion of you joining them on the sofa. 

“You do make a convincing argument,” you whisper, licking your lips.   

Noticing the sudden flush of color that appears on your cheeks, a mischievous glint flickers in his eyes. He nudges his nose against yours, and it’s enough to coax you to kiss him. It’s soft, barely more than a peck, and you’re struggling to keep yourself composed hearing his next words. 

“I can convince you of far better things once we’re all by ourselves, darling.”

You chuckle at his remark, and place your hand atop his on your bump, squeezing it softly. “Make sure to keep that promise. Don’t want to hope you’re just all talk,” you tease, your eyes flickering between his and his lips. “There are two things I definitely need your help with, Daddy.” 

Briefly glancing down at your swollen breasts, already producing enough milk as if they mean to provide for twins, you can spot the exact moment Daemon’s brain processes the innuendo. 

You follow his line of sight, lingering a tad too long on your full breasts, and chuckle as you notice his breath hitch in his throat. 

Daemon gives you a teasing look, the blue hue of his eyes almost eclipsed by black at this point, and bites his bottom lip. “I’m sure I can assist you thoroughly with whatever you need, darling.”

Running a hand through his hair before you slowly rise from the sofa, you giggle as you see him pout. “Let’s see then how well you follow through on your promises, Daddy,” you say, bringing your index finger to your lips as if you’re in thought. “Maybe we should ask Rhaenyra to take our girl for the night? Jace is just a few months older, and he’s completely besotted with her. We haven’t had any alone time in ages, and I’m sure she and Harwin won’t mind.” 

You can’t see the look on Daemon’s face at your suggestion, for you make yourself on your way to prepare the afternoon snack for your soon-to-wake daughter, but you hear him sigh loud and clear, and it’s enough to make you grin and your heart flutter. Just the anticipation of finally having some well deserved alone time with him again makes your blood run hot. 

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