#Words to e street shuffle

[milkbobatyun]

my love, mine all mine

pairing: yandere!sunday x reader

genre: yandere

summary: the consequences of not listening to the head of the oak family

word count: 936

C O N T E N T W A R N I N G : yandere behaviour, manipulation, fear

a/n: was inspired after listening to a really good sunday-inspired playlist on yt and i HAD to write this

you had only been talking to a passerby, giving him directions to reach his destination.

golden, hawk-like eyes scrutinsed your every move from a distance, watching as the man slowly leaned closer to you. every movement of his wretched mouth, every quirk of his eyebrow fanned the ember of jealousy into a raging flame. he said something. you laughed. the pretty sound travelling towards his ears, igniting a fire of anger from within him.

a thread within him snapped when he saw the man place his filthy, disgusting hand on your shoulder. his jaw clenched, the pearly feathers behind his ears fluffed out in rage. the heat of jealousy surged through his veins, pounding in his ears. all he could see was red.

sunday stalked towards the chatting group. with your back turned to him, you were blissfully unaware of the encroaching danger. the man’s face paled when he caught sight of the intimidating figure rapidly approaching.

a haloed shadow was thrown over the shaking figure of the man, its wings fluffed out in jealousy. seeing the fury radiate from the powerful stance of the head of the oak family, the fearful man collapsed to the floor, his legs giving out underneath him. with a hurried scramble, the man scurried away, throwing one last petrified glance behind his back.

sunday turned to you, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“i think it’s time to go home.” he gritted out between his teeth, a firm grasp encircling your wrist.

with your wrist trapped in his iron grip, you were forced to stumble along behind him, biting your cheek against the painfully tight grasp. sunday, seemingly unaware of your discomfort, politely greeted passersby, waving to them with mock cheer, a smile plastered on his face. however, his piercing golden eyes were hard, like a predator who had found its prey.

the heat of his hand on your wrist burned you, yet the hairs on your arms were raised, goosebumps prickling against the surface of your skin. his fingers trembled with barely contained rage, an edge in his voice, filled with faux warmth. as though the people walking along the street could sense the tense air between the two of you, the air felt thick, pressure building against your chest.

when you reached his manor, sunday threw open the door. the house reverberated with the loud boom of the door richocheting from the force.

sunday mercilessly dragged you up the stairs, not caring if you were stumbling up the stairs, often almost tripping. with overwhelming force, he threw you onto the bed, the plush mattress cushioning your body, the soft pillows at your back.

with measured calm, sunday gently shut the door behind him, his eyes hiding a fire of hatred.

“just what, pray tell, did i tell you before we left the house?” he hissed, pacing up and down the room, the sound of his boots muffled by the velvety carpet underfoot. sunday’s voice came out low and venomous, his movements slow, placing you on the edge.

you trembled in your place, hand over the bruising wrist, body instinctively curled in a foetal position, lest he hits you like before. the silence stretched out between the two of you, the only audible noise was your pulse, booming in your ears. the bruise throbbed dully, a reminder of your vulnerability.

sunday slinked closer to you, watching you with amusement at how you flinched at his every move, bracing for any blows to land. your eyes were pressed shut, memories of past ‘lessons’ flashing vividly behind your eyes. 

each second stretched into a minute, an hour, eternity. thunk. thunk. thunk. the quiet shuffle of his boots scraped across the carpet. sunday placed a knee on the bed, like a cat stalking a bird.

“what. did. i. say.” he purred, a smile etched onto his face. underneath the facade of kindness, you could see how his brows furrowed in anger, his knuckles clenched white against the silken bedsheets.

he reached out a hand towards you, tilting your chin up with a gentle touch, like you were a glass flower, fragile and easily broken. his soft touch could almost be mistaken as a lover’s touch – tender, loving; yet within his eyes swirled the burning fury, like a predator who was about to devour their prey.

the bed creaked softly as sunday leaned closer, his warm breath fanning across your skin. he smiled down at you, a faux smile.

“i give you all this luxury, yet you’re here talking to other guys?” he hissed, his finger drawing a cold path down your neck, past your jugular, an unspoken threat in his eyes.

he chuckled softly, finding amusement in your trembling, like a cat toying with a mouse. his smile faded instantly, his hand darting out, unforgiving grip on your chin burning your skin. your skin prickled against his touch, your hands trembled uncontrollably. he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear.

“remember what happened last time you defied me. we don’t want that again do we?” he mocked. “you belong to me and me only.”

sunday’s grin widened at the prolonged silence. his hand trailed down to your neck, the tender touch of love. his fingers lingered for a moment too long, tracing absent-minded lines along your collarbones. with the speed of a hawk, he gripped your neck in a chokehold, just tight enough to bring out a surge of panic across your face, your airways restricted beneath his hand.

“yes.” sunday whispered dangerously, a smirk of sick satisfaction on his face. “that’s the look i want. you’re mine.”

taglist (open): @yeonjunsfox

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

[tainted-liquor]

⋆✦ Keep Talkin' ⋆ [3.11.23] - ft. Miles G. Morales ⋆ Ingredients: Sugar, Smiles, and a lil bit of Salt! A/N! READER HAS A STUTTER. Please keep that In Mind.

“Miles, c’mon…get up-“ You chuckled, using all your strength to shuffle Miles off your body. “Absolutely not.” He blurted, somehow getting heavier than earlier as he further relaxed on top of your chest. “I-It’s almost the e-e-end…fuck” you sighed, growing more and more agitated by the minute. For as long as you could remember, you had a mind that moved faster than your mouth could deliver; words and syllables getting lost on the tip of your tongue every time you attempted to vocalize your thoughts. “Mamita, está bien. vamos, sigue hablando, It doesn’t bother me” Miles grunted, plunging his face further into your soft navy-blue wool sweater.

“Y-y-yeah y-you don’t, I do” you chuckled, feeling the air fill your lungs as Miles hoisted himself off of you. The temperature difference was terrifying; you had gone from a comfortable cozy warm to a sudden burst of wintery air blowing directly on you from the A/C. You pulled yourself off the sophomore lounge’s plush bean bag, stretching and yawning while Miles poured coffee into his matte black water bottle. The enticing scent of fresh brew wafted through the space, invading the senses of anyone who passed by the cozy lounge. “You want some?” He asked, pouring French vanilla, cinnamon, sugar, and caramel into the bottle and giving it an aggressive shake.

You nodded, taking the bottle from his hands and taking a deep swig from the warm cup of caffeine. “Aight, c’mon. You have class” Miles recalled, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he guided you out of the dim and inviting lights of the lounge to the harsh fluorescent lighting of the school hallway. “Miles, can we go to…what’s i-i-i-it called…the cafe across the str-..the cafe across the str-street?” You asked, twisting the cap back on his water bottle and handing it back to him without missing a beat. “Yeah, of course, come get me after class,” he beamed, shoving the water bottle back into the side of his blue backpack. You said your goodbyes, slipping into the cold confines of your classroom while you waited for the rest of the student body to cram into their assigned seats.

Tension was high as everyone opened their computers, faces being illuminated by the ghostly white hue of their screens as they got ready to present their Google slides. You’d always been exempt from vocalizing lengthy presentations, but today you wanted to at least try to work through or around your stutter. You got up from your seat as quietly as possible before fixing your ash grey skirt and made your way over to Mr. Talgate’s desk. You felt slightly more confident, or maybe that was just the ghost of pride taking over you from Miles’ reassurance prior. But regardless of what it was, you wanted to present your slides, especially with how hard you worked on them for the past 3 days.

“Mr. Talgate? Is i-i-it…is i-it alright i-i-if I pres-present today? I’m really proud of my slides n’ I wanna try tod-today” You whispered, attempting to suppress that agitating stutter of yours. Mr. Tailgate looked elated, like a proud father who was ready to support his daughter with anything she wanted. “Yeah, of course! You can go right after…uh,” He mumbled, looking over the classroom to see who you could sandwich your presentation in between. “Lisa! You can go after Lisa. But if you ever wanna stop, just let me know…Make a time-out sign with your hands and I’ll let you go, alright?” He smiled, waving you off as you nodded and retreated to your seat. No thoughts were coursing through your head as everyone went up and gave their speeches; one by one, people’s names were removed from the list as your time to speak came closer and closer. 

You fixed everything that you could, reciting your I’s and Y’s and E’s with each passing second. Lisa took any final questions, before giving a warm smile and a thumbs up in your direction, mouthing “Good luck babes!” before collecting her computer and returning to her seat. You gave her a sheepish, lopsided smile in return as you prepped the small podium in the front of the classroom to present your project. You sucked in a deep breath, wrangling your thoughts and lingering anxieties before turning to face your peers.

“Hi! So, m-my pres-presentation i-i-i-is about th-th…the chemical compound Nitrous O-Oxide.  As you can see, there’s-” You began, quickly beginning to feel the epiphany of speaking in front of a whole class setting in. You were doing fine for the most part, until a random voice in the back spoke up, ruining the rest of your day. 

“Yo, does she always fuckin’ stutter like this? We can’t skip her?” He moaned, throwing his hands in the air like he was stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Your blood ran cold as you shut your mouth and clutched the sides of the glazed oak podium. The class erupted in groans of annoyance and shouts of ‘Shut up!’ aimed at the boy as you quickly sat back down at your desk. Your waterline pooled with tears as the boy named ‘Kaiden’ was ejected from class. What a fucking loser.

You barricaded your face in your arms, the tip of your nose ghosting your desk as tears silently trailed from your eyes. The sound of whispers and apologetic glances in your direction went unnoticed as the tinnitus made itself known in your ears, flooding your senses as the pressure on your throat grew heavier. You struggled to control your breathing while you asked the teacher to leave, earning quick confirmation and a gentle pat on the shoulder from Mr. Talgate. When you finally brought yourself out of the classroom, you wiped away the remnants of the salty tears in the mirror that you kept in your blue locker. No matter how hard you dabbed at the trail of tears, no amount of recovery or cleanup would dissipate the feeling of dread that pooled into your stomach every time you went to open your mouth.

Anyway,

Thankfully, that was your last class of the day. All that was left was to find Miles and get some food, and then you could go home to your warm and comforting pink cotton sheets. Your glossy Mary Janes clinked against the pure white vinyl composition tiles, echoing through the spirit-painted walls as you advanced toward the sophomore lounge once more. You pushed open the deep grey sliding door, revealing your boyfriend with his legs propped up on the window seal. He crouched with his knees to his chest, one AirPod in his left ear as he read a bright red comic about someone named Spider-Man. His eyes broke their pattern of scanning over the small font and vibrant pictures, instantly turning over to look at you as he lifted himself off the window.

“Wassup, Ma…You out early, they let you go or somethin’?” He asked, giving you a tight hug and a kiss on the forehead. There was a moment of silence as you nodded with a small smile, earning a sideways glance from Miles. There was a thought that itched at the back of his mind, but he went against his better judgment and assumed you were tired and just wanted some food. It was all going fine until he realized that you were 2 minutes away from the familiar French cafe and you hadn’t said a single word. He missed your usual commentary as you passed by buildings, giggled about dogs, and pointed out signs that caught your attention. He glanced over in your direction, observing as you stared at the ground and fiddled with his bandaged fingers.

“You good Ma? You been real quiet lately… what's on your mind?” He questioned as he held open the glass door so you could pass through into the soft, dim, yellow lighting of the cafe. It was virtually impossible to get anything past Miles; he knew you better than he knew himself, that was clear. Your voice was barely above a whisper as you unpacked the events of 8th  period. “Then he said that I shou-shouldn’t be presenting,” you mumbled, taking a seat at the deep brown leather booth just by the back exit. The store was warm and the fragrance of fresh baked goods wafted through the air, something that could always be associated with comfort and relaxation wasn’t doing much to help you relax right now.

“Well fuck him. Fuckin’ dumbass ain’t even had the balls to say it at the front of the classroom…Kaiden failing his classes anyway baby don’t pay that bum any mind. His mama got 2 teaspoons of hair, Déjalo donde está” He grumbled, rolling his eyes as he slid you closer to his side. “Listen, don’t let them niggas hurt your feelings. He a fat rectangle with buck teeth, don’t let that motherfucker bend you,” He grunted.

“Now c’mon, I want a cannoli.”

Tags !!

@ashsostrange @chessbox @janaeby @faeriesoiree333 @fivestardior @an1bara @bachirasegoist @niaurluv @sp1derw1re @ban-al3x  @we-loveebony @kae2kaee @dxrlingcc

[lillsisamarshmallow]

Water Fountain in the Kitchen (7)

Summary: The first days in a cramped apartment with 7 other people, what could possibly go wrong? There’s never a wrong time for an umbrella!

Word count: 5.8k (Sorry?)

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, Jump scare for Y/n? Let me know if I missed any!

<< Previous | Next >>

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

If you enjoyed this chapter and are enjoying this series, please like, reblog, maybe leave a reply or even follow if you feel like it, it is much appreciated!

Taglist (Open)

Taglist: @kalala22 @knjloverr @xanny91 @rinkud @marblemoonstones @miwsolovely @multifandomlover1227 @belikejk @nikkiordonez12 @wtvbabes @lazullywinter @danielle143 @exfolitae @juju-227592

If you would like to be added please let me know!

The house was quiet and dark, no lights were on and little to know light was shining through the windows due to the large rain clouds littering the sky and pouring rain down on the streets, I walked into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, rounding the corner, I made my way over to the light switch so I could see.

Hesitating, I remembered the sleeping men on my couch and decided not to flick it on, shuffling my way back into the kitchen I switched on the small stove light instead, it flickered before illuminating a small area allowing me to see in front of me. I turned on the kettle before grabbing myself a mug, as I went to grab the milk, I heard my phone start ringing, not wanting to disturb the boys I answered as fast as I could, checking the contact it displayed.

‘Feral 🦝 ’

“Hello?”

“Hey Y/n, how’s it going?” Her voice came through the phone, extending the ‘e’ in ‘hey.’

She rang me at 6:45 in the morning, to ask ‘how’s it going’?

“Uhh, I’m doing fine, how are you- “

“We have a problem.” She cut me off, paying more attention to her voice, I noticed that she sounded nervous.

“What is it this time?” I asked her fully expecting it to be some minor problem that we could easily fix, and she had just been overreacting, not the first time it would have happened. I screwed off the lid of the milk before placing it on the counter, the kettle had gone off now so I started pouring the hot water into my mug with the tea bag already inside.

“Yunjin, Kai, Kazuha and Jongho, quit.”

“What?”

“They quit.” She said again.

“B-but, that’s half our staff! What are we going to do?” I said alarmed, but trying not to be too loud, if they’ve quit then there’s not going to be enough staff to cover all the shifts.

“I don’t know, lovey.” She sighed, using her nickname for me. “They called me and sent their emails yesterday saying they were quitting.”

“Crap.” I huffed out as I finished pouring the milk into my mug, stirring it as she continued. “Well, we have until the rain stops to find more workers…”

Seoyeon made a noise of agreement and decided that we could both look into hiring new workers during this time off, she then went on to start telling me about how she was thinking of adding an outside seating area to the café, the café was getting so busy these days that a lot of the time we would run out of seats for the customers and they would have to stand, we didn’t have the biggest building for the café, we never expected it to get overly busy so we didn’t have much seating inside.

I was still standing at the table listening to Seoyeon talk while I drank my tea, it was still early morning and the apartment was still dark the only illumination being the small kitchen light, I hadn’t really noticed at first, but my gaze had wandered to a specific area, too lost in conversation with Seoyeon I hadn’t noticed the object I was staring at.

I kept trying to focus on the darkness so I could figure out why I couldn’t look away from the abyss, it strained my eyes, I had tuned out Seoyeon’s voice in my ear, peering into the darkness it was getting clearer, ahead of me, higher than my own, were two, glowing eyes, staring right back at me.

I stepped back, a scream ripping itself through my body before being cut off, the eyes had lunged forwards, a large hand merging before me, it came up to wrap around my face covering my mouth, the scream muffled under the large hand and sent vibrations through my face.

“Shhh!” The voice belonging to the eyes spoke up, in my fright I had dropped my phone to the floor which had make a loud noise.

Wait… that voice?

“H-Hoseok?” I huffed out, my breaths were uneven, eyes wide, I felt like I had lost years off my life. I looked up only to come face to face with the fox hybrid, a giddy smile on his face like he had caught me while out on a hunt, something flashed in his eyes before they returned to normal.

“Heh, sorry, Y/n. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said with a slight laugh. “I heard you in the kitchen, and I couldn’t sleep any longer.”

“H-how, I -.” I started fumbling over my words.” What do you mean you didn’t mean to scare me’? I thought someone broke in!” I breathed out trying to catch my breath. “What did you think was going to happen?”

“I-” Before Hoseok could finish speaking, a scratchy, static voice interrupted us, I looked down to see my phone remembering that I was on call with Seoyeon.

“Y/n? Y/n! Is everything okay? What happened?” She yelled through the phone, I grabbed it looking back at Hoseok as I began speaking.

“I-” I stuttered. “I’m okay, Seoyeon. I just, uh, dropped something is.” I gulped hoping she would believe the little white lie.

“What? No, I definitely heard someone else speaking.” She spoke out. “Is someone there with you?”

Dammit

“Uhh, yeah-yeah, I have a friend staying with me, he can’t go home until the storm has passed.”

“Oh- Oohhh, I see.” Seoyeon said through the phone. “Welp, I’ll leave you two to it then. Talk to you later lovey, see you.” The beep of the phone call ending sent the room back into a silence.

“Seoyeon.” I mutter out annoyed at her, before it was covered by laughter, Hoseok was giggling, his smile is infectious, and I began giggling too. I made Hoseok a cup of tea and I refilled my own, we spent most of the morning talking in the kitchen or just sitting in a comfortable silence, slowly watching the sky get brighter, but still staying covered.

It was later in the day now, and everyone had woken up, I decided to make some breakfast for as all and Seokjin insisted on helping, at some point, despites Seokjin’s pleads for him to stay away from the kitchen, Namjoon ended up joining us, I wasn’t sure why he didn’t want Namjoon in the kitchen, but I wasn’t complaining about another set of hands.

Seokjin assigned him the easiest job, washing the berries, Seokjin was cooking the pancakes and I was whipping cream and getting out the different toppings for the pancakes, jams, spreads, syrup, sauces, anything I had that they might like. Everything was going well, but it didn’t take long for me to see why they didn’t want Namjoon in the kitchen.

Just as I finished up with the cream and Seokjin was on his last set of pancakes before they would all be ready, I heard a snapping sound and some metal clinking, followed by a gasp and the tap running, Seokjin spun around but didn’t let go of the pan, following his lead I also turned to see where the sound came from.

Peering around Seokjin’s broad shoulders I saw Namjoon standing very still, looking down at the running water, he turned his body to face us, his eyes met mine before he looked down at his other hand. My eyes followed his, widening at what he was holding, in his right hand, still dripping with water, in a tight grip, was the sink tap handle.

The two men seemed to freeze, we were all looking at the handle in Namjoon’s hands, the sudden silence must have alerted the others as some movement occurred followed by multiple gasps, but no one was saying anything. Noticing the water was still on I sprang into action leaving the whipped cream on the bench, making my way over to Namjoon I took in the sight before me, the tap to turn off the water was broken.

“Here!” Namjoon said from beside me, he reached forward with his other hand and grabbed onto the end of the tap, I think he was trying to stop the water, but he failed, as his hand got in the middle of the waterspout, and it sprayed everywhere, all over the sink, all over me and Namjoon, my shirt was drench, but he kept holding on.

I let out a scream as the chilly water soaked through my shirt and it clung to my skin, I could hear some yelling but the consistent water bursting into my face made it hard to understand or talk back. Figuring the best decision was to turn off the water under the sink, I quickly dropped to my knees trying to wipe the water droplets from my eyes so I could see, but as I wiped them away more came to fill in the space left behind, reaching forwards I grabbed hold of the handle, yanking the door open.

Ducking my head under the bench and into the small area allowed the droplets to not continuously be replaced, I wrapped my fingers around the pipe, searching until I found the little valve, turning it as hard as I could, eventually I heard the water running through the pipes stop, and so did the yelling.

I backed up pulling myself out from the cupboard, I sat still on my knees before hulling myself up, water dripping off me and onto the floor where it merged with the already formed puddle, I flicked my wet hair from my face and wiped the water droplet away, I turned to where Namjoon was. His hand was still holding the tap, but as I gave it a closer look I noticed, it’s bent, when he held on to it to try and ‘stop’ the water, it bent under his strength.

Shaking the thought, I looked up at him, he looked horribly guilty and embarrassed, his eyes met mine for a brief second before he averted his gaze to look down. I turned behind me to see Seokjin.

He was protecting the food.

He had moved the cream and pancakes to the other end of the kitchen bench and was standing in front of them. This caused a smile to spread on my lips, followed by a giggle which erupted into laughter at the situation, it didn’t take too long before I heard some of the other boys laughing too.

I turned back to Namjoon reaching for the two broken pieces of my once working tap. “Y/n, I’m sorry- “

“It’s fine, really.” I gave him a kind and playful smile. “I see why Seokjin didn’t want you in the kitchen now.”

Everyone seemed to giggle at that. “I’ll call a maintenance worker tomorrow to come by and fix it. It’s okay.” I said again taking the broken piece and placing it into the sink before tapping Namjoon on the shoulder then turning back to Seokjin and grabbing the food.

“Everyone still hungry?”

The cool metal met with my finger as it lit up underneath it, I pressed the down button for the elevator, I was on my way to Jiyoon’s for the ointment that Namjoon and some of the other boys needed. Jiyoon lived three floors down and on the other side of the building, we often spent time together so asking her to borrow something was no big deal, I even brought her some left over muffins from the shop. Jungkook kept complaining, saying that we needed to keep them, and he wouldn’t let me take many, so I settled on chocolate ones since none of the boys will eat them.

The elevator arrived and the door opened, inside I saw a worker, stepping in and pressing the right floor the elevator doors began closing and the soft music filed my ears, glancing over the other person, I recognised them.

“Oh, hey, Chaeryeong.” I said to her, the elevator began moving going down slowly.

“Hey, Y/n, how’re you doing?” She asked me, a polite smile on her face.

“I’m doing well, this rain is crazy right? They think it’ll be another week before it stops.”

She hummed, acknowledging what I said before looking back down at her cart, it fell into comfortable silence before the elevator dinged, looking up I saw I had reach Jiyoon’s floor, the doors opened and I stepped out giving Chaeryeong a small wave which she returned, muttering a quiet farewell.

I made my way down the carpeted hallway looking for the right number of her apartment, counting them as I went 35, 36, 37, 38…

Ah, here it is.

The golden number reflected on the light shining behind me, I had messaged her before to let her know I’d be over today, knocking on the door I heard a quite ‘coming!’ from behind it followed by footsteps.

The door swung open, behind it stood Jiyoon, short frame accompanied by light brown almost reddish hair, styled in her usual way with her thin bangs, her hair ended just below her shoulders, her typical bright smile with her bunny teeth and her large eyes looking right at me. Recognising who I was, she opened the door further before wrapping an arm around me giving me a half hug which I returned. Before we had even said anything to each other she had ushered me inside and closed the door behind me.

Her apartment was similar to mine, but rather than two bedrooms she only had one, turning to face her I spoke first as she made her way to her kitchen with the container I handed to her and I went to go sit at her small coffee table, decorated with her magazines and paper weights, and a small plant. We fell into casual conversation about things that were going on in our own lives, Jiyoon mentioned that she was doing well in her art classes and had even managed to sell a few pieces to her colleagues at work, I was telling her about how we’re thinking of redecorating the café and briefly mentioned how my sink was broken.

“Thank you so much Jiyoon.” I said thanking her as she passed me the ointment I needed for Namjoon and the other boys. It had been well over an hour since I left and the boys would be getting worried by now, time flies when you’re chatting with a good friend.

“Don’t worry about it! I’ll swing by and get it back later.” She assured me. “I’ll see you around! Oh, and let me know how the café redecorating goes if you do it, I’d be happy to give you some paintings to hang up.” She beamed as she waved goodbye to me down the hall.

“Bye!” I yelled down at her waving aggressively before turning and stepping into the elevator that had arrived, no one else was in this one, as the door closed, and music filled my ears, I started humming along before the elevator started moving back up to my floor.

“Stop moving or I’ll- “

“This is a tiny bathroom! There’s no room in here.”

“Yeah, well I- “

Before I could tell Namjoon off for moving around while I was trying to disinfect his chest, he quickly grabbed my arms and lifted me up, spinning us both around so he was now facing the mirror, but he didn’t stop there, lifting me slightly higher before dropping me on to the counter and letting go. He didn’t say anything and just kept looking forwards like I had told him too before.

“Well, I-I guess this works too.” I mumbled out trying to look down as much as I could to avoid him seeing my red face. The runny brown ointment started running down from one of his cuts, I quickly caught it with one of the rags that I had with me, I kept dabbing the liquid onto his wounds using a cotton bud, every time the ointment came in contact with a new wound Namjoon would flinch in pain, I felt bad, but it needed to be done.

“Sorry, but on the bright side, it doesn’t look like there will be many scars, maybe just a few.” I paused, my fingers hovering over and tracing the areas as I spoke. “Here, here, and maybe here.” I smiled looking up at him, as I was looking at where he might develop some scars I noticed some that were already there, most of them seemed to be fairly old, he grunted at what I said and shuffled slightly before looking away.

He’s mad at me again?

I grabbed the bandages that were beside me as I started to wrap them over his chest, I could feel him glaring down at me, this time the wrapping was more cleanly done and not messy, but this time he was also fully conscious and standing, I wrapped over them all twice, before finishing up and clipping the end to the rest of the bandage, Namjoon seemed to scoff at how much care I put into making sure the bandages were wrapped correctly, which took extra time.

Looks like we’re back to square one.

I looked up at Namjoon, patting his shoulder and letting him know I was done, he muttered something before turning and heading to the door, I watched him open it and walk out as I began packing up the kit and popping the lid back on to the ointment. I was about to hop off the basin before I heard some talking and then someone’s loud voice which was followed by loud footsteps.

The downstairs couple are going to hate me. I thought sighing and looking down.

“My turn!”

As soon as I heard the voice, a body came barrelling through the door, almost running in to the shower, as quick as it had come in the room, it had shut the door, locked it, and leaned against it before slumping halfway to the ground. I could hear some yelling and knocking from the other side of the door which seemed to die down upon realising it had been locked, the figure turns to me, a giddy smile on their face, I couldn’t really see his eyes as his long hair covered the top of his face, hanging down over them, shadowing it, his position and expression made him look like he could have been from a horror movie, if it weren’t for his boyish nature, he hauled himself up before making his way over to the basin where I was still sitting.

“Taehyung?” I started giggling at his antics as he made his way over to me. “Hmm, I should probably touch up your wounds too.” I explained as the thought came to me, thankfully Jimin and Yoongi didn’t need me to apply any ointment or rewrap bandages, they both just needed to rest. Taehyung’s gummy smile took over his features as he stood closer to me, I opened up the ointment again, grabbing a clean cotton bud I stuck it in the bottle and started dabbing at the wound on his lip, he winced a bit, but kept his eyes on me the whole time.

“Are you just going to stare at me the whole time?”

He looked up and to the side, making a thinking face before facing me again, a cheeky grin on his face.

“Yes.”

The room erupted into our giggles, the sound filling all the corners of the room making it feel more alive. When I was ready to start cleaning up his eyebrow, I moved his hair out of the way, but it fell right back into place on his forehead. Sighing, I moved it again, but it went straight back to where it was, I tried a few more times before giving up and thinking of a better solution.

I grabbed a headband I had laying around for when I moisturised and quickly slipped it over his head before pulling it back up again, pushing his hair back, he overreacted, throwing his head about as if I had been throwing his head around like it were a ball and I were an energetic puppy trying to kill the rounded object, finally all his hair was out of the way, and I could clean up his eyebrow.

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you like us staying here?”

His question made me stop what I was doing, I moved my hands away from his face and brought them to my lap, looking into his eyes. “Of course, I do! My apartment has never felt so alive. I’m happy you guys are here and not out in the rain on the streets. While you’re here this is your home too, so feel free to do what you like, just don’t put any holes in my walls.” I said giggling at the last part and giving him a kind smile which he returned.

Most of his cuts around his eyes weren’t overly deep and had almost healed themselves by now, so it didn’t take too long to patch him up, I jumped down from the basin and tidied up the area putting things away and such, as well as throwing out the old bandages and used cotton buds, when all was done, I headed back outside into the kitchen area.

Most of the boys were already in bed by now as it was getting late, I could see over on the couch Namjoon had a book from my shelf that he was reading, but he didn’t seem too happy about it, Yoongi was already asleep, and Seokjin and Hoseok were chatting about something I couldn’t quite make out, glancing into the spare room where Taehyung had gone to after leaving the bathroom, the three boys were sprawled out on the bed watching something on the tv, their laughter and bright smiles filled my heart with warmth like no other.

I did my usual routine of turning off all the lights, but before I turned off the loungeroom light I switched on the lamp so Namjoon wouldn’t be in complete darkness.  I quickly checked that anything from the kitchen had been put away before grabbing a glass and filling it with water to take to bed, as I made my way over to my room, I turned around facing the boys.

“Goodnight, guys!”

Various “Goodnight, Y/n!” ‘s and “Sleep well!” ‘s filled my ears as I turned and entered into my own room to sleep for the night.

The slight pitter patter of rain drops hitting against my window had lulled me to sleep last night, they continued up till this morning, the rain was lighter right now than it had been during the middle of the night. I rolled on to my side, facing wall opposite my window, dragging the heavy blanket with me, due to the new position I had to readjust my pillow, I sat up and turned behind me grabbing the pillow, fluffing it and placing it back down, I turned back around before flopping back on to my bed and snuggling into the blankets, not at first noticing the strange figure situated at the end on my bed.

I snuzzled back into my pillow, moulding it into the shape of my face and pulling the blanket up to my ears making sure there were no openings as to stop the cold air from infiltrating my warm blanket cocoon. Just as I had relaxed into my new position my tired brain caught up with my sight, my eyes snapped open.

There’s someone in my room.

Without thinking I immediately sat up facing the end of the bed, pulling my blanket up to my face, gasping loudly as I did so, his eyes widened, his mouth pulled into a line, he looked like a deer in headlights, frozen in one spot, like if he didn’t move I wouldn’t see him, I tried rubbing my eyes to get a better look at the man.

“Taehyung?” I asked squinting my eyes at the figure, it was definitely Taehyung, the panther ears and tail accompanied by his baggy clothing and his brown bed hair that sat on his head. At my words he stood up fully, a gummy smile on his face as he stepped closer to the bed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He said before glancing over to the balcony my eyes following his. “I was just trying to get to your balcony, it has a better view, and the other one is covered in plants.”

I looked back over to Taehyung where I had now noticed that he was holding in one hand a large white canvas and in the other a painting bag, they were mine from about a year ago, Jiyoon was trying to teach me how to paint, I remember when I showed her, she told me ‘That’s a nice vase.’ I frowned and told her ‘It was a cat…’.

“O-oh, I see.” I smiled at him, I snatched the keys off my bedside table tossing them over to him, he smiled at me again before unlocking and opening the door and heading outside before closing it again to keep the cold air and rain out. I watched him for a little bit, setting up his painting supplies, and finding the right place and angle to prop up the canvas, he just started sketching so I had no clue what it could be, I was tempted to keep watching, but I didn’t want to come across as creepy, and there was no point in going back to sleep now as I was already awake, so I slipped out of bed and made my way to my bathroom and started getting ready for the day.

I spent most of the day trying to get a hold of maintenance, and finally after many hours, probably 17 phone calls and at one point being put on hold for almost two hours, only for when I got through some robotic voice tells me that ‘They will return your call later.’, I was finally able to talk to someone and organise for the sink to be fixed tomorrow. So now I was relaxing in the loungeroom and chatting to some of the boys, Jungkook sat to my right and Hoseok and Yoongi sat with each other to the side of us.

“It’s getting cold, do you guys want a blanket?” I asked them, they seemed to agree with each other, so I went to grab two large blankets for the closet, I gave one to Yoongi before flopping back to my spot, I opened up the blanket and did my best to spread it out over me and Jungkook, but it wasn’t quite big enough.

“Jungkook move closer.” I said still trying to even out the bottom of the blanket, he didn’t move for a bit, but then he slowly moved himself closer to me. “Is that enough blanket?”

Jungkook looked the other way to see the blanket, but I already moved myself backwards and towards him more so that the blanket would also be roomy, Yoongi and Hoseok were entangled with each other and their blanket, now everyone was warm.

“Hey, Jungkook, can I- uh, touch your ears?” Jungkook seemed surprised at my request, his face turned red as he looked down.

Was that insensitive?

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have asked, j-just forget about it.” I said embarrassed, shaking my hands about, worried that I might have offended him I tried to divert my eye contact away from him, hoping someone would change the subject.

“N-no, it’s okay, here” I turned to Jungkook as he spoke, he smiled showing off his bunny teeth and looked me in the eye before leaning forwards and looking down, so the top of his head was right in front of me, I lifted my hand from my lap, but hesitated about touching them. “It’s okay, really.” Jungkook assured me, so I moved my hand towards his head.

His dark bunny ears were the softest thing I had ever touched, the were silky smooth and fluffy, I moved one hand under them and one on top, the white in the middle was like a cloud, Jungkook seemed to flinch when I touched the white part, so I moved my hands to another area.

“Woah, they’re so soft Jungkook.” I said as I kept running my hand along the back side of one of his ears before swapping over to the other ear, I kept running my hands over them and eventually starting to softly scratch them towards the base, Jungkook shifted slightly when I moved my hands so, I retracted them back in front of me.

Jungkook let out an almost whine before moving himself towards me, I took this as a sign to put my hands back on his ears and continue, I placed my hands back onto his head and resumed my movements from before except one hand I used to comb through his hair while the other kept lightly scratching around his ears, running my hands through Jungkook’s hair I caught more tangles than expected, I hadn’t notice before because he was keeping his hair tied back. Gently, I began to untangle bits of his hair, but after a while Jungkook seemed to start shuffling around a bit, I took notice of his position before moving away slightly and adjusting myself, I told Jungkook to move closer to me and lay down a bit, so he was more comfortable, my hands naturally found a pattern of detangling his hair and adding small braids here and there.

We all fell into small talk as I kept playing with Jungkook’s hair, Jungkook stayed quiet for the most part except for the occasionally whine or grunt which usually made me and Hoseok giggle, Yoongi and Hoseok seemed to keep sparing glances at each other, but I figured it wasn’t any on my business.

Hoseok hummed before talking again. “Did you sleep well? I heard Taehyung was in your room this morning?”

I felt Jungkook shift on my lap as though he was now paying attention to the conversation. “Oh yeah, he was just trying to use my balcony for some painting he was doing, something about a better view and more room than the other balcony.” I said haphazardly pointing a finger over to the other balcony which was mostly filled with plants before going back to the braid I was in the middle of. “I slept well. I haven’t asked, but how’s the couch going?”

“It’s going- “

“There’s not enough space.”

I looked over to Yoongi who had spoken, as did Hoseok and Jungkook, Yoongi looked at Hoseok and they seemed to have a bit of a stare off before Hoseok spoke up. “It’s good, thank you for letting us use it.”

Despite Hoseok’s kind words, I couldn’t help but feel bad after what Yoongi had said, he was right though, four grown men on one couch, granted it was large, but not that large. “Sorry, I didn’t really prepare sleeping places for you guys, if I could I’d give you my room but there still wouldn’t be enough room for everyone.” I said to them, Yoongi and Hoseok seemed to share a look before I asked them. “Is it uncomfortable to sleep on?”

“It’s not bad, better than what we’re used to at least, I can get a bit more sleep now, but I wouldn’t call it quality sleep” Hoseok explained, Yoongi nodding in the background. I smiled knowing that it at least it wasn’t too uncomfortable.

“I swear, if Jin kicks me while he’s sleeping again, I will go sleep on the balcony.”

We all laughed at what Yoongi said, even Jungkook laughed too, we sat around on the couch talking for a bit and eventually Jimin and Seokjin joined our conversation too, Jimin seemed a bit tense when he spotted me and Jungkook on the couch and he came and sat right next to me as he usually did, but he seemed to sit really close to my right despite having more room and kept glaring at Jungkook’s head as I kept playing with his hair.

At some point I started working on my laptop, checking some resumes for people who had applied for a job a few months ago but didn’t get it at the time and going through what was eventually going to be a new menu, it was still missing a few items that needed to be added, I always make the option first to see if it turns out well and if it’s viable for the cafe.

So far, the search for people who were still interested in the job was not going well, most people emailed back saying that they had already found another job or are no longer looking for one, sighing, I decided to close down the laptop and try again when the shops back open.

Needing a break, I slid out from the blankets and excused myself from the group, I stood up and made my way into my room, where Taehyung was still on the balcony. I opened the sliding door behind him, he didn’t notice me at first, but as I stood closer, he seemed to notice my presence, I glanced at his painting, taking it in, it had a bright pink background and the outline of a face.

“Abstract, I like it. You’re good at this.” I complimented him, I didn’t want to say much as to not ‘disrupt his flow’, Jiyoon said I did that a lot to her.

“Thank you, is everything okay?” He asked without looking behind him.

“Yeah, just need a break, some fresh air.” I smiled, not that he could see it. “Can I sit out here with you?” I said to him, looking over at the spare chair at the other end of the balcony.

He nodded his head, and I mumbled a small ‘thanks’ before taking a seat in the other chair, I watched Taehyung do more of his painting before focusing my attention of the view from my balcony, the rain wasn’t too heavy, but the thunder and lightning was getting worse, most news channels said that it would get worse than this in the next day or so. My eyes felt heavy, but I stayed outside with Taehyung occasionally engaging in conversation with him before switching back to doing my own thing.

I must have dozed off while outside with Taehyung and slept until the morning, when I came to, I was in my bed but still in my day clothes, slowly waking up from my slumber, I cracked my eyes open, the blankets must have gotten tangled as on one side they seemed to tower over me, I moved slightly, readjusting my body as I was feeling uncomfortably hot under the blankets, I tried moving over into a cooler spot of sheets but the bed was still too hot, I kept moving and wiggling trying to find a better area of blanket and sheets so my body wouldn’t be smothered in heat, but everywhere under the blankets was hot.

Why is it so damn hot?!

A/n: Another Chapter is out! This was the first chapter that I planned out before writing, I hit all the points I needed to get and all the small details that need to be added, I tried my best with the fluff, let me know what you think. I told you I would make up for the other chapter! I genuinely didn’t mean for it to be 5k almost 6k words though, this was 2 chapters, but the second one was too short and felt kind of flat, so I joined them, again I’m so sorry for not updating for weeks, I wanted to write so badly, but I just couldn’t. I’m really trying to get further into the plot now, and actually have more things happen, I’m aiming to get 1hr of writing most days and I’m thinking of maybe working on multiple projects? I’ve kind of started the Jimin oneshot I had in my brain, so hopefully I’ll finish that up soon. I’m trying to do more foreshadowing/ hinting of things, like the boy’s tragic backstories and why they were in the alley. If you have anything specific you’d like to see in this series PLEASE, let me know and I’ll see what I can do, reading the feedback on my posts is literally the highlight of my day, and I love seeing what you guys are thinking about it! (I don’t think she’ll read this but thank you to my friend for helping me out when I needed it, love ya!) I hope everyone has a great day or night & Thankyou all for reading! 💜

[inthe-dark-tonight]

Falling Into My Sins

chapter seven: grabbin’ at your skin

dbf!joel x fem!reader series - loosely inspired by the song skin by soccer mommy

summary: waking up the day after your date with tommy to a surprise in your kitchen…

word count: 3k

series rating: E (18+ mdni)

warnings: pet names, little angst at the end, fingering, joel kinda being a menace idk

notes: it’s been awhile since i’ve updated this but… i finally had some motivation. i got kinda lazy with the mood board I apologize, also we’re just gonna pretend i didn’t throw a picture or rick grimes in there OKAY anyway… i wrote this while i was on a six hour flight and something just came over me, things are starting to get exciting so, enjoy & thanks for reading :)

It’s Saturday morning, the day after your date with Tommy. It went well, you know he’s really into you and you’re trying your best to give him a fair chance, but you know deep down a piece of you is still caught up on Joel.

Before you leave your room, you hear some movement downstairs and what sounds like your dad talking. His voice is muffled and you can’t quite make out what he’s saying as you straighten yourself up before walking downstairs, still wearing what you wore to bed last night. You shuffle down the stairs, holding onto the banister as you turn and start towards the kitchen. When your dad comes into view, he’s digging around in a drawer looking for something.

“Morning!” You call out as you get closer.

As you fully step into the kitchen, your heart leaps out of your chest. Joel is leaning over the kitchen counter, resting on his forearms as he watches your dad. You stop in your tracks, mouth falling open in surprise. His head snaps towards you, standing up straight and resting his palms on the counter, his expression doesn’t falter.

“Morning bud!” Your dad looks up from the drawer he’s digging in with a big smile. “In a good mood this morning, huh?” He focuses back on his search.

“Yeah…” you were in a good mood. You quickly pull your eyes away from Joel, noticing that one of his hands has gauze wrapped around it before looking away.

“Morning.” Joel says, his deep voice causing you to flinch.

You look back at him like a deer in headlights before snapping yourself out of it and giving him a small smile as you walk over to the coffee pot.

“Joel’s helping me fix up some of the loose boards in the back deck today, so we'll be outside for most of the afternoon.” Your dad says, drawing your attention back to him.

“Oh, okay.” You force a closed lip smile.

So Joel will be here practically all day, great. At least he’ll be outside for the most part, you think to yourself while you turn your focus back to grabbing a coffee mug from the cabinet.

“Shit, can’t find my box of nails anywhere.” Your dad stands with one arm crossed over his chest, tucked under his bicep as the the other scratches his cheek. “Gonna have to run to the store.”

“I can run across the street and grab some from my truck, no worries.” Joel says, pushing himself off the counter.

“No, no it’s alright. Gonna need some of my own eventually anyway.” Your dad lets out a sigh.

Your back is turned to the two men as you pour yourself a cup of coffee, pretending you’re not paying attention to a word they're saying.

“Well I’ll be quick, I guess you can get started setting up out back. Should only be gone for 15 minutes, maybe less.” Your dad grumbles.

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll get set up.” Joel’s gruff voice sends a chill down your spine.

Your dads just going to leave you here with him? You hear your dad grab his keys from the basket on the counter and the sound of his boots nearing the front door. Then the sound of the door opening and shutting before the door locks.

He’s gone and you’re alone now, with Joel Miller.

You still haven’t turned around, grabbing a spoon from the drawer in front of you to stir some sugar into your coffee. As the silence grows, you’re very much aware now that you’re alone with Joel, and your body starts to heat up unsure of what to do. You reach for a packet of sugar, the crinkling of the paper filling the quiet room as you dump it into your mug.

Joel clears his throat. “How was last night?” He pauses for a moment and you freeze. “Your date with my little brother.”

Your stomach feels like it’s in a knot. “Good.” You blurt out, stirring your spoon vigorously as it clanks loudly against the mug.

From the corner of your eye, you see Joel start to walk from the other side of the island, slowly moving closer to you. You take a shaky breath, quickly spinning around to face him and leaning back against the counter, coffee mug forgotten behind you. He stops only a few feet in front of you and leans on the counter with his arms crossed over his broad chest. You notice the bandage on his left hand again.

“You’ve taken quite a liking to him, huh?” He raises his brow, waiting for you to respond.

“Yeah, I have actually.” It comes out more blunt than you intended as you cross your arms over your chest, mimicking his stance.

His jaw ticks when he hears your answer, dark eyes roaming over your form and you hope he can’t tell how nervous you actually are. You swallow back a lump in your throat, unable to read the expression on his face.

He nods his head slowly, eyes falling to the floor before speaking again. “More than me?” He glances up at you.

“What?” You huff, mouth growing dry as you process what he’s just asked you.

It feels like you just had the wind kicked out of you, chest tightening as you think of how to answer. There’s no way you could tell him the truth, what even was the truth? He takes a few steps closer to you, causing you to grab the edge of the counter behind you and brace yourself. Your chest grows tighter at the close proximity and you look down between the two of you, unable to look up into his eyes.

“Ya know, he tells me everything.” Your head snaps up and you laugh stiffly, dumbfounded by his remark as he looks back at you with a smug look.

“Yeah, I'm sure you do the same.” You spit back at him.

His expression grows serious. “Tell me.” He whispers, low and commanding.“Do you like my little brother more than me?”

You hesitate for a moment. If you lie he’ll see straight through you, but if you tell the truth, what will happen?

“I do.” You croak out, his eyes burning into you.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you take in a breath as your eyes flicker to his mouth for a moment. He notices, of course, and a small smirk grows on his face. You've been wrapped around his finger since the night you met, weather you want to admit it or not, and no matter how hard you try to hide it, he knows.

“You sure about that?” His eyes trail down your body, landing on where your thighs are exposed in your sleep shorts.

“Mhm.” You nod your head rapidly.

“That’s a shame.” He says quietly. “You know,” he pauses for a moment like he’s thinking. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you the past few days. Wanted to show you that I’m willing to give us a real shot, tell you that I’m done playing games.” His eyes lock on yours again. “But I guess if you’re really serious about my brother….” He trails off.

You’re in shock at the words that just left his mouth. He can’t be serious. You lean as far back into the counter as possible as he slowly inches closer, your lips press tightly together as you try to keep your composure.

“Joel…” you vigorously shake your head at him, growing upset. “Don’t lie to me.” You breath out, voice trembling.

“I’m not lying sweetheart.” He grabs the edge of the counter behind you with his bandaged hand, caging you in as your bodies are only inches away now.

You look up at him, a heartbroken look on your face as your eyes look back and forth between his, trying to read him. It’s impossible for you to decide if he’s telling the truth or if this is just another one of his twisted mind games.

His good hand reaches up towards your face, hovering near your cheek as you turn your head the other way. You tilt your head to the floor as your eyes fall shut, letting out a breath as you battle with the logical part of your brain that’s telling you to walk away. When you look back up at him, he’s still staring at you with his hand frozen inches from your face. You give him a look, signaling him to go on.

He’s hesitant at first as he gently rests his large hand on your cheek. You shut your eyes and let out a shaky breath, tilting your head into his warm palm. His touch sparks something in you as heat begins to grow in the pit of your stomach. It’s been weeks since Joel last touched your skin, and it wasn’t anything like this. His hand trails down your arm leaving goosebumps along your skin as he rests both hands on the counter behind you now. Joel tilts his head down toward yours, shuffling closer. You tilt your head up, heat blooming in your chest, making its way up your neck as your hips involuntarily lift away from the counter slightly before returning to their place.

Joel notices your movement, eyes falling to your waist before lifting back up to your eyes. “What’s the matter?”

You just shake your head slightly, unable to form any words. Joel repostitions himself, moving even closer so his hips are almost flush against yours. The heat creeping up your chest and neck finds its way to your cheeks now, eyes darting away in embarrassment.

“Hm?” He leans in a bit closer, taking a deep breath.

“Nothing.” It’s barely a whisper.

You watch the way his shoulders rise and fall as he takes steady breaths. “So if i were to,” he trails off, his good hand moving to the hem of your shirt, calloused fingers slipping beneath it before resting his hand on the skin above the waistband of your shorts.

A chill runs down your spine and you flinch at the contact of his warm hand on your abdomen, only inches from your throbbing core. He slowly moves his hand further down underneath the band of your shorts, teasing you. The heat in your stomach is a steady burn now as your core throbs, growing wetter every second.

“If I were to feel you, right now, you wouldn’t be soaked for me?” His hand stops in it tracks.

You suck in a sharp breath. “No.” You shake your head again, trying to be as convincing as possible.

“Really?” His head tilts to the side, dark eyes looking right through you.

You nod in agreement as his hand slowly moves lower, sliding over the cotton fabric of your underwear, his large palm resting over your covered pussy. His hand rubs back and forth over the wet spot starting to form on them. Your eyes fall shut, a small sigh leaving your lips, and you curse yourself for the uncontrollable reaction your body has to him.

“Hm.” A cocky smirk covers his face now. He leans in, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheek as he whispers lowly in your ear. “You can lie to me all you want, but your body will always tell the truth.”

He’s right and you both know it. He leans back, looking down at you once again with dark eyes. His hand finds your swollen clit through your underwear, rubbing slow circles with his thumb, causing you to moan as you jolt forward and grab onto the sides of his shirt.

Joel nudges his knee between your thighs, pressing his knee against the cabinets behind you so your legs stay parted. He continues to run slow circles over your swollen, clothed clit while he grabs your waist with his bandaged hand in an attempt to keep your hips still. His middle finger moves to the hem of your underwear between your thighs, sneaking under the fabric to find your soaking wet folds.

You gasp at the feeling of his calloused middle finger running through your wet, sensitive folds, hips pressing forward in an attempt to feel some relief. He stares down at you with heavy lidded eyes, watching the way your body reacts to his touch. Your mouth falls open when the tip of his finger catches on your hole, teasing for a moment before he slowly inserts his finger. You grasp onto his shirt tighter, his bandaged hand snaking around your waist to hold you closer to him, large hand resting on your back beneath your shirt. As he slowly pulls his finger out of you, he adds another before pressing back into your cunt in one fluid motion.

“Joel…” it comes out as a low whine.

He grunts, continuing to slowly pump his fingers into you. “Fuck, missed hearing my name from those pretty lips.”

You moan at his words, moving your hands to wrap around his biceps. His thumb slips beneath your underwear now, finding its way to your sensitive nub and moving in slow circles as he continues to pump his fingers into your soaking core.

“Say it again baby.” He doesn’t have to ask twice.

“Joel,” your mouth slightly parts. “Feels so good, need you.” You sigh, bucking your hips forward.

“I told you what you have to do.” He becomes a little more serious. “Tell him it’s over and I’m all yours.”

You let out another soft moan as you squeeze his arms, nodding your head, unable to form any words. The coil in your stomach is getting tighter with each thrust of his fingers and you’re not sure how much more you’ll be able to take. Your hands move up his arms, over his broad shoulders, wrapping around his neck in an attempt to keep yourself upright.

Joel holds you closer to him, tightening his arm around your back. “He could never make you feel this good.” You see the way his jaw is clenched, something burning behind his eyes as he says those words. Jealousy? You don’t think you’ll ever find out.

“Joel,” you’re breathless as you lightly tug at the hair on the nape of his neck. “I only want you.” Your words are the truth, and he knows it.

He lets out a low growl as he starts to quicken his pace, holding you as close as he can. His hips press into you and you feel his hard cock rub against you through his jeans. You feel yourself nearing the edge as he leans his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, pace never faltering. The thought of him getting hard from just touching you fueling your climax.

“Come for me baby,” he whispers. “your dads gonna be home any minute. Don’t want him to see us like this now do you?”

You just shake your head in response, not able to form any words in this moment.

“That’s what I thought, pretty girl.” His thumb starts to circle faster around your clit, and in any second the coil in your stomach is going to snap.

He finally presses his lips against yours and kisses you for the first time in weeks. Your eyes fall shut and you sigh as his soft lips move against yours in desperation, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. The combination of the kiss, the filthy sound of him pumping in and out of your soaked cunt, and the way he’s pressing his jean clad cock against your thigh sends you over the edge, your orgasm coursing through you. You moan into his mouth, pulling at his curls, legs beginning to feel weak as you ride through your climax.

Joel pulls his lips away so he can get a look at you, his arm wrapping tighter around your back, holding you up as he slows down his pace. He watches as your eyes slowly flutter open, pure bliss on your face as you come down from the high. You gasp as he pulls his fingers away, an emptiness taking their place. He slowly moves his hand from your back, pausing to rest on your hip as he pulls his other hand out of your underwear and you steady yourself on the counter.

He sighs, taking a step back and readjusting himself in his pants as you try to catch your breath. As you stand there waiting for his next move, your eyes roam his form. The way his shirt pulls slightly at his shoulders and biceps, then your eyes fall back to his bandaged hand as he messes with the button of his jeans.

“What happened?” You say softly, looking up at him.

“Cut my hand.” He looks down at you as he answers.

“How?” Your brows furrow as you look back down at the bandage.

He’s quiet for a moment. “You should go get cleaned up, before your dads back.” He clears his throat, running a hand through his hair as he turns away from you.

Joel rests one hand on the counter, his hip jutted out as he rubs a hand over the back of his neck. You stare at his back as he looks towards the floor, brows furrowed and eyes burning through him. Your thoughts start racing, what did you honestly think was going to happen? Of course he’s going to go right back to being distant with you again, and now you just look stupid for falling for it.

A lump begins to grow in your throat as tears begin to sting your eyes. “Right.” Your voice slightly breaks as you move to rush past him.

“Hey,” he reaches out to grab your wrist before you can get too far, spinning you around to face him. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

You just look back at him with wide eyes, nodding your head before turning back around to head towards your room, hot tears running down your cheeks as you rush up the stairs. When your door shuts, you cover your mouth with your hands and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to stop the tears. After a moment you take a deep breath, hands wiping your wet cheeks.

“Get it together.” You whisper to yourself.

Joel said you would talk later, and you want to believe him. All you can do is wait until then. You walk towards your window, taking another shaky breath as you see your dads car pull into the driveway.

thank you so much for reading!! i decided not to do a tag list anymore so…. sorry!! hope y’all enjoyed <3

[thenighthekate]

Am I the one you want ( t.k. )

This little thing, once proud in love and lust, now hides its face and soon it will be dust.

Her hair was wild, flying around in the wind. Her eyes closed, her back arched, the window rolled down as they sped on the highway. It was late at night, the moon already shining for hours, casting a silver glow above the streets. Stars twinkled in the dark sky, the small light specks reflecting in his eyes.

She turned to look at him, a small smile pulled her lips, a childish look on her face. Her hand reached out to touch his thigh, his gaze suddenly turning from the road to look at her. Tom matched her expression, his own fingers travelling to her head, gently taking a strand of hair and putting it behind her ear.

" Watch where you're going." Her soft voice sounded over the roaring of the car and the radio wich was playing a random tune.

" Don't worry about it." He said with a light laugh, his eyes shifting ahead of him for just a second. She let out a hum, turning back to look out the open window.

Hills and mountains flashed by them, his car speeding further up. It felt like they were getting closer to the sky, the cold night air hitting them in their faces, for a moment it felt like they would reach the clouds.

They came to a stop not far from the drop of the hill, plants littering the area. She opened the door and got out, rocks and sand turning underneath her feet as she walked closer to the edge, her arms folding and holding herself around her waist. She felt calm, the sort of calmness you would feel at the world's end, no backing out.

Tom walked closer to her frame, his chest hitting her back, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder. She could feel his breath meet her neck, his nose inching closer only to be nuzzled in her hair. Light kisses were left on her skin, their bodies swaying left to right.

" When are you going to be all mine?" It came out as a whisper, so quiet and pure he almost didn't catch it. He thought they were done with this conversation, he thought he had answered all the life questions that were clouding her mind.

With a slightly annoyed sigh he stepped back from her warmth, his feet carrying him back to the car, his body leaning against the shiny exterior as he shuffled around his pockets. She turned to look at him, frown upon her face, her eyebrows scrunched and sad eyes staring up at him. " It's not as simple as you think." A cigarette sat comfortably between his lips, a hand cupping the end while he sparked a flame to light it. " Even if I bring up divorce now it's not gonna be another year till I'm single." His tone shifted, now becoming a full dad voice.

The voice was the one he used often, whenever she didn't get something his whole demeanor would switch. Honestly it made her feel small, stupid in the worst scenarios.

" You could give peace a chance for once." She watched as smoke swirled around his head, through the gray clouds his piercing eyes still throwing daggers in hers.

" You're young, have the world in your hands. You should live."

" You're calling me delusional for wanting you?" With every word that left her mouth she stepped closer, poison flowing freely from her lips.

Yet another sigh sounded out from the man in front of her, his forehead creasing, trying to see the girl's mind. " It's not easy for me either, but if I do it now it's gonna create a lot of drama." The cigarette was long forgotten, only the ashy bud was laying on the ground beneath them. " You know I love you, right?" She was at an arm reach, his words thick like honey pulling her closer and sticking her common sense into a bundle. With his arms around her waist, they're noses were almost touching, sharing the same air in between them.

Her lashes fluttered for a second before she nodded, big eyes staring up into the face of her lover.

She knew this cycle would continue, she knew his heart was split between her and the woman who could actually show him off. The woman who got to sleep next to him every night, the woman whose arms he'll always run back to. It was toxic, she knew it. She knew that the older man infront of her would only bring pain, love for a night and an aching heart for the rest of the week. She was stupid, naive, far too young to be expecting to be his first choice.

Part two Part three

[of-teeth-and-tenderness]

Sweet Tooth

M Vampire x F Reader (NSFW)

Summary: A desperate vampire uses you to satisfy a craving.

Warnings: Mind control, manipulation, nonconsensual cunnilingus during reader’s period

The scents of baking bread, pastry, vanilla, and lemon fill the air. Soft dough rolls between your fingers as you knead and shape. A large mixer whirs to your left and flour puffs into the air in little white clouds when the bell above the front door jingles.

In your chest, your heart stutters. Hadn’t you locked it behind you when you’d arrived? The bakery is not yet open for the day. The sun hasn’t even risen yet.

Swallowing your unease, you pray it’s just an early riser as you move from the prep area to the front. You sidestep the oven and round the corner to find a man in the waiting area. His head is tilted back, black curls falling away from his face as he…sniffs the air?

He must spot you moving out of the corner of his eye because he whips around to face you directly. Your shoes squeak on tile when you slide to a halt, momentarily startled by the intensity of his stare. His eyes are so dark you cannot tell where iris ends and pupil begins.

“Morning, Sir. I’m not quite open yet. I must have forgotten to lock the door, but is there something I can help you with?” On your neck, your hair prickles. He looks clammy, sick maybe, and his skin is incredibly wan. Has he blinked since he saw you?

“You’re…” he gulps and takes a tentative step closer to the counter, “You’re menstruating?” Your mouth falls open in shock. He did not just ask you that question. You must have misheard.

But…how did he know…?

“E-Excuse me?” you splutter, unable to form a coherent retort as your mind races and shocked mortification twists your stomach in a knot. The man closes his eyes and gives a little shake of his head like he’s trying to clear his thoughts.

“I’m-I’m sorry—look at me,” he says softly. Instantly compelled, your eyes lock on his. Scrambled thoughts slow and you can do nothing but focus on his black eyes. “Is anyone else here?” he asks, his gaze never leaving yours.

As though you cannot control your body, you give a small shake of your head. A distant voice in the back of your mind screams at you not to tell this random man you are working alone. Half shuffling closer to the counter, you try to tear your eyes away from his and reach for the little red panic button under the counter, but then he speaks again and you must stop to listen.

“Wait, it’s okay,” he murmurs, holding up a placating hand. His words are low and soothing, like how one would speak to a nervous animal. You freeze in your tracks, arm outstretched. “I won’t hurt you. Just….” He moves around the counter and comes to stand before you. Chilly hands cup your cheeks and tilt your head back so he can keep your eyes on his.

“I—god—you smell so, so good, I’m sorry, I passed you on the street and I had to follow….” Your eyes burn, vision going out of focus the longer you stare. His chest heaves as though he can’t catch his breath and sweat clings to his pale brow. “I won’t hurt you, I just want…. I’m going to touch you.”

Dazed, you nod. Your brain feels disconnected from your body somehow, like you’re floating just outside it. Then, icy fingers dip into your pants to drag along your bleeding slit. The sudden contact pulls a startled squeak from your lips.

When his hand resurfaces, his digits are bathed in scarlet. A fat drop rolls down his pointer finger and you think you should probably feel something other than mild curiosity. Then, your eyes bug out of your head when he sucks the bloody fingertips into his mouth. A wanton groan sounds in the back of his throat and his eyes flutter closed in apparent euphoria. Embarrassment burns in your chest, you feel it now, but you can’t seem to force your body to respond accordingly. At your sides, your arms hang limply.

“Christ, I’m-I need…” he stammers, hands returning to your pants to fumble with your zipper. He rolls denim and cotton off your hips, kneeling as he goes, and all you can do is watch in bewildered silence. Hastily, he rips off a shoe so he can free one of your legs.

Your lower back meets the counter when the man’s palm presses against your belly. When he lets his tongue unfurl from his mouth, you glimpse white tips of pointed teeth before he dives between your legs. Concern, fear, disgust—all logical thought vanishes when a cool tongue laps between your bloody folds and lips close around your cunt to suck.

The noise that spills off your tongue is somewhere between a whine and a cry. Your fingers sink into soft waves of black and you feel his groan of relief against your palms. You feel it between your legs too, the vibrations making you twitch and buck and gasp.

The stranger wiggles his head and wedges himself deeper, buries his tongue in your crimson heat and whimpers like he’s never desired anything more in his life. Some far-away place in your mind is aware you should push him away or at least protest, but pleasure arcs through your gut and you mewl noisily instead. Wet slurping and panting breaths fill the small shop. Soon, you shamelessly hump his face like you can’t control yourself.

Can you? Can he?

Climax wracks your body in startling waves of sticky warmth. Your surprised keen is choked, half-lodged in your throat and your back bows as though a hand on the back of your head forces you forward in supplication. Thighs quiver violently and you think the man between them will pull away, but all he does is dig his fingers into the meat of your ass to pull you closer.

He laps and suckles and moans around mouthfuls of blood like a man possessed. The gluttonous obscenity of it finally jars you enough to speak. “It’s—it-“ but his eyes open again to gaze up at you and you forget everything you wanted to say. Fog settles thick in your mind and you let your vision blur, focusing instead on the way his tongue feels laving against the slippery walls of your cunt.

You aren’t sure how long the two of you stay this way. All sense of time is lost in the mist of your hazy mind. You’ve cum at least three times, maybe more when he finally resurfaces with a contented inhale. Vivid gore coats the lower half of his face and little rivulets of red trickle down his neck to soak into the collar of his shirt. His breath reeks of iron when he stands and grips your face again.

You wonder if you should consider it odd that his once frigid hands are now warm. His previously pale cheeks blush pink. Metallic breath ghosts across your lips as he murmurs, “You’re—thank you. Thank you for being so good. I…I would stay, but the sun will be up soon. Uh, let-let me—

He drags his dripping mouth along his sleeve before crouching to help you back into your pants. He rights your shirt and apron before planting a grateful kiss on your crown. “Forget I was here,” he tells you earnestly and, absently, you nod as though this is the obvious next step.

In a blink, the newfound heat of his body leaves your side. The bell over the door jingles. You blink furiously, wondering why your knees feel like they are seconds away from buckling.

[thesistersarcheron]

Pairing: Feysand Rating: E Words: ~4.5k Tags/Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Guardian-Ward Relationship, Arranged Marriage, Age Difference, Size Difference, Magical Adoption, Born Fae Feyre Archeron, Multi-POV Summary: When the High Lord of the Night Court meets a neglected but promising young artist, he decides to take her under his wing and move her to Velaris, so he can sponsor her education at the best art school the Night Court has to offer. (Or, the fic in which Rhys decides he can raise his young mate better than the Archerons can and actually does it.)

Read Chapter 2 on AO3 here or check out a snippet below the cut!

Feyre trails her fingers along the ruffled edge of a curtain, gazing out of the wide bay window that dominates the wall of her new bedroom at the small, moonlit courtyard below. 

She should be sleeping, but it eludes her in this strange place.

Beyond the window, fat mounds of burlap hint that there is a garden down there, hidden away from the wintry chill, but a little fountain at the heart of the stone-paved pathway burbles on without a care for the thin layer of hoarfrost coating the world. 

Someone has enchanted it not to freeze, and for a moment, Feyre wonders if the High Lord himself cast the charm. 

She nibbles at her lip as she considers it. It seems below him, to bother himself with small household tasks. It’s the sort of long-lasting magic that is out of reach for most lesser faeries, but she doubts that he would even notice its drain on his magic. 

She is, after all, standing in the heart of a city kept veiled by his magic. By all the magic of his ancestors combined, kept woven in its neat tapestry by him. If the High Lord can keep this place—Velaris, she reminds herself, mouthing the foreign word she learned just a few hours earlier with her clumsy tongue—hidden beneath a web of secrecy and ancient warding spells, then a simple warming enchantment for a small fountain should be a mere drop in the well of his power.

And Feyre knows the stories well enough to know that he must be pulling from a deep, deep well.

Craning her neck until her forehead presses against the icy glass, she tries to look beyond the row of townhouses stretching out to either side of her window. Her eyes strain to glimpse the lights of the city she saw when she first arrived, but she only succeeds in making the glass go foggy, her hot breath melting the rime that started forming not long after the sky darkened. 

From this window, she can only see the backs of townhouses and their courtyards all the way down the street.

Townhouses.

The High Lord of the Night Court lives in a townhouse.

And her father had winnowed her directly to its doorstep. 

Feyre presses her fingers to the glass. It’s warmer here than it is in the countryside—by just a few degrees, really, but she thinks it feels more pleasant than the biting chill at the heart of the Night Court’s lands.

Earlier in the evening, she’d barely had the time to finish sneaking bites of her cake beneath her covers before Papa appeared in the door to her room, tugging at the collar of his fine tunic. There was a tightness around his eyes, a stiffness to the set of his shoulders, and for a moment she feared he was cross with her.

It would be the very first time, if so. Papa was never the stern parent; he’d always let Mama take that role.

So Feyre had shifted until she sat fully upright, warily shuffling the icing-smeared plate and fork deeper into the tangle of her sheets.

“What mischief you’ve gotten yourself into this time, my dear,” was all Papa said, in the end. He spoke slowly, as if choosing every word with extreme caution. “You’ve a talent for it, but this…” 

She sat very still when Papa trailed off, seating himself at the foot of her bed, and watched him cast a glance at the wall over her nightstand. At the sketches and watercolors pinned to the fine silk wallpaper. He had never before paid such attention to her art, and as he stared and stared now, she got the uncomfortable feeling that her father was, for the very first time, looking directly at her. 

She wondered what he saw that made his brow crease so deeply.

“Oh, Feyre,” he sighed when he was done looking, finding her ankle through the covers. His hand trembled as he grasped it, and she realized that he wasn’t angry with her. It was sorrow that made his eyes crease at the corners—sorrow that suffused his voice as he said, “You have a talent for many things, it seems.”

Still uneasy, Feyre had looked at her paintings too, trying to figure out which could put her father—her charming, good-humored Papa—in such a state. But all she saw were sketches of the interesting bugs that Elain found in the garden and paintings of the nymphs that lived in the wood and turned into trees whenever they caught Feyre looking and one portrait of Nesta that made her look more like a feral she-wolf than a girl.

(It wasn’t so obvious. At least Feyre hadn’t given her sister a visible tail.)

“Mama said it was a ladylike pursuit,” she muttered when no answers came to her.

“Ah, yes. Yes, she wouldn’t allow it otherwise, I suppose.” Papa nodded sagely. Though his mouth twisted into a smile, it didn’t meet his eyes. “I do believe she could do without all that traipsing about in the wood and riverbeds to find your subjects, though.”

Beneath the covers, her scraped knees smarted and her thigh seemed to burn where it was pressed against the plate, but Feyre schooled her expression into one of unknowing innocence. 

———> Read the rest on AO3!

[nebulousbrainsoup]

business attire

PAIRING: fashion designer/director!kim hongjoong x assistant!reader GENRE: smut with feelings, lil bit of fluff TAGS/WARNINGS: non idol au, neutral pronouns used for reader, reader wears a dress (but in true joong fashion clothes have no gender), balmain!joong AND strawberry!joong, mentions of anxiety, hongjoong is a simp, pov shifts a lil, ash's questionable editing; lmk if you find anything else! WORD COUNT: 4.5k A/N: so, we were trying to figure out when the outlaw red hair concept photos may have been taken and sky might've mentioned that the cut looks like what he had before the european leg of tour and paris and balmain and... things escalated. tagging my enablers: @hwaightme @jaehunnyy @justhere4kpop

nsfw tags under the cut ; masterlist | join my taglist | buy me a coffee?

NSFW TAGS/WARNINGS: language, they're both switches, reader has female anatomy, mildly public sex (locked conference room), brief dom/sub undertones, sex with your boss is kind of its own form of power play, mentions of punishment, use of pet/nicknames (babe, Balmain Boy, sweetheart, love), hair pulling, marking, joong is possessive, dirty talk, lil bit of degradation, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it homies), piv, finger sucking/fingers as a gag, creampie; lmk what i missed

You were so late. It wasn’t like you in the slightest, so you were hoping against hope that your boss would let it slide this once, but… fifteen minutes behind and counting for the monthly investors’ meeting was certainly pushing your luck and probably his patience. You wish you could say it was entirely not your fault, but you were the one who had both forgotten to set your alarm last night and postponed laundry long enough that, when you spilled your coffee down the front of you this morning, you were left with only two options; either your pyjamas, or the unreleased piece currently hanging on the back of your door, reserved for S(e)oul Monde’s summer release show next week. The wave of anxiety over Hongjoong’s reaction took an extra five minutes to tamp down, and by the time you’d finally figured out the clasps and sashes—having been reminded why models had dressers—you had five minutes to get out the door if you were going to catch your train. You managed it, if barely, yanking on your boots and snagging your workbag from by the door, barely stopping to lock it behind you. 

And, of course, you’d made it into the station in time to watch the damned thing pull away. Of all the days for it to be actually on time, of course it was today. Fantastic. The bus had been the only option, and between the walk back up to the street and the distance between the nearest stop and S(e)oul Monde headquarters… You’d known this would be the outcome. It didn’t stop you from trying to close as much of the gap in time as possible, though. The moment you were seated, leg bouncing feverishly, you’d sent a message to your boss, apologizing and letting him know you were on your way. 

You’d known it would go unread, but that didn’t stop the irritation that bubbled up at the sight as the bus pulled into your stop. Flying through the doors and up the stairs as quickly as you could, you gave tight smiles and murmured apologies to the coworkers you nearly trampled in your rush to the elevator. The disgruntled sounds of its occupants and those waiting echoed as you wormed your way in, a quick, scathing glare around quietling them as you pressed the button for the tenth floor. With only two stops between you and your destination, you were slipping into the conference room seventeen minutes behind schedule, tablet clutched to your chest as all eyes turned from the man speaking to the door. You immediately dropped into a ninety degree bow, apologizing profusely as you shuffled toward your seat, dropping your bag into it and taking your place. 

Hongjoong, like everyone else in the room, had looked at you the moment you entered the room, but unlike the investors, he couldn’t seem to drag his gaze away from you. His surroundings faded to a blur as you made your way to stand next to him, the breath having been knocked from his lungs. The dress was perfect, exactly as he knew it would be—a little short for a traditional office, certainly; he’d seen a few eyebrows raise at your entrance—and on you, of all people, it looked immaculate, like it had been designed specifically with you in mind. Which, well…

Every artist has a muse. Hongjoong wouldn’t be apologizing, especially not when you looked that good in his work. 

It was your voice that pulled Hongjoong out of his stupor. 

“I’m sorry for my lateness and the interruption, sir. Please, continue.”

He snapped back into himself, blinking rapidly and offering you a soft smile. “Right.”

When he had finished with his presentation and you both sat back down, Hongjoong at the head of the table and you to his left, you finally let yourself relax. The way he’d stared you down over the tops of his glasses as you made your whirlwind entrance hadn’t slipped past your notice, leaving anxiety coiling in your gut, alongside something entirely more exciting. It was no secret to either you or your boss that you each found the other wildly attractive, and the combination of his intense gaze on you earlier and the way he looked today had memories flashing through your mind that were entirely inappropriate for the workplace. He always dressed up a bit more for these meetings, but today, he’d really gone above and beyond. The custom, black velvet Balmain suit he wore made his freshly dyed red hair look even brighter, and it took a stunning amount of self-control to keep from leaning over and taking the chain connecting his lip ring to one of his many earrings between your teeth. All in good time, you supposed, if the way he was looking at you earlier was any indication. Sure enough, as he slid his chair under the conference table, a warm hand settled on your knee, and the chill of the various rings adorning it nearly made you jump. Feeling you twitch, Hongjoong peeled his eyes from the man speaking to flash you a slightly worried glance. You returned it with a slight smile and a nearly imperceptible nod, earning a quick squeeze to your leg. The touch had your shoulders relaxing further, a silent sigh passing your lips—he wasn’t mad at you. Wearing the dress had been a gamble, and if the intensity in his gaze hadn’t been anger, then it was something not entirely different but far more fun. You smiled to yourself as you turned back to face the man speaking once more. All of that anxiety, for nothing.

Or, maybe not, because the second your eyes left the woman who had, at this point, been speaking for fifteen minutes straight, running an increasingly frustrated Hongjoong in circles, you felt his grip tighten. Your jaw twitched, and you carefully brought your gaze back to hers, feigning interest to the best of your ability as his fingers danced lightly up the inside of your thigh. 

“Y/N, could you run Ms. Lim through the timeline one more time, please,” he sighed, a tight smile on his face. 

“Of course,” you agreed with a similar look, only slightly less obvious in your annoyance, once again flipping your tablet open. Clicking through a few things, you cast your sceen to the TV on the wall and stood, making your way to stand beside it. Hongjoong’s eyes followed you the whole way, eyes wandering over the bits of skin his work left deliciously exposed. He couldn’t wait to kiss his way up your thighs, to tug the sashes criss-crossing over your back free and run his hands across the plane of it, to sink his teeth into the curve of your shoulder and make you look that much more his. You once again caught his narrowed gaze over the invisible frames of his glasses, a smirk tugging at his lips that nearly had you weak in the knees. You knew that look all too well; it was both a threat and a promise. 

Maintaining an air of complete professionalism with Hongjoong staring at you like he was ready to devour you was a feat you’d be thanking some god or another for later, but right now, you simply bowed and took your seat once more as you finished your quick presentation and returned to your place next to your boss, standing over his shoulder rather than taking your seat. 

“If something is still unclear, feel free to send me an email, but we are a bit over time and Mr. Kim has another appointment over his lunch,” you stated with a polite smile, pointedly ignoring the confused look Hongjoong momentarily shot you. “I think it would be best if we wrapped up for the day, in interest of everyone’s time.”

God, he could kiss you. He would kiss you, he decided; he’d kiss you breathless the moment he got you alone for this.

Ms. Lim pursed her lips, but the look in your eyes left no room for argument. After all, who knew the S(e)oul Monde director’s schedule better than his assistant? She nodded, pushing her chair back, and the rest of your restless company followed. “I certainly will.”

“As always, thank you all for your continued support of S(e)oul Monde, and I hope my work continues to exceed your lofty expectations,” Hongjoong offered as he stood. “Thank you for your time. I hope to see you all at our showcase next week.”

The men and women in the room murmured their own parting pleasantries, phones returning to hands and bluetooths returning to ears as they filed into the hall, leaving you and your boss alone. Only a beat of silence passed before he turned to you, heat burning behind his eyes as they flicked over you hungrily. 

“Lock the door and close the blinds.” Your low-burning nerves and arousal were both lit ablaze again at his direction, and you stuttered. He raised an eyebrow, tongue darting out to toy with the lip ring you so desperately wanted a taste of. “Don’t make me ask twice.”

The warning snapped you out of your stupor in a moment, and you paused only to set your tablet on the table before rushing to comply. His gaze was warm on the back of your neck as you moved through the room, first clicking the lock shut, then moving to drop the shades on the frosted windows that faced the hall, and finally crossing the room to do the same with the exterior windows. When you reached for the controls, Hongjoong clicked his tongue disapprovingly, the noise pinning you in place. 

“Leave those. Look at me, Y/N.” 

Swallowing thickly, you did as you were told, chin held high. “Yes?”

“You were late this morning,” he commented off-handedly as he stood, and you dropped your eyes to the floor.

“I’m sorry, everything just—” you started, only to be cut off.

“Was this little number,” he gestured to the dress, using the chance to give you another once-over, “the reason?”

“Part of it, but—”

This time, it wasn’t his words that cut you off, but his lips as he lifted your chin and dragged you into a kiss that told you exactly how long he'd been waiting to do this. You squeaked in surprise and quickly melted into him, one hand clutching at the asymmetrical neckline of his suit tightly as the other grasped at the base of his skull in an attempt to pull him impossibly closer. With a sigh, your lips parted against his, tongue darting out to finally get a taste of the brand new jewelry you'd been eyeing the entire meeting. The metallic tang pulled a pleased hum from you as you took it between your teeth, shifting to catch more of his lip than the jewelry itself as you pulled away.

“This is so not business attire, babe,” he breathed against your lips, and you laughed quietly into his mouth as he captured them again.

“Are you telling me I can’t—mm—wear your designs to the office?” You teased between kisses, finally pressing him away from you. 

Hongjoong rolled his eyes heartily, his own half-smile giving away the feigned nature of his annoyance. “Not all of them, no,” he sighed, hands coming to rest over your ass, pulling you into him and groping at it lightly. “You know better than that. And one that isn’t even released yet?” He clicked his tongue again. “I was going to forgive you for being late since you look this good, but maybe I should punish you after all.”

You frowned, pulling away from him slightly as your earlier anxiety washed over you again, and Hongjoong wanted nothing more than to take his words back. “It… This was the only thing I had clean, I spilled coffee on myself this morning and I—”

“Y/N, it’s okay, I promise,” he soothed, shifting closer to you and squeezing at your hips in a way he hoped was reassuring. “If it weren’t, I could’ve asked you to change. It’s not like we don’t have clothes in every size you could ever need.” 

“That’s… true,” you muttered, tugging your lower lip between your teeth.

Hongjoong hummed in distaste of the action, reaching up with one hand to pull the skin free and immediately planting a chaste kiss where his thumb had just been. “You just look… too good,” he murmured, grip on you tightening. “This may be my best work yet.” It was your turn to roll your eyes, scoffing as you tried and failed to push him away from you. “And yours may be getting me out of that meeting.”

“How do you know you don’t have an appointment over lunch?” You grinned, ever unable to pass up a chance to tease him. “I know you haven’t checked your schedule since this morning and—mmph!” 

For the second time in the past five minutes, he cut you off with a heated kiss. “Oh, I know I have a lunch appointment,” he shot back, spinning you and guiding you backward until your hips hit the edge of the table. “And we both know it’s with you. Up,” he directed, tapping your thigh twice. 

With a little hop and loose guidance from Hongjoong’s hands, you boosted yourself up onto the edge of the table, your boss following behind quickly to spread your knees with his own body. He couldn’t get enough of your lips today, it seemed, wrapping one arm around your waist as the other came to rest on the surface behind you, forcing an arch into your back. You let out a pleased hum against him, reaching up to card a hand up over his scalp and give his hair a light tug. The action pulled a groan from his lips as he leaned back into the contact, and when his eyes blinked back open, the predatory look he pinned you with sent electricity coursing through your veins. 

You met his fire with a burning challenge of your own, tugging harsher on your fistful of red and grinning wickedly as a throaty groan left the man’s mouth. “You,” he hissed, grabbing ahold of your wrist and tugging it free from its home, “drive me fucking insane.”

“Ditto, Balmain Boy,” you shot back, and you reveled for a moment in the shine of the smirk on his face, before it disappeared into the crook of your neck.

Little pleased sounds fell freely from your mouth as his worked its way down your throat, kissing and nipping at the skin, never enough to mark—although, you knew if you let him, Hongjoong would jump at the opportunity, jealous as he was—and he closed his eyes, basking in every single one. The hand around your waist shifted to splay out against your back, the warmth of his palm in contrast to the cool metal of his rings making you shiver again, and you felt him grinning against your skin for a beat before sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You choked back a sharp cry at the sudden action, grasping at his velvet suit.

“Hongjoong,” you hissed in warning, the last syllable coming out whinier than you would have liked. In your regular attire, anything below the neck was fair game for him to mar as he pleased. But between the safety pins holding together the strap on the side he was currently working over and the mesh of the other, you were working with far less coverage than usual. He let out a low noise akin to a growl at your protest, pulling a choked-off yelp from you, before soothing over the angry skin with his tongue. 

“Joong,” you tried again, and this time let it be a whimper. “Careful.”

“Who cares,” he muttered, pressing a quick kiss to the blooming mark before letting his lips trail across the collar of your dress. “Let them know.”

You squirmed, a quiet whine leaving you as heat struck through you at his words. “We… we can’t,” you protested weakly.

Hongjoong let out a low, dark giggle. “You don’t sound sure, sweetheart. You want people to know you’re fucking your boss?” Another whine, this one more frustrated than the last. “Nasty,” he chastised, but you could hear the grin in his voice. He got off on the thought more than you did, the possessive shit.

Straightening up, he pressed one more quick kiss to your lips before just as abruptly dropping to his knees in front of you. The action made you wince—not for the man in front of you, but for the pants he was wearing. You carded a hand into his hair again as you groaned in protest, tugging on it to force him to look up at you. “You’re gonna wear out the knees on th—”

“Worth it,” he shrugged, fingers immediately sliding under the hem of your skirt, kneading at your thighs. The moment they found the hem of your underwear, his hands slid smoothly from the outside of them in, fingertips dancing teasingly over your clothed core. He smiled up at you as you squirmed under his attention, the expression spreading to his signature smirk as he pressed harder and pulled a low moan from you.

“Get on with it, we don’t have all day,” you breathed, tugging lightly on his hair again. The sight of his eyes rolling back in his head—an exaggeration, sure, but you wouldn’t be complaining—sent heat rushing to your core again, the muscles in your thighs twitching as they tried to close around Hongjoong’s hands. 

The look he gave you was one you immediately wanted to wipe off of his face. “We do if you’ll clear my schedule,” he quipped back, earning a harsher yank to his hair, this time in the direction of your body.

“Put your mouth to better use, Kim Hongjoong.”

The second the words left your mouth, his fingers were hooking into the waistband of your underwear, and you lifted your hips off the table. In one fluid motion, he’d tugged the fabric free from your legs and left your skirt bunched around your waist, exposing you to his increasingly hungry gaze. Tossing his glasses onto the table beside you and throwing your legs over his shoulders, he pressed kisses up the inside of one of your thighs, breath barely ghosting over your center as he switched to the other. Annoyed, you tried to pull him where you wanted him, earning a breathy little laugh for your efforts. 

“Ask nicely, babe,” he muttered, pausing his work just long enough to properly look up at you.

His dick twitched in his pants at the sight. You stared down at him with half-lidded, pleading eyes and parted lips, lust clouding over your face. The neckline of your dress was still askew from where he’d pulled it aside, the skirt hiked up and now balled in your hand to give you a better view of him. And just as his eyes drifted lower, landing on your glistening heat, you breathed out a quiet, breathless, “Please.”

Who was he to deny his muse when they looked so breathtaking?

A weak, weak man. Weak for you, for everything you gave him and everything you let him take from you. Weak for the way you looked in his designs, in your own clothes, in a burlap sack, probably. Weak for the way you looked commanding the office—the whole operation would fall apart without you, and if Hongjoong were being honest with himself, he’d go with it. Weak for the way you tasted—your lips, your skin, your cunt; he’d drown in you if you would let him. 

And now, mere minutes after you’d saved him from the most boring meeting of his life; a few short hours after you’d strutted into the office in the piece he’d made for you, he was going to try whether you let him or not.

Biting back your moans while he ate you out like a starved man was a feat you didn’t think possible until you achieved it, muffling all but the quietest little whimpers and gasps as your orgasm coiled in your core. The closer you got, the harder it became, and the hand in Hongjoong’s hair left it in favor of clamping over your mouth. He growled against you in protest, the sensation making your thighs twitch, and wrapped his lips around your clit. With a few harsh sucks and practiced flicks of his tongue, you were clamping down around him, muffling the squeaks of pleasure he so desperately wished to hear.

You tugged him up off of the ground and he was weak for you, so of course he followed, palms hitting the table on either side of you as your lips crashed against his. When you pulled away again, he could only hope—fruitlessly—that you didn’t hear the way he whined.

Smiling softly, you tugged him in again briefly, gracing his lips with a chaste kiss before breathing a quiet “Fuck me,” against them.

Hongjoong was so, unbelievably, undeniably weak for you. Weak for the way you felt pressed up against him, the way he knew you would feel around him—and with that thought, he was scrambling to unfasten his pants, suddenly desperate and so, so weak. He hadn’t noticed how constricting the fabric had become until you shoved his pants and boxers down to his knees in one go, the release of pressure pulling a low moan from him. 

Reaching between your bodies, you wrapped your fingers around his length, delighting in the way it twitched in your hand at the same time his breath hitched. He shifted forward, bracing his hands further behind you and crowding into your personal space, slowly guiding you back down onto the table. You stroked him slowly for as long as you could reach, until finally, with a whine of protest, he pressed your shoulder back against the wood. Bracing himself with an arm beside you, he leaned down to catch your lips in a heated kiss, his free hand busying itself with lining his cock up at your entrance. His tip brushed your folds once, twice, before he pushed into you in one fluid thrust, hips falling flush with your own. 

The feeling of him filling you and the sound of the breathy moan that left Hongjoong had your walls fluttering around him, and the pause he took was as much for himself as it was for you, you could tell. So, you gave him his moment, taking the opportunity to drink in his form above you. He looked as desperate as you felt, so before he’d opened his eyes, you rolled your hips, pride swelling in your chest as his eyes shot open and he cursed under his breath. 

“You’re not the only one who doesn’t like repeating themself. Fuck. Me,” you demanded, punctuating it with another grind of your hips against his.

His gaze darkened, and electric arousal warmed your body. You saw him fight for words for a split second and quickly give up, electing instead to drape your knees over his arms and start fucking into you at a brutal pace. The suddenness punched a small yelp out of you at first, and you clapped a hand over your mouth, turning to look anywhere but at the man grinning devilishly down at you. He clicked his tongue and the rough grip he had on one of your thighs disappeared, his hand shifting instead to your chin. You were nearly folded in half as he reached for you, and the shift in angle had his length dragging over all the right places.

Securing your face between his fingers, he yanked you back toward him, forcing eye contact as he pounded into you. “Watch me, sweetheart. Watch me make you come undone again. I want you to remember this.” His rough handling had dislodged your hand from your mouth, and as a drawn out keen began to bubble up from your throat, he shoved two fingers past your lips to silence you. 

Some combination of the intimacy of looking into his eyes and the way he knew your body so well—shifting and adjusting until your legs were shaking—had your high building rapidly, and your teeth closed lightly around his knuckles as you felt the coil tightening in your gut. He tilted his head at you, a weak grin gracing his sweat-coated face as you sucked at the digits, pulling a breathy sigh from him. 

“Close?” he uttered, and you nodded rapidly, one hand snaking between your bodies to rub tight circles over your clit. “Cum with me then, love.” 

Whether it was the pet name or his permission that sent you over the edge, you weren’t quite sure, but just like that, the tension lacing your body snapped, and you clamped down around his cock. Hongjoong did his best to fuck you through it, quickly toppling from his own height and pressing his hips flush you yours as he spilled into you.

When you had both caught your breath, he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss and lowering your hips back onto the table. You whined as he slipped out of you, pouting at the low chuckle your reaction received. Before he could walk away to search aimlessly for paper towels or a tissue box you knew weren’t there, you kicked him lightly and pointed to your workbag. “Tissues in there.”

“Mind reader,” he hummed, a lilt of faux annoyance in his tone. 

“‘S why you hired me, Joongie.”

Another quiet laugh and a private smile graced your eyes and ears as he cleaned you both up, tucked himself back into his pants and handed you back your underwear. 

Most days, this was it—he’d be waiting by the door to make a clean exit and you’d see each other when you finally made it back to your desk. So today, when you finished dressing yourself and found him still staring at you, you turned your eyes to the ground bashfully. “Don’t you have work to do?”

Most days, he’d quip back something along the lines of “I don’t know, do I?” Today, he tilted his head at you and smiled.

“That piece was made for you. I think I should work that way more often.”

With another quick kiss to your lips and one to your cheek, he left the room, and you with it, heat rising to your cheeks. “And maybe I should wear ‘not business attire’ more often.”

You weren’t sure what had just happened, exactly, or why, or how serious he was about the dress being made for you—but one thing was certain; you were as weak for Kim Hongjoong as he was for you.

mdni banner | support banner | dividers

© June 2023 nebulousbrainsoup | all rights reserved. reposting and translating of author’s work is prohibited.

[theladyofbloodshed]

Hunt x Nesta - Epilogue

Life sucked.

Hunt could split his life into two chapters: before Nesta and after Nesta. Both chapters sucked. But that little blip in the middle – the one week where life had been better than he ever expected was good. He’d always have that.

‘Stop moping, my goodness.’

Isaiah groaned from his desk then dropped his forehead onto the cheap wood.

‘Everything reminds me of her,’ Hunt replied, holding up a sugar sachet from the crappy coffee machine.

It was true. Hunt could draw a correlation to Nesta regardless of the topic; she liked it, she would have hated it, he wished he could show her it, they’d tried it.

He had loved Shahar but it had been intense from the start. The rebellion had intensified every moment of it, pushing them both towards a zenith that he free-fell from. Losing her was different. It was a loss that held finality – but Hunt had lost so many that day, had suffered so much as a result, the grief had been for Shahar and all the others who'd fought alongside him.

To Shahar, he had been Hunt, a powerful angel plucked from the bowels of Pangea to command her legions.

This was different.

To Nesta, he’d only ever been Orion. Grumpy, sleepy, teasing, serious, or goofy, she’d wanted all of him. And Nesta wasn’t dead but it would have hurt less if she was.

Night after night, Hunt scoured the internet on any whiff of something similar to the Horn to try and find a way back to her. He’d deal with breeches and no hair dryer if it meant they were together again. He’d even wondered if Ruhn Danaan would know anything about another fae relic because Isaiah couldn’t be persuaded to get another warrant to search the Autumn King’s home for hidden artefacts.

‘I know that you miss her, Hunt, but it’s just not possible to find her again,’ he said calmly.

Those same words had been said to him a month earlier, also by Isaiah, when he’d found Hunt deliberating in the street. He’d gathered is hard-earned coins ready to dump them all in the Astronomer’s lap so that he’d use his mystics to locate her. In the end, it proved too risky. Hunt wouldn’t dare to expose Nesta that way.

‘It fucking sucks,’ replied Hunt before shuffling back to his desk for a long night of paperwork.

When Nesta left, Hunt expected a depression to come and drown him. He’d been there before and it always lurked in his periphery. But she’d given him hope and it felt different. The light didn’t abate in her absence; the flame remained burning. So he worked and worked. Did what Micah asked. Treaded every single line without complaint. And he thought of her. Thought of her smile, her curiosity, the way she had him wrapped around her finger in a single day.

***

‘What now?’

Emerie’s brown eyes had dulled from their week of absolute hell. She sat on the cushioned windowsill of the river estate with mud still caked over her face. Nesta looked down at her own hands. They were splattered with a mix of blood. Some was hers, Cassian’s, Bellius’, and Feyre’s.

Her stomach was empty enough that it hurt. She’d see a healer soon. Gwyn had the worst injuries so was with Madja in a separate room.

A small cry rang out down the hall from the baby boy, Nyx.

Feyre had died. Her heart had stopped beating. Nesta had felt the whole world turn colder, felt the knife coming for Feyre’s thread, so Nesta did the only thing she could think of. Still beaten and ruined from the Blood Rite, she gave her power back. She gave it all back.

And Feyre lived. The boy lived.

Nesta wedged her aching body into the windowsill next to Emerie, wishing they were a different set of wings cradling her shoulders.

It had been a tough few months since her little jaunt to Lunathion.

To his credit, Lucien did not speak of what he saw. He simply pretended the entire event had never happened and acted with all the quality of one the males from Fangs and Bangs when it was discovered by the others that Nesta had returned. It was their secret, never to be mentioned. She was grateful for that.

None ever questioned her moroseness because it was no different to her capricious ways. She could feel herself pushing everybody away, as always, week after week without Hunt’s infectious joy. The idea of Cassian touching her churned her stomach. She’d put an end to it, dumbfounding him. And when her sister’s family had convinced her to seduce Eris through dance, it confirmed to Nesta that all she would ever be was a pawn to be used for their benefit. When Eris had shown interest, Nesta had considered it if only to have a lifeline out of the Night Court.

‘I don’t even know if it will work,’ Nesta said quietly, tilting her head to touch Emerie’s.

The pair of them absolutely reeked. Being dragged from their beds and dumped onto Ramiel for a week would do that. Only sheer grit and hoping had kept them alive. That, and Gwyn bringing a beast to slaughter eight of the Illyrians.

‘It’s worth a try,’ replied Emerie.

They’d huddled together in the dark, cold and tired but not willing to sleep. And Nesta had told Emerie and Gwyn everything about the male she’d found in Lunathion. How she could not even go an hour without thinking of him, without imagining a life together. They’d listened with rapture, delighted for her as true friends were. Even when she cried at the thought of leaving them behind, they encouraged her to take her chance if they made it out alive because they loved her enough to let her go and find happiness.

‘It’s complicated.’

‘What’s complicated? Toot the horn and fly off with your angel.’

Gwyn limped into the room in her filthy clothes. ‘Who’s tooting? Are we tooting?’

‘Nesta’s about to go to the future with her angel lover.’

Instead of indignation, colour heated her cheeks and she felt like a giggling, love-struck fool. ‘He is so handsome.’

The cell phone had died quickly from all the moments that Nesta had spent agonising over photos of the Umbra Mortis in his boxers, as he called them.

‘So we have heard,’ Emerie replied drily.

Nesta shoved her heart back into its cage. ‘It’s impossible. I’ve surrendered my power. The Horn won’t work. Hunt is a slave. It’s been almost four months. He could be sold by now to another owner.’

‘Then buy him back,’ urged Gwyn.

‘With what?’

Emerie braced a hand against her ribs as she stood. ‘Well, the High Lord did offer you anything for saving their lives.’

‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘Rhysand would never agree to let me go, much less give me a pile of his wealth to send me on way. They still think Cassian is my mate. That the bond will snap. If it didn’t snap when Briallyn had him try to kill me, it never will – and I thank the stars for that.’

The words hung heavy. It had been one horrific moment after the other. Cassian bellowing at her on a bridge crossing the Sidra that she was his, despite her refusals. Morrigan delivering her to Emerie and Gwyn as she trembled. Waking disorientated in the Blood Rite. Staring down Bellius as she held Ramiel’s pass. Briallyn controlling Cassian with the Crown, trying to kill her. Only the Mask coming to her rescue again had saved her life.

‘I made a list the other day of all the things I’d like to do in Prythian. Do you know what I wrote?’ At her friends’ expectant faces, she continued, ‘Finish my book. I have no desires or dreams here. I am simply an object.’

‘What did you write for the other side?’

The corners of her mouth twitched. ‘So many things. There are things I want to do that I don’t even know exist yet. I want to go to the amusement park with Hunt. To study. I’d study for my whole life. I want to throw my cap in the air when I’ve finished studying. I want to live with Orion – I want a life with him like I’ve never dreamed of a male before. I didn’t kiss him enough.’

‘It was not only the High Lord’s life you saved, Nesta,’ Emerie reminded her. ‘There is a High Lady of the Night Court.’   

***

Silver light poured into the room like molten metal, so bright that Hunt needed to shield his eyes from the glare.

A low, hissing noise had him scurrying from his bed and pressing his wings to the cream wall in anticipation.

‘What the fuck.’

The wall opposite was flooded with a silver fire that chilled him to the bone. The narrow window above his bed frosted over. On his exhale, his breath was visible.

Then she was there.

The fire fell away, revealing an ornate library with rows of leather-bound books. Light streamed in from the massive bay windows, bathing Nesta in its glow. Like the first day that Hunt had seen her, Nesta was other-worldly. Instead of tight leathers that sinfully kissed every curve, she wore a pale lavender dress with a square-cut neckline. Her hands were buried in the long sleeves although Hunt spotted the tip of the horn poking from beneath. The draping skirts couldn’t hide the sneakers that she’d bought in Lunathion and declared the comfiest shoes she’d ever tried.

‘Tell me I’m dreaming,’ Hunt murmured.

Twice, Nesta’s lips parted then sealed again. Tears rimmed her grey eyes.

‘Nesta,’ he said, stepping closer to the fiery portal. The hairs on his arm stood from the seeping cold that surrounded it.

A soft gasp emitted from her side and two females came into view, ushered into the library by the same male he’d seen months ago with red hair and a metallic eye. One cradled a baby to her chest. This had to be Feyre; she had the unmistakeable look of her older sister although freckles dotted across the bridge of her nose and her hair hung freely. A swirling, black tattoo covered the hand that stroked her son’s wings. The other female was darker haired with large brown eyes reminding Hunt of a faun.

‘It worked?’ Feyre asked.

‘Obviously,’ the male replied, making Elain giggle and cover her mouth to hide it.

Hunt took another step closer to Nesta who was still immobilised. In the chairs behind her were two more females. Hunt had heard all about them. The winged one was Emerie and the red-haired one was Gwyn. Nesta’s face had lit up as she spoke of her only friends in Prythian when they’d been together.

‘Hey, Starlight,’ he said, reaching his hand through to her side. He jerked his chin towards her sister and the baby. ‘They made it.’

‘They made it,’ Nesta repeated, face twisting with emotion. ‘I gave up my power for them. I didn’t know if this would still work. I had to choose between seeing you again and saving them.’

‘And everybody won,’ he said, grasping her shaking hand.

It took every instinct not to haul her through to his side and kiss her until every star went out.

Nesta did that for him.

From the force that she yanked him to her, Hunt was practically falling. His hands found her waist to steady himself and he could feel her breath on his cheek as he pulled himself upright. Their bodies knocked together, the softness of her curves feeling like home.

‘I missed you.’

‘There has been nobody to laugh with.’ He touched his forehead to hers. ‘There was a national crisis because demand for ice cream plummeted since you left.’

When Hunt moved to kiss her, he stilled. There were markings on her neck, a fresh cut that still had the scab on her cheek and more wounds on her hands. They had to be recent because fae healed as fast as malakim.

‘What the Hel has happened? Are you alright? Who hurt you?’

The two females in the chair exchanged a glance then he noticed that both of them had been wounded recently too. Emerie had a bruise above her eyebrow that caused the lid to swell and Gwyn’s hands were bound in bandages.  

‘It’s alright,’ Nesta murmured, holding his hands in hers. ‘Something happened. I was taken. The three of us. We woke in the Blood Rite.’

‘I don’t know what that is.’

Surprising him, Nesta broke into a laugh. It skittered over his skin like static.  

‘What’s funny?’

‘That’s what I say to you, Orion.’

The male, Lucien, cleared his throat from his post at the door. ‘Nesta, I don’t know how long it will be open – or until they notice.’

‘Right,’ she said, nodding. ‘It was hell. All of it. That week on the mountain and all the months before. All I wanted was you. I told my friends that if we survived, if we made it through each night, I would find you.’

From the three-legged table, Nesta picked up a rolled-up piece of parchment. There was a line down the middle, splitting it into two columns. In an elegant script, lines upon lines of text had been written.

‘I wrote why I should stay here or why I should leave. There is danger on both sides, uncertainty, and it feels like leaping into the unknown. This is the world I know. My sisters are here. But the difference is in Lunathion, I will have you. And that makes all the difference, Hunt.’ She clutched the paper tighter. ‘I don’t care. All I want is you.’

When his day began, Hunt didn’t have Nesta appearing and offering him a forever on his bingo card. He blew out a breath. ‘Nesta, I’m a slave. I can’t give you a home. I don’t even know who my father is. If you want a life of comfort, you’re better off with Tristan Flynn.’

There was a brilliant shine of determination in her eyes. ‘I want a male who will love me.’

He’d loved her the moment she’d dropped out of the sky and told Isaiah she was a bard. These months without her had felt like living without the sun. He’d do another two hundred years in gorsian shackles strung up in the Asteri’s dungeon rather than spend another moment without Nesta.

Hunt stepped back through the portal to his room in the barracks and pulled out a prospectus for Crescent City University along with guidance on how to apply for funding. He’d gathered them just in case Nesta ever came back. He’d pulled legislation on the minimal rights of slaves. As long as Hunt answered when called, slaves could rent a property – they couldn’t own it, but it was a start, so he’d saved every penny of his pitiful wages, took double shifts and worked on his allotted days off to scrape together a few more coins because Nesta had given him that piece of hope that he hadn’t had before.

On the desk, there was photo album that he’d been compiling. It had provided an outlet instead of moping. Hunt had channelled all of his dreams into it.

‘There’s still space for more,’ he said, stepping back through and handing it to Nesta.

Her sisters and the other females peered over her shoulder at it. Every single photo that Nesta had taken on her cell and his, no matter how blurred, had been printed out and stuck in with his terrible handwriting beneath with a caption. Hunt had written about their day, about what she’d said, where they’d been or what they’d eaten. There was one of her bending down with the Istros in the background as Hunt had tried to get a scurrying otter in shot with her – but ended up with a smear of brown and yellow flopping into the river.

‘You look in pain there,’ said Elain, pointing to one.

‘She couldn’t decide on a milkshake flavour.’

Nesta’s lips quirked as she looked at the photo. ‘I regret banana.’

‘Is that why you drank mine?’

There were photos of him too. Ones she had taken. Ones that were blurry or zoomed in too far or ones in the elevator when she discovered that she could use the mirror to capture both of them. One of him with his fluffed-up wings and that rotten witch-ink halo on full display. One of them snuggled up on the bed on a pile of pillows. Lots of them together; Nesta appearing regal and poised whilst he looked surly or goofy to annoy her. One of Nesta in her gown before the ballet with Ruhn that she’d taken of herself in the bathroom mirror. A few of her when she’d put a cat-eared filter on and couldn’t work out how to take it off. Some even of Ruhn when he was driving, trying to block the camera with his tattooed hand.

‘I thought that was Rhys.’

Nesta chuckled, ‘So did I – and I gave him hell for it.’

‘They’re coming,’ said Lucien from the window where he’d been observing the skies. ‘They’ve likely felt the shift in the wards.’

On the horizon, three black shapes were moving quicker, wings beating rapidly.

Nesta turned to him, silver eyes shining with hope. ‘Will you have me?’

‘You were mine the day you fell from the stars. I love you. You think I make photo albums for every girl that lands in the middle of the road?’

Nesta silenced him with a kiss that surprised everybody in the room.

‘My bags are packed. I’ve already said goodbye.’

‘You’ll have to flirt with Flynn to get his credit card again,’ he said, grimacing slightly. ‘It will be centuries until I can afford somewhere for us to live.’

Feyre shook her head. ‘Finances are handled.’

‘I’m paying for your freedom,’ Nesta said resolutely. ‘There may only be one Umbra Mortis but I’m the bitch who stole from the Cauldron. That has to count for something.’  

 What she was, was a pillar of steel that could never be broken. Hunt didn’t care if she was sharp or unyielding, she was his Nesta. His girl from the stars.

Hunt slid his hands to her face, kissing her deeply. He didn’t care if her sisters watched. Didn’t care if the winged female whistled loudly at them. He had waited months to feel her again, to hold her.

‘We need to go,’ Nesta urged.

The two females had moved back to the chairs and exchanged a glance as the roof shook. A heavy landing. Feyre clutched her son to her chest, eyes going vacant as if listening to something else.

Three bags had been prepared and neatly tucked beneath the table. On her direction, Hunt hauled them up and through the portal back into the barracks. The final one tested his strength. It was bulky and ridiculously heavy, but with five females watching him, Hunt pretended the weight didn’t surprise him even if his muscles strained.

‘Are you bringing your Harp, bard?’

‘No. Only the Horn to close it then we’ll destroy it.’

Hunt pretended he didn’t just hear Nesta declare that she was about to break a priceless fae artefact that would have Einar Danaan, Micah, and the Asteri string her up from a dungeon for touching it.

They were doing this.

A cold sweat rippled down his back. They were really doing this. In the face of an archangel, a fae prince, and whatever the Asteri were, Hunt and Nesta were doing this for real.

His fingers enclosed around her wrists as steps grew closer. ‘Are you sure? You’ve known me a week.’

‘I have the rest of my life to know you,’ she said, before kissing him tenderly again. ‘Orion Athalar, you are my home. Maybe I fell that day, rattling the stars, because I was searching for you.’

The door swung open and shadows flooded in, sweeping the rugs of the library like a tidal wave that could no longer be held back. The first male had slicked back black hair and sparkling eyes so blue they appeared violet.

‘Shit, he does look like Ruhn,’ said Hunt.

In a soft voice, he said, ‘What is this?’

Two more males filed in, taking care to manoeuvre their large, leathery wings through the wooden doorway. These were the Illyrians she had spoken of which meant one was Azriel, who’d handed her a bag too heavy for her to manage, and the other was Cassian, a male who Hunt would delight in hurting.

Immediately, Hunt catalogued the subtle changes in Nesta. Whilst he would have expected her spine to go straighter, her chin to lift in defiance, instead Nesta curled in on herself as if she was deflating. Her shoulders hunched, making herself smaller and a flat, empty expression took up residence on her pale face.

The high lord’s eyes flashed to the Horn in Nesta’s hands. With a jolt of magic that Hunt felt fire across the room, he tried to lurch the Made item from her grip but it stayed firmly in her hand.

‘You have opened a portal to another world,’ he said, voice low and edged with warning. ‘You are endangering the lives of everybody in this city, Nesta. Endangering my mate and our son.’

Hunt couldn’t take it. It was as if all of the air was being pressed from the room. The two Illyrian sentries stood silent either side of their high lord in a display of cruel dominance. Neither would speak for Nesta. Hunt looked again to the females. Her two sisters were mute. The red-haired male had taken a not-so-subtle step closer to Elain, an arm extending ready to shield her. The other two females were as pale and timid as Nesta had become in their chairs; the winged one settled a hand on Gwyneth’s knee in reassurance as shadows lashed at the walls.  

These fae pricks.

‘Who the fuck do you think you are?’

The urge to let his lightning loose was an instinct that proved difficult to deny – but not when Nesta was in the firing line, nor a child and a male with a metal eye that would send his lightning haywire.

The high lord blinked in disbelief then took a step closer to Nesta.

Lightning wreathed his hands in response. ‘Don’t even fucking think about it.’

‘If it hits Nesta?’

Hunt could play that game. He went into the place where Micah sent him where it was cold and empty. ‘If it hits your son? Your mate?’

He let the static tighten the room so strands of their hair rose. Hunt pulled the clouds closer, bringing in a storm from the mountains which darkened the room. Rain pattered upon the glass.

The male to the high lord’s left tilted his head, back hair falling across his pensive face. The blue stones on his leathers pulsed. ‘What are you?’

‘He’s not Peregryn,’ the male with red stones said.

He kept his brown eyes fixed on the threats in the room while he spoke softly to Nesta. ‘Go through, Starlight. We’ll go to the movies tonight. I realised you never tasted popcorn.’

The weight of her decision pressed on her. That, or the arrogant bastards shooting daggers at her.  

‘We can make out on the back row too.’

That shifted something in Nesta, like the final screw coming loose. She exhaled with relief and edged towards him. Hunt stretched out his arm towards her to sweep his love behind him, behind his wings, so she could step through safely to the barracks as if they were negotiating the transfer of a hostage.

‘Baby, can you get my gun? It’s in the holster at the bottom of the bed.’

With a trembling hand, Nesta placed the gun in the hand that was outstretched behind himself. Magic was great, but nothing could quite replace a steel kiss. Hunt cocked his weapon, keeping it trained on the high lord.

‘Which one’s Cassian?’

Likely the male whose face was purpling as he stared at Hunt like he wanted to wrap his hands around his throat. Join the club, buddy, Hunt thought.

‘The red stones?’

None in the room gave an acknowledgement to his words. He didn’t want this to turn into a standoff but now that Hunt was here, facing the bastards who’d made Nesta’s life a misery for the last couple of years, he couldn’t resist being a dick. The Umbra Mortis had earned his reputation. He’d survived torture and a failed rebellion. And he was going to have a beautiful future with his gorgeous Nesta – but first, these males needed to atone.

‘Listen, these ladies look as if they’ve seen enough violence so I’ll refrain from blasting your brains out on these lovely rugs, but you owe my girl an apology.’ Over his shoulder, Hunt asked, ‘Does Lucien need to say sorry?’

‘Hunt, don’t bother. Let’s just close it.’

‘Does Lucien need to say sorry?’ he repeated.

Nesta gave a sigh. ‘No. Lucien is fine.’

‘Good male,’ he said, offering a slight wink in the scarred-one’s direction.

A shadow that had been creeping along the skirting board made to lunge towards him but Hunt hit it with a bolt of lightning that crippled it. The male who’d bejazzled his leathers with blue stones winced as if he felt the blow too. Aha, that was the shadowsinger. Red stones was the prick who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.

‘Alright, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to say sorry to Nesta then I’m leaving with her. We’re going to have a beautiful life together and never come back to this place again.’ Hunt gave a dramatic sigh. ‘If I’m honest, I think it’s less about my company and more about the fact you three have made her life so miserable here that she's willing to leave.’

‘That’s not true,’ Nesta called, and he caught the slight playful edge in her tone. ‘I want to go to university too.’

Little minx.

The three males were carved from stone. Every now and then, Hunt felt something trying to edge towards his mind like a tendril of smoke but his lightning zapped it without thought.

‘My finger is getting really sweaty holding back this trigger.’

The gun wasn’t even loaded – safety protocol – but if these fae were as clueless as Nesta had been, they’d have no idea.

‘Nesta, I am sorry that we did not extend the same warmth to you as we did to your sisters. I’m truly sorry that after the war, we were not a support for you.’

‘Well done, blue stones. Next one.’

The high lady shuffled the baby who was growing restless in her arms. ‘Is this necessary?’

‘Yes. Next question.’

Hunt lashed his lightning towards the males’ feet, making them leap back a step. Damn, he wished he recorded the sudden bloom of fear on their arrogant faces.

‘I’m sorry that I loved you,’ Cassian said. ‘I’m sorry that I gave you everything I could and it still wasn’t enough. Nes, what are you doing? In this life, we can have our time together. Think of our future.’

‘Didn’t you make her walk until she collapsed?’

The male blanched. ‘It was for her own good.’

‘No,’ Hunt uttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘I can't do this. I need to go before I shoot you.’

Behind him, Nesta’s snort of laughter was the confirmation that Hunt needed. Nesta would never get the apology that she deserved from this male – but the promise of a future free from him was good enough. A future with Hunt meant more.

His wings scooped low, tucking towards his spine, as Hunt took a backwards step. The cold bite of Nesta’s magic that surrounded the portal edged closer. He hoped he would look cool departing the library and wouldn’t fall on his ass through to the other side.

Once back in Lunathion, Hunt stood at Nesta’s side, proud to do it.

‘We won’t come here again,’ said Nesta, voice growing stronger with every word. Her eyes bounced between her friends and her sisters. ‘I love you but this is best for me. I wish you all the love in the world.’

Nesta lifted the horn to her lips and Hunt prayed to Luna that she’d hit that note on the first try or he’d laugh his ass off again. His hand enclosed around her fist, raising it in the air.

‘This is how we say bye in my world, assholes.’

Hunt prised Nesta’s middle finger up to flip them off – giving her only a moment to blow the Horn before she grinned.

Silver flames swarmed it then fell in on themselves like a star collapsing. They were left with the plain wall of his room in the Comitium.

‘You okay?’

Hunt touched her cheek in an attempt to read her expression. She didn’t need to wear the mask anymore. There would be no hiding her feelings or supressing her hurts. Nesta could be Nesta in Lunathion. And if she didn’t know who that was yet, it was fine. She could discover who she was.

Nesta slipped her hands around his neck, moving closer. ‘Oh, you are going to get it tonight, Orion Athalar.’

‘Oh?’ An eyebrow cocked up.

‘Defending me. Making them say sorry. What a male.’

Their lips crushed together. Now they had about a thousand things to do before they could relax, like storing the Horn somewhere safe, where nobody would notice the magic, find a place to live rather than keep her smuggled in the barracks, and figure out what the Hel was in that massive bag. With Nesta at his side, anything was possible. They’d weather the storm.

‘Your male,’ Hunt said between hurried kisses.

‘Mine,’ agreed Nesta.

‘Always.’  

[igotanidea]

All the little voices : J.T x reader

Request: A Jason fic where the reader is insecure.

A/N: the parts in italics are retrospective.

***

It was one of those days.

Those days when she felt inadequate, insufficient, judged and dished. The mere thought of going out of the house was like a slap on the cheek.

She just wanted to rest, to not see people, not compare herself to all the other woman and girls on the streets and at work, ending up feeling like a walking disaster. Not getting lost in her own thoughts, her own head.

But a girl gotta work. And besides, she had that little critic inside her always saying mean stuff, making her feel guilty for not wanting to go out. And she listened, forcing herself to do things that left her even more broken than at the beginning.

Y/N really did like her job, found a way to express herself through it. Mostly, she was energetic, helpful, concerned, smiling and beaming while performing her duties. But after a while, her self-consciousness always started creeping in.

Always.

And it was like a step back from all she achieved.

Those were the days when she would rather fit into the wall, acting like a freaking chameleon than talk to people. Her duties were taking twice as much time, because she got scared of making phone calls and would rather search for the information by herself. Instead of talking to the coworkers in the other department she preferred sending e-mails just to avoid face to face confrontation. And an hour before the end of the shift she realized she was just staring at the clock praying that no one would drop by to have a little chat with her.

Surviving the work, however, was one thing.

The other, possibly harder, was getting back home.

Putting her earphones on and trying to separate herself from reality, Y/N got lost into her Spotify shuffle playlist, sounds of music bringing even more thoughts, plans, scenarios, making her even more insecure than before. Suddenly, she was painfully aware of the oldness of the T-shirt she was wearing, her worn-out shoes, bitten nails and that stupid zit on the chin that she couldn’t for the love of god conceal in the morning. Songs sparked some memories of the words her boss addressed her, about how she could be so much better and how she should step up in work and in life. And that lead her straight into thinking about Jay.

“I’m not worth any of this.” she thought “what does he see in me? Definitely something that is not there. I am not who he thinks I am. Honestly, I don’t know who I am at all. And what if I’m crazy? What if I’m gonna end up as someone I don’t even recognize? I don’t want that. I just want to get home and hide from the people. But I can’t do that” she felt like crying  “there’s so much work to do, so man e-mails and tasks to deal with. And what if I can’t deal with them? What if I’m both ugly and  stupid? What if I fail? What if I’m a failure?!” she didn’t even realize that, but her eyes turned sad, showing that vulnerable side of the girl, who truly was at the verge of tears. Her whole posture was just screaming “please don’t hurt me”.

She didn’t want people to look at her, to see her, and yet, somewhere in her crazy, spinning mind she felt like all eyes were on her, judging, commenting, laughing at her internally. She just wanted to disappear, ditch the grocery shopping, but it was either that or starving since her fridge was absolutely empty. Thank god for the self-service checkouts!

That spinning and turning and worrying made her get back home in a very strange mood with a mix of feelings, she couldn’t possibly contain. She wanted to laugh and cry and scream and walk around and lay down all at the same time.

Slowly the panic started creeping in and it was harder and harder to breathe.

She practically did nothing for the whole day, so why was she so tired. Why was she already fearing the upcoming day, despite the fact that it was barely 5 p.m. and she still had a whole evening to relax?

“Come on, just breathe Y/N. It’s gonna be fine, you are gonna be fine.”  she whispered, hugging herself tightly.

A mistake.

Feeling her own body and those little rolls of fat made her cry out loud. She never had a good relationship with her own body. How could she possibly love or accept something so broken, marked with stretched, imperfections, discolorations? How?  Damn, she just wanted to be pretty and skinny and perfect. For so many times she wished she was mentally capable of wearing a dress or shorts or something more …. revealing. Last week when Jason and she were  shopping at the mall, she stopped in front of the lingerie shop, admiring all those fancy panties and lacy bras.

“You like that princess?” Jason smirked coming from behind her back, wrapping arms around her waist and hugging her tightly to his chest, scaring her to death in the process. “I would love to see you in that, one day.”

“ I…..I …..” she stuttered

“why don’t we go inside so you can try it on?” Jason smirked “I’m most definitely ready to buy the whole shop  for you.”

“Why don’t we just go home and stop goofing around?” she wriggled herself free leaving him a bit dumbfounded

“It’s all right, baby. You’re still hot and sexy for me, even without….”

“Mhm, sure….” She mumbled, her eyes wondering all over, hands shaking and she just clenched her fingers to cover up for that. Hot and sexy, sure…. “You know what I just ….. I just remembered something I have forgotten. I…. I need to go to the mall bathroom real quick, all right? You …. Take that and I’ll meet you here in  a moment, all right? Great….” She did not even let him finish, taking off and heading straight to the one place when she could possibly get some peace and quiet.

She never told him she cried her heart out in that tiny lavatory. Quick make up was enough to hide the stains and reddened eyes.

Why was it all coming back to her now?

Just one trigger was enough to get her completely spinning.

“Y/N!”

“Yes, Jane?” she smiled at her coworker, waiting for the words coming

“I’m gonna need you to take some of my work and deal with it”

“I’m sorry, what? Why would I do your work when I got so much of mine?”

“Cause I’m leaving with the boss. He might promote me into his assistant, you know! Which means I am practically your immediate supervisor, and you shall do as I say.

Jane was not the sharpest tool in the shed and definitely not the most hardworking and she was getting promoted. Maybe Y/N truly was stupid for giving so much of herself to work. Maybe she was just not good enough and too quiet to ever be noticed.

Why the hell was all of that coming back now!?

She wanted to try something new and that’s why the girl found herself at the workout class at the gym. Not entirely sure how to use any of that special equipment, just standing like a statue and observing all those fit girls with their perfect figures.

If that was what Jason was watching every time he hit the gym ……

“Hey, are you new here?” a female trainer with the widest smile approached Y/N. “How about I show you around?” Y/N could tell the other girl was being sincere, but she already had enough. She did not fit in here. Not with her T-shirt and leggings serving as a workout suit and covering all those parts of her body that she was ashamed of.

“Um… I… thanks, but I think I actually feel sick…..” she mumbled, spun on her feet and never came back.

Y/N was extremely insecure at this point. She needed a hug. She needed someone to whisper sweet nothings and comforting words into her ear. She needed Jason, but at the same time never wanted to be a burden to him. To put the weight of her problems onto him. But maybe she could just casually call him up?”

“Jason?” she dialed the number and he picked up at the first signal.

“Hi, princess. What’s up there?”

“not… not much…” she swallowed harshly “I just needed to hear your voice….”

“What happened?” oh, he caught up on that little trembling in her voice and became concerned in an instant.

“Why would something happen?” she tried to scoff him playfully, but it did not work at all.

“don’t play with me babe”

“I need you, Jace” she cried into the phone “I’m sorry, please, can you come?”

“I’m on my way. Don’t hung up.”

“It’s not like I’m in any danger……”

“I don’t care. You are shaken so clearly someone upset you. You keep talking to me. I’m mounting the bike and will be there in like ten minutes. You do not hang up on me.”

She did not . At least not until she heard knocking on the door and very disturbed Jason with disheveled hear, in his leather jacket busted through them, immediately wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug.

“Jason….” she wriggled a bit

“Hush. Let me hold you for now and then we’ll talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“What do you want?”

“A way out of my head.”

“Cuddles?” he asked

“please……” she whimpered and he didn’t even hesitate picking her up and carrying her toward the couch.

“I can…..” she protested but he cut her off.

“Yes, I know you can walk, but something tells me your legs are going to give up on you soon, so don’t fight against me.”

He laid her down gently, climbing up next to her and sneaking arms around her.

“ Thank you for coming….” She muttered hiding face in his jacket

“You really left me no choice, baby. That phone call was rather disturbing. “

“I;m sorry” she winced ashamed of taking his time and attention.

“Stop saying you’re sorry! Why would you be sorry? Y/N, baby, look at me” his right hand ended up on her cheek caressing it gently “what…..? Ohmygod…..”

“What?” she trembled. Was he going to leave because she was so needy and whiny and shaken? Was he done with her, like all the other boys in her life before? Not that there were many but still enough to leave a scar.

“You feel like you’re not enough.” He stated simply. “you think you are a burden.”

“What? No, of course not! I’m perfectly fine!”

“You’re not. “ Jason shook his head “I know that look. First handed. I used to do that too. Constantly wondering if I was too much to handle for you. If I was only bringing you down.

“You did?” her eyes grew wide. “I never knew…. Why didn’t you tell me?” she lifted herself up, hand lying on his chest, feeling his rapidly beating heart.

“Possibly for the same reason you did not tell me.” He smiled lightly, but his eyes were sad beyond recognition. “Because I love you. And I never wanted to worry you.”

“Jason….” tears started falling down her cheeks “Baby, you have to tell me such things. I love you too, I don’t want to see you hurt or feeling insecure. Ever. I’m here for you, you know there’s not a single thing I wouldn’t do to make you feel better and …. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re just so sweet, baby. But now, I need you to think about what you just said and turn those words around.”

“What? How….?” She looked at him, a bit confused but only for a second “oh, you little rascal!” Y/N hit his chest a couple times, before he grabbed her wrist and kissed it gently, lovingly “you played me!”

“Yeah, I did. Like a pro, didn’t I?” he smirked, clearly proud of himself

“You made me cry!”

“And I hate myself for that. But it was needed so you would understand exactly how I feel when I see you like that. I’m not good with words, Y/N, I know I’m not, but the feelings I have for you are right here.” Jason closed his eyes and put her hand back on his rapidly beating heart “ there are no words in any language to describe them.”

“I think I might cry again….”she warned, her face twisting

“Go ahead. Here’s the shoulder, dedicated especially to that.” He pointed towards his limb and smiled widely “Y/N….”

“Yes?”

“I bought that thing you were watching at the last shopping spree…..”

“YOU WHAT?! I’M NOT…..”

“Don’t worry,  we’ll get there baby. I’ll be proving to you how wonderful you are, using every method possible. I’ll make all those little voices of yours shut up. And If that may require taking some things off your ….” His eyes travelled over her body with lust, making her tremble “…. Shoulders” he finished smirking “than I’m game.”

[hearts4golbach]

Get the Angles Right!

chapter 9.

pairing:

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

a/n:

sorry I didn't get anything out yesterday, I had a birthday party to go to.

proofread

warnings:

Bryan Stars mention...

word count:

2.0k

the loud ringing of your phone startled you awake. you were having one of those cold sweat naps. you quickly checked the time, the clock read 4:30. Johnnies contact showed on the screen. you quickly answered the phone. "Hello?" you answered, your voice raspy. you rubbed the sleepiness from your eyes.

you didn't get much sleep the night before. Thoughts of Johnnie plagued your mind after the shoot, so you stayed up all night editing the photos. not the smartest idea on your part, but at least they were done and looked very good.

"Hey, y/n." Your name rolled off his tongue. He always thought it tasted so sweet. "i was wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner before the party? we could just Uber there after dinner." he explained his thoughts further.

you cleared your throat, dragging yourself out of the pool of sweat you were laying in. "Uh, yeah. of course, let me get ready. where do you want me to meet you? and we're going to the restaurant in what we're wearing to the party, right?"

"That's what i was going to do, yeah." You heard shuffling in the background. "and I was hoping you could pick the place. i wanna try more actually good places before i leave."

your small smile dropped at that reminder. that fact was beginning to eat you alive. you sighed, "yeah! there's this really good Thai place a couple blocks away from my place. there's also an Italian restaurant across the street from there that has the best vodka pasta i've ever had."

"then let's go to that Italian place." you could hear the excitement in his voice. "how soon can you be there?"

"what? excited to see me?" you giggled. you pulled yourself off the bed and grabbed the dress that you had made out of your closet. it was a layered wine red silk dress. some of the fabric was frayed, it had a slit where at the leg and made your tits look great.

"maybe." on the other side of the phone, his face was beet red.

"i can probably get there around 5:15. does that work?" you sat in front of the vanity and put the phone on speaker.

he hummed, "yeah, that works."

"what? on the phone with your girlfriend?" a familiar voice came form the background. Jake giggled to himself.

"dude, shut the fuck up." Johnnie sighed. you rolled your eyes and laughed. "i'll see you there?"

"mhm. see you in a bit, Johnnie. bye."

"bye." he replied before scolding jake. he hung up the phone before you could hear what else he was saying.

you rushed your makeup but still tried to make it look decent. you know it'd be fully gone by the end of the party anyway. you slipped the dress on and adjusted what was needed. just like that, you were ready. you tried to ignore the ache in your heart.

you had called an uber after Johnnie hung up, so it arrived shortly after you were ready. you stared out the window, watching as raindrops raced down. your feelings for Johnnie made the thought of him leaving dreadful. you knew you'd never see him again. you weren't even sure if you two would truly stay in contact. why would he want to? you figured he saw you as so,e hookup rather than someone he could actually love.

your uber driver grabbed your attention when he said you had arrived. you thanked him and climbed out of the car, Johnnie stood in front of the restaurant smoking a cigarette. his face lit up when he saw you. he was wearing the zebra print and leather jacket, which shocked you so much your jaw dropped.

"you're actually wearing it?!" you approached him.

his eyes grazed over your body. he had never seen you in something like that before. "yeah, this jacket is so fucking sick. i'm gonna be wearing it all the time now."

you nearly cried from happiness. someone actually enjoyed your art. "i'm actually so glad you love it just as much as i do."

"i might like it more than you do." he took another drag before passing the cig to you.

"impossible," you laughed, taking the last hit before handing it back to him. he out the cigarette out and walked inside. he held the door for you and you followed in behind him.

he spoke to the waiter and got a table for the two of you. the kind lady led you to your table. you sat across from Johnnie. "can i get you two started with something to drink?"

"i'll take a dr pepper." Johnnie said before looking towards you. the waiter was beautiful, but he never gave her a second glance.

"i'll just take a coke, please." you opened the small menu on the table. she wrote your two orders down and walked away. "i think i want to try their chicken alfredo, but i don't know. that vodka pasta was actually mind blowing."

"you get the alfredo, i'll get the vodka pasta and we'll split. do you wanna do that?" he asked, his eyes down on the menu. he looked up at you, his icy blue eyes gazing into yours. he seemed to be trying to read your facial expression. "i don't know, whatever you wanna do."

"yeah, we can do that. that's a really good idea, actually." the eye contact made your stomach flip, you looked down at your lap.

the waiter came back with your drinks and a small basket of warm bread sticks with a pepper sauce and a garlic sauce. "i'll be back over soon to take your orders." she looked at Johnnie, who was looking at you. she looked back at you and flashed an embarrassed smile.

"thank you," you smiled back before she walked away. "these breadsticks are really good too, especially when you mix the pepper and the garlic dip." you explained, ripping a piece of the bread off and dipping it before popping it into your mouth.

he followed your lead,trying the combination. "i don't know how i feel about that." he laughed.

"fair," you giggled, "it is a weird combo. i've been doing it since i was little, so." you trailed off.

he took another piece and dipped it into the garlic sauce. "you look really pretty tonight, y/n." he complimented, a small blush growing on his face.

there was so much you wanted to say to him, but you didn't know where to start. your mind blanked as you stared at him with a small smile on your face. "thank you, i- i don't know what to say." you laughed, looking down at the table.

a small smile grew on his face. he loved seeing you flustered, he thought you looked adorable. "that's fine," he took your hand from across the table. the bold move shocked you, but you were far from complaining. when you accepted the gesture, his smile grew. "you excited for the party? you get to meet Tara, carrington, and Jake. like, actually meet them."

"yeah, i'm excited. are you sure they'll like me?" you asked cautiously.

his thumb rubbed the back of your hand, "they already like you from what i've told them."

"you tell them about me?" you asked. he talks about you more than he'd like to admit. "i guess that takes a lot of the anxiety away."

a soft smile formed on his face. "good."

Johnnie told you more about his life back in LA. did he have to rub it in your face even more? he finally told you what his job was. he told you he was a youtuber. needless to say, you were shocked. he also explained Tara, Carrington, and Jake were also youtubers. he didn't state why they were in New York, but you had a general idea now. he told you he lives with Carrington and Jake and they record together frequently. he told you more about his family, his brother and sister, and more about his dad. he spoke very highly of all of them. he held your hand the whole time. he had a sparkle in his eye whenever he spoke about his career. but, he also told you about his burnout with making content at some points in time. you were invested the whole time, and that only made him fall harder for you.

you were engaged in the conversation and were coming up with a response before food arrived. the waitress stared at your hands. Johnnie didn't let go until your food was put in front of you and his was put in front of him. the two of you thanked the waitress, who was visibly annoyed but kept up the sweetheart act. before she left, Johnnie asked her to bring two extra plates.

"your life is so interesting, i could listen to you talk about it all day. i love your voice, Johnnie." you complemented him confidently, this time. you were starting to learn that Johnnie did like you the way you wanted him to. your compliment made him blush.

the waiter came back and placed two extra plated on the table. you thanked her before she walked off without saying a word. Johnnie split up the food and handed you your plate. whenever he tried the vodka pasta, he looked at you with furrowed eyebrows. "what the fuck, y/n?"

your heart dropped, "what? what's wrong?"

"how is this so fucking good and why do you know all the good places?" he took another bite, as if he was double checking his taste buds.

"what can i say?" you smiled before beginning to dig into your own food.

he tried to hide the smile on his face as he kept talking to you about his life. he told you about his complications with Bryan Stars and My Digital Escape. That person and group were things you had heard about, but never fully looked into. all of the drama he told you shocked you. Johnnie felt comfortable with telling you anything. he made sure to inform you about his ex girlfriend and everything that happened with her. he phrased it in a way that didn't make you worry, thankfully.

the rest of the dinner you listened to him talk. you enjoyed hearing all about him, and it was a relief you didn't need to talk very much. you weren't sure what dangerous words would spill out of your mouth. the dinner was so intimate, you didn't want it to end. at that point, you'd rather spend the rest of the night alone with Johnnie instead of going to a party. but, you were still excited for the party. you were even more excited to meet his friends.

the waitress came back with the check. you began to take out your wallet but Johnnie pushed your hand down. "it's on me." he said before placing his card inside of the check.

"you don't have to pay for everything, Johnnie. you know i have big girl money, too." you giggled.

"i want to." he put simply.

a couple minutes later she took the check and went to enter it. you and Johnnie made small talk about bands while you waited. she came back soon after. "thank you guys for coming in." her monotone voice rang.

"thank you," Johnnie stayed kind. "ready to go? i'll call the uber."

"yeah," a smile formed on your face. Johnnie couldn't help but smile back, a love stricken look shined in his eyes. "thank you for taking me out. it means a lot."

"it was my pleasure, y/n. i love going out with you, you make everything so fucking fun." he laughed, taking your hand once more. "wanna go wait outside?"

"yeah, let's get out of here." you intertwined your fingers with his and walked out of the restaurant. you two stood out front, hands interlocked as you waited for the uber.

[fizzigigsimmer]

WIP tag game

Rules: you will be given a word. share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

The word that @robthegoodfellow tagged me in is... Sleep. I tell you right now, this was surprisingly difficult. You would have thought that I knew in advance and did everything in my power not to start sentences with e's or l's. 😀 But we got there.

Unamed Harringrove Ballet Au

Six-year-old Billy Hargrove watches his father’s beat up truck turn out of their driveway and disappear down the street with an exuberant grin. He had thought his dad would never leave – even though Neil was supposed to have a shift at the factory that morning...

Limited or not, Billy is serious about practice. So serious that he’s still at it two hours later, shuffling his feet to the beat in tandem with the two dancing figures on screen – jumping up with his leg twisted behind his body as he turns and lands. Awkwardly. He sucks in an aggravated breath through his teeth as he wobbles, arms flailing like fire hoses. It’s not anywhere as cool or as coordinated as Baryshnikov...

To B With Love

“Everyone push on the count of three.” Jane urged, biting back a giggle and Will nodded. 

“Quick! Before he’s turned into johnny cakes. One-two-three!” 

The three of them dug their toes into the ground and heaved with all of their might to role the pregnant ewe back onto her feet, just in time for Dustin to come running into their cluster for cover. Big Blue, the lead ram (who was at least shoulder high and had four horns atop its head) knocked into one of the fleeing ewes; thankfully seeming to lose interest in chasing Dustin as the animal climbed back onto his feet...

Even Mr. Clarke, who had encouraged their interest in understanding natural miracles and had loaned them many scientific publications, had just stared at Dustin perplexed when he had tried to explain his theory. But Mr. Clarke hadn’t told Dustin he was being a goose either, or accused him of having too much imagination. Instead, he’d given them a book called Jane Eyre to read because he thought they’d like it. 

“It deals quite a bit with ghosts, and the oftentimes quite human explanations for them.” He’d said with a wink and cheery smile. Max quite liked Mr. Clarke, and the book was turning out to be really good too. Far better than any of the short stories and sermons Ms. Klupp had them reading for class....

While You Were Sleeping

“Pardon me. Sorry.” Steve’s alpha had said politely, like some rich guy in a rom-com with like six degrees, through perfectly white teeth and plump gorgeous lips. To make matters worse, his eyes were blue, and for the first time in his life Steve understood all that shit in the novels about gazes holding hidden depths and secret longings. It was easy in an instant to imagine that the gorgeous stranger he’d just bumped into was as lost in the world as he was, without meaning or purpose. One that he’d obviously find in Steve’s bed, when they fucked the ever living shit out of each other. 

At least, that’s how it would have gone in one of Robin’s books.

Thanks for the tag lovely! I am 1000% sure you have all already been tagged but maybe tag me on your post so I can read your snippits. But no pressure... The word is Book! @dragonflylady77 @adelacreations @a-redharlequin @bigdumbbambieyes @ihni, @chrisbitchtree @medusapelagia @intothedysphoria

[rancidpancakebatter]

Strawberries and Cream | [S.G.] [M.S.]

Pairings: Steven Grant x Black!Female!Reader, Marc Spector x Black!Female!Reader

Summary: It's valentine's day and your boys surprise you with breakfast in bed

Word Count: 3.4k words

Content Warnings: Swearing, established relationship, fluff, fluff, and more fluff

( Masterlist )

A/N: Wowowowow, this took so long! Apparently, I don't know how to write anything other than angst, so it took me like six stories until I had one with just fluff. I had a lot of fun writing this though. HAPPY BELATED VALENTINE'S DAY! (And Black History Month, that is why we're here)

You woke up on the fourteenth, thrumming with excitement. The sun’s gossamer rays crept into the room, and you basked in the honey glow, letting the warmth soak into your skin. You wrapped yourself tighter in your sheets to fight off the chill and realised you were alone.

Usually, you would wake up feeling a little clammy and pressed into the mattress by a snoring hunk of muscle who had rolled over onto you in the night. But this morning, the furnace you were accustomed to waking up under was nowhere to be seen. 

You slowly sit up and look around. There’s a different book on the nightstand. Which tells you they at least came home last night. Steven had just finished reading Don Quixote with you, and it seems your next bedtime story was Flowers for Algernon.

You heard something fall to the floor in the kitchen, then a string of curses. You would have panicked, maybe considered that your apartment had been broken into, but you recognised that voice…and the other.

“Steven cut it out. We only need one chef in the kitchen.”

“Yeah, well you forget I’ve had your food. And it’s not good mate.”

“Whatever, you don't even eat real food.”

“Cows are cute and I don’t want to eat them! But that’s beside the point. Crepes are tricky and you’ve already ruined the batter, just let me try and fix it, yeah?”

“I didn’t ruin anything. That extra egg was just- just good protein.”

“Well, now they’re gonna be too eggy! It’s gonna taste like an omelette!”

“Oh, shut up it’s fine. Everything is fine!”

Peering around the corner, watching them switch back and forth, you almost giggle. They're frantically whisking away, the mixing bowl tucked into their chest, pinned by their arm. Pinched between their fingers was the compact mirror you kept in your purse, but it seemed backseat driving was no longer sufficient.

They're covered in flour, and there's a bit of batter splattered on some of the cabinets, and across their cheekbone. Chaotic Domesticity. It was a good look on them. 

They don’t see you when you step out of the hallway, “I’m sure it will be delicious, my loves.”

Your voice startles them slightly, and they almost drop the bowl. You quickly try to discern whose fronting. His brows are high, and his jaw is slightly slack. You step around the island divider and wipe the spot you noticed earlier, hoping it might calm him down. 

“Steven, if they taste like omelettes, then I will be delighted to have omelettes. But crepes are great too. And so is that cafe down the street. Whatever works out, as long as you guys are there to eat them with me.”

He melts in your hold a little; his face tilting into your palm. But then he jerks it away very suddenly. You’re confused as he backs away. 

“Oy! This was supposed to be a surprise!” He’s upset but not with you, just in general. However, his expression falls into a frown that breaks your heart a little. “We had a whole plan.”

“It’s alright, dear. I won’t look at anything else,” You say as you throw your hands up to cover your eyes. “Just tell me what you need me to do.” 

He chuckles at your antics, and you feel a little brighter. He explains that they planned to bring you breakfast in bed today. You shuffled back to your room and closed the door that way they would feel like they would get a little more privacy.

You tidied up a bit, picking up some clothes from the floor and remaking the bed. You stepped into your ensuite, brushed your teeth, and washed your face, then you let your braids out of your bonnet and tended to them accordingly. With nothing else to do, you wandered to the bookshelf in search of a title to pass the time. 

Alice had just met the dodo and sacrificed her thimble when you heard a knock at the door. 

“Are ya decent?” You heard Marc’s gruff voice call out. 

You chuckle at the absurdity. You were currently wearing his shirt and his boxers in your shared bed in your shared apartment. He had seen you naked plenty of times. 

“Based on previous reviews, I’d say I’m more than decent,” you tease. 

You hear his laughter in the hall, and you inflate with a bit of pride. He cracks the door and loudly “whispers” through the gap.

“Steven wanted to wake you up with breakfast. Is there,” He sighs, embarrassed to ask, “Is there any way you could pretend to be asleep?” 

You chuckle, knowing Steven can hear everything Marc says right now. “Of course. Anything for my boys.”

He shuts the door again, and you feel like you’ve been transported to the days of your childhood. Those times your parents would come into your room to tell you goodnight and tuck you in. But then you would immediately hide in your impenetrable fortress made of cotton and down and stay up reading for just a little longer.

After a few chapters, you could hear your parents walking towards your door to ensure you were asleep. Your heart would pound in your chest as you fumble to turn off your flashlight and try to hide your book under your pillow so your parents wouldn’t know you had gotten lost in the Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane yet again. 

You feel a bit of adrenaline course through you as you scramble around. You're frantically searching for a bookmark and spot a receipt sticking out of a jeans pocket in the laundry. You shove it between your pages and toss the book under your pillow. Then you yank the blanket up, high above you and tuck the edge under your head. You watched the blanket cascade back down in a slow wave, like the rainbow parachute from elementary gym class. 

You scrunch your eyes closed, as tight as you can- when you hear a gentle rapping on the door. It slowly creaks open again, and your name is whispered into the air, but you don’t respond. You’re supposed to be asleep. You’re not fallin’ for that.

Your lips are folded into your mouth as you try desperately not to giggle, staying as still as possible. You can hear steps approaching their side of the bed. They set a few things down and let out a long dramatic sigh that you recognise as Steven’s. 

“I know you’re not asleep.”

You remain still. 

“Really?”

He sounds more amused than irritated, so you continue the bit. You know Marc is definitely getting a kick out of this. 

“Your food’s gonna get cold, and Marc and I worked too hard for you to let it go to waste. Now, come off it. Let’s see that beautiful face.”

Steven hears a muffled sound from the covers, but it’s indecipherable mumbling. 

“Didn’t quite catch that love.”

You huff and tug the blanket under your chin.

“I said, If you wanna wake me up, you know how. I expect a proper waking up.”

As soon as the words are out of your mouth, you pull the blanket right back over your head. Steven grumbles but doesn’t complain. The sound of fabric ruffling and hitting the floor fills the room, and you can’t fight the grin spreading over your cheeks.

The rush of cold air on your back as the covers were pulled back was well worth knowing you had won. He slides in next to you and tucks himself in. Already your body seems closer to equilibrium, just having him near.

He pulls at your shoulder so you're laying on your back, and his arms immediately worm around your waist as his head rests on your chest. Your hands naturally come up to hold him closer, one draped over his back and the other tangled in his curly hair. You released a content sigh at the feeling of him snuggling into you as your nails pass through his curls. 

You almost forgot what brought you into this situation in the first place. You are so at peace, intertwined with your lovers. But then Steven starts trailing kisses across your shoulder and up your neck. They are sweet and tender, feather soft. Each one pressed into your skin with consideration and devotion.

He reaches your cheeks, and one of his hands cradles your jaw. The way his fingers drag across your skin makes you feel like a precious stone, and the way he looks into your eyes makes you feel like a star plucked from the heavens. 

He tugs gently at your chin, and your lips part as he ever so slowly leans in. You’re sure he can hear the way your heart is racing. The way it whispers his name every pump.

His nose bumps against yours, and you feel the faint sigh that leaves his lips against yours. You nudge your chin closer, trying to close the gap, but he manages to move just out of reach while staying just as close. 

“I’m waking you up, darling,” he reminds you with a small smirk. 

You whisper out a small okay that sounds pathetically desperate even to your ears, but you can’t find it in you to care. Because now his lips are brushing against yours. His slightly chapped lips set off every nerve ending in your own. His tongue darted out for just a moment to run against your bottom lip, and you gasped at the contact.

He dipped his nose under yours, and the torment began on the other side. He kissed your cheek, and you were about ready to snap. Had you been standing, you would have stomped your foot in frustration, and Steven would have laughed at your childish response. But he was teasing you relentlessly (which was already out of character for your sweet boy, who is always so eager to please), and it was getting harder to breathe under the covers. 

His head is tilted so that it is almost perpendicular to yours. He moves his hand to cradle your cheek, his big hand almost covering the whole expanse of your face. He smiles sweetly at you before finally diving in. 

Then it happened. His lips attached around your parted lips and created a seal. He blew a big puff of air into your mouth, and your brain reacted in the same way you think it would if you had been shot. Your eyes bugged out of your head, your arms instinctively failed out, and you made a sputtering, gagging noise. Your cheeks comically inflated for a second before all the foreign breath shot out of your nose. It was like a forced sneeze.

While you were effectively stunned, Steven was full-on chortling, completely cracking up. You’re not entirely sure what “guffawing” means, but you’re sure that’s what this is. You think he might actually damage something, bust his gut or something. It would serve him right, swift justice. You had recovered enough from your initial shock to finally respond. 

“STEVEN MICHEAL GRANT! I cannot believe you did that! You not only faked me out but you- you...I don’t even know what you did! But it was horrible!”

The man you are scolding does not seem to care as he lies on his back, clutching his stomach and kicking his feet like a little schoolgirl. You playful smacked his chest as you sat cross-legged beside him in protest. You were upset, not because it happened, but because it happened to you. You didn’t want to admit how funny the joke was. Nor that you wished you had thought of it first.

His rolling laughter is cut short when his body suddenly stiffens, and his neck straightens with his chin pointing to the ceiling. The face that meets your gaze is a little hardened, tougher. His jaw is almost always clenched, and his brows are millimetres from furrowed. Sometimes it blows your mind how these two men can come from the same brain- cohabitate in the same body- when they are also so different. When they look so different. 

This is the same face, the same hair, the same muscle and skeletal structure, biologically, the same man, and yet, they are entirely different. Their goals and aspirations are much more copasetic than they were before, but they are still different. They have different tastes in music and food. They have different favourite colours. They have different hobbies and skills. They know different languages. It’s wild. 

But also they are similar in a lot of ways too. They are both shit dancers. Absolutely no rhythm to be found. But plenty of enthusiasm. They both like the smell of citrus. Neither of them really believes in multivitamins. You tried to get them to take some vitamin D (they are mostly active at night! They need it!), but even Steven thinks they're silly.

He promised to drink more orange juice. You didn’t have it in you to tell him orange juice packed vitamin C and not D and instead thanked him for making an effort.

They also both loved you. Like a lot. And that was pretty crazy to wrap your mind around too. 

Marc’s eyes locked with yours and you watched as his lips danced around his face, chasing off a smile. You gave him a warning look, but it had the opposite effect. He burst into a fit of snickers. He at least had the courtesy to try to hide it behind his hand. He sat up and tried to cover his tittering with the most obviously fake cough you have ever heard. 

“Sorry, had a little tickle in my throat.”

You roll your eyes and lightly check his shoulder with yours, “I know you were the mastermind behind that. My sweet little Steenie Baby would never do that to me. You’ve corrupted him. Truly a terrible influence.”

Marc throws his head back in a laugh (possibly an evil one, you couldn’t tell). He kisses your cheek in an effort to win you over, and you hate to say it works. He pulls you into his lap, and you settle into his chest. His arms rest under yours as he links your fingers together.

You tilt your head to the side as Marc takes his turn to pepper you with kisses and remind you how much he loves you. When he’s satisfied that his message got across, he tucks his face into your neck. There he stays, pulling your arms across your waist so he can still hold your hands while he presses your body as closely into his as modern science will allow. 

You sway along to a song that isn’t playing. Or maybe it’s not playing through the air but rather through your hearts. Perhaps the shockwaves of each throb are travelling through your bodies, having a private conversation you’re not meant to hear. A secret serenade. 

After what seemed like both forever and not nearly long enough, Marc left his hovel with a huff. 

“Steven says if we don’t eat right now he’s going to go ‘absolutely mental.’”  

You giggle and offer an apology to Steven while Marc leans over and sets the tray in your lap. It's a cookie sheet that they folded a towel around, so it wasn’t as cold or ugly. You smile as you admire its contents. A single red rose beside your plate, which was covered by a large bowl flipped upside-down, behaving as a lid of sorts. You unveiled your dish and gasped at the beauty before you.

Where you expected (maybe edible) plain crepes, you were instead presented with a large stack of hearts dyed to look pink and layered with some sort of white cream and strawberry slices. The top layer was adorned with little tuffs of the cream on the outer rim, with whole strawberries in between. 

You looked at Marc in utter disbelief, and he beamed at you, pride pushing his chest forward. “Happy Valentines Day, Sheyfele.”

You grabbed him by the cheeks and crashed your lips into his. The kiss was quick but steady and sure. “Thank you, both of you. I love you so much.”

You’re sure they can see your eyes becoming glassier, but neither comment on it. You extend the favour. 

“We love you too…Now please try it. Steven really is losing his mind here.”

It’s delicious (the sweet cream hides the little bit of egginess well), and you share bites with Marc for a while. He goes to readjust; prop up the pillows behind him. Marc had been putting his body through the wringer since he walked out his front door all those years ago. While he is definitely still young, his body isn’t what it used to be. He fluffs his, then reaches to grab yours. 

“What’s this, baby?” He holds up a book with an amused smile.

You laugh at the memory, “Oh, I was reading that this morning, but then you asked me to pretend to sleep, so I just hopped under the covers as quickly as I could.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he thumbed through the pages. A small slip of paper fell out, and as Marc examined it closer, he felt his heart in his throat.

“Hey (y/n), where did you find this?”

You glance at the paper and answer between bites. 

“It was stickin’ out of your pant pocket.” You point to the pair hanging out of the hamper, “I’m sorry, was it important? I didn’t mean to steal it.”

You worry for a second that you might have upset him. You try to make light of the situation. “Imma strong believer in the ‘anything is a bookmark’ philosophy. You guys know my rule: use the first thing you see.”

Marc nodded in agreement, “Yeah, yeah, I know. Did you uh- did you see anything else? When you found this, I mean.”

You shook your head no. “I don’t meddle in any of the crazy shit you bring home, baby. I am not interested in accidentally gettin’ some pharao curse or getting hunted down by some god.” 

Your answer gives him relief, and he laughs alongside you. 

He tucks the paper back into your book and kisses your shoulder to grab your attention. 

“Would you like Steven to read to you while you eat?” You excitedly nod your head, and moments later, you hear Steenie’s sweet voice. 

“Alright, Alice in Wonderland; a classic. Good choice, love.” He kisses your temple, and you feel the same swell of pride in your chest that you would get when your teacher rewarded you with a little gold star. “Now, where were you?”

As you tear into your breakfast (sharing, of course) and Steven reads to you, you get hit with a feeling of gratitude. You feel at home here- with them. You feel safe and cherished. You feel more than joy; something better than happy. You feel contentment, fulfilled.

You had never been one to believe in fate before, but you thanked whoever was out there, whoever had heard your desperate prayers on your lonely nights. You thanked them for delivering…and then some. 

Your boys were also feeling that gratitude. They couldn’t believe they had found someone so truly beautiful inside and out. A woman who was damn near fearless, with a kind heart, sharp intellect, and tremendous patience. You were a treasure to behold.

Every morning they wake up expecting to be back in the dusty old flat with only books and a fish for company. But then, when they open their eyes, there you are, and it feels like the most extraordinary gift they’ve ever been given. Your love is something deserving of its own fable or myth. Your story should be told in reverie. A story passed down for centuries, like that of Osiris and Isis. 

But they also feel a little scared. They have big plans today. Plans to spoil you and fill your heart with joy. Plans to woo. Plans to convince you that they are worth it- that they’re worth you. Plans to prove to you that you are all they will ever need- all they will ever want. Plans to get on one knee. Plans to beg you to give them this chance at a happy ending. Plans to promise you yours.

Plans to pull a ring box from the back pocket of those pants dangling dangerously out of the hamper. Plans to slip the dainty gold band with a honey-warm, citrine gem- that he got on a mission last week in Bolivia- onto your finger. Plans to admire how it glows against your skin, and how despite its magnificence, it could never outshine yours. Plans that would have been ruined if you could read the Spanish receipt in your book.

Taglist: @barbecuetiddy, @fanfics-instead-of-depression, @heejinw0rld, @ilovemoonknight, @Isshecrazyorissheclever, @purple-amaranthe, @jedisstark, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz,

If you want to be tagged in future Moon Knight fics but don't want to do the whole taglist thing again, just comment or reach out and I'll add you to it :))

another A/N because whatever: I will be doing a little /headcannon break down thing for this because I'm kinda throwing some in there with no real explanation, but feel free to send me asks about any confusion. I love answering those!

I'm also gonna start linking those to the original fics too, so you (and new readers) can find them

[defectivevillain]

deliver me not

pairing: The Devil/Reader

reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary:

“I’m not sure if a Major Arcana can die,” Asra had said. “After all, they’re ideas. Concepts. And an idea can’t truly die.” In the months following your confrontation, The Devil whispers to you.

word count: 2k | ao3 version

warnings: spoilers to the main storyline of the game & Julian’s upright route. chains and temporary imprisonment; suggestive remarks.

The seven of you—Mazelinka, Nadia, Nazali, Portia, Julian, Asra, and you—defeated The Devil and eradicated the plague. Vesuvia is returning to its former glory, with beautiful crystalline waters flowing through the canals and bright-eyed, healthy citizens ambling about the streets. Everyone is peaceful and happy.

… But you’re still uneasy. 

You toss and turn at night, frequently dreaming of the ominous crimson skies from The Devil’s realm. You often wake up in the morning to a sweltering hot bedroom and scratches along your arms, as if something is clawing at you during your slumber. And those scarlet eyes, that haunting, sharp-toothed grin… They follow you into your waking life. You start to see The Devil everywhere: between vendors of the Red Market, standing outside the window of your shop, lurking in the dark corners of the palace.

Eventually, you grow restless enough to consult your cards. Taking a slow breath, you shuffle the deck and pick one card… only to find The Devil upright. He almost seems to leer at you from the card. You blink and the two humans beneath him disappear, replaced with a solitary figure. Your own face stares back at you, a length of chain around your shoulders inextricably connecting you back to The Devil. 

Your heart races in your chest as you’re drawn back to what Asra told you all those months ago. “I’m not sure if a Major Arcana can die,” he had said. “After all, they’re ideas. Concepts. And an idea can’t truly die.”  

Unnerved and unsettled, you put away your cards and spend the rest of the day fighting off your spiraling thoughts. By the time night falls, you’ve already closed the shop. You’re inexplicably exhausted, despite the fact that you haven’t done any strenuous physical activity today. You eventually decide to stop thinking about it and get ready for bed. Sleep comes easily that night, especially with your desperation for an escape from reality. 

But you don’t get to rest, because you soon open your eyes to find yourself in the Devil’s realm once more. And he isn’t like you left him. He’s not a frozen statue; instead, he sits on his throne and looks down at you with a bored expression. 

Foreboding sends goosebumps across your skin. You shouldn’t be here. Did he manage to summon you? You thought you had successfully contained him during your last battle. The thought of having to fight for the city and your friends again is enough to send a renewed wave of exhaustion through you. You stare up at The Devil. “What did you do?” You demand tiredly, the words falling from your lips before you can stop them.  

“Me?” The Devil asks innocently. He’s staring at you as if you’re a particularly meddlesome pest. “I’ve done nothing.” The mere implication almost seems to offend him. 

“I see you everywhere,” you say before you can stop yourself. “I keep returning to your realm. And whenever I try to do a reading for myself, I get your card.” 

Something makes The Devil’s glittering eyes snap towards you with frightening speed. Then he laughs and laughs. The air almost seems to vibrate with malice, as a truly dangerous grin rises on his lips and his eyes flash with interest. “You have no idea what you just admitted to.” 

“What?” You choke out. The smug expression on his face is deeply unsettling. 

“You’re straying from your path, Fool,” he remarks cryptically. His ambiguity is perplexing. At your confusion, The Devil only sighs impatiently. “Your patron Arcana whispers to you,” he continues. 

Suddenly you understand exactly what he’s insinuating. The Devil is claiming to be your patron Arcana—claiming that you resemble him. “No, that’s-” You argue. “That’s not true. I’m not like you.” You’re not sure who you’re trying to convince; The Devil seems to recognize this, if the twisted smirk on his face is any indication. The very thought of being similar to him is enough to make you nauseous. 

“Oh, but it is true,” he grins. His composure is only making you more angry. The Devil is infuriatingly calm and unbothered. “There’s darkness within you. And greed. You’re unsatisfied because you want more.” 

You shake your head silently, entirely speechless. 

“Besides, there’s no need for pretense here,” the Devil says casually, gesturing to the crimson skies around him. Indeed, it is only the two of you in this realm, this moment. “You reject your mortal companions. You’re growing restless, impatient.” 

You grit your teeth and ignore his baseless accusations. “We defeated you,” you remind him. It wasn’t all that long ago, either. 

“Temporarily,” The Devil shrugs. He taps his fingers against the arm of his throne with a casual impatience. You feel that familiar fury rising in your chest once more as you stare at him, entirely unaffected by your hateful glare. Instead, he only looks more intrigued. 

It happens in slow motion. One moment, you’re watching him warily; the next, chains are surrounding you—wrapping around your arms and legs, slowly pulling you closer to The Devil and his throne. You try to summon your magic, but you can’t reach it—as if there’s an impenetrable darkness blocking you. The chains continue to drag you forward relentlessly, until you’re far too close to The Devil. You try to fight back, but the manacles only grip you even tighter. Your writhing is subdued, until you’re left standing before him like a pinned butterfly. 

The Devil scrutinizes you with an appraising eye. “Not a bad look for you, magician,” he grins. Equal sentiments of anger and something uncomfortably close to embarrassment fight for prominence. You try to keep your composure, despite every bone in your body screaming at you to escape somehow, someway. The chains almost seem to writhe and crawl along your skin, and their movements only reinforce the strength of their grip. You can hear your heart roaring in your ears. 

“You’re afraid of me,” he states clinically. You don’t bother arguing—the rapidity of your breaths and the swift thrumming of your pulse only further prove his point. The Devil hums. “Yet you do not cower. You don’t try to wager. You still fight.”

You don’t know what to say. It’s hard enough to breathe past the iron-knuckled grip of his chains—let alone find the right words to utter. You can only hope your contempt gleams in your eyes; and, it must, because The Devil smiles. 

He motions languidly and the chains drag you a step closer. “Aren’t you tired of fighting?” The Devil questions. His voice is deep and entrancing. “This is nothing more than a petty feud to me. But that pesky resolve of yours… could very well make this span your entire lifetime.”

The chains tug you down, as if trying to make you kneel. You stumble into an awkward genuflect, your hand hitting the ground as you try to push yourself back up. You will never bow to The Devil. You repeat that promise like a mantra in the back of your mind, until you manage to get yourself to stand up again. 

A vicious grin is practically painted on The Devil’s face, and you start to come to a hopeless realization. Whatever you do will intrigue him. Regardless of how you attempt to oppose him, he will find glee and entertainment in it. He enjoys this twisted game of cat-and-mouse—enjoys forcing you to acknowledge his presence and go along with his plans. “Is this how you wish to spend the years you have left: fighting for the ungrateful?” 

That statement cuts deep. You think of Nadia and Portia smiling at one another; to Asra and his parents, residing within the palace; to Muriel, finally free from his curse; and to Julian, who can roam the streets as an innocent man. They have all moved on. They… left you behind. Your friends left you to the wreckage of their own actions—the consequences of their decisions. 

You immediately berate yourself for even considering a deal with The Devil. He makes things sound too good to be true—that’s what he does. You know better than to be taken in with his false promises. The air is stiff and oppressive, manufacturing an urgent irritation and envy within you. 

The chains suddenly yank you forward again, allowing The Devil to reach out to you. You instinctively lean backwards, but there’s nowhere for you to go. Instead, you’re left breathing hard as his fingers travel up your throat mockingly. Surely he must feel the rapidity of your pulse beneath his fingertips. But he only scrutinizes you quietly, his gaze intense enough to send shivers down your spine. Then his hand rises to cradle your jaw and he tilts your head to the side. There’s a strangely focused expression on his face, as if he’s looking for something. You can only hope he doesn’t find it. 

Then, without explanation, The Devil tilts your head to the other side. Quick as lightning, his other hand is extended—and he drags a long, clawed finger down your cheek. It’s enough to puncture your skin and draw blood, pulling a pained hiss from your lips. After an immeasurable time spent in quiet appraisal, The Devil makes an assenting noise and his hand finally falls from your face. You wince at the feeling of blood dripping down your cheek. 

“I won’t make a deal with you.” You promise with all the conviction you can muster. 

“You will,” The Devil says smoothly. There’s no heat in his argument—only a cool rationality, as if he knows exactly what will happen. “Don’t fear: I can wait. I have all the time in the world, after all.” You don’t goes unsaid, but you hear it anyway. He’s right—your mortal life is all you have. And while a few decades is nothing more than the blink of an eye for The Devil, it’s a good chunk of your lifetime. Can you really live like this for that long? Can you keep fighting tirelessly—pushing away that relentless exhaustion that only draws closer on your heels? 

You try to get out of the chains once more, surprised to notice a faint trace of your magic returning. With The Devil distracted, you channel your energy into breaking the chains—and they slowly begin to snap around you, leaving you just enough room to escape them. 

“I see you’re growing impatient,” The Devil’s voice cuts through the static in your mind. You blink and the chains around you disappear, leaving only a persistent ache in your muscles as a reminder. Before you can even begin to speak, your vision is fading to black as the Devil leaves you with one last parting remark. “Very well. We will meet again soon.” The crimson skies around you morph into a starless night sky, submerging you in darkness. 

You wake up in a cold sweat, tangled in your sheets and sprawled across your bed. Groaning, you push yourself up and head to the bathroom, wanting to cool yourself off. You reach down and pour some water into your hands, before rinsing off your face. A stinging sensation on the left side of your face makes you pause; you wince and squint at your reflection in the mirror, only to find a jagged cut tearing through your cheek: right where The Devil ran his clawed finger along your skin mere moments ago. 

You take a shuddering breath, trying to come to terms with the physical evidence of the reality you just unwittingly transported yourself to. As you stare at yourself in the mirror, you realize there are bruises crawling up and down your forearms—from where the chains had been. That was no mere dream. You visited The Devil’s realm—and he let you leave. Willingly. 

The certainty in his voice still haunts you. Is your descent into darkness really as inevitable as he makes it seem? It takes concentrated effort for you to calm yourself down enough to return to bed. And even when you do, The Devil’s smooth voice follows you into your nightmares—imploring you to take your place at his side.

thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @kingkoku @the-ultimate-librarian @gayaristocrat

friendly reminder that i don't give permission for my writing to be shared to other sites, stolen, copied, translated, or used in any way. thanks!

[tracingpatternswrites]

Day 9 of @hpkinktober and it's time for... Omegaverse! It has been my guilty pleasure for a while, because it's simply delicious when it's done right, but I've never been brave enough to try to write it myself. But here we are. Please be nice.

Title: An unexpected beginning Rating: E Pairing: Wolfstar WC: 3,894 Warnings: Omegaverse Summary: Remus Lupin works for an Agency where rich Alphas can hire omegas to help them get through their ruts. One day he gets called to 12 Grimmauld Place and finds himself eye to eye with a certain Sirius Black.

Read on AO3.

Teaser below the cut.

Remus double-checks the note before he lifts his gaze to the impressive townhouse in front of him. The house is intimidating, and on this street in north London, it must cost a fortune. There is nothing unusual about that though, most people who go through the agency are wealthy. Hiring an omega during a rut is expensive, and the people who opted for that solution were generally well off.

Remus takes a deep breath as he picks his bag back up before he makes his way up the small pathway to ring the doorbell. It only takes a moment before the door opens, but Remus is surprised to find the hallway empty.

“He can come inside, Kreacher will take him to Master.”

The voice comes from somewhere down low and when Remus looks down he sees a wrinkly house-elf with long ears and a crooked nose blink up at him. The elf motions for him to step inside and Remus finds himself quickly, stepping over the threshold. A house-elf. This guy must be seriously loaded then.

Remus walks behind the creature down the hallway, glancing around. The house is beautifully, and expensively, decorated. Even Remus, with his limited experience, can see that. He never stopped being amazed at how much money some wizarding families apparently have.

Remus has been working for the agency for nearly a year now. Job options are slim for an omega werewolf, but this is something he not only can do but has become quite good at. He has to put his status in his file, of course, but it turned out that for once being a werewolf actually worked in his favour. There are apparently a number of rich Alphas out there willing to pay a premium to fuck a werewolf omega.

“Master’s guest is here,” the house-elf announces after having led Remus down the hall and into a plush looking sitting room which was roughly the same size as Remus’ whole flat.

The house-elf bows deeply before shuffling back into the shadows and Remus takes a deep breath. He forces a smile onto his face, the same he always wears with his clients, and steps forward to greet the man who apparently owns the house.

Fuck.

Remus’ belly does a little flip as he finds himself standing face to face with one of the most gorgeous men he’s ever seen. He is tall, broad over the shoulders, and even though the man is (sadly) fully clothed, Remus can see his muscles flex underneath the fabric. He’s pale with long dark hair, sharp cheekbones and silvery eyes that rake over Remus.

Suddenly Remus feels very self-conscious, and he can’t help but straighten his back slightly. There is a flicker of something over the man’s eyes, approval maybe, and Remus immediately feels a flash of pride in his chest. The man has seen a photo of him, has received all of his measurements from the agency, but Remus has learnt the hard way that this was never a guarantee.

“Welcome, I’m Sirius,” the man says, holding his hand out and when Remus takes it his belly does another swoop at Sirius’ firm grip.

“I’m Remus,” he replies, wondering if Sirius picks up on the little quiver over the words but Merlin’s beard, this man is gorgeous and Remus just can’t help it.

There’s a little tension over the man’s (Sirius’) shoulders, and he looks a little fidgety as he crosses his arms over his chest and then releases them again. It’s the rut approaching, Remus can sense it, smell it, and he feels something sizzle through his body. Sirius is watching him, a sharpness to his gaze that Remus recognises only too well.

“I’ve prepared a room for you,” the man says, and his voice does something wonderful to Remus’ insides. “Kreacher can take you upstairs and you can get settled. I’ll be down here when you’re done.”

“Uh, okay,” Remus says, swallowing, and then the house-elf is there again, prying Remus’ bag from his hands.

“He can follow Kreacher,” the house-elf croaks and Remus sees no other option than to follow him back out the room and up the stairs from the hallway.

Continue on AO3.

[imaginidol]

Huening Kai: We Grow Apart

You were walking down a fairly busy road on your way to your parked car. It had been a long, stressful day of work, but at least you got through it.

One more night closer to my promised promotion, you think, easing your stresses and looking forward to at least a more relaxed evening at home.

Far ahead, there’s a loud, sizable crowd of people forming at one end of a restaurant.

I wonder what’s going on?

You catch a glimpse of many young faces of anxious and excited people pointing and cheering at the entrance of this particular exquisite Italian restaurant.

Suddenly, your heart stops as you realize what the voices are all chanting in unison.

“TXT! TXT! TXT!”

TXT. Don’t tell me they’re here, you think, rubbing your eyes in slight agony as you slowly approached the crowd.

Maybe I’ll get to my car without being seen, you hope, making your way through the otherwise crowded street in an attempt to get through quickly.

However, this did not go as planned. As you approached the halfway point through the crowd, a bodyguard was making way for the boys of the wildly popular boygroup to an awaiting black Escalade.

Then, your eyes meet his.

Huening Kai.

His eyes stopped cold, his body almost freezing in place once he caught sight of you.

No one in the crowd could’ve recognized that you were once the secret love interest of the boy passing through.

Once, that is.

Before it’d all… fall apart.

“Keep it going, Kai,” Soobin’s gentle voice murmures through his ears as he gently pats his friend’s shoulders back into focus. Soobin hadn’t seen you, neither had the other boys. Just the mere coincidence that Kai, of all five, would be the one to make eye contact.

Kai seemed to hesitate, but soon was forced to keep walking. He threw his head down and stared at his shuffling feet until he was safely inside the vehicle, not daring to look up anymore.

—

You’ve finally made it to your car when you, almost as soon as you sat inside, broke down crying.

“Where did we go wrong, Kai?” Is all you can repeat over and over between breathless sobs. “Where did we go wrong?”

The last conversation you had with Kai was shortly before you decided to part ways.

“All the love letters I could never give you,” you had whispered to him during your last embrace together, “what do I do with them?”

Kai breathed heavily, contemplating his words before eventually speaking up.

“You… you throw them away.”

“All of them..?”

“…all of them.”

“Okay,” is all you can muster.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” he’d whispered.

“It… it doesn’t have to be.”

“No,” he pauses, “I guess it doesn’t. But what we once had just hasn’t returned… in quite a while.”

You knew he was right. His busy schedule had only grown heavier, making it hard for you to connect as often as you’d used to. His going on tour had made the distance worse, and once he returned, his energy was different.

Something must’ve happened on tour. Or maybe way before it ever even started. Nevertheless, the fact still remained that the feelings from his end had shifted, and as much as you wanted to deny it, so had yours.

“You’re… right, Kai.”

He slipped one more soft kiss against your forehead, knowing it’d be the last. The lingering feeling of wanting more of his kisses overwhelmed you for a second, but you knew it just wouldn’t come.

And now, the last person you thought you’d encounter had unmistakably crossed your path, bringing you back to another spiral of misery and thought since the moment you’d left.

—

Kai is quiet for most of the ride back to their HYBE studio. He only looks at his phone once or twice, hoping in a deep part of his heart that maybe, just maybe, your name would pop up.

But it never did.

That was you, that was definitely you, he thinks to himself, thinking back to all the precious moments you’d undeniably shared together.

“Kai,” a soft voice whispers into his ear. “Are you alright? You’ve seemed a bit down since we left. Did someone hit you, or say anything that bugged you?”

Kai exhaled deeply. “No,” he whispered. “I guess not.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Soobin wraps his arm around his young friend’s shoulders.

“I… I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to right now, at least.”

“I won’t force you,” Soobin smiled reassuringly.

“But maybe I will,” Kai answered back, “when I’m ready.”

Soobin nodded, patting his friend’s palm as he let him be for the rest of the ride back.

For a long moment, Kai had contemplated whether the night he’d decided a break up was the wisest choice.

“It doesn’t have to be,” your words lingered on in his head still.

No, I suppose it didn’t, he thinks now, looking out into the window of the dark night, wondering if the decision was, in fact, the right thing to do.

The feelings had faded. The spark was no longer there.

But was that truly his fault? Or could he blame his job? Could it had been different if he was closer? Or would the outcome have been the same with anyone he was completely infatuated and surely in love with, no matter how much he swore it was different? Could any beautiful relationship be a possible outcome for him regardless of distance, conditions, inconveniences?

While he wasn’t entirely sure of whether he had an exact answer or not, he was sure of one thing, at least.

The sight of you again tonight had brought him an unexpected and overwhelming feeling of longing, of home, of endearment. One he hadn’t felt since the first time he’d met you, long long ago.