#and a LOT of help from my friend haze

[hereticalhowler]

His Deadliness Hadeis Rusour, Emperor of Alternia! Under the Sign of the Reaper, Hadeis leads Alternia through an iron grasp, from his throne in the icy northern cliffs, detached from his citizens and tending to an ailing Glub-Glub.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine

AN: Hi my loves! So, this is the first installment of a oneshot series and I hope you’ll like it! Please don’t forget to tell me what you think!

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: The first ray of sunlight holds many promises.

Word Count: 2844

You were no stranger to the feeling of inadequacy.

For you it was around every corner; impossible to get away from at least for the last couple of years. Even now, in the clothes you had borrowed from your best friend in an attempt to look more formal and serious, you couldn’t help but feel way out of your element.

Yet in your humble opinion, the very intimidating mansion you were currently gawking at didn’t make this any easier.

Your heart was slamming against your chest as you tried to keep your breathing under control, your tongue shooting up to wet your dry lips, then you looked down when you felt a tug on your sleeve. Theo stared up at you with wide eyes, making your heart clench but you managed to give him a bright smile despite the fear clouding your mind, and crouched down to get to his eye level.

“Hey bean,” you said, pushing his round glasses up the bridge of his nose. “What’s going on?”

“What if they don’t like me?”

You gasped and pressed a hand over your chest, feigning shock.

“Are you kidding?” you asked. “They will absolutely adore you. I myself am more worried that they will love you too much.”

He blinked a couple of times in confusion. “Too much?”

You nodded fervently.

“Yeah!” you said. “And then I’ll have to fight everyone in there to get you to myself every weekend.”

That managed to make him giggle and you pretended to be offended, narrowing your eyes.

“You don’t think I could take them down?”

“Can you?”

“Why yes I can,” you said, sticking your nose in the air. “I just don’t like to brag about it because that’ll scare people off, you know?”

He smiled wide and you pinched his cheek, then turned your head when a pretty girl with gloves on her hands cleared her throat.

“Hi, I’m Rogue,” she introduced herself. “New enrollment?”

 “Yeah,” you said after a beat. “Yeah, hi.”

“Professor is expecting you, please follow me,” she said and you stood up, then took Theo’s hand and followed her into the building.

The interior of the mansion was as gorgeous and intimidating as it was on the outside. Theo looked like he was nearly hypnotized -which made sense, your apartment had to be the size of a simple storage room in this place- and he stared at the ceiling with his mouth hanging open, his eyes darting around.

“I feel like you should know that because of the new policy Professor will need his parents’ signature in order to enroll him,” Rogue said, making you snap out of your haze before you cleared your throat.

“Um, I’m the parent.”

That made her pause only for a moment and she pulled her brows together, looking between you and Theo.

“Oh, sorry about that!” she said. “I just assumed…”

“No no I get that a lot, please don’t worry about it,” you assured her quickly, waving a hand in the air. “I had Theo the first year of college and—”

Never got to finish that year or the rest.

“As I said, I get that a lot.”

She gave you an apologetic smile, then stopped in front of a door.

“Wait a moment please,” she said, knocking on the door before stepping inside and Theo tugged at your sleeve.

“It’s so pretty here!” he whispered and you tried to swallow the nervous lump in your throat, then smiled at him.

“Isn’t it?” you whispered. “It’ll be fun to go to school here huh? The brochure said they even have a maze!”

“A maze?” he asked, his eyes widening behind his glasses. “Like in the movies?”

“Mm hm, just like in the movies,” you said. “And a lake!”

“Where is the lake?”

“I don’t know yet but they’ll show you,” you said and frowned when the thought hit you. “But you’re not going there without a teacher, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise,” he said as you hooked your pinky with his and the door opened again.

“You can go in,” Rogue said and you thanked her, then turned to Theo.

“Don’t go anywhere, okay?” you asked and entered the huge office to see the man in the wheelchair behind the desk.

“Hello sir,” you said, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts as you approached him to shake his hand, then took the seat across from the desk.

“Hello,” he said with a calm smile. “I’m Professor Charles Xavier, we spoke on the phone. Y/N, isn’t it?”

“Yes sir,” you said. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

“Of course, it’s my pleasure,” he said. “I take it you’re here to enroll your son as we spoke?”

You nodded your head, fighting the urge to bite at your nails and took Theo’s file from his other school out of your backpack, then put it in front of him so that he could examine it.

“He’s um, he’s really good at math,” you said, stumbling over your words. “I don’t know if that’ll be helpful here but he’s—he’s very good at a lot of classes really.”

“I must admit, he is going to be the youngest student here and the fact that his power has shown itself this early on…” Professor Xavier trailed off, your stomach doing a painful flip. “We will have to work hard, but I’m confident that we can guide him and teach him how to use his abilities for good.”

You nibbled on your lip, clenching and unclenching your hands.

“I know it’s a boarding school but he’s not used to being away from me and I’m not used to being away from him,” you admitted, “You said on the phone that the students’ weekends are free?”

“Of course,” he said. “Some of our students only stay here on weekdays to attend their classes, and they spend their weekends with their parents.”

You let out a relieved breath. “Okay. That’s nice to hear.”

“I know you’re worried,” he said, his voice completely calm and soothing. “It’s very normal to be worried but trust me, you’re making the best decision for him.”

“I know,” you said, trying to convince yourself and him at the same time. “I’ve done a lot of research and—and I want him to be safe and this place seems like the best place to teach him how to be safe.”

Professor Xavier pulled out a paper from his drawer, then pushed it in your direction with a pen.

“We only need your signature,” he said and paused for a second. “That is if the father…?”

You shook your head.

“Not in the picture, sir,” you said as you signed the paper, your heart beating in your ears. “Um, it’s just me and Theo.”

“I see,” he said. “Well, I promise you that Theo will be in good hands, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you said, putting the paper back on the desk and fixed your hair with a shaky hand just so that you could keep yourself busy, and Professor Xavier offered you a small smile.

“You can always contact me if you have any other questions,” he said. “I’ll talk to Theo after Rogue gives him his tour, and I’ll see you on Friday?”

“Yes sir,” you said. “Thank you, have a nice day.”

“You too.”

When you walked out of the office, you caught the sight of Rogue talking to a tall man with tousled dark hair, but you couldn’t see his face since his back was turned to you. For a moment you considered letting Rogue know that you were out, but figured it would be rude to interrupt, so you approached Theo who was patiently waiting for you.

“Alright bean,” you said as you crouched down to look him in the eye, trying to swallow the lump in your throat, desperate to keep the tears at bay at least until you were back in the car and Theo couldn’t see you. “What day is it today?”

“Tuesday.”

“And then we have…?”

“Wednesday, Thursday and Friday,” he said, counting with his fingers and you nodded your head, holding his fingers together.

“And on Friday I’ll come and get you, okay?” you asked him and he pursed his lips, then pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Just three days.”

“Just three days,” you repeated. “But before I leave, you need to promise me something.”

“What?”

“You’ll tell me all about how pretty this place is, in detail,” you said. “And how much fun you have. So you kind of have to see everything here and have fun, promise?”

“Promise.”

“And the signal?”

He smiled, tapping over his heart three times and you did the same.

“See? I feel it,” you told him. “When you do that, I’ll do the same even if I’m not here. Okay?”

“Mkay.”

 “Ready for your tour, Theo?” Rogue asked and he looked up at her, then turned to you and you pulled him into a tight hug, then smothered him in kisses as he let out an embarrassed whine.

“Mommy!”

“Okay okay, sorry,” you said with a small laugh, then adapted an overly serious expression and held out your hand. “A handshake then?”

He let out a giggle, then shook your hand and you forced yourself to smile, then stood up and straightened your back while he made his way to Rogue. Theo waved at you and you waved back, but as soon as he turned the corner with Rogue, your shoulders dropped.

Okay.

It was fine.

It was going to be just fine.

 “New enrollment?” a deep voice reached you and you looked over your shoulder, then turned around to see him better.

It was the same man who you’d seen talking to Rogue just now and God, he was so handsome. If your mind wasn’t numb with anxiety, you would have stood there and gawk at him for a good minute, but perhaps your worries were for once working in your favor. His intense gaze raked over you, making your cheeks burn and your heartbeat speeding up, and a small smile curled his lips as if he could hear it.

“That obvious?”

“Just a little,” he said as your hand shot up to pinch your bottom lip, his gaze following the motion.

“People don’t get killed or maimed here, do they?” you asked and he shrugged his shoulders.

“Not on weekdays.”

“Great,” you said after a beat, offering him a weak smile. “Thanks. I’m gonna go on a limb and say there’s a reason why they didn’t put you in the welcome committee?”

That made the corners of his mouth twitch and he nodded in the direction Theo had walked away from you.

“Isn’t he a bit too young to have powers?”

“Funny you should ask that because I repeated the same question over and over again until I cried myself to sleep last night,” you pointed out and scrunched up your nose when he tilted his head. “Sorry. My jokes get a bit grim when I’m stressed.”

“You look like a very relaxed individual.”

“Do I?”

“Not really, I’m convinced that you’re having a heart attack right now.”

You blinked a couple of times in confusion before the idea hit you and your jaw dropped, your stomach doing a flip.

Right. He—

Everyone here had powers.

Well if there was anything more embarrassing than making bad jokes in front of a very hot man, it was that when the said hot man could hear your heartbeat. You managed to close your mouth and shifted your weight, your hand shooting up to your mouth again so that you could bite at the hangnail on your thumb nervously.

“Yeah that’s kind of my factory settings,” you managed to mumble. “I generate enough stress to light up a whole city.”

He hummed, his unwavering gaze making your heart skip a beat and as always, your brain took it as a sign for you to ramble about absolute nonsense.

“I’ll be a very rich person the moment they find a way to monetize stress,” you stated. “Which should be any day now, and I kind of have a list prepared for that day; the first thing I’m gonna do is probably cry because knowing me—I cry like all the time, I cried this morning and I will probably cry when I get to my car after this but— but then I’ll buy one of those very expensive coffees, I don’t know if you’ve tried them—”

“Logan, Storm wants to see us,” someone called out from the end of the hallway, cutting through your rambling but he didn’t even look at the owner of the voice. Instead, a small smirk curled his lips as if he was amused with your nonsense and you swallowed thickly, biting at your thumb again.

“I’m Logan by the way,” he said and you raised your brows, then nodded fervently.

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself, lowering your hand. “Hello.”

“Hi.”

The silence that fell upon you felt like it would explode your head so you cleared your throat, throwing your shoulders back.

“I should—I should get back to work before I get fired,” you stammered, jerking your thumb over your shoulder and took a step, then turned around on your heels. “But um, nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he said, his voice completely calm unlike yours and you shot him a tentative smile, then made your way out of the hallway, then walked out of the building as fast as you could as if someone was chasing you.

“Oh I’m an idiot,” you sang to yourself, drawing out the last syllable like an opera singer while fished your car keys out of your backpack, your heart still beating in your ears. “I’m an idiot, I’m such an idiot…”

 The moment you got in your car, you heaved a sigh and pressed your palms on your eyes but your head shot up when your phone started ringing. You unzipped your backpack to grab it, then tossed the backpack back in the passenger seat and checked the screen to see your best friend’s name. You let out a breath, then touched the screen and took it to your ear.

“Julie, I’m an idiot I think,” you greeted her and she paused for a moment.

“Hello to you too sunshine,” she said with a laugh. “What happened?”

“Well the good news is, Theo liked the school,” you said, looking out the window at the mansion. “But I miss him already. Do you think—”

“You’re not changing your mind about this, we talked about helicopter parenting,” she said. “It’s going to be good for him.”

“Right.”

“Is that why you’re freaking out?”

“Not really but I will cry about it,” you pointed out. “Tonight I’m guessing.”

“Didn’t expect anything else, I’m bringing drinks to your place,” she said. “So? What is it then?”

“There’s a very, very, very attractive man there,” you murmured and she hummed.

“Just so I get it clear, how attractive is he again?”

“Very.”

You could practically hear her grin. “Good.”

“It’s not good!” you whined. “I’ve made a fool of myself.”

“It’s a part of your charm.”

“It really isn’t,” you said and looked down at your clothes. “And I look like a tax collector.”

“People other than tax collectors wear white shirts, we’ve been over that.”

“He thinks I’m a tax collector who can’t form a logical sentence,” you said, slipping a little in the driver’s seat to lean your knees to the steering wheel and she scoffed.

“Not really, he probably thinks you’re a—”

“We’re not calling me that,” you cut her off, making her laugh.

“Fine.”

You pinched your lip between your knuckles, then heaved a sigh.

“Theo will be okay, right?”

“He will be more than okay because he is going to be surrounded by the people who can in fact teach him how to use his powers, something you can’t do,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with getting a little help, sunshine.”

You clicked your tongue, still keeping your gaze on the mansion.

“So let me guess,” she said, pulling you out of your thoughts. “This very very very hot man is tall.”

“Yes.”

“Looks cocky.”

“Uh…”

“And older than you.”

You blinked a couple of times, pulling your brows together. “How did you—?”

“You have a type.”

You drummed your fingernails on the steering wheel, then heaved a sigh.

“It’s fine,” you said. “I…I doubt I’ll talk to him ever again and you know, with Theo, I just don’t have the time for anything else right now.”

“I’m going to convince you otherwise but I’m going to need drinks for that.”

You breathed out a laugh, then checked the time.

“Gotta go,” you said. “I’ll see you tonight then?”

“Yep, love you!”

“Love you too!” you said and hung up, then tossed the phone on the passenger seat and started the car.

“Alright,” you muttered to yourself. “I’m so gonna get drunk tonight.”

[2] - Summer Breeze

[colormepurplex2]

Golden Cufflinks | JJK

▻ Golden Cufflinks ↳ Alpha!Jungkook x Omega!f.Reader ⤜ Best Friend's Fiance, Strangers to True Mates ⤜ A/B/O AU | angst, smut, fluff ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 11,742 ⤜ Summary: You’ve never given much thought to finding your true mate, firmly believing it’s something that will happen when it happens. But, when you do find him—thanks to a pair of golden cufflinks—it very well could ruin everything. They say not all’s fair in love and war; you just hadn’t expected your best friend’s wedding to be the battleground. ⚠️ Crass language, talk of designation hierarchy, mild talk of misogynistic practices of the past, confessions of cheating(not by main pairing), anger/arguments, kissing, dick sucking, mild cum intrigue, maybe mild breeding kink if you squint, unprotected v. sex, knotting, lots of slick and cum

Written for @hisunshiine as part of the 2nd Quarter 2023 @bangtanwritershq Awards Season! A/N: Congratualtions, Vanessa. You deserve all the kudos for a job well done during the 2nd Quarter 2023, I hope you enjoy the story!

A special thank you to @downbad4yoongi, @lo1k-diamonds, @moonleeai for the amazing beta services!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

Nerves flutter in your belly as you gather your belongings from the plastic bin at the end of the rolling conveyor belt on the other side of security. As you walk away, your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you have to juggle your purse and jacket to retrieve it.

You feel bad for making Hayun, your best friend for as long as you can remember, wait for a response, but you desperately just want to find your gate and have a seat first. Once you find it and settle in at a chair by the big windows looking out on the tarmac, you thumb to her contact.

“If I didn’t love you so much, I’d probably hate you right now for making me wait so long for a response,” Hayun sasses before her voice softens, “Hello, I love you.”

“Love you, too, girl,” you say, unable to help the smile that tilts your lips up. “Sorry, I’ve been MIA for the last few hours. Things have been hectic. I misplaced my passport this morning, but I finally found it under the bed and then missed the hotel shuttle. I had to call a rideshare, but of course, it took them forever to get through airport traffic, and ugh…” you trail off with a sigh. “I’m sitting down for the first time since I woke up this morning.”

Which was approximately four hours ago at this point. Your flight is set to take off less than an hour from now, so you imagine boarding might start soon. You’re not exaggerating when you say it’s been hectic. It was bad enough waking up at 3 AM, but you’re a chronic planner and stickler for time, so missing your flight was the absolute last thing you wanted to happen.

“Oh, babe, that sucks. I’m glad it’s all worked out, though. I really can’t wait to see you!”

The conversation passes quickly, easing your heart and mind as you catch up on the last twenty-four hours. You haven’t seen Hayun in a handful of years. Her career took her to the other side of the world, and yours kept you where you both grew up. The last time you saw her was through a haze of tears at this very airport when she boarded a plane destined for Seoul, South Korea, where she was adopted from at just two years old.

Visiting each other was always something you both talked about. But, as with most things, life just happens, and eventually, you find yourself making that visit you always talked about for reasons you never considered before—like your best friend tying the knot with a guy you’ve never met.

Sure, you’ve seen pictures of him and have heard him talk in the background of most of the phone calls you’ve exchanged with Hayun over the last few years. But, it was never on your friendship bingo card that the next time you’d find yourself seeing your best friend, it would be her at her wedding.

“I gotta go. They’re about to start boarding.”

“I’ll see you when you land. Can’t wait!”

Hayun disconnects the call, and you gather your belongings to prepare to line up in the boarding queue. It will be a long flight, but seeing Hayun again after so long apart will be worth it.

You fiddle with the bracelet on your left wrist, twisting and pinching at the silver moon charm dangling from the thin chain. Hayun has a matching one. They were presents from your parents on the day you were both recognized with your designations; she was thirteen, and you were fifteen.

The dynamics of Alphas and Omegas have long since changed from what it once was. Legend has it that once upon a time, an Alpha and an Omega were closer to their wolf-kin than how the world is now. Thanks to evolution and science, the only things remaining from that time are the more basic bodily functions—scents, knots, and slick, to sum it up.

The crescent charm on your wrist symbolizes your designation—Omega. But being an Omega doesn’t hold much meaning for you. You don’t feel all that special, and it’s not like you’re rare or any more or less capable than the next person. As it stands, you can see at least a dozen other moons jangling from bracelets, waiting to board the same plane you are.

There are also necklaces, tattoos, and other ways to display a designation scattered around the waiting area. The how of it is mostly regional, sometimes generational. The Beta standing behind you in the queue has a teardrop earring dangling from their left ear, and if it weren’t for the pheromone blockers you took this morning, you might be able to smell their unique scent.

You also have your own smell, a scent that is just you. You’ve been told it’s a sweet, citrusy bouquet like lemonade on a hot summer afternoon. However, also thanks to the blockers, it remains suppressed to the point someone would have to make you bleed or press their nose so firmly against your throat it hurts to smell it.

There really is only one thing that a lot of people are envious of when it comes to an Omega’s designation, and that is that they supposedly have an Alpha true mate out there somewhere that will call to their baser nature. It’s such a rare phenomenon these days that it might as well be part of the legends of old, too.

The bottom line is that no one cares about subgenders anymore; it doesn't matter whether your charm is the Omega crescent, the teardrop of a Beta, or the triskelion denoting an Alpha. In fact, you’re pretty sure you could ask the Beta for their earring and offer them your charm bracelet and no one would bat an eye over it.

Though you’d never do that, considering the chain around your wrist isn’t technically yours. The night after you presented as Omega, when you snuck away with Hayun to lay on a blanket under the stars and moon that was so like the charm hanging from your twin bracelets, you giggled as you exchanged them. Her tiny fingers trembled against your wrist as she secured her silver chain around it. You did the same with your own around hers a second later.

It was that night that you both swore always to be friends. No matter what happened in life or where either of you ended up, you would always remain true to one another. So far, your friendship has been unfailing, a constant thread of comfort and light for you both. No matter how long it’s been, the charm still smells faintly of your best friend—a perk of the charms themselves, holding a token essence of their owners. Hers holds a soft lilac and jasmine scent that you’ve always thought complimented your own citrus notes.

The flight attendant scanning boarding passes beckoning you forward breaks you out of your internal reflections. With a full heart and giddy anticipation curling in your belly, you find your seat and settle in.

It’s a long flight, longer than most flights you’ve taken. But when you finally walk off the plane, make it through customs and immigration, and finally empty into the arrivals terminal of the Incheon Airport, you feel immediate relief, and the hours spent in the air don’t seem so bad.

“Hey, over here!” a familiar voice calls out, catching your attention.

You spin on your heel, confusion setting in for just a moment before it’s replaced by another wave of relief and a little of something warmer. Taehyung, Hayun’s adopted brother, swamps you in a giant bear hug that quite literally sweeps you off of your feet.

“Wow, hey. This is a surprise. What are you doing here? Where’s Hayun?”

Taehyung scrunches up his face, letting out a small scoff. “It’s a good surprise, I hope. Something came up, and she had to meet with the wedding planner and caterer at the last minute. She called me and asked if I could pick you up.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah,” you confirm with a smile. “Good surprise.”

It’s no secret that you’ve always been fond of Taehyung. As a baby, you were toddling around with him long before his family adopted Hayun. She ended up being the sister you never knew you needed, even if you were a few years older.

When she moved to Seoul for work, Taehyung ended up being the physical representation that took her place. He flew out a week before you to help her with planning and will stay for a few weeks after you’ve already headed back home. They may have had their differences over the years, but their sibling bond is stronger than petty arguments and rivalries.

“Ready to get on the road? It’s a long drive.”

Hours later, with the rolling countryside and farms dotting the horizon, you discover the fiasco inside your backpack. The bottle of pheromone blockers you packed this morning somehow got shuffled to the bottom of your bag and popped open. The once-powder-filled capsules litter the bottom of your bag, broken open. Pale blue powder coats your things, the mild flower smell of the medicine lingering in the air.

“Fucking hell,” you groan. “Any chance there’s a clinic somewhere between here and where we’re going?”

“Unfortunately, no.” He frowns, drumming his fingers lightly on the steering wheel, making the triskelion signet ring on his index finger glitter in the mid-day sun. “We’d probably have to turn around and head nearly three hours back to get anywhere near a clinic with blockers. I'm told most people don’t use them anymore these days here. Maybe another one of the wedding party might have some you could borrow if you really need them. But, honestly, I don’t see anyone minding if you don’t use them.”

“Most people here don’t use them anymore?”

“Well, yeah, with the progression of equality and things like that. They’re so great here, way more progressive than back home. It’s very common for Omegas to go off of blockers or never even begin them. Laws have been implemented to punish Alphas who can’t control themselves. The responsibility of remaining safe shouldn’t be solely set on the shoulders of the Omega population.”

Talk like that has only recently become popular back home. You’ve heard the speeches and followed the media and the sources, but you suppose after nearly half of your life taking blockers, it just comes naturally to continue to do so.

“Hm, yeah, okay. I guess it’s no big deal, really. As long as you’re sure people won’t mind?”

Taehyung sniffs the air, his nose twitching. “I think you smell great, but just in case not everyone does, if someone says something, then I’ll personally drive all the way back to the city and pick you up some,” Taehyung promises, giving you one of his swoon-worthy smiles.

The crush you once upon a time had on Taehyung threatens to spark anew at the sight of his charming, boxy grin—a grin you would have once done anything to pull from him. But now, it just fills you with warmth and a homey comfort.

You give him a smile of your own. “Deal.”

“Hayun!”

Her squeal of delight when she turns around and catches sight of you echoes through the open space of the dimly lit bar of the bed and breakfast where the wedding is taking place.

It’s a cozy space with rich dark wood accents and royal blue velvet upholstery. Brass gas lamps and light fixtures give the entire lounge an upscale and chic atmosphere that you know is right up Hayun’s alley.

The few hours you had between checking in at the bed and breakfast and meeting Hayun for her very small—just you and one other person—bachelorette party were spent familiarizing yourself with the grounds.

The ceremony will take place in one of the lavish gardens, and the reception will follow in one of the grand dining halls. For a bed and breakfast, it’s far fancier than any you’ve ever been to. It definitely does not have the mom-and-pop feel that you typically associate with the term ‘B&B’.

“You’re here!” she shrills, throwing her arms around your neck.

Her petite form fits just like it always has against yours. Thick black hair, shorter than the last time you saw it, curls around the rounded lines of her cheeks, and her brown eyes are bright and glisten with happy tears. With her bubbly personality and small, wispy frame, she's always reminded you of a fairy.

You sigh, taking a deep breath and savoring your best friend's soft, floral scent. Thanks to the bracelet tinkling around her wrist, it holds the smallest undercurrent of your sweet citrus. Clearly, she’s not taking blockers; the scents are heavy and delightful. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Hayun sucks in a deep breath that mirrors yours. “Wow, babe, you smell good! Finally gone off the blockers, huh?”

“Uh, kind of,” you chuckle, untangling yourself from her arms. “I brought some, but they broke open in my bag at some point.” You shrug. “Tae said it shouldn’t be that big of a deal.”

“Oh, it’s not. Absolutely not,” Hayun agrees, grinning broadly. “I’ve been off them for years and haven’t had a single issue. Come on, let’s have a drink and catch up!”

You settle in at a table, and it’s not long before Eunseo, Hayun’s other guest, joins you. You’ve heard a lot about Eunseo. Much the same way Taehyung took the place of Hayun for you, Eunseo took your place for Hayun. You half expect to feel some sort of friendship jealousy upon meeting Eunseo for the first time, but it doesn’t come. If anything, you’re immediately fond of the young woman.

The evening carries on, Hayun and Eunseo regaling you with tales from working together and their various adventures around Seoul. Eunseo shows genuine interest in your life back home, seeming eager to hear stories of Hayun’s childhood. She shows a particular interest in Taehyung, asking you in no certain terms more than you think is appropriate to share.

“But you’ve seen it, right?” Eunseo asks. Her elbows rest on the table, and her chin is nestled on her clasped hands, her eyes wide and glassy from the countless glasses of wine she’s had. “I bet it’s huge. Am I right?”

“Ugh,” Hayun groans. “Can we not talk about my brother’s dick. Please.” She makes a gagging sound before slurping down the rest of her cocktail and flagging down a passing waiter for another.

You try to wave off the waiter, but he’s turned toward the bar before you can get his attention. If Hayun has much more to drink, you’re not sure she’ll be able to walk down the aisle tomorrow unassisted.

“I’m just curious. It’s a harmless question,” Eunseo pouts. “Ignore her. Tell me. I just have to know.”

You swirl the straw around in your glass of water before giving Eunseo what you hope is a conspiratorial look. “Well—”

“What?! Ew. Are you really about to answer her? Please, dear god, do not tell me you have seen my brother’s penis. If you’ve seen it—fuck, I might actually puke.”

As much as you probably shouldn’t, you laugh, which earns further protests and obscene noises from Hayun.

“Before you interrupted me, I was going to say that maybe Eunseo should ask him herself.”

Hayun howls a protest, sloshing her new cocktail onto the table as she gesticulates a crude hand gesture in your direction. “Do not. I repeat, do not do that, Eunseo!”

The conversation peters off, Hayun losing herself in another cocktail while Eunseo stares dreamily up at the ceiling.

“I think—hiccup—it's bedtime,” Eunseo slurs.

As if right on cue, a familiar face peeks through the entrance to the lounge. You wave Taehyung down, and he comes jogging across the space to your table. His shirt is rumpled with the top few buttons undone, but his eyes are clear, and you know he’ll be a perfect gentleman.

“Are you sure?” you ask him, pitching your voice low.

“I got this, don’t worry. We finished up a few hours ago anyway.”

Taehyung gives you a warm, private smile before turning to Eunseo. “Hey there, beautiful. Let’s get you on to bed, okay?”

“Where’s my savior?” Hayun asks, frowning after her brother escorting Eunseo from the lounge and back through the front lobby.

“Right here,” you tell her, sliding out of your chair and coming around to her side of the table. “Come on, let’s go.”

It takes you more than twice as long as it usually would to get to Hayun’s room. She leans against the wall in the hall as you dig through her pockets in search of her room key. Once you find it tucked between a few stray bills and her ID, you usher her into the room and deposit her onto the bed.

Her fiance has a room on the other side of the grounds, but after the ceremony, they will both be moving into one of the couple’s suites for the night before jet-setting off to Jeju Island for their week-long honeymoon.

“Am I doing the right thing?”

Hayun’s question catches you off guard. You throw a confused look at her over your shoulder as you rummage through her suitcase in search of something for her to sleep in.

“What?”

She sighs as she rolls over, letting her head hang off the edge of the bed so she can look at you upside down. “Marrying Jungkook. It’s a mistake…so why am I doing it?”

“Hayun…what are you talking about? Jungkook is perfect for you. You guys have been dating for five years, and you told me you’ve never been happier. Where’s the mistake in that?”

The sound Hayun makes is akin to something a wounded animal might make. She flops, flailing her arms and legs like a child throwing a fit.

“That’s the thing, though! I’m happy, but I don’t love him. Oh god,” she cries. “I don’t love him.”

“Hey, hey now.” You abandon the search for sleeping clothes and crawl across the floor until you’re kneeling beside the bed. Smoothing your hand across her forehead, you ask, “Where is all this coming from?”

“He thinks I’m his true mate,” she whispers. The tears leaking from her eyes slide up her face, wetting the edges of her eyebrows before sliding over her forehead and disappearing into her hair. “But I know he’s not mine.”

“Wh—wait, what?” You push up from the floor and move onto the bed, gathering your best friend’s head into your lap so she’s no longer hanging upside down off the side of the bed.

She hiccups a sob, lips trembling as she explains, “He says I’m his true mate, that he knows because of my scent. But he doesn’t smell special to me…how is that possible?”

“Hayun, I don’t—”

“I cheated on him,” she whimpers in confession, cutting off what were going to be your soothing words of affirmation. They sour on your tongue, refusing to be released now.

Your stomach churns at her admittance. “You what?”

“You have every right to judge me. I’m a terrible person. But, when he told me I was his true mate…I panicked. I had to be sure I wasn’t broken, that me not finding his scent special wasn’t just something wrong with me.” Hayun blinks rapidly, trying to clear the tears as they begin to come in earnest. She clutches at the front of her shirt, hand fisting over her heart. “So, I slept with two Alphas that I work with to see if it was any different. I had to be sure. I had to know.”

“Hayun, I-I-I don’t…I’m not—”

“I’m such a fucking mess,” she sobs, curling in on you and pressing her face against your stomach. “I don’t deserve him. I only said yes to marrying him because I don’t want to be alone forever. I can’t be like you. I need someone.”

Her words sting, causing you to flinch involuntarily. You watch as she falls apart in your lap, ultimately giving in to her grief. It’s on the tip of your tongue to call her out on her childish behavior, to set the record straight about your own love life, and to leave her to her wallowing. But…the shaking of her shoulders and soft whines from her remind you so much of a younger and more fragile Hayun—the Hayun of your shared childhoods.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” No matter how you might feel about her actions and the hurtful words she’s spilled, you hate to see your best friend so distraught and broken. “Hey, look at me.”

You wait until her watery eyes peel away from your shirt and meet yours. “Tell me you hate me; it’s okay.”

“Hayun, I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. You made…a mistake, that’s all. You were trying to figure things out. But…Hayun, you…you have to tell him.”

She frowns up at you, her expression sobering. “Tell him?”

“He’s about to marry you, Hayun. That’s a big freaking deal…you have to tell him tomorrow morning before anything else happens.”

The laugh that bubbles from her lips is anything but humorous. “I-I can’t do that! He’ll hate me. He’ll call the wedding off!” She shoves out of your lap and stares at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“If Jungkook truly loves you and says you’re his true mate, I don’t see that happening. But, he deserves to know. You have to know that. Either you tell him now, or he finds out years from now, and then it’ll be so much worse,” you try to reason with her.

“He doesn’t have to know!” she whisper-yells, her tears turning from sad to angry in an instant.

You shake your head, unable to believe what you’re hearing from her. “This isn’t right, Hayun. You can’t go into a marriage with someone with secrets like that!”

“It’s not like it’ll happen again. I’m not going to cheat on him while we’re married. Please,” she begs, her face once more softening into saddened anguish. “I don’t want to lose him.”

“He deserves to know, Hayun,” you whisper, remembering your own keen sting of betrayal from many years ago. There is a reason you don’t date much. “You say it won’t happen again?” you ask, trying to buy yourself some time to process everything Hayun just told you.

Her silence is deafening, and you think she’s about to not answer you the way you hope, but, finally, she murmurs, “No. Never. I swear it.”

“Okay. Okay, good. But, he still needs to know.”

Just because you’ve never actually met Jungkook, it doesn’t mean you don’t care for him. He’s the one who puts a smile on Hayun’s face when you can’t. He’s the reason she’s as happy as she is…or has been? Now, you’re not so sure. But, what you are certain about is that Hayun is far too drunk right now to know up from down and is just having a moment of raw vulnerability.

“Are you going to tell him?” she asks, voice a hoarse whisper.

You chew your bottom lip for a moment before slowly shaking your head. Thinking about it, even if you didn’t care for Jungkook, he still deserves to know on pure principle. “No. I won’t tell him.” She lets out a soft sigh of relief, which has you tacking on, “Because it’s not my place to tell him, it’s yours.”

“Yeah,” she mumbles. “Okay.” She doesn’t say anything more beyond that, falling into a listless stupor, all of her energy sapped from the quick argument and endless cocktails from the bar.

After you wrestle her out of her clothes and put on a long nightgown, she tucks easily into bed. You leave a glass of water on the bedside table for her, then exit the room and head to your own.

A pang of uncertainty refuses to quell in the pit of your stomach. You toss and turn most of the night, falling into a fitful sleep just before the sun begins to kiss the horizon. It’s going to be a long day…a battle of wills you never saw coming.

🥀🥀🥀

Jungkook

Today is the big day, and Jungkook couldn’t be happier. Nothing could possibly bring him down from the high he’s feeling. Not even the fact that he is unable to find the cufflinks that were passed down to him by his father.

“Did you check the pockets of all your pants?” Jimin, Jungkook’s best friend, asks from where he’s lounging in one of the chairs on the other side of Jungkook’s hotel room.

“Yes,” he mutters, dumping his entire suitcase onto the bed to rifle through it once again. “I remember putting them with the pile of Hayun’s—oh fuck.”

“That’s great,” Taehyung sighs. “So my sister probably has them.” He checks his watch. “We don’t really have time to go on a scavenger hunt through her room. Jimin and I are supposed to meet the photographer to get started on some of the bride and groomsmen shots.”

Jungkook purses his lips and rakes his hands through his hair as he thinks of a solution. “I’d go look myself, but what if I run into Hayun between here and there? She specifically requested that we not see each other until the ceremony.”

Taehyung hums lightly. “I think I have an idea. The other girls don’t meet for pictures until after we’re done. So…yeah…okay…done,” he murmurs, tapping away at his phone screen. “If they’re in Hayun’s things, they’ll be delivered to you soon.”

“Thanks, Taehyung, you’re a lifesaver.”

Minutes later, Jungkook finds himself alone, Taehyung and Jimin having gone to meet with the photographer. Somewhere out there, beyond the confines of his room, his fiancee is probably smiling and laughing as she poses in front of the camera. If only Jungkook could see through walls. He’d give anything for even just a little glimpse of his bride-to-be.

When Jungkook first met Hayun almost six years ago, he nearly tripped over his own feet trying to track her scent. The meeting he was heading for was instantly forgotten, replaced by a visceral need to discover the source of that titillating aroma that had his hindbrain firing on all cylinders.

Never before had Jungkook experienced something so…primal. It was both alarming and utterly fascinating. Amongst the harsh scents of car exhaust and the warm notes of roasted coffee, Jungkook wove his way through the crowd on the sidewalk to the doors of a little cafe; Hayun was inside, ordering a matcha tea to-go, and the rest was history.

Jungkook sighs, forcing himself to stop daydreaming and fiddling with his shirt's empty cuffs and focus on putting together the rest of his suit.

The scent hits Jungkook a moment before the sound of a soft knock reaches his ears. He’s standing in the ensuite bathroom, mid-skin care routine. Wiping his wet fingers off onto a towel, he draws in a deep breath to confirm the aroma wafting to him from beyond the door of his room.

A roguish smirk quirks up one side of his mouth as he exits the bathroom and moves across the room. Unable to help himself, he opens the door. “Hayun,” he chuckles, fingers wrapping around the doorknob, “I thought we agreed that you…you are not Hayun.” The words tumble from his suddenly numb lips, rasping past his too-dry tongue.

“Umm, no. Not Hayun, sorry. You’re Jungkook?”

The woman standing before him is clearly not his fiancee. The woman’s purple gown is familiar, Jungkook knowing it’s what Hayun chose for her attending party. You’re a friend of Hayun, clearly, yet you smell exactly like Hayun…if Hayun smelled like Hayun times a thousand. The fragrance slams into his olfactory system, and the edges of his vision grow blurry a moment before he shakes his head and steadies himself with a hand on the doorjamb.

“Yeah,” he whispers, voice raspy with his suddenly dry throat. Revelations pounding him right between the eyes, washing through his body and keying right into his most basic of instincts.

Jungkook watches as your nostrils flare, and he knows it’s in that moment that you register his cedar and lavadin scent; the scent that marks him for what—who—he is.

“Jungkook,” you repeat his name, and he wants to howl with delight at how it sounds coming from your lips. “No. You can’t…it’s not—” your voice cuts off a second before you drop the small, black leather box you were holding and turn, disappearing in a flash of violet tulle and silk.

🥀🥀🥀

“Stop! Wait, please!” The shout of your name follows you down the hall, but you’re too focused on getting as far away from him and the feelings threatening to overwhelm you as you can.

“No, no, no,” you chant under your breath as you move as swiftly as the slippered feet will allow you to go without tripping yourself up.

It’s clearly not fast enough. It only takes a few frantic beats of your heart before a firm grip on your elbow draws you to a stumbling halt. The touch is electric, and your skin flushes with goosebumps at the heated contact.

“Don’t run,” Jungkook pants. “Please.”

You wretch your arm from his grip and whirl on him, a sharp remark ready on the tip of your tongue. Only, it dies there, never to be uttered, as your heart thumps violently in response to the look on his face—pure anguish.

Your voice is thread-thin as you finally manage to get words out, “This can’t be happening.”

Jungkook’s brow twitches, his lips tucked between his teeth. His emotions are stark on his face, and the conflict is raw and bare to you. Clearly, he’s warring the same as you, maybe even more so.

“Why do you smell like Hayun?” he asks, his voice soft in contrast to the raging storm you see in his eyes. “Why do you smell more like my true mate than she even does? Is this some wicked, cruel prank?”

You shake your head, intentionally drawing a breath through your mouth in hopes of saving your nose from another assault of his perfect scent. But, instead, his flavor laces over your tongue and slides down your throat to sit like a knot in your belly. You might as well have licked a stripe up his neck for all the good that did.

“I-I don’t know,” you choke out, trying to keep the pool of saliva under your tongue from dripping down your chin.

Jungkook steps closer to you, leading with his nose. He sniffs the air around you and something must not sit well with what he discovers because he rears back and bares his teeth. “Of course,” he mutters as his eyes drop to your left wrist.

Your eyes track his movement as he scoops up your wrist in a loose grip, and you realize it’s the bracelet there that has his attention. Everything clicks into place, and you feel like the faintest breeze could sweep you away with how lightheaded you’re feeling at this moment.

“We traded,” you whisper as if speaking low enough means the admission won’t utterly destroy the world as you know it.

“She’s not my true mate,” he states, voice as low as yours, fevered and quiet. “You are.”

Those words punch you in the chest, nearly taking you to your knees. If it weren’t for the hold Jungkook has on your wrist, you’re sure you’d be in a heap on the floor. As it is, he catches his other arm around your waist as you sway on the spot.

“Y-you shouldn’t.” Your protest is stilted, the words feeling robotic and unnatural as you gingerly press a hand against the arm that’s angled around your ribs. It was your intention to push his touch away, but the most you accomplish is flexing your fingers against the smooth cotton covering his thick bicep.

Somehow, you find yourself back in the room you had fled from just a few minutes ago. Jungkook settled you on the bed and is now pressing a chilled water bottle into your hands.

He kneels before you, headless of putting wrinkles in his black dress slacks. He’s wearing a thin white undershirt, his starched white button-up undone over it. The cuffs of the sleeves flop as he brings his hands into his lap and picks at the edges of his thumbnails.

Your eyes rove the room, catching on the black leather box still sitting on the floor by the door where you dropped it. Inside the box is nestled a pair of golden cufflinks—a pair you now understand have been passed down through the generations of Jeon men.

Absently, you press your thumb to your phone, unlocking it to reveal the text message that has irrevocably changed your life forever.

If you had known Taehyung’s text message requesting help would have led you to where you are right now, you’d probably have ignored it.

Yet, at the same time, if you had, you’d probably have had this revelation with Jungkook in the middle of the ceremony, and it would have caused all sorts of untoward chaos. No, it’s far better that it’s happening now instead of later. Maybe you can get ahead of this and fix it somehow. Though…

“Hey? You okay?” Jungkook interrupts your thoughts. “Fuck, that’s a stupid question. Sorry.”

“Huh? Oh. Umm…yeah. I don’t—what do we do now?” You turn your phone over, finger ghosting over the power button to lock the screen once more.

Jungkook sighs, and you can’t help watching the rise and fall of his shoulders, framing the swell of his defined chest with the action. He’s an exquisite specimen of masculinity, and even if it weren’t for the musky notes of his scent that mark him as your true mate, you’d find him devastatingly attractive.

“We need to tell Hayun. I c-can’t…I can’t marry her. Not when I’ve found—” he cuts off, wincing as his voice breaks. “I should go and find her. Now, before this can go any further. I’m sorry. I’ll, uh, I’ll find you later, okay?”

“Wait,” you call after him. He stops halfway to the door and glances back at you over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t we tell her together?”

Jungkook chews the inside of his cheek a moment, his eyes flicking over your face as he thinks through your suggestion. Slowly, he nods. “Yeah, maybe that’s for the best.”

There is palpable tension between you and Jungkook as you follow behind him out of the main building. He texted Jimin, knowing he’d be the most reliable with his phone on him, asking where the photos were currently taking place.

It only took a few minutes for Jimin to respond that they were almost finished but were currently capturing some group shots on the walking path by the lake on the backside of the property.

You’re vaguely aware of where the lake is located, having given the map of the grounds that was posted on the backside of your room’s door a cursory look the day you arrived. It’s a relatively short distance, yet it feels like miles with the weight of pure dread sitting firmly on your shoulders.

At least it’s not a feeling you’re experiencing alone. Jungkook is right there with you, and you can clearly see the unease in the stiff way his body moves. The tips of his fingers twitch back in your direction every few steps like he’s fighting off the urge to slip them between your own.

The first person you catch sight of is Yoona, the photographer. She’s squatting in the grass, her large DSLR camera held up to her face, as she captures candid moments of Hayun, Taehyung, and Jimin repositioning themselves along the lake's edge.

Your heart squeezes hard at how beautiful Hayun is in her form-fitting silk ivory, off-the-shoulder wedding gown, the lacy bell sleeves fluttering around her hands. Her head is thrown back, the peel of her carefree laughter carrying to you and further crumbling your soul into a million pieces. You ache, not just for the desire to draw closer to your true mate, but for the inevitable aftermath of what is about to happen.

Taehyung is the first to notice you and Jungkook. The smile on his face slowly disappears, replaced by a concerned frown. Hayun catches his expression and follows his line of sight. Her gaze sears into you, and you feel like you might combust into a cloud of ash at any second with the irritation contained in her pretty brown eyes.

“What’s going on?” Hayun exclaims, throwing her hands up in a frustrated manner as she stalks towards you and Jungkook. “It’s not time for your photos yet,” she tells you before her eyes swing to Jungkook. “What happened to not seeing me before the wedding? That was your rule!”

“Hayun, we need to talk.”

“Talk about wh—” she cuts off, her question turning into a gasp. Your wide eyes flick to you. “You told him?”

“What? No!”

Your protest rings out at the same time that Jungkook says, “She’s my true mate.”

A breeze kicks up, sweeping from behind you and tossing errant strands of hair across Hayun’s forehead. You’d give anything for the power to pluck the wind from the air, shove it back…keep it from showering her with yours and Jungkook’s combined scents—a blatant confirmation echoing the words Jungkook just let loose.

Hayun stiffens. Her jaw goes rigid, and her face pales as her nostrils flare. It’s a moment that will be forever written across the band of your friendship. Betrayal flashes through her eyes before morphing into something akin to somber resignation.

“Hayun,” Jungkook begins. “I don’t—we didn’t…I’m sorry. What do we do?” He spreads his hands out in front of himself in a helpless manner.

By this time, Jimin and Taehyung have come up from behind Hayun, faces wary as they take in the scene with growing clarity. You look to Taehyung, hoping he can see the silent plea in your eyes.

“Explain,” Hayun says simply. Despite how collected she seems, you can see the subtle tremble in her hands and the way the muscles in her neck continue to flex and strain as she clenches and grinds her teeth.

Jungkook launches into recounting the events that brought you to his room and broke the proverbial dam. “We—we had no idea. I swear this is the first time we’ve ever met, and gods, the bracelets…” Jungkook trails off, a pained sound rumbling from his chest.

“Is this a joke?” Taehyung asks accusingly, and it’s like a barb to your heart.

“We wouldn’t do that.” Your croaked statement draws Hayun’s attention.

Hayun sniffles, her chin jerking a little higher into the air. “My nose tells me one thing, but my heart tells me another. Did you know about this last night? Is that why you pushed so hard for me to tell him?” The last part is whispered, meant only for you, which hurts even more.

“Hayun, no! You know that’s impossible. I couldn’t have known.”

“Tell me what?” Jungkook asks, having heard despite her whisper, his eyes swiveling between you and Hayun.

You shake your head at him, not wanting to throw further fuel on the fire. “Hayun, please, believe me.”

A pregnant moment full of thick tension passes before it fizzles, and Hayun shakes her head, not in a dismissive fashion but in gentle acceptance. “I believe you,” she tells you. “I guess…I guess there won’t be a wedding in four hours unless you two want…” She trails off, a bittersweet smile tugging at her cherry red painted lips.

Jungkook blanches, wide eyes landing on you. “What? Us? No. I mean, sorry…but—”

Hayun holds up her hand, quelling Jungkook’s flustered response. “I was teasing, Koo, trying to lighten the mood. Um,” she pauses, absently twisting the diamond engagement ring around her finger before slowly slipping it off and closing a fist around it. “Can we talk, though? There’s something I needed to tell you today anyway.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says wearily.

“Tae, do you mind…?” Hayun asks, not even having to fill in the blanks. Her brother instantly steps into his role as protector and savior.

“Don’t worry about anything. I’ll make some phone calls,” Taehyung assures her before grabbing Jimin’s arm and starting back down the walking path.

“I’ll just—” you thumb over your shoulder in the direction Tae and Jimin just disappeared in “—be in my room.”

“Wait,” Hayun calls, pulling your retreat up short. “Come here.” She opens her arms, her hands opening and closing in grabby motions. “Please.”

A sob cracks from your throat as you throw yourself at her, wrapping your arms around her neck. “I’m so sorry, Hayun. I’m so sorry.”

“Hush. None of that. This isn’t anything we could have predicted or stopped from happening. If anything, maybe this is life’s way of getting back at me for what I did to him,” she whispers in your ear. “This is how it’s meant to be.”

Hayun smoothes a hand over your back and releases you. She steps back, using the back of a finger to lift the tears from your cheeks, and gives you a watery smile.

You’re not sure you can speak without completely losing yourself, so you just give her a tight nod and continue back on your way down the path. A part of you wants to hear what she has to say to Jungkook, to be there to soothe any hurts or aches…which is a startling realization that you’d not just tend to Hayun but to Jungkook, too. That internal, visceral part of you yearns to turn on your heel and…protect what’s yours.

It’s an odd revelation to think of Jungkook as yours. Well, yours unless either of you reject the bond. Though, that thought makes your stomach pitch and roil. You have to trail a hand along the wall in the hall leading to your room to keep yourself from curling over your abdomen at just the idea.

Once back in your room, you’re unsure what to do with yourself, so you absently start to gather your belongings and pack them up. Every few minutes, you find yourself pausing to stare at the door, ears pricking at the slightest sound from beyond it.

You’re not sure what you’re expecting. Whether it’s Hayun coming to your room so the two of you can cry together or Jungkook coming to claim y—uh, you shove that thought aside quickly because now is not the time. At. All.

The time for the wedding comes and passes without a single knock on your door nor a text or call on your phone. You’re tempted to go looking. For what, you’re not entirely sure—an answer, maybe, some sort of direction on what you should do now.

Finally, after hours of sitting in silence with just your thoughts for company, a soft knock sounds at your door. The long hem of your dress nearly trips you up in your haste to make it to the door. It swings open, and for some reason, your stomach drops, the flutter of disappointment heavy and unexpected.

“Hey, beautiful,” Taehyung says, his voice soft and full of emotion. “Mind if I come in?” 

His necktie is loose, and the top button of his dress shirt is undone. There is a tension in his eyes that wasn’t there earlier. It makes your chest ache.

“Sure,” you say, stepping back and letting him into your room.

Taehyung sighs, perches on the end of your bed, and props his elbows on his knees. His chin rests on an upturned fist, his other hand dangling between his legs, clutching his phone.

He opens his mouth, a single word the only thing coming out, “So.”

“So,” you parrot.

“Hayun wants me to take her home…alone. I’m not sure what all she and Jungkook talked about, but I think they’re at least amicable in agreeing that it would be best if he gave her a few days at home alone before they start the process of separating their lives.” You’re not sure if the bitter tinge in your chest is hurt because Hayun isn’t the one telling you this or because now you have to find your own way to the airport. As if reading your thoughts, Taehyung continues, “I can be back in two days, maybe sooner, depending on traffic. Perhaps they’ll let you extend your stay. If not, I can talk to Jimin—”

“No, Tae, it’s okay. I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry about me. Just take care of Hayun, make sure she’s okay...as okay as she can be, at least. Fuck.” The last word comes out choked, and you gnash your teeth on the inside of your cheek to keep from letting the angry tears out. You have no right to be angry. Hell, you’re not even sure why you’re angry. It just seems like the easiest emotion to feel right now, the only one that doesn’t leave you feeling like your world is slowly imploding.

“Hey,” Taehyung says, bringing one of his big hands up to cup the side of your face. His thumb prods at the swell of your cheek, causing you to release the tension in your jaw. “Hayun isn’t the only one I’m worried about here.”

“I’m fine—I will be fine,” you amend. “I promise. I think I’m just feeling overwhelmed. I’m mad at myself for ruining Hayun’s big day. I can’t believe this is happening at all. This…this just doesn’t happen. This is the kind of shit you read about in books, it’s not supposed to be real life.”

And there it is, you surmise—the truth of the matter. None of what’s happened makes sense. It honestly belongs on the pages of a book or in a movie script, not in your real life. It still feels surreal. If it weren’t for the subtle, lingering ache you instinctively know is associated with finding your true mate but not allowing yourself to fully accept it, you’d think this was all some elaborate party trick or impractical joke.

Taehyung smiles at you, but the unease in his eyes can’t be masked that easily. “I’m not sure what to say or what to do. You’re right. This isn’t a situation I think anyone was prepared for or ever thought possible, actually. But, here we are…and we have to face it the best way we can.” He pauses for a moment, looking thoughtful. “I'll tell you what: I’ll text Jimin—he’s a good guy, I think you’ll enjoy his company—and ask him to meet you in the lounge. Have a few drinks, wind down, and try to relax as best you can.”

“Sure,” you say lamely, trying to muster up at least a little bit of enthusiasm.

“That’s my girl.” Taehyung offers you another smile, this one not so tense. “Here, I have something for you.” He fishes into his pant pocket and produces a familiar thin silver chain, a tiny crescent moon dangling near one end.

The sight has your spine straightening. “Right, of course.” You quickly thumb open the clasp on the bracelet around your wrist, letting it fall from your skin for the first time since you put it on when Hayun gave it to you all those years ago. It never felt right to take it off…not until now.

Taehyung helps you swap the bracelet with the one in his hand. The metal feels cold against your skin and you immediately miss the subtle fragrance of Hayun’s scent clinging to your wrist. Though, you suppose that’s what has gotten you both into this mess to begin with. Taehyung explains in soft words how Jungkook explained to Hayun about the scent mix-up with the bracelets—such a silly, seemingly insignificant thing…the catalyst to spark such a colossal moment.

“I’m going to get on the road with Hayun, but I’ll call you as soon as we get to her place and check in on you, okay?”

Sitting at the bar with Jungkook’s best friend seemed like a good idea when Taehyung first presented it to you. But, at the time, you weren’t connecting the dots that Jimin was Jungkook’s best friend. He was just Jimin, the guy that just so happened also to be part of the wedding party that you had met in passing briefly, but he seemed like a good enough person. Now, however, you feel all the awkward tension radiating right between your shoulder blades, emphasized by the silence lingering between the two of you.

You traded in your lilac dress for jeans and a light silk blouse, canvas slip-ons in place of your slippers, yet no matter how comfortable you know your clothing is, you can’t shake the prickling discomfort eating away at the back of your neck.

“Want another?” Jimin asks, nodding to your mostly watered-down rum and coke. It’s barely late afternoon, and as much as Taehyung’s suggestion of a drink sounded like just what you needed, you’ve found yourself not in the mood to drink after all.

“Um, nah. I’m okay, thanks.”

“Cool. Okay. I’ll be right back.” Jimin drums his fingers on the tabletop and pops his lips before giving you a slight head nod and pushing up from his chair.

You watch as he saunters to the long bar, his crescent moon tattoo on the nape of his neck peeking out from the top of his collar, and props his elbows onto the shiny top. His smile is flirty and casual as the bartender, a beautiful woman with long, inky tresses and fiery red lipstick, sidles up in front of him.

They’re too far away for you to hear their conversation, but her tinkling laughter carries across the space, and you know it might be a while before Jimin returns to your table.

Which you’re okay with. Considering you know you’re not exactly pleasant company right now, you don’t blame him one bit. You glance down at your phone, once again reading the last text message Hayun sent you not too long ago.

Eunseo stopped by the lounge around the same time Jimin showed up. If her smile and lingering hug were any indicator, she clearly had a thing for him. She gave you a small wave goodbye before giving Jimin another hug and heading out. Apparently, she was going to follow Taehyung and Hayun back to Hayun and Jungkook’s place to help Hayun with whatever she needed over the next few days.

Does it hurt that your best friend is relying on someone else, her new best friend? Yes. Do you also understand why? Also, yes, but that doesn’t make the sting hurt any less.

You’re just about to give up and retreat back to your room, which the front desk still hasn’t given you a definitive answer about whether or not your stay can be extended while you wait for Tae, when a shadow falls across your table a second before.

“Do you mind if I sit?” Jungkook asks in a low voice.

He fidgets, threading and unthreading his fingers together while he waits for your answer. The suit he had half on earlier is gone, and in its place is a dark pair of jeans, the knees worn fashionably, and an oversized white graphic t-shirt. Black sneakers peek out from the rounded bottoms of his pant legs.

You clear your throat, forcing your eyes away from his and instead on the glass sitting in a puddle of condensation on the table before you. “Oh, I—uh, I was actually about to go. You’re welcome to the table, though. Jimin was—” You cut off, realizing Jimin is no longer in the lounge at all. “Well, he was here,” you add with a frown.

Jungkook scratches a hand across the back of his neck and gives you a hesitant smile. “Yeah, he texted me. He went…well, that doesn’t matter. Could we, um…can we talk?”

“Yes.” The response is out of your mouth before he even finishes asking. “Please, I think I’d like that,” you say, nodding toward the open seat across from you.

A shaky breath rattles from Jungkook as he eases into the empty seat. “Have you talked to Hayun at all?” he asks after a moment’s hesitation.

“A text message, but that’s all. I’m not sure she wants to talk to me right now.” Needing something to do with your hands, you trace a finger along the edge of the water pooled around the bottom of your glass and use your other to poke more drops on the side of your cup, making them race down to join the growing puddle.

Jungkook nods, his lips pursing thoughtfully. “She told me what happened last night. Her confession.” That draws your attention back to him, and you wait, fingers still on the glass, intent on hearing what he says next. “I thought I’d be angrier finding out the woman I’ve been with for years—the woman I was hours away from marrying—had cheated on me…but I’m not. For the life of me, I’m not mad at her…even though I know I should be.”

“How do you feel?”

Maybe it’s none of your business, but you have to ask.

Blowing out a breath, Jungkook slides one of his hands across the table and, giving you plenty of time to protest or pull away, slowly slides his fingers between yours, effectively joining his hand with yours. It’s the first time hand-holding has felt so intimate yet wholly innocent.

“Relieved, I think,” he finally says. “Grateful, maybe? Hayun was hurt. As she has every right to be, but she said she also felt relief, too. I think, as much as she said she loved me, she was still holding back even in the end.” With a rueful shake of his head, he tacks on, “We were just a disaster waiting to happen, held together only by the thin chain of a bracelet. We would have shattered eventually.”

Jungkook’s eyes drop to where your fingers are entwined with his, trailing up to your wrist to land on the object he just spoke of.

“I’m relieved, too,” you whisper. Your eyes meet his as he glances up, and you’re instantly captivated.

This is the first time you’ve allowed yourself to really study Jungkook. His hair is tousled like he’d been running his hands through it for hours. You suppose he probably had been and wonder if that’s one of his nervous ticks.

The bow of his lips is prominent and draws your eyes. Your gaze lingers on his lips, making small mental notes at everything you see, like the tiny beauty mark under his bottom lip. His straight nose leads you to his expressive eyes, so dark and full of secrets you want to be privy to.

To say Jungkook is handsome would be a gross understatement. You’re not sure if it’s the fact he’s your true mate or just simply a gorgeous being, but he is pleasing to the eyes, that’s for sure.

You mentally kick yourself for thinking such thoughts about your best friend’s almost-husband after everything that has just happened. It’s not in good taste to entertain these thoughts so soon, right? True mate or not.

Yet, you can’t shove those thoughts away completely.

“Where did you go just now?” Jungkook asks, tilting his head and studying you intently.

Not wanting to explain yourself and the thoughts you were just having, you choose to ask him a question instead. “So, what now?”

You’re thankful Jungkook doesn’t push you to answer. He shifts in his seat and withdraws his fingers from between yours.

“I think we start with…” he trails off, a playful smile tugging up the side of his mouth as he holds the hand he pulled back in the air in front of you in offering. “Hi, I’m Jungkook.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, you smile. A laugh escapes you, and you instantly feel a thousand times lighter with that simple action.

As you take his hand back into yours, allowing yourself to truly savor the feel of his skin against yours, you realize that no matter what happens with Hayun or the fact that you live thousands of miles apart from Jungkook…everything is going to be okay and maybe you wouldn’t have ignored Taehyung’s text after all.

🥀🥀🥀

Jungkook, 3 months later

The flight was long but worth it. Jungkook stretches as he climbs out of the Uber he took from the airport. You would have picked him up. In fact, you are supposed to pick him up…just, not until next week. He decided to surprise you by coming early. He hopes you don’t mind.

Time seemed to drag to a near stand-still following that fateful day at the bed and breakfast where he was so sure he’d be joining his life with Hayun’s officially. No one could have anticipated what actually went down that day. But, in the end, he and Hayun parted ways on pleasant terms, and it’s actually thanks to her that he’s here right now, a week early.

Jungkook was worried that with everything that happened, yours and Hayun’s friendship might suffer. But, surprisingly—and thankfully—you guys have been getting on great. Hayun has been looking at work prospects in Thailand but, from what you’ve told Jungkook, is planning to visit you and Taehyung for Christmas.

It’s been three months, and not a day has gone by that Jungkook hasn’t talked to you in some capacity. From the moment he offered to be your ride to the airport, and you agreed, he’s thought about nothing other than getting on a plane and following you. The draw to you is just that strong.

You’ve expressed similar feelings, already having planned a return trip to Seoul next month. Neither Jungkook nor you have really talked about what the future holds or how to even begin to navigate it. But Jungkook hopes that during the week he is here, you can both begin to figure that out.

Giddiness makes his tattooed fingers shake as he reaches out and grasps the brass knocker on your door. He gives it a rap against the thick wood and waits. Jungkook counts the breaths as his anticipation rises. It’s only three and a half exhales before he hears the soft pad of your feet on the other side of the door.

Jungkook can imagine you pressing up onto your tip toes in order to peer through the peephole. He’d pay money to be able to see the look on your face when you see it’s him. Not being able to see your face doesn’t take away from the dopamine rush he gets when the sound of your surprised squeal sounds through the door.

“Jungkook!” Your shout is followed by the frantic sound of you disengaging the locks on your door before you swing it open and launch yourself at him. “What the fuck are you doing here? Oh, my gods! Why didn’t you tell me? You’re here!”

It feels good to laugh, but it feels even better to have you in his arms finally. The brief embrace he shared with you at the airport when he dropped you off was not enough and is what drove him to try and come sooner than planned.

Jungkook savors the warmth of your soft body pressed against his, your arms tight around his neck. Running one of his hands up your spine, he clasps the back of your neck and uses his hold there to angle your head away from his neck so he can look you in the face.

“Surprise,” he whispers. “I couldn’t wait any longer.”

You sigh dreamily, your eyes fluttering closed for a second like you’re savoring the feeling of being in his arms. “Pleasant surprise,” you murmur with a smile on your face.

Jungkook can’t help himself. He wants so badly to know if your smile tastes as good as he thinks it will. The press of his lips against yours causes you to melt against him, a throaty sound escaping around the intrusion of his tongue as he works it between your lips.

“Your taste,” he groans, forcing his mouth away from yours before the allure of you can drive him completely mad. Who is he kidding? He’s already there. “I need more.”

🥀🥀🥀

Those words do something to you.

I need more.

They echo the thoughts you’ve been harboring for the last three months. You’ve ached with those words, desperately willing yourself to be patient and let it happen when it’s meant to happen.

But, fuck, it feels so good to have him in your arms, to have his mouth brushing against yours. He tastes divine, a warm sweetness that compliments the musk of his scent that is slowly wrapping itself around you.

“Take me. Take it all,” you urge, completely baring yourself to him, body, mind, and soul. “I’m yours.”

It’s a frenzy, the frantic discarding of clothing. Your fingers work to free him of his jeans while also helping him with the criss-cross straps of your lounging romper. You don’t care that you’re still standing by your front door, bared down to your underwear. The only thing you’re focusing on now is how Jungkook holds you at arm's length and drinks you in from head to toe.

“You…are…everything.” The way he whispers those words crawls under your skin, rooting itself deep in your being. You feel sexy…desired, and unbelievably empty—your body clenches, the ache deep between your thighs. You’ve never been so turned on from just taking your clothes off before, from whispered words and a heated look.

Jungkook allows you to undress him as slow or as fast as you want. You try to take your time and savor every inch of skin you expose. But, you can barely contain yourself when you get to his jeans, shoving them unceremoniously down his thighs with your eyes locked on the many planes and angles of his toned chest and stomach.

Your fingers ghost over his skin, eliciting goosebumps in their wake as you explore the smooth and lush expanse of his shoulders and down his arms. Without needing to say anything more, he gathers you into his arms and covers your mouth with his once more.

It’s a miracle you make it to your bedroom. But, seeing Jungkook sprawled out on your bed is a sight you’ll never forget, with his lowered lids and bottom lip caught between his teeth. You want to taste every inch of him, from the tips of his ears down to the defined muscles of his calves.

Now, though, your gaze focuses on the front of his tented boxer briefs. The dark grey material has darkened even further, where you can see the distinct outline of the head of his cock. Saliva pools in your mouth.

You crawl on the bed, knees slotting between his, your hands on either side of his hips. With your eyes locked on his, you lean down and mouth gently at the wetness. You moan at the flavor of him, your tongue peeking out to seek more.

“Fuck,” you curse. “You taste so good.”

Jungkook lets out a quick breath. “You can’t say shit like that, baby girl. You’re going to make me lose it.” He flicks his eyes up to the ceiling, his lips moving like he’s sending up a silent prayer, before looking back down at you. “You have maybe three seconds before I can’t hold back any longer and tear that ass up.”

You chuckle softly, pouting out your lips in a faux sullen manner. “Yes, sir.”

That earns a growl from Jungkook that has heat racing down your spine as you hook your fingers into the band of his Calvin Klein’s and pull them down. He lifts his hips, helping you free him from their confines.

His cock stands so pretty before you, the full heft bobbing against his belly, smearing a pearl of precum against his golden skin. You dive in, licking at the sticky mess before taking the tip between your lips and lavishing your tongue over his slit.

Jungkook fists the sheets, a litany of curses falling from his lips. “Please,” he chokes.

You keep your eyes locked on his as you inch your way down his length, your jaw forcing itself wider to accommodate as much of him as you can. The blunt head of his cock presses against the back of your throat. You take a steadying breath in through your nose before forcing yourself a little further until your throat constricts around him and you have to pull back.

The second your mouth leaves his cock, saliva stringing from your lips to his tip, Jungkook grabs you and hauls you up over him. You laugh, loving the heat emanating from his body as yours covers his.

“What are you doing?” you gasp.

His strong hands land on your hips and tangle in the band of your panties. “I need these off. Please. I need you. I want to feel you…be inside you.”

You want that, too, you realize, your body already primed and begging for it. The sweet, fragrant notes of your arousal saturate the air, mixing with Jungkook’s to paint a picture of hedonism and wanton desires.

The rest of your clothes come off, your bra and panties are tossed to the side, leaving you utterly bare to him. Your inner thighs slide like velvet over his hips as you move your body against his until you can feel the press of the head of his cock against your entrance.

You wrap a hand around his base, angling him perfectly. It’s a slow descent into madness, the lowering of your body onto his. His eyes bore into yours, pouring out everything that has been building to this moment, this pinnacle that will forever throttle you onto a different path for your future—with him. You can feel every perfect inch slide along your walls as they adjust and welcome him. It’s like sliding home; he is the perfect fit for your body, filling you completely.

The pace you set, at first, is languid. An easy rise and fall of your hips as you both learn the body of the other. Jungkook’s hands mold around your breasts, his thumbs caressing over the pert points of your nipples.

“You feel so good,” you tell him, emphasizing your words with a generous roll of your hips. “So much better than I imagined.”

“You imagined it often?” he asks, a teasing tone to his words.

With the amount of teasing photos and videos you’ve shared with each other over the last few weeks, he knows you have. You can tell he’s just giving you a hard time. That’s fine, because you can…

Jungkook throws his head back as you arch yours, letting his cock hit that special place inside that has you both seeing stars. “Fuck!” His hands drop to your hips, landing with a satisfying smack. His grip tightens, dimpling the supple flesh around his fingers. “Can I knot you?” he asks with a breathless moan. You’ve never taken an alpha’s knot. The idea has your body pulsing around his, flooding slick onto his pelvis as you continue to roll your hips. “Fuck, baby girl, do you like that idea? You want to take my knot like a good girl?”

You can’t even form a coherent thought, much less answer him. The only thing that comes out of your mouth is a panting keen, your chin jerking up and down as you frantically nod your want.

Jungkook braces his feet against the mattress and uses his grip on your hips as leverage to thrust upward, sending you forward onto your hands. He’s relentless, pounding into you from below to the point your eyes roll back, and you have to squeeze them shut. Tiny pinpricks of light burst behind your lids as your body coils tighter than ever before.

You cry out as he sends you over the edge, your body careening into an unfathomable abyss of pleasure. The sounds coming from around his cock as it pounds into you are slick and obscene, debauched yet wholly satisfying. 

“Alpha, need your knot,” you mewl, your lips finding the triskelion tattoo over Jungkook’s left pec muscle. You nibble at it, your teeth sinking softly into the skin.

“Oh, baby, fuck…fuck…Fuuuckkk!” Jungkook shouts, the sound turning into a guttural snarl as his body goes primal.

He seats himself completely inside of you with one final, deliberate thrust, and then you can feel the swell of his knot capture within you. It hurts, your pleasure turning into a moment of pain and panic. You squirm, trying to lift your hips from his, but the clasp of his hands on your body won’t let you go far. You whine, “J-Jungkook.”

“I know, baby girl, I know. Relax. Let your body do what it needs to do.”

It’s like those words unlock some inner Omega part of your brain, and suddenly you feel your body rush with endorphins and dopamine as it accepts the thick jets of his cum now flooding in. Like administering a drug, it’s such a fast transition that you feel lightheaded and giddy, sheepish and almost silly over your moment of panic.

“Gods, that feels so…good.” You wiggle in his arms, gasping as his knot pulls tight. You want more, need more of that feeling…need more of his cum. “More, Alpha, please.”

Jungkook pants, a tired smile on his face. You can feel it when his cock pulses inside you, dribbling even more liquid heat into your body in answer to your plea. “That’s my pretty girl,” Jungkook coos, brushing a hand across your forehead. “You’re so beautiful taking my knot, full of my cum.” He curses softly, reverently, and another gush of heat fills your body. “I’m going to take such good care of you. I swear it.”

You fall into a half-sleep, content and sated as you are. There are no worries about the future, nor the past. You are happy…all thanks to a pair of golden cufflinks.

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️   2024-11-05 ColorMePurplex2

[chrrymlks]

Could u do a fic similar to ur mustang fic, but the storyline being she moves next to him and her brother and him get close cos her mum begins to become friends with his mum so she has to come over a lot and ends up being obsessed with him

୨୧﹕ privacy .ᐟ oneshot

pairing ; au!nicholas chavez x fem!reader contains ; 80s alternate universe , brother’s best friend , tension. a/n ; 1980s alternate universe where nicholas is a rich kid. summary ; after y/n’s family moves house, her neighbour (and brother’s best friend) catches her eye.

THERE’S SOMETHING SO attractive about a man who is forbidden. maybe it’s the fantasy of it: the yearning for something that is just out of reach. it’s almost as if you’re looking at him through a glass wall, but all you can do is look.

y/n laid on her bed in front of her window, looking into the house next door. coincidentally, nicholas’ bedroom window was opposite her’s. she wasn’t sure he realised yet, but she sure did, and the lack of curtains on his end didn’t help.

she’d glance outside her window for a moment sometimes and be met with the sight of him and a girl, a different one every time. and it’s not that y/n was nosey, but what type of jerk brings a new girl home every other day?

whatever, it was none of her business. her fingers absentmindedly twisted a strand of hair as her mind wandered. suddenly, the shrill ring of the house phone cut through the peaceful haze of her afternoon. she groaned, tossing the magazine aside, and reluctantly swung her legs over the edge of the bed. It was always a race to answer the phone before someone else picked up or, worse, before the answering machine clicked on. downstairs, she heard it ring again, and she bolted for the hallway.

her feet hit the marble steps, carefully rushing down them in order to not slip (trust me, she’s learned her lesson) as she took them two at a time, and she reached for the phone just as it rang a third time. the long, coiled cord dangled like a snake as she brought the heavy receiver to her ear.

“hello?” she sighed.

“hey, y/n, it's me,” her brother's voice crackled through the line.

the girl rolled her eyes. he had been out all day, probably hanging out with his basketball friends from down the street. “what do you want?”

“i, uh... i left my watch at the chavez'.”

“okay?” she leaned against the doorframe, already regretting picking up the call.

“in the bathroom,” he added sheepishly. “i kinda need you to go get it for me.”

y/n rolled her eyes. “you want me to go to the neighbors' house and ask them for your stupid watch?”

“please?” he sounded desperate. “mom’s gonna freak if she finds out i lost it again. it’s the one grandma got me, remember?”

y/n sighed dramatically, twisting the cord around her fingers. she hated doing her brother’s errands. “why don't you go get it?”

“i'm, uh, not really around right now.”

“not around?” she scowled, though she knew he couldn't see it. “what, are you in another dimension or something?”

“i'm at the arcade,” her brother admitted. “and i can’t leave right now i’m with someone”

y/n gasped jokingly before mocking him, “you’ve got a girlfriend, you’ve got a girlfri-”

“shut up” he responded.

“why don’t you ask nick?” she moved on.

“if i call their phone his mom might pick up and i’ll have to explain and then she might tell-” he rambled before being cut off by the annoyed groan of his sister.

she could practically hear the grin on his face, knowing he'd dodged responsibility again. she thought about arguing but decided it wasn't worth the effort. “fine,” she huffed. “but you owe me.”

“alright, thanks bye!” her brother said quickly, relief flooding his voice before quickly hanging up on her.

with that, she made her way across the manicured lawns toward nick’s place. his family’s house, a massive mediterranean-style mansion, was just a short walk away. she’d been over a few times for pool parties and get-togethers, but it was always when his parents were throwing some lavish event. now, though, it was quiet, and she wasn’t sure if anyone was even home.

the front door was open slightly, and y/n knocked, stepping into the cool air-conditioned hallway when there was no answer.

“nicholas?” she called out, but was greeted by silence, except for the distant hum of music playing from somewhere upstairs.

the girl figured he must be in his room or something, so she headed up the grand staircase, walking down the hallway towards the bathroom her brother had mentioned. the marble floors were cool beneath her feet, and the whole house had that expensive, freshly cleaned smell that only rich homes seemed to have. don’t get me wrong, y/n was rich, but not this rich.

as she reached the bathroom, the door was slightly ajar, steam seeping out into the hallway. before she could knock, the door opened, and there stood nick, freshly out of the shower, a towel hanging loosely around his waist, his skin still glistening with water droplets.

y/n froze.

his eyes widened, clearly just as surprised to see her. his hair was damp, hanging messily over his forehead, and the sight of him standing there, looking every bit like a golden god, left y/n momentarily speechless.

“y/n?” he said, his voice smooth but amused. “what are you doing here?”

she swallowed, trying to find her voice. “um, my brother… he left his watch here earlier. i came to get it.”

nick chuckled, leaning against the doorframe, his towel shifting dangerously low on his hips, revealing his very noticeable v-line. “ah, the infamous watch.” he nodded back toward the counter inside the bathroom. “it’s right there.”

she glanced past him and spotted the watch sitting next to the sink. but her eyes didn’t stay on the watch for long, not with nicholas standing right in front of her like that, all muscles and damp skin. she could feel her cheeks heating up, and she hoped he didn’t notice.

“thanks,” she mumbled, stepping forward to grab it, but not before catching the faint scent of his aftershave. it was intoxicating.

just as she reached for the watch, he shifted, his arm brushing against hers. she couldn’t help but look up, meeting his eyes, which were gleaming with that signature smirk of his.

“you know,” he said, his voice low, “you didn’t have to come all the way over here for that. i could’ve brought it over later.”

her heart was racing now, and she tried to play it cool. “i didn’t want to bother you”

nick raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “bother me? y/n, you’re never a bother, you’re my best friend’s sister after all.” his gaze lingered on her for a moment, the air between them thick with tension.

she quickly snatched the watch off the counter, stepping back. “well, i’ve got it now, so I’ll just…go.”

the boy chuckled, taking a step forward, his eyes never leaving hers. “you don’t have to rush off. why don’t you hang out for a bit? i was about to make some food, and i could use some company.”

she hesitated, the idea of staying here, alone with nick, both thrilling and terrifying. the way he was looking at her — like she was the only thing in the room that mattered — made it hard to think straight.

“i don’t know,” she said, biting her lip.

he grinned, stepping even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “come on, y/n. stay.”

it wasn’t really a question.

and before she could talk herself out of it, she nodded.

[luveline]

Hey my lovely, could i equest a blurb where reader seeks one of spencer's hugs and he's all soft and mushy about it!! I just think he'd give really warm hugs and want one so bad!

shy!reader + post!prison Spencer have a hug

Spencer understands why you might find him intimidating. He did go to prison for a few weeks, and even if the idea of his being a potential felon didn’t scare you, there’s nothing wrong with being nervous around the unknown. You’ve had a few more weeks to get to know the others on the team. He tries not to take it personally that you’re closer with some of them than you are him. 

Plus, you’re awfully shy. 

Spencer’s been trying to communicate that he’s an idiot. He was shy, once, and he tends to be shy about things now, too, even if he’s taken to hiding that. He hides a lot, these days. 

But things aren’t hopeless with you. You’re inarguably his best work friend now that Morgan’s not around, taking the desk next to his —through coincidence or insistence, he has no idea. 

“What flavour do you have today?” he asks. 

You show him your bag. The convenience store outside of work has the strangest sweets from all sorts of places. You’ve been bringing in a different bag each day, and you always share. “Today is apricot and peach ‘millions’,” you tell him, shaking the bright pink bag like a rattle. 

Inside, the millions bounce against each other like miniscule polystyrene balls but with a heavier weight. 

“Awesome!” he says, holding out his hand. “Please?” 

You rip the corner and tip a generous helping of candies into his palm, doing the same in your own hand. “Ready?” you ask. 

“Three, two, one.” 

You both tip your heads back at the same time. Apricot and peach are similar flavours, and Spencer can’t tell the difference when they’re both in play. He can also taste apple juice and the sharp citric acid flavour they put in every candy. 

He can’t tell if you like them. He quite enjoys it, will happily eat the leftovers if you’re not interested, but your attention isn’t on the candy when he looks up. You’re staring straight at him. 

“What?” he asks, perturbed. 

“Nothing, just. Had a rough morning. Thanks for trying the candy with me.” 

He frowns. “I’m sorry. Let me know if there’s something I can do to make you feel better. I can make you a cup of hot chocolate?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Spencer’s sure that to an outsider, he and the team appear to travel to a hundred cities a month. In reality, cases aren’t as densely packed, especially with the government expanding their profiling teams, and the majority of Spencer’s day is spent answering emails and giving advice to agents, law enforcement, and his colleagues. He doesn’t see much of you (where you’re forced to work ViCAP calibration as newbies usually are, almost like a hazing) but he does take you that hot chocolate around lunch time. Just to make sure you have the option. 

It’s sometime past four PM when you appear again. 

“Hey,” he says, turning to you where you’re paused behind your desk chair, “you're finally done?” 

“Not yet. So many case files to transcribe, opinions to cross check, signatures and…” You wince. “It’s a lot. You already know.” 

“I don’t, actually. I only ever had to do ViCAP as punishment, and I was extremely well-behaved. For a while, anyway.” 

You hesitate with something heavy on the tip of your tongue. You’re like every profiler wherein your tells are self-identified and quelled, but you’re still so new, and Spencer’s an expert. You want to ask him for something, but you don’t think you’re allowed. If he presses the issue you’ll shut down, and if he offers you another cup of hot chocolate you’ll simply drink it without letting him in on the real secret. 

Spencer waits. 

“Spencer, you don’t have to say yes, just… You’re the nicest friend I have, and you always know what I need to hear. Um, I know you don’t like touching people and I wouldn’t ask you to if you don’t want to, but it’s been a really long time since someone hugged me, and…” Your voice gets quieter and quieter, until you’re whispering, and then fizzling out. 

“You want a hug?” he asks, surprised. 

“If that’s okay.” 

“I give really good hugs,” he warns, climbing from his chair immediately, arms opened, an unmissable invitation. “You’ll never get over it.” 

“Really?” 

He can’t believe you came to him specifically for a hug. He’s gonna lose his mind. Gentle, Spencer ushers you into his arms, head quick to duck down, his thumb on your shoulder. 

You could’ve asked anybody in the office for a hug. Penelope would have hugged your brains out. Emily, Unit Chief and secret sweetheart, would’ve taken you off of ViCAP and given you a loving pat on the back. But you didn’t ask Penelope or Emily, you asked him. 

“You don’t have to ask me first,” he says quietly. 

“You don’t like touching.” 

“That’s more to do with germs, and I’m not worried about yours,” he says. “Unless you’re about to tell me you have a headache.” 

“It’s like this pounding behind my eyes,” you say with a laugh. 

Spencer smiles, his mouth and nose to the side of your head. He gives you a good ten seconds of quiet, his palm warming your shoulder, before he murmurs, “Any better?” 

“You’re really warm,” you murmur back. 

Spencer resists the urge to squeeze you. “It's the oxytocin.”

“Or you’re just really, really warm.”

[tanjamikaelson]

BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER - MASTERLIST | Rafe Cameron x fem!reader |

Summary: You are Sarah’s best friend, and you’ve shared everything with her for as long as you can remember. But when you secretly start dating her older brother, Rafe, the one she warned you to stay away from, things get complicated. Navigating a passionate yet forbidden romance, you find yourself torn between loyalty to your best friend and the undeniable connection you have with Rafe. As secrets unravel and tensions rise, you must confront the consequences of love that defies all warnings.

! WARNINGS !

THIS STORY CONTAINS DRUG USE, TOXICITY, AND A LOT OF SEXUAL CONTENT. ANY OTHER WARNING WILL BE ADDED ON INDIVIDUAL CHAPTERS (I don't want to spoil the story and add it here.)

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN OUTERBANKS, NOR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS FROM THAT SHOW. I ONLY OWN MY PLOT LINES FOR THE STORY AND ANY OTHER ORIGINAL CHARACTERS THAT I CREATE.

CHAPTER 1: | THUNDERSTORM |

CHAPTER 2: | HE'S AN IDIOT |

CHAPTER 3: | RUMOUR |

CHAPTER 4: | BABY BLUE |

CHAPTER 5: | MIDSUMMERS |

CHAPTER 6: | I NEED YOU |

CHAPTER 7: | LAVANDER HAZE |

CHAPTER 8: | I LIKE HIM |

CHAPTER 9: | UNTHINKABLE |

CHAPTER 10: | MADNESS |

CHAPTER 11: | AFTERMATH |

CHAPTER 12: | YOU HELPING HER IS THE PROBLEM |

CHAPTER 13: | I WANT YOU SO BADLY |

CHAPTER 14: | LET GO OF HIM |

CHAPTER 15: | GONE |

CHAPTER 16: | I DO, I LOVE YOU |

CHAPTER 17: | YOUR ALIBI |

CHAPTER 18: | FUCK YOU RAFE |

CHAPTER 19: | I'M SORRY |

CHAPTER 20: | A NIGHT OF PASSION |

CHAPTER 21: | BAHAMAS |

CHAPTER 22: | ALIVE |

CHAPTER 23: | LOVE MAKES YOU CRAZY |

CHAPTER 24: | THE RETURN HOME |

CHAPTER 25: | UNHINGED |

CHAPTER 26: | WRECK |

CHAPTER 27: | I CAN'T DO IT |

CHAPTER 28: | I HATE THAT I LOVE YOU |

CHAPTER 29: | I NEED YOU |

CHAPTER 30: | BONFIRE |

CHAPTER 31: | COME WITH ME |

CHAPTER 32: | ESCAPING |

CHAPTER 33: | POGUELANDIA |

CHAPTER 34: | BARBADOS |

CHAPTER 35: | TRAPPED |

CHAPTER 36: | SHE IS WITH THEM NOW | (soon)

CHAPTER 37: | HE'S BACK | (soon)

CHAPTER 38: | HEARTBREAK'S ONE THING, MY EGO'S ANOTHER | (soon)

TAG LIST (if you want to be added let me know):

[princessbrunette]

basketball!rafe knew he needed you the moment he set eyes on you once more in that hotel bar.

personally, you thought he might’ve been a nobody on first glance. a really handsome nobody, so he couldn’t have actually been a nobody — but it was the intrigue that drew you in regardless. to set the scene, you didn’t have to go far to find him, no — this was the fanciest hotel in your hometown and you were there alone. something about getting all dressed up and then your friends cancelling last minute, it didn’t matter — it felt like so long ago that you’d forgotten all about it. all you remember was seeing the handsome nobody in a t-shirt and a cap strolling up to the bar.

it was only after doing a double take, you realised the nobody was rafe cameron.

now you’d already known rafe from the obx. distantly, of course — a couple of parties here and there, some lingering glances when you were convinced he was a fuck boy. he was apparently a little unhinged back in the day, but after his dad died he fixed his shit and went pro with basketball, making it big. like mentioned, you weren’t friends, merely acquaintances with the boy a couple of years your senior— but he’d always been someone you saw get their shit together and think, you know what? good for him i guess.

now rafe remembers his history with you differently. apparently, he used to shoot hoops with your older brother in your backyard with a few other friends back when they were younger. still a casual hobby for rafe, and playing it anywhere else but a kook’s backyard might’ve looked too poguey for him to be caught partaking in. at the end of the day, golf was meant to be his sport. it was fitting and low maintenance. basketball took the cake everytime however— helping him mentally in more ways than anyone could imagine.

anyway, he remembers you — a lot younger than you are now, flip flops slapping along the patio as you arrive on destination — mouthing off to your big brother about bouncing the ball too loudly off your wall or spending all the money your mother had left for pizza on the counter. you were this tiny mouthy weapon, even having the infamous rafe cameron snickering down at his shoes as your brother whined back at you, trying to shoo you back inside. he recalls even catching a couple of strays, your shrill youthful voice referring to the eldest cameron as a ‘lanky meathead’.

“jesus, you gotta keep your sisters mouth in check dude. gonna grow up n’get her in trouble n’shit.” he’d shake his head as you’d waddle back inside, bouncing the ball and shooting. after that it was just parties as you grew up, seeing a familiar pretty face through a coked out haze and thinking ‘who’s that again?’ in passing or overhearing you talking to your friends, still carrying that same slick mouth that you only got away with because you were so hot.

only now, he’s staring across this dimly lit hotel bar, the first time in a while that he’d been back in his hometown and there you are — staring back at him, a face he’d never forget except you’re all grown up now— practically spilling out that slinky little dress and acting as a magnet, his feet dragging him over to you before his drink had even arrived from the bartender.

not even five minutes into conversation and it’s abundantly clear that you’re still that spoiled little cheerleader he knew once upon a time, only this time you’re tilting your head to the side with your brows furrowed in confusion that bordered on disinterest when he tried to explain what happened in his most recent game. you weren’t here to talk about that and it showed, leaning over your margarita to adjust his expensive looking chain, pulling it to sit above his tshirt instead of tucked beneath, cutting him off to question “so you knew my brother, right?” he liked that directness about you. the fact you kinda seemed like a bitch. it was a challenge, the urge to tame and rough someone up still very much sat at the surface of his wants and desires.

once a spoiled brat — always a spoiled brat, only now you’re his spoiled brat six months later, clinging to his arm and digging your manicure into his bicep with a whine as a silent command for him to magically vanish any of the surrounding paparazzi outside the airport.

“get rid of them.” you eventually mewl, in a demanding way that represented the physical embodiment of you stomping your pedicured foot.

“you think i fuckin’ want them here?” he sighs, no stranger to your ridiculous requests. that’s what was so intoxicating about your relationship — yes you were a little bitch sometimes, but he learnt how was best to put you in your place. most of the time you were happy, fucked and fed with racks upon racks sat in your expensive handbag, clinging to him and tottering along at his side in heels that cost an arm and a leg— but the times you were snarking up at him, telling him to ‘shut the fuck up’ he was more than happy to grab your throat and ask “the fuck are you talking to like that, huh?” which oddly would cause a smile to emerge on your face and the attitude to melt off you for an hour or so.

that being said, you kept him in check too. now rafe wasn’t like he always was — unhinged, explosive and overall angry at the world. no, he had an access to therapy now and basketball worked for a good outlet of his frustrations, all whilst opening up a new world for him to get his fresh start away from all that family bullshit he had to put up with a while back (cut them all off, minus wheezie who he sends money to every month and facetimes to talk shit.) that being said — he would be the one to catch an attitude out of the blue sometimes, which was often remedied by a sharp eyebrow raise from you, a dramatic head swivel and a “you better fucking talk to me nice, rafe cameron. not one of your fucking fan girls.”

with a tongue in his cheek, he’ll shake his head and drop the whole thing — but not without saying “y’know you run your mouth like you’re six foot four with two pistols tucked sometimes. shit.”

life outside of your relationship with rafe became a dream all because of him. quickly, as rafe skyrockets to success in the basketball world, you’re skyrocketing to being the top pinterest muse— starring in every girls ‘future manifestation’ moodboard with snaps of you courtside in your pretty little outfits cheering on your boyfriend. you were glammed to the nines at every game, because you knew you’d end up on that big screen one way or another.

when travelling with rafe for his tournaments, you’d get the princess treatment you deserved and that was a promise. designer shoes, designer bags, steak meals that cost the same as your house back home and you were not poor by any stretch of the word. he liked to flaunt you, flaunt his success. he was the man now, like he’d always wanted to be — and effortlessly so, not the charade he was putting on back at tanny hill throwing those parties whilst suffering on the sly. no, he had everything now— and was happy to share that with you. you didn’t have to do much to gain this treatment, no. holding him down was enough, but he’d be happy to accept your payment of gratitude in having his cock wedged down your throat in the limo back to the hotel, ending the night on your back with your ankles on his shoulders and that same chain you fiddled with when you first reunited swinging in your face.

it was no secret that the two of you fucked. it made up a good 60% of your free time together, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. rafe could still get very frustrated — with his manager, with his teammates, with people from his past cropping up, even with the general public who had opinions on his playing — and with that, what better way to pound out some frustrations then by bending you over a balcony in a foreign country? rafe had a good team behind him, and luckily so — because it wouldn’t be the first time a hotel had attempted to get the two of you blacklisted for causing too much of a noise disturbance, notes pinned to your door found in the morning reading ‘Dear guests, whilst we are thrilled that you are enjoying our hotel, we please ask that you keep it down for the sake of the other guests. To remind you, other guests do not need to hear your lovemaking through the night! If this continues throughout your stay you will be asked to leave.’

your basketball player boyfriend would pluck the note off the door the next morning when you’re leaving together for the day, your sleepy self tucked under the arm of his hoodie covering his jersey as he scoffs, handing it your way carelessly. “pussies. they can’t do shit about it.”

unstoppably so, despite your hate for gossip past being in high school the notes would turn to blind items as rafe truly came into the public eye. you couldn’t scroll three videos on tiktok without hearing ‘this north carolina basketball player and hometown it girl may have come into hot water again at this famous vegas hotel after making sure their wall neighbours heard the ins and outs of their passion — april 27th, crazy days and nights.’ that, or the blogosphere getting ahold of the blurry and ambiguous paparazzi shots taken of you supposedly ‘getting it on’ on the beach.

unfortunately, this public knowledge that the two of you were real fuckers was not enough for twitter, which resulted in your first leaked video.

rafe should have known to be careful when the two of you in a lustful haze filmed an amateur tape the day before you had to fly home for a little while, the basketball player knowing he’d miss being in it and needed some material to work off whilst you were gone.

the video was 1 minute and 49 seconds of pure glory. filmed on landscape with an outstretched arm rafe captures you, whining and mewling as you roll your hips on his lap, bouncing on his cock as he watches the two of you through the screen, swollen lips parting and tongue flattening to catch your nipple as you do so. he grips your ass hungrily, aiding you on fucking down on him before delivering a firm smack to your ass that makes you jolt, only unlatching his mouth from your tit to grumble out “s’what i’m fuckin’ talking about baby. who’s your daddy, huh?” looking up at you from your needy spread out position.

you still recall the way your heart dropped into your ass seeing your name along side rafes in the trending tab, following by the words ‘leaked video’.

your legal teams were all over it instantly, working hard to get it shut down off every site it had been reuploaded and desperately attempting to track down whoever had managed to get into your boyfriends cloud to expose it— a couple weeks of watching paparazzi shots of rafe taking calls outside buildings, yelling down the phone and flipping off the cameras in moments of frustration and stress — for him to then be on the phone to you from a hotel room later that night, talking you down as you cry like a baby and complain.

“i know, i know alright i’m workin’ on it. gonna get that shit wiped from the net i can promise you that now, i got the guy who can make it happen for me. but for now, look y’know there’s — there’s nothin’ i can do alright, i can’t make people fuckin’… unsee that shit unfortunately just be glad you look so sexy in the video cause — okay, shit, the hell are you yelling for? m’just tryna help—”

after a while it does infact die down, and the video can no longer be found — yes, even on the shitty pop up porn sites that had reposted it with twelve watermarks in the worst quality. however, it didn’t stop jaded basketball fans from bringing it up any chance they got — getting in heated debates online and using it as an insult to the cameron boys playing skills. god forbid a rafe fan would speak up for him after a particularly poor game, his mentions getting filled with nothing but a screenshot of your boyfriend with your titty in his mouth.

though it had faded, the two of you learned that there was no way around it than to humour it — your boyfriend barely addressing the tape by quoting it in his instagram caption after one of his big wins, the post of him grinning on the court with his trophy tilted ‘who’s your daddy, huh?’ which of course, sent twitter into a spiral.

[dinogoofymutated]

NSFW! Gambit/Fem!AFAB!reader SECOND FIC OF HALLOWEEN CELEBRATION LEHHHGOOO!!! I really hope you guys like this one, as I had a lot of fun writing it! Sorry if the smut at the end is a little barebones, I was running out of steam lol. Here's your meal my hellions!

A bat flies through your window one night, and although you're dreadfully afraid of rabies and scared to touch the little thing, it's in really bad shape and you can't stand by and just let it die. You spend the next few days nursing the little guy back to health, when one day he up and disappears. The next night you go out with your friends, and feel like you keep seeing a familiar pair of eyes in the crowd.

TWs: MDNI!!!!!! Smut, Mirror sex, bitchy neighbors, alcohol consumption, semi-public sex. vampire stuff, only half of this has been beta-read. I'll add more if I think of any.

    The bat hadn’t struggled once when you scooped it up into a spare shoebox. It didn’t scramble away, or even flinch, really. It hadn’t made a single sound or squeak, either. All it did was look up at you with strange, tired eyes. Black scelera, red iris, black pupils- paired with an exhausted haze. He was cut up, battered, and beaten. If it weren’t for how compliant it was, you might have thought the thing was feral. Which didn’t exactly help your shaking hands or constant flinching as you used the lid to urge it into the cardboard. But your fear be damned, you couldn’t just leave the little guy on the doorsteps of your apartment- the thought of the bat being crushed by clumsy feet, or poked and prodded by the little hellions that were the children who lived here was more than enough to give you the push you needed.

    Besides, it was almost… cute, for something you thought was so scary. A little vampire bat with those strange eyes that seemed to follow you wherever you went. He never failed to perk up every time you came home from work. Despite the many struggles and attempts you had trying to find something he could eat, he never seemed to hold it against you. Happy to see you when you took the lid off the shoebox to check in on him, and not too upset with you when you inevitably had to put it back on.

    Well, before he escaped, that is. 

    You knew you were going to have to let him go at some point. You were just trying to do the right thing and reach out to a wildlife rescue, or something. Hoping that they’d do something more to help him before he was set back off into the wild. But one day you came home and he was just, well, gone. The lid of the shoebox had been tossed aside, the box itself a little squished and damaged, the bat nowhere to be found. You searched your apartment for absolute ages, unable to find any trace of his existence or escape aside from a window you were sure you had locked before you left for work that afternoon.

    You sigh as you look out the window of the Uber, thoughts drawn back to the bat as you pass billboards and cornfields, hoping he had escaped the city and found himself somewhere a bit safer. Ashley and Sophie, your neighbors from across the hall, are giggling about something in the seats next to you. The chatty girls are more like acquaintances than they are your friends, but on the surface, they seem sweet. When they invited you out tonight you had been surprised, if a little hesitant. You had wrestled with your anxiety every step of the way, but once you were strapped into the sexiest costume you could find and buckled into the almost-too-small backseat of the Uber, you had started to feel a little excited- despite the fact that you stood out like a sore thumb, with the girls having chosen matching costumes at the last minute and left you out of the loop. 

    “I think we should hit the corn maze first,” Ashley says confidently from the seat next to you. It’s enough to finally clue you back into their current conversation, debating on where the night should start once you get to the Halloween festival. -It’s an “adult only” event, with more than its fair share of alcohol and more than a few scare actors who linger around to give everyone a fright- and there’s a lot to do. It’s almost like the fair, just, you know, spooky. 

    “What? No! I’m telling you, it’s not a good enough photo-op until the moon comes out. We need to do it last!” Sophie sounds adamant, and you wonder how many times they've actually had this conversation leading up to tonight. You try not to snicker as Ashley rolls her eyes, Sophie pouting across the way. They bicker a bit more before Ashley turns to you, smiling slyly. There’s an unnerving way about the way she’s looking at you, something ticking in the back of your brain that you just can’t shake. 

    “What do you think?” She asks you, Sophie leaning over to stare at you directly, Puppy eyes full-throttle as she pouts. You don’t really want to be caught between the spat of theirs, so you take a moment to think, before shrugging with your answer. 

    “I think we should start with drinks.” You say after a moment, and both girls gasp in excitement. 

    “Girlie you are so smart!! I knew we invited you for a reason!” Ashley’s high-pitched voice cheers harshly in your ears as she lightly slaps your arm, but you smile at her anyway, despite the fact that her tone made it feel rather belittling. It’s fine. This is fine, it will be fine. Your anxiety feels like a ticking time bomb, but you know that when you get there and start having fun, it will eventually fade into the background of the noise and lights of the festival. At least, you hoped it would.

    The festival is pretty packed when you get there, but the wide walkways and plentiful games, areas, and events make it more approachable. After the first watery drink of the night, you start to relax a little. And as bitchy and frigid as the girls can be sometimes, they’re a lot of fun when it comes to a party! Carnival games, photo areas, rides, and jumpscares? You find yourself laughing most of the night as the three of you goof off and stumble your way through the corn maze, clown maze, haunted maze- a little repetitive in that area, but fun nonetheless.

    The funny thing was, despite all the people here, and everyone the girls have stopped to flirt with and talk to, you keep seeing this one particular guy. He was certainly one to stand out in a crowd, tall, dark, and handsome with what looked like a permanent smirk on his face. But the one thing you couldn’t seem to shake was his eyes. They had to be contacts, right? Black Scelera, red irises, black pupils… just, strange. And familiar, somehow. You feel like you see him everywhere you go, somehow always in your vicinity, but not really in a stalkerish kind of way. Besides, it was more than likely just a coincidence. 

    After a while of playing various games and a couple more watery drinks, you’re feeling pretty warm and a little crowded. Ashley and Sophie had run into some acquaintances they knew and had stopped to chat for a bit. They talk about some of the more busy and exciting things you haven't been able to check out yet, but the longer you stand there, the less appealing all of this starts to sound. You’re beginning to feel a little overstimulated, and go ahead and let the girls know you’d rather sit this one out. Sophie doesn’t answer you at all, and all Ashley does is wave you off. It sparks some annoyance in your chest, but knowing that you’re overwhelmed and everything feels like it's at 100% right now- you shrug it off. 

    You find a bale of hay to sit on where you told them you’d wait, relieved at the feeling of the cool night air that’s uninterrupted by masses of warm bodies and hot breathing. The sound of the crowd is a little muffled over here, and the slight breeze just gives you everything you need for a quick break from the chaos, eyes closed as you lean back onto your hands. Not for long though, as someone plops down onto the space next to you pretty much immediately. 

    “Busy night, ay, cher?” Your eyes flick open quickly, and the source of that thick Cajun draw just so happens to be the handsome man you had been seeing all night. You blush a little, both out of nervousness and from the fact that he was even more attractive up close. The cool air suddenly feels sweltering with his eys on you like this. 

    “...yeah, I guess so.” You say after a moment, pressing a cool palm against one of your hot cheeks for a quick moment. The stranger chuckles at you, a flash of a fake fang appearing with his smile. 

    “Name’s Remy, Remy LeBeau.” He holds his hand out for a handshake, which you take with a smile. “Pretty girl like you gotta name?” You can’t help but giggle a little, and tell him your name, butterflies in your stomach with the way he’s looking at you.

    “Nice to meet you, officially.” You say, and he cocks an eyebrow at you with that signature smirk of his. “I mean- like, I feel like I’ve been seeing you everywhere tonight! Not in a creepy way or anything, I just…” You take your hand back from him, covering your face in embarrassment as you apologize again with a sigh. God, why were you so awkward? You drop your hands into your lap as Remy begins to laugh, with you blushing furiously in a way you pray you can blame on the alcohol. 

    “ s’ good to know I make a lasting impression,” Remy says, and it’s charming enough to make you crack another smile. 

    “I promise I’m not normally this strange. It’s been a bit of a night.” The words come out like a sigh, and you glance over where the “stressors” of the night had run off to, strangely thankful when you can't see them through the crowd. You feel like your heart skips a beat when you look back over at Remy, with a smile on his face and a fondness in his eyes you feel like might be a little too friendly for someone you just met.

    “I don’t mind, Cher. You’ll find that I like strange.” He replies, sending you a wink. You let out a short laugh, cocking an eyebrow at him.

 ��  “You know what? I believe you.” You say, all Remy does is smile wider. You glance at him again, looking at him from head to toe as you take in his appearance up close. You can’t really tell if he’s wearing a costume, or if he had just stuck on some vampire teeth and called it a night. Either way, he looks good, and you really do not want to make a further fool of yourself. 

    “What led you here, anyway? Costume catch your eye?” You flirt, hoping you don’t come off as nervous as you are- not really one to flirt with handsome strangers. But hey! When the opportunity presents itself… Remy raises his eyebrows, interested. 

    “Sure, Somethin' like that.”

    You and Remy talk for a really, really long time. From the outside looking in, just about anyone would presume you were a couple with the easy-flowing conversation and back-and-forth flirting. You just clicked! It was so easy for your nerves to wash away, and for a long moment, all of your anxieties about the night were long forgotten. One of the two of you had scooted closer in the duration of your flirt-fest, not that you really noticed while caught up in his words and charismatic smile- your sides being pressed together and his hand resting behind you. He’s close enough to lean in and kiss you, and honestly, you certainly wouldn’t mind if he did.

    “So you want my number then?” The words are admittedly cocky, but damn did this guy make you feel so confident in your own skin.

    “You hear me say I didn’t?” Remy replies, cocking his head at you. You can't help but laugh, smiling like some cheesy idiot.

    “Do you flirt like this with every girl?”

    “Jus’ the ones I like.”

    You really hadn’t noticed how long the two of you had been sitting together, an hour? Maybe an hour and a half? Your phone had been long forgotten, and you weren’t really planning to check it either until you heard a giddy squeal from your right. Both you and Remy look over to the noise, only to see the girls, without their clique from before and presumably done with all of their roaming at the moment.

    “Hey girlie! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Ashley says, drawing you into an awkward side hug that you don’t return, confused.

    “I told you where I’d be?” She brushes you off, locking eyes with Remy for just long enough for her eyebrows to raise and a glint to light up in her eyes. 

    “Who’s this?” You don’t have time to answer before Sophie is in front of you, taking your hands and dragging you to your feet.

    “Come get food with us!! We need an excuse to sober up, and we’re not doing it without you, bestie!”  Both of them are being a little more friendly than normal, and it's enough to make you a little suspicious. But, food did sound pretty nice at the moment. You look back at Remy with a sheepish smile, and you find that he’s already looking at you. 

    “ S’ alright, Cher. I’m a patient man.” He gives you a reassuring smile, and you relax a little more, unable to keep yourself from smiling as butterflies light up in your stomach. The girls drag you away pretty much immediately, talking about some afterparty or whatnot, but all you can think of the entire time is the implications of that statement.

    “Where’d you find a man like that?” Sophie’s voice finally catches your attention while in line for the carnival food, and you give her a questioning look.

    “Sorry?” You ask, and both of them giggle in that way that just seems to set alarms off in your head.

    “I’m serious! Almost every guy we’ve seen tonight has been like, a seven. That one is literally a ten.” Sophie giggles again, sending Ashley a knowing look. You blush a little, thinking about Remy again, but there’s just something about this conversation that’s making you uncomfortable.

    “Well, I didn’t exactly find him. He approached me.” You admit, shrugging your shoulders. The girls exchange skeptical looks, before laughing again.

    “Really?” Ashley asks this time, a wolfish smile on her face. It’s rhetorical- and feels just plain bitchy. Your face screws up, and you think about confronting her, but they quickly and ignorantly delve into a separate conversation, and you reluctantly decide to let it go. What the fuck was up with them? You don’t fall into conversation with them for a minute as you try to collect yourself, knowing you’d rather ride home with them than pay for a separate Uber. And starting a fight was definitely not going to work in your favor, seeing as they were your neighbors. They had a pack mentality like no other, and after tonight you’d much rather be able to ignore them forever instead of having a neiborly feud. 

    Eventually, you do decide to join the conversation. The line for food was ridiculously fucking long, and although it was moving, you still felt so impatient. Your phone is dying, and you’d really rather save your battery for Remy’s number and the ride home- so you talk and hope for the best. Eventually, Ashley says she needs to go to the bathroom and hands her wallet to Sophie before she stalks off. She’s gone for a while. A really long while. As you’re finally inching your way to the end of the line, Sophie tells you she’s going to find her. You actually welcome the peace and quiet, and promise to hold the spot. 4th in line. 3rd. 2nd. You’re starting to get anxious by the fact that neither of them had returned, but you get to the end and they’re still not back. 

    You buy a funnel cake for yourself, almost worried about the two as you walk back to the hay bale where you left Remy. The crowd finally starts to clear a bit, and when the Hay bale is finally in sight, you actually assume that you were looking at the wrong spot for a minute- until you recognize the costumes, and then spot the brunette they are both latched onto.

    Ashley is in his space, her costume unzipped just enough for anyone walking past to get a view. Sophie is leaning across his shoulders, running her fingers through his hair and twirling the ends with manicured fingers You can’t see his face- but it didn’t really matter anyway. 

    You don’t mean to drop the funnel cake, but you do. There's a shot of ice through your veins when it clicks for you, finally, as you watch them from a distance- it was a ploy. A stupid fucking ploy. You were the ugly friend- If they could even call you that. You were invited to make them look better. The matching costumes, the conspiring looks, the whole thing about Remy. Jesus Christ, had you always been this blind? Your face is warm with humiliation, eyes watering as you desperately try not to cry.

    Remy had nothing to do with it- of course, he didn’t, you just met him, but as you look at the two draped over him… You just feel like you can’t really compare. You know better. You do- but god, did it hurt. You don’t want to go over there for them to make fun of you again, and you sure as hell don’t want to feel the sting of rejection that will inevitably come when he ditches you for them. Before you know it, your feet are moving. You’re not thinking clearly- hardly thinking at all. You see a side entrance, or maybe a fire exit, not that you really care. You can’t read anything through your tears, closing the door behind you and plugging yourself into darkness as it clicks shut.

    Inside, you find a mirror maze- again, what was with all of the fucking mazes? The overhead lights are off, what little light that’s coming from the outside dimly reflecting through each and every silvery mirror. It’s completely abandoned, with not a single soul in sight. You step over some shattered glass as you make your way further into the maze, and understand it was probably because drunks and mirrors don’t mix. 

    You find a dead end in the maze, and it’s like your legs give out. You can't help but just sit on the ground and sob for a minute. The backs of your hands are stained with the mascara that you’re sure is streaking down your face. You feel like an idiot- stupid, dramatic, pathetic. And you looked it, too. Every mirror reflects the mess of what you have become until you can’t stand to look at yourself anymore, pulling your knees to your chest and tucking your head into your arms.

    It's a quiet reprieve. You sit for a minute, long after your tears have dried. Your breathing begins to return to normal as the humiliation really starts to settle in. You’re so tired, and exhausted, and find yourself wishing you had never come out tonight at all, visioning your comfy bed that waits for you at home. 

    “Pauvre ti bête. Looks like you need new friends, Cher.” The sound of the voice makes you flinch, the daylight scared out of you as a dark figure sits down by your side.    “Remy?” You wipe at your face again, knowing it was to no avail, and that the damage to your makeup had already been done. 

    “The one an’ only,” He replies. It’s hard to see him in the low lighting, but it’s not like you’re looking around much anyway. There’s a silence between you two, and your gaze is locked on the floor, refusing to look at him with your stupid pout and tear-stained face.

    “Sat for a while, waitin’ on you.” He says, after a long moment, and it makes you feel so much fucking worse. You curl into yourself a little more.

    “Sorry, I just… I dunno, I thought you looked busy.” The words are more of a whisper than anything, and he chuffs something that’s not quite a laugh in response.

    “I guess you could say that.” He hums, leaning back on his hands as you finally turn to look at him. “Hadda swat those girls like damn mosquitos to get 'em off. Felt like they were tryna swallow me whole.” You can’t help but laugh at that, rubbing your eyes a bit.

    “...Trust me, they were probably trying to swallow something.” The words are out of your mouth before your brain can really catch up. Remy laughs a full laugh, smiling brightly at you now that you’ve started to come back out of your shell once again. 

    “Sorry, that was crude.”

    “Sounded pretty funny to me,” Remy’s grin is contagious, not that you ever would complain. You roll your eyes at him with that big smile on your face, leaning your head against the mirror behind you.

    “I guess I can’t really blame them, either.” You mumble, eyes going wide once you realize that that was most definitely not supposed to leave your lips. “God damn, I really have lost my filter!” Remy begins to laugh again as you cover your face, flushed with embarrassment. He doesn’t seem to mind the comment at all. Pulling your hands away as he struggles to contain his laughter. 

    “I like you, y’know that?” He says, and it makes you smile. You sit in comfortable silence for a bit, and before you know it, you find yourself leaning on his shoulder, eyes closed. Your thoughts slowly begin to wander. Remy’s very sweet, and the fact that he still came looking for you despite everything… It meant a lot. You can only imagine how uncomfortable he had been with Ashley and Sophie hanging off of him, waiting, wondering where you had gone. If he notices as your smile slowly becomes a frown, he doesn’t say anything. 

    “I’m sorry I left you out there.” You say quietly, breaking the silence that had become so uncomfortable for you. “I hadn’t realized they invited me to be the “ugly” friend until right then and I just needed to get away from it all.” There’s a featherlight brush of skin against your cheek, and when you open your eyes, Remy pushes a few strands of hair out of your face, thumb lingering against your skin. You find yourself caught up in his piercing gaze. It’s almost like he’s looking into your soul.

    “Pretty dumb choice to invite you if they were looking for an ugly friend.” His voice is low, and his cool hand feels nice against your flushed skin. You can’t drag your eyes away from his, gazes locked together as the tension only grows- thick enough to cut with a knife and choke you as you breathe it in. It’s he who breaks the eye contact first, stunning red irises flickering down to your lips and back up again. 

    “Really,” You ask, but it’s less of a question and more like a filler, mind unable to provide anything other than that. You’re caught up in that little action of his, swallowing, unable to look away from him. Suddenly, you realize just how close he really is.

    “Mais oui,” He mumbles, close enough for you to feel the slight breath that comes with the words. His thumb and finger prop up your chin, but he moves no closer, waiting for you. It’s hardly a debate for you to decide to brush your lips against his own.

    It’s like fireworks explode behind your eyelids when the space between you closes, his lips melding against you perfectly. It’s soft and sweet. Gentle for a man as much of a flirt as he appeared to be. He kisses you a few times, just like that, until the kiss starts to develop into something a little more heated. He turns to face you a little better, the sharp fangs in his mouth grazing your bottom lip as he leans over you and licks at the seam of your lips- which you eagerly open for him. Fuck, he was a good kisser. 

    Before long, you’re leaning back on your palms, and one of Remy’s knees presses between your thighs. Your elbows buckle just a little, and he’s quick to catch you. One of his hands is on the small of your back as he keeps you propped up, the other one flat against the floor as he keeps both of you from falling. He nips at your lip- the tip of his canine just barely splitting the skin before he kisses away your yelp, licking the blood away just as quickly as it had appeared. As embarrassing as it was, the action alone was enough to get the attention of heat slowly building in your abdomen. His kisses trail from your lips down to your neck, kissing the sensitive skin there. 

    Your eyes slowly open, half-lidded as you weave your fingers through his hair, tongue softly licking at the stinging soreness of that bottom lip of yours. He’s not as aggressive with the rest of you, kissing and sucking dark spots into you as the sharp canines only drag and graze. Your eyes wander to a mirror across from you- one just barely lit from what you were sure was a hole in the roof- the full moon lining up just perfectly enough to light the mirrored room.

    It takes a second for you to recognize what you see in the mirror.

    You see yourself. Just yourself, leaned over as if you were hovering, neck exposed with purple marks blooming mysteriously across your skin. It’s you. Just you. Only you.

    A gasp is ripped out of your throat, and if the way your spine goes rigid wasn’t enough to alert Remy, it was the fast, pounding beat of your heart. Your eyes are glued to that image reflected in the mirror, even as Remy removes himself from your neck and finds himself staring at that same image. He stiffens, an unreadable look on his face before he recovers with an amused hum. 

    “Well, Don’t we make a lovely couple?” He muses. And when you finally look back at him, his strange eyes and sharp fangs, you realize exactly what he is. A wave of familiarity washes over you again, but you can’t place it as the horror begins to wash over you. 

    “Oh my god.” You breathe, almost stuck in disbelief. This could not be real, could it? That smirk of his makes yet another appearance, and yet something feels off about it. Deceptive, almost. It does not reach his eyes.

    “What, you afraid?” He asks with a chuckle. You wonder for a moment about the situation you had put yourself into, held in the arms of what could only be a vampire. All you can do is look at him, wide-eyed. If stories were to be believed, he’d be caging you in his arms, holding you in an iron grip before he strikes- bleeding you dry without care… 

    But he’s not. Yes, he was holding you up, but the arm around you is loose. His body language is open- and you get the feeling that if you tried to make a run for it, he’d let you. He’s not vicious. He’s not snapping at you or pinning you down. Hell, he had the chance to bite you earlier while you were pliant and eager, and he didn’t. 

    “...I don’t actually know, right now.” You finally respond, and something shifts. His breath catches in his throat, and the barest glimpse of vulnerability is gone within a second as he leans back a little, giving you a chance to sit up a bit more. You do so hesitantly.

    “I’m not here to hurt you, Cher. Just wanted to give you a proper thank you.” He rumbles. He takes one of your hands, lifting it to his mouth to press a kiss to your knuckles, gaze never leaving your own. Black, red, black. Where had you seen that before?

    “Proper… what?” You furrow your eyebrows, trying your damndest to make sense of it all. Black, red, black. Black, red, black. Sharp teeth. Vampires, bats, Vampire bats. Vampire bat. Vampire bat. For the second time tonight, it all clicks for you. 

    “Holy shit. You-? The bat?-” You feel like you’re at a loss for words. Remy smiles again, fangs catching the low light of the mirrored room.

    “That’d be me.” He admits, thumb rubbing over your knuckles. “ ‘Thought I was done for until you showed up. Most vamps like that? They don’t make it inside ‘fore the sun comes up.” He chuckles, but the seriousness of the situation is not lost on you. Saving the life of an immortal being rather than the life of a small bat is something huge, it felt like it, at least. 

    “Did you follow me here? Is that why I kept seeing you around tonight?” You ask. Remy simply shrugs his shoulders, letting your fingers go as he inches forward, looming over you once again. 

    “Think of it as more of a happy accident.” Remy sets his arms on either side of you, leaning close enough for his nose to gently brush against yours. You think he’s going to kiss you as his hand comes up to cup your chin. Instead, Remy runs his thumb across your lower lip, which you hadn’t even realized had started to bleed again. He brings the thumb to his mouth, licking the smear of blood. The sight is seductive. Arousing. You find yourself staring at his lips, conflicted. He sets his forehead against your own, hovering over your lips. There’s a heated look in his eyes when you look back up at them.

    “Tell me to leave, Cher, And I’ll go.” You swallow as he says the words, a flutter in your chest and a growing warmth within you. You bite your lower lip, your hesitance quickly being overshadowed by want.

    “... You're not gonna suck my blood or anything?” You ask, lips beginning to brush against his own. He chuckles, and this time he’s close enough for you to feel the sound as it rumbles through his chest.

    “Not unless you want me to…” He’s teasing you now, making you chase his lips until he’s fully sure you really want this, and you do. When they finally meet, his lips press against yours just as spectacularly as they did the first time. One of his hands snakes around the back of your neck, shielding the lower part of your head as he lowers you to the floor. You find yourself lost in his kisses, thinking of only him and the way he treats you so gently. 

    He props himself up with one strong arm, the other cupping the side of your face rather reverently, his thumb stroking across your cheekbone. Your hands can’t help but wander up and down his torso, feeling the muscle beneath his shirt. You feel him smile against your lips as you do, kissing at the corner of your mouth, and then your jaw, before the fluttery movement traces a path over each and every discolored spot on your neck, kissing the marks he had given you not even twenty minutes earlier. Your hands come up to tangle in his hair as the kisses venture further. His cold face presses into your open cleavage, an open palm dragging up from your thigh and sliding beneath your top, softly squeezing the bare skin of your waist. You find yourself arching into his touch, eager for his soft caress. 

    You have goosebumps down your chest as his fangs graze the skin, his fingers hooking around the neckline of your shirt and the bra underneath it from the inside. The cool air hits your bare breasts as he tugs it down, your nipples pebbling at the frigid draft. Your breath hitches at the feeling as his lips venture down your sternum, his free hand moving out from under the fabric to palm and toy with one breast as he begins to tease the other. He chuckles at you when you let out a whine, fingers tugging on his locks.

    “Have a little patience, Cher.” There’s a seductive lure to his voice as Remy tells you to have a little faith in him, pressing one last kiss to the swell of one said breast as he moves back up. He easily draws you into another long, heated kiss. He continues to play with the breast in his hand, pinching and testing the supple give of the skin. Your muffled whines and moans are music to his ears as he presses his knee against your heated core, only relenting with his playful touches when he slides his palm under your spine, forcing you to arch your back. He lets go of your lips to drag his attention back to your breast, now sucking at the stiff peaks, careful of his sharp teeth. 

    “Remy,” His name comes out inadvertently, the sound making him groan against you. Your hands have slid down from their hold on his scalp, now resting against his wide shoulders with a tight grip on the fabric of his shirt. His palm wanders up and down the expanse of your back, thriving off of the feeling of your hot, flushed skin against his cold body. 

    The feeling of your top being bunched around your waist starts to become uncomfortable and suffocating. You squirm to try and take it off yourself, but Remy is quick to stop you. He pulls it off of you slowly, kissing every inch of skin it drags against as it goes. Once it's off, he leans back to get a good look at you, cursing under his breath as his hands find your thighs. You know for a fact you’re flushed and red from the neck down. The sight only encourages Remy further, quickly sitting up and removing his own shirt, keeping his gaze on yours throughout the movement. 

    It’s not surprising when his upper body catches your attention, the lean muscle impressive for a man who’s basically dead. Or was he? When he’s back within reach, you run your right hand from his happy trail till you reach his collarbone, fingertips pressing into the cold skin as you try to feel for a pulse. He hums, a mischievous glint in his eye when he realizes what you’re doing. 

    “You won’t find a heartbeat, cher. Not from me.” Remy confirms your thoughts. You can only hum in response, leaning up to press a soft kiss where your hand had been, over his heart. Remy lets out a low groan at the action, inciting a slow grind of his hips against yours.

    “Merde.” He mumbles.“You play a dangerous game, makin’ a dead heart flutter.” 

    “Do I really?” You ask, biting your lip. Remy leans in, just far enough to teasingly brush his lips against your own before he moves down the length of your neck, never touching you in the way to crave so badly. 

    “I get the feeling you like dangerous games.” There's something sharp against your neck, the tips of his fangs gently dragging across the skin. Your heart is pounding in your chest, but not out of fear. He grinds his hips into you once again, your hips eagerly bucking to meet his own. You swallow deeply at the sound he makes at the action- realizing that you just might want him to bite into you. It’s crazy. You feel crazy. It must be so tantalizing for him to be pressed against you like this, fully aware of the red-hot blood rushing through your veins and the constant pounding of your heart. And yet, he never takes the bait. 

    Remy’s lips meet your own again right as your hands meet the buckle of his jeans. He sighs against your lips as you undo it, sliding your hand underneath the stiff fabric to feel the hardness he hides underneath. He’s… big. Not necessarily long, but he’s thicker than you had expected him to be. You stroke him over the fabric of his boxers, feeling his length twitch under your touch. When he separates from the kiss, he tucks his head into your shoulder. You can’t help but giggle at the action as you begin to pull both garments down, his cock slapping against his lower abdomen once freed. 

    “Are you sensitive, Remy?” You ask him, turning your head to bury it in his hair. You wrap your hand around his cock, hearing him moan before cursing quietly when you give him a slight squeeze. 

    “Sometimes.” He mumbles, one of his calloused hands coming up to one of your breasts, gently rubbing his thumb over your nipple to encourage it to a stiff peak. You can’t help but let out a surprised moan as he pinches and teases, feeling his smile against the skin of your shoulder. 

    “But I got nothin’ on you.” Remy kisses your breast, before taking a long, slow lick across the sensitive skin. He takes the nub into his mouth, giving it a short suck before he lets go of it with a pop. 

    You almost want to whine and complain when Remy removes himself from you, but quickly lose the thought as you watch him remove his pants and boxers in one movment. Once he’s done, he slowly slides his hands from your ankles to your hips, hooking his fingers underneath the fabric of your bottoms. He kisses the space beneath your belly button, red eyes trained on your own as he slowly drags the clothing down, undressing you until you’re bare. He licks his lips at the sight of you, slowly spreading your legs as he begins to kiss from your knees to your…

    “You don’t- you don’t have to do that.” You stutter out once you realize what he’s doing. You’ve never been eaten out before, and the sight of him between your legs has already got you flushed and nervous- embarresed, even. Remy’s eyes shift back up to your face, his fingers sliding between your admittedly slick folds as you try to hold back a moan.

    “Vampires are creatures of desire, cher. Thirsty ones at that.” He rumbles, and it’s like everywhere he touches you is on fire, his cool hands stroking you into a lustful heat. “Should I beg for you to consider?” He’s got this knowing look on his face, watching you as you bite your lip, face twitching with pleasure every time those fingers of his graze your clit. He slides a finger into you without resistance, curling it just right. You buck your hips into the feeling, nodding vigorously as a final go-ahead. 

    Remy dives into your cunt like a man starved. 

    Every lick of his tongue and curl of his fingers has you seeing stars. Fuck, did it feel good. He touches you expertly, finding spots within you that you didn't even know you had. He lets a moan slip now and then, fully immersed in the warm wetness of your pussy. 

    Your legs are hooked over his shoulders, a hand splayed across your lower abdomen to keep you from bucking up into his mouth as he enjoys himself. You feel close to cumming embarrassingly quick- quick in a way you had never known yourself to even be capable of.

    “Remy!” It's an urgent call of his name, your hands tangling themselves in his hair as you attempt to warn him. He hums in response, right over your clit, and it does nothing but push your body further. You come with a rather embarrassing noise, hips twitching and thighs pressing into the side of his head. You can't help but assume that not needing to breathe was only a bonus for the man currently suffocating between your pillowy thighs. 

    He lets you ride out your orgasm with enthusiasm, pressing sweet kisses to the skin around your sensitive cunt as your breathing begins to even out and your legs begin to relax around him. 

    He looks absolutely wrecked when he sits up. His hair is messy, a pussydrunk smile he's certainly not afraid to hide spreading across his face. 

    “You feelin’ alright, cher?” He asks. You eagerly nod in response, leaning into his touch when he crawls back over you to place a kiss against your lips. You've never been one to taste yourself, but you find that you don’t mind tasting it on his lips. Remy's cock begins a slow grind against you, grazing your clit with every stroke. You moan into the kiss, a string of spit between your mouths when you separate long enough to catch your breath.

    “Fuck.” The word is whispered, but that doesn't stop Remy from catching it. He lets out a low laugh, collecting your wetness as he grinds. 

    “You ready for me?” He asks. You nodd, closing your eyes as you eagerly wait for the stretch of his cock. Exempt, he stops.

    “I need you to give me a yes, cher.”

    “Yes-” He swallows the rest of that word in an eager kiss, finally sliding into your heat inch by inch. You both moan in union, feeling every inch of that slow stretch. He's cold. Not freezing, but cold. It's unlike any feeling you've felt before, and surprisingly, you want more of it.

    His body begins to warm a little more everywhere the two of you touch- and god, does it feel good. Remy favors a steady pace, with powerful thrusts that hit you right every single time. It felt like he was made for you, and he most definitely felt the same. Remy kisses you like a man in love, fucking you in a way that makes you see rings instead of stars. 

    Every smack of his hips against yours is rather careful, measured even. It's only when he pulls out of you and flips you onto your stomach like a ragdoll that you realize the kind of strength he holds- suddenly grateful for his caution. He's quick to go back to rearranging your insides once he has you on your knees, front pressed against your back as he kisses at the nape of your neck and slides his arm around your front, palm splayed under a boob with his thumb on the valley between.

    “Look at us, love.” His chest rumbles against your back, and it's not even a whole minute before the position changes again, Remy pulling you against him as he sits up onto his knees, holding you steady as he makes you face the mirror. 

    You wish that you could see his reflection in that mirror as you gaze upon the sight of you, red face flushed and needy. You don't see the way he holds you pressed so tightly against his chest, or the way he admires that evocative image of you, shaking with each thrust. 

    “Aren't you a sight, bele.” His breath is cold against your ear, his hand coming down to circle your clit as his thrusts pick up in pace. You can tell he's close, reaching that peak just as fast as you reach your own. You grasp at his hands, moans and whine only getting louder as that pleasure gets ever-so-close.

    His groan against your ear is unnecessarily hot, his thrusts stuttering right before he pulls out of you. His cock rests just below your lower lips, using the friction of your thighs as he reaches that high. He cums in thick streaks, your own release following directly after.

    There's a buzzing sound right as Remy sits back, placing you in his lap as he kisses across your shoulders sweetly. You relax against him, boneless as you both try to catch your breath. The buzzing stops for a moment before it continues again. You hardly register the noise, and are certainly in no condition to try and find the source.

    When Remy looks over to the sound, he finds your phone hiding beneath the scattered clothes on the floor. It's his shirt, and he reaches over to grab it. The phone is set to the side as he maneuvers you around, dressing you in his shirt like a gentleman.

    “Cher?” You hum, only halfway aware at the moment as Remy calls your name. He hands you your phone, and you open your eyes just enough to unlock it and see the fifteen missed calls from Ashley and Sophie. 

    “God damnit. Can't I have any peace?” You curse. Remy laughs, watching from over your shoulder as you check the additional excessive Snapchat messages from them. 

    “Maybe we should send them a message, no?” Remy reaches over to your phone, swiping over to the Snapchat camera, angling it to where both of your sweaty, disheveled faces are inframe, along with the line of purple hickies that trail down your neck. Jesus christ, you were about to fuck him all over again for even suggesting this. Who knew you were into revenge like that?

    “Oh fuck yes.”

[suga-kookiemonster]

ctrl-alt-del | jjk (teaser)

summary⇢ you graduated bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but, to your extreme disappointment, your big girl job isn't turning out to be nearly as exciting as you thought it would be. still, you're holding out hope that your talents will soon be recognized and your coworkers will stop trying to include you in their gossip sessions. enter jungkook, the quiet IT guy who's gradually making your days more bearable. (and if you find him easy on the eyes, that's nobody's business but yours.) pairing⇢ jungkook/reader teaser word count⇢ 1.4k genre⇢ smut | humor | office!au warnings⇢ nothing too bad for this teaser! just a mention of oral

a/n⇢this fic has literally been sitting in my wips for YEARS lmao. i feel like it's finally time to set it free 🕊️✨ it's looking like it's gonna lean more towards pwp, but there's definitely still enough plot in there to keep it interesting. not sure when it will be up, but wanted to share a snippet to get your thoughts and get myself excited to finish the last leg--fingers crossed for the next month or so 🤞🏾🙌🏾💜

When you graduated top of your class with a marketing degree and a job already lined up, you weren’t big-headed to assume you would be given a lot in the beginning. No, you knew that you were the new kid on the block and needed to prove yourself first, needed to work your way up from the bottom. But what you definitely didn’t anticipate was working up from thefigurative trenches, almost exclusively doing busywork—constantly making coffee runs, catering business lunches, printing out endless spreadsheets.

Eighty-thousand dollars in debt, and you are a glorified intern.

You’re positively itching to hit the ground running and get your hands dirty, your job isn’t too bad. The people there are all nice and welcoming, the complimentary coffee in the break room is decent enough for your dwindling bank account, and every couple of weeks, the company sponsors an employee barbecue were everyone can fraternize and enjoy free food.

“Apparently it fosters unity and teamwork,” your coworker Joy informs you as you both stand in the food line. “Seokjin—that’s our CEO—is really big on unity and teamwork.”

Joy is also a member of your marketing team. Though as sweet as can be, she has no filter, and thus always has a lot to say about everything—which has helped you when it comes to learning the ropes about the company, but has also had you clutching your imaginary pearls in some situations where you found it inappropriate. Despite only being a year older than you, her title of Marketing Associate (instead of your measly Assistant)means that she technically outranks you, though she doesn’t usually enforce that fact (unless there was something that needed to be copied or filed, of course). Still, she immediately took you under her wing when you first started, and she is the closest person to a friend you have at work (even though her daily coffee order is always so ridiculous, you are convinced that she has to be fucking with you—or at least engaging in some form of mild hazing.).

“I think it’s nice,” you reply. “I’ll never say no to free food, and they let us out early and everything.”

“I mean, pretty sure you can get the hotdogs twelve in a pack at the dollar store,” Joy quips, raising her eyebrows at you pointedly. “But sometimes the boys from Sales take their shirts off and play soccer, so there’s that.”

Your eyes dart to said Sales boys against your will, gaze drawn to Jung Hoseok as he chats animatedly with his teammates by the tables. You’ve only spoken to him once or twice, but his fiery red hair and even brighter smile caught your attention immediately, your heart rate accelerating at the sight of him in hallways mere days into starting your new position. Who better to have a mild work crush on than a sweet-talking salesman who winks at you sometimes in passing?

An appreciative noise has you turning back around, embarrassed at being caught ogling how shapely Hoseok’s butt looks in his dress pants today, but it’s just Wendy from accounting, Joy’s best friend and thus a harmless, familiar face. Wendy has cut in front of a few editors to join you and Joy, and the way that she smiles at you lets you know she’s up to no good. “He’s cute, huh?” she asks, leaning towards you conspiratorially. “I would definitely give him the good ol’ suck behind the dumpsters over there, if you catch my drift.”

“Err…yeah, I do,” you reply awkwardly. She had been explicitly clear—keyword explicit—so there definitely isn’t any room for misunderstandings. Is this truly appropriate work function conversation? From the way the editors behind you are politely clearing their throats, you think not.

“Behind the dumpster?” Joy asks curiously. “He’s standing right next to some sturdy tables that I, for one, would take great advantage of—”

“I’m gonna go get us some drinks,” you announce loudly, your neck heating up. “Can you grab me a hot dog, Joy?”

“Sure,” she says dismissively, already distracted by her sudden debate with Wendy about the most convenient place to suck off salesman Jung.

The whole conversation is making you uncomfortable. You are not a prude—far from it—but there is a time and place for everything, and your coworkers’ blasé attitude towards speaking about inappropriate topics at company functions on company time rattles you a bit. So instead of engaging in the risqué discussion further, you make your way to the cluster of brightly-colored coolers that presumably hold beverages, sidling up to the only other person lingering the area.

“Anything good?” you ask cordially, making your coworker, who had apparently been deep in thought while considering his beverage options, startle a bit.

He’s tall, his large frame covered in the appropriate business casual attire of nice jeans and a powder-blue buttonup. When he turns his head to look at you, you’re met with large, dark eyes blinking in surprise from behind wire-rimmed glasses. Said eyes dart around for a moment before determining that you were, in fact, speaking to him.

The man clears his throat. “Just the usual,” he says, voice soft. Timid.

“The usual?” you repeat. There are little hoops dangling from his earlobes, and you brush off your surprise at seeing them, returning your gaze to the coolers. Water, a clear soda, a cola. “The basics, you mean. Well, can’t really complain, right? Seeing as it’s all free. I think it’s really nice of them.”

Your companion seems surprised at your words. “It is,” he agrees softly, eyes meeting yours for a second before dropping back down to the cooler. “Um, are you...are you new?”

“Damn, I guess my cover’s blown.” You shoot him a wry smile. “Yeah, I just started a couple of weeks ago. What gave it away?”

“It’s just—no one else here really cares about these barbecues anymore,” he admits, looking at you, but not quite. More like, in your direction. “Everyone has forgotten to appreciate the little things.”

“Nothing is a given,” you shrug. “So you need to appreciate things when you can. And besides, those lots of little things can really add up without you realizing it.”

He finally seems to look at you properly, and the weight of his large, gentle brown eyes throws you off for a second. “They can,” he agrees, lips slowly drifting up. 

“What do we have over here?” a loud voice interrupts, a hand falling to your shoulder. You look up, and are met with the brightness of salesman Jung.

“Ah,” Hoseok says with a wink, reaching into the cooler. “I love Sprite.”

“Me too,” you reply automatically, and then immediately want to smack yourself. Because you don’t—carbonated beverages make you break out. But your mouth had formed the lie without your permission.

Embarrassed, you reach into the cooler, grabbing three water bottles. “See you later,” you squeak, avoiding eye contact as you make your escape.

Joy and Wendy are already watching you when you return to where they have procured a table, and when you hand them their waters, Joy raises an eyebrow. “I was wondering how long you were going to talk to that IT guy.”

“Yeah, and why did you leave when Hoseok showed up?” Wendy pouted. “_____, the universe is only going to give you so many opportunities. If you don’t want the ball, then pass it to me! Goddamn.”

“IT guy?” you ask, hoping to slide past that last remark.

“Yeah. His name is Jungkook, I think? Mostly works with the printers, started a couple months ago.” Joy shrugs, obviously disinterested by the topic. She reaches for the ketchup bottle in the center of the table and squirts some on her hot dog. “This is the first time I’ve seen him at a barbecue, though. Honestly, I’m surprised he even came out, because the IT dudes generally keep to themselves. The rarely leave their little tower,” she adds with a dismissive wave.

Wendy scoffs. “Who cares about Jeremy! Hurry up and eat, I’m sure Sales is gonna start their soccer game soon.”

“Soccer game?” you ask.

“The sales department likes to play soccer during these things,” Joy informs you. Her expression brightens. “Hey, maybe Hoseok will take his shirt off again! Let us pray.”

To your coworkers’ disappointment, Hoseok did not take his shirt off. But they certainly had a good time watching him run back and forth across the grass.

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Editing Your Novel Part 2: The Plot Pass

Okay, it's finally time to edit. You've got all your materials sorted, it's time to dive right in. You want to start with the big edits first, aka the plot pass.

Now listen. You're going to want to linger and fix those little bits of grammar or dialogue, and I know it's so hard not to, but letting yourself get off-track might mean wasting hours on a scene you realize later you have to delete. Fix a few spelling errors, leave a note, and stay plot-focused.

Making Sense (Of the Plot)

In the plot pass, you're asking yourself some basic questions:

Do events follow a clear order? - When you're getting everything down on the page for the first time, scenes might get jumbled up or events might not have clear causes. Maybe you have a car crashing into the cafe pages before, but in a writing haze, you wrote your main characters having a casual conversation moments later. If the bad guy beats your heroes to treasure, is it clear how they got there? (Not everyone can be Yzma.)

Do circumstances feel contrived? If there are any problems that can be solved by your characters sitting down and talking to each other, it may be better to lean into their motivation for not speaking to each other, rather than coming up with bad romcom scenarios. If the plot can be resolved by the mcguffin the grandma had the whole time, it might be better to make finding that mcguffin part of the plot instead.

It doesn't have to be perfect, and you don't have to reinvent the wheel. If someone gets bitten by a werewolf, it's perfectly fine to have them turn into one at the worst possible moment. When it comes to contrived, you're looking for problems that seem easy to solve and look for more interesting ways to complicate them.

Are your character motivations consistent to the characters throughout the story? - They can change throughout the story, but character motivations do need to be linked to the actions they take. An out-of-nowhere betrayal is way more satisfying if you lay the groundwork for it ahead of time.

Take a moment to list out the motivations of the characters in a scene you're not quite sure of can help you figure how to fix it. Having an outline helps with this a lot!

Are you following an "if... then" format? - My brain doesn't work like this when I'm writing, because as a writer you know how A got to Z, and it seems (in your head) obvious how it happened. This is where my scene card outline come in handy, because I can look at my overview of what should happen and why, and then compare it to what actually happens in the scene. I've discovered so many threads I forgot to connect that way, like why a character had a certain device (I forgot to have him pick it up two scenes earlier), or adding a few simmering dialogue bits that make the big fight pay off much better.

Can you fix the "Because the Plot Demands It" scenes? - Look, sometimes your character needs to be in that haunted house to see that damn ghost, but your character isn't the type to set foot in such a place. It's really easy, especially in the first draft, to contrive a way in there (she took a wrong turn on her way to grandma's!), but retooling these scenes to connect them to the characters motivations and needs is the way to go. The main character doesn't want to go into that obviously cursed place, but her best friend hasn't shown up for school in three days and now she's crying for help from the second floor window. Your character's strong desire to be there for her friend is a much better way to get her into that house.

This is not always easy - it took me six fricken drafts to realize a critical part of a character's motivation was because his father blamed him for his mother's death - but it is going to be worth putting in the work to hammer down.

Do you have a solid timeline? - This might not seem as important, but it's super easy to accidentally fit two weeks worth of activities in three days. Make sure you have that on reference, even if you don't mention it in the book. Also make sure to gauge your distances if your characters are on a trip, because if you do accidentally say it takes two hours to drive from Seattle to Spokane instead of five, someone will dive down your throat for it. Not me. Just someone.

Okay, maybe me. Slow down, you maniacs.

Next post we'll dive into the structure pass. See you then!

[ariesangelxo]

mornings - part two

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI

cw: more angst, still no comfort (i promise it’s coming in the next part), heartbreak, one mention of panic attacks, prescription benzo use, recreational coke use, drinking, arguing, mention of a gun and a gunshot at the end, not proofread lol

an: thank u all SO SO much for all of the love on part one !!! i am blown away and in awe. there also will be a part three for sure <3

part three

the past twenty-six days had not been kind to you. your mornings were spent rotting away in bed until your mom would force you to get up, her expression of concern always made you feel even worse. your days weren’t much better, you forced yourself to detach from your heart and numb your emotions. it was the only way you knew how to keep going. you put on a mask during the day with your parents, giving them occasional smiles and laughs that weren’t the kind that warmed their hearts. they knew you weren’t okay, but they also knew they couldn’t force you to talk about it or you’d shut down completely. your nights consisted of taking a benzodiazepine in order to fall asleep, you couldn’t sleep without them. you tried, it only led to intense panic attacks and hysterical sobs that made your mother’s heart break in front of you.

this morning had been a bit different. you were awakened when you felt a weight in your bed, and in the haze of waking up you initially thought it was rafe. you shot up the moment you remembered everything, eyes widening and heart racing, but you looked over to see sarah in your bed. "oh my god, sarah you scared the hell out of me!" you exclaimed, holding a hand over your chest.

she let out a giggle, "i'm sorry, your mom let me in. i miss you," her tone was gentle. you had become very close with sarah during your relationship with rafe. being over at the cameron's house so often led to a beautiful friendship forming between the two of you. she was like a sister to you, something you cherished deeply as you didn't grow up with a sister.

you felt a pang of guilt in your chest at her words. you knew she missed you, she'd messaged you every single day since your break up without fail, even if you didn't always text back. you had seen her a couple times, but when she asked about what happened, you told her you weren't ready to talk about it. sarah was incredibly understanding, knowing how much you loved her brother and not wanting to push you too far.

"i miss you too, sar. i'm sorry i've been such a shit friend lately." you responded to her. you gave her a small smile, curling up next to her as she sat against your headboard.

"it's okay, i know you're not doing great with everything going on right now," she trailed off with a sad smile, "but, you're going out with me tonight!" she became animated as she spoke.

you didn't have it in your heart to deny her, not when she looked at you like you were the most important person in her world. "you know i can't say no to you. where are we going?" you asked curiously.

"there's going to be a huge party at the boneyard, and you're coming with me. no ifs, ands, or buts." she giggled out, "i need to get you out of your room, you're rotting away in here, babe."

"god, you sound just like my mother," you teased back. "i'll go though, i miss you more than you know. i even miss the pogues a bit." you both laughed, referencing her newer relationship with john b.

you couldn't prevent your curiosity from getting the better of you, "how- how has he been?"

sarah bit her lip, debating internally how much to tell you. "he's been... not great. i don't see him much when i'm home, he's usually in his room with the door shut. he's been a lot more moody too, snapping at literally everyone in the house. it probably didn't help that i told him he's an idiot and he fucked up the best thing to ever happen to him."

you couldn't suppress the laugh that slipped through your lips or the slight satisfaction you felt knowing that you weren't the only one struggling. "i love you sar. thank you." you leaned over, giving her a hug.

"i love you too. now get your ass up and shower. we're getting you a new outfit for the party."

you spent the next few hours strolling through the streets of figure eight with sarah. your arms held multiple shopping bags, filled with clothes she insisted you needed for tonight. you were incredibly grateful that she had forced you out of bed, you actually felt human for the first time since everything happened.

you found yourself in a small cafe, giggling as sarah told you a story from one of her drunken adventures with the pogues.

“you know… you should talk to jj tonight. i know he thinks you’re hot.” sarah gave you a mischievous smile as she wiggled her brows.

“funny,” you rolled your eyes playfully at her, “but it’s way too soon for me to get into anything with anybody right now.”

“i didn’t mean start dating him, i just think you would have fun together.”

“i just- i don’t know, sar. i’ve been such a wreck these past few weeks… can i tell you what happened?” you looked up from your fingers to meet her eyes, now widened with shock.

“yeah, of course you can. but don’t feel like you have to if you don’t want to.”

you were grateful for her support, going into your explanation of how the last couple months of your relationship, rafe’s behavior changed drastically. sarah hung on to your every word, needing to know exactly what led to the end of your relationship.

“and so i walked into the country club to surprise him. i spent the whole morning getting ready, did my makeup how he likes, even wore a new sundress that i know he would have loved. but i walked in and…” you looked up as your vision began to blur, “he was talking with some bitch i’ve never seen before bartending. she had short brunette hair, but he fucking smirked at her the way he only does- did for me. and- and then, she basically fucking held his hand while she fucked him with her eyes, and he let it happen!”

you spit the words out like they were poison on your tongue, not noticing your voice beginning to raise with frustration. sarah’s jaw was nearly on the floor.

“what the- what the fuck?” she racked her brain, trying to remember if she’d seen anyone matching your description recently, but nothing came to her.

“god, shit. i’m so sorry, babe. i don’t know what the fuck is wrong with him.” she attempted to console you as you dabbed your eyes with a napkin.

you shrugged your shoulders, “what’s done is done. i just want to forget about everything for a while.”

she nodded, “then let’s go get ready. we can pregame at yours and ride with john b and them.”

after a few shots, a couple hours spent transforming yourself to not look like you spent the last three weeks trying to cope with your break up, and a lot of laughter, you and sarah were ready to go.

you wore a cropped loosely crocheted white sweater over your pink bikini and a white miniskirt that hugged your hips , the strings from your bottom peaking out from the top of it. you were finally feeling good about yourself again, and you’d be damned if you let anyone ruin it.

the ride to the boneyard only lifted your spirits more. it was impossible not to laugh around the pogues, especially when jj did whatever he could to hear your giggle.

you arrived just as the party was beginning to pick up. relief flooded your veins when you didn’t see rafe anywhere. you knew it was a possibility he’d be here, but it was going to be significantly easier to have a decent night without his presence lingering around.

you filled up a red solo cup at the keg, downing the cheap alcohol before refilling it.

“slow down there, or you might not make it too long.” jj approached you, giving you a flirty smile.

you gave him a laugh in response, “i’ll be fine, jay. i just want to be able to let loose tonight.”

“stick by me then, don’t want any of these pervs creeping on you.” the thinly veiled concern in his voice made you smile. you know he’s flirting, but it’s clear he wants to keep you safe knowing it’s your first night out in so long.

you spent the next hour surrounded by the pogues, and true to his word, jj looked out for you. he did so well that you failed to notice who had shown up to the party, the one and only rafe cameron.

rafe, on the other hand, saw you immediately upon arriving. it was impossible for him not to when your presence demanded his attention. he was not happy to see who you were hanging around with. his ongoing beef with the pogues was well known by everybody on the island. he didn’t come to party though, he had other business to attend to as barry gave him a side eye, “fuck are you doing, country club? you can fight for your girl later, we’ve got shit to do.”

your drink had somehow disappeared. your furrowed your brows as you looked down, giggling to yourself as you told your friends you were going to get another one. you were at the perfect level of drunk, not to the point of blacking out or vomiting, but to where you couldn’t quite walk in a straight line and everything was funny to you.

you stumbled up to the keg, starting to fill up your cup when you felt someone watching you. the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, you instantly knew who it was. it was as though there was a chip in you that alerted you to when he was nearby. you took a deep breath as you turned your head slightly, seeing rafe sat next to a man you didn’t know as he handed a small plastic bag filled with overpriced coke to a touron. rafe’s eyes didn’t leave you as he signaled him to leave.

you could hear your heartbeat in your ears, the hand holding onto your cup now trembling and the lump in your throat building. rafe stood, starting to approach you as you froze. your brain was screaming at you to run but your body refused to move an inch.

“what the fuck do you want, cameron?” your words were spat out with venom. your tone clearly surprised you both as he looked shocked momentarily. you were typically one to stand your ground, but never ever was your attitude aimed towards him.

“what do you mean ‘what the fuck do i want’? you fucking up and left out of nowhere and haven’t spoken to me in almost a month.” his voice was filled with anger, his nose flaring as he clenched his jaw.

you let out a humorless laugh, “out of nowhere? you can’t be serious, rafe. you treated me like shit the last few months of our relationship.” you didn’t yet mention seeing his interaction with the bartender at the country club, not knowing if topper and kelce had told him about seeing you when you left that fateful day.

“what? be-because i couldn’t be with you twenty-four fucking seven? like i- i wasn’t out working my ass off to afford nice shit for you?”

“‘working your ass off’ will you stop fucking lying to me? i fucking saw you at the country club,” his facial expression showed confusion, bringing his brows together to try and understand what you were talking about, “you let that bitch touch you, you looked at her how you used to look at me. i spent hours getting ready, i showed up, wanting to surprise my boyfriend for lunch, and what do i see? my boyfriend letting some bartender hang off of him while he flirts with her?”

your voice had raised as you got more and more angry. you were now shouting at him as other partygoers failed to hide their stares and murmuring. nobody ever talked to the kook prince the way you currently were, unless they wanted their face bashed in.

rafe grabbed your arm harshly, pulling you down the beach and away from others. you stumbled behind him, knowing you weren’t physically or mentally strong enough to push him away.

when you looked up at him, you suddenly noticed his blown-out pupils. you felt your heart sink. “you’re using again.” you stated flatly.

he scoffed, rolling his eyes at you. “don’t act like you fucking care.” he spat out at you.

“jesus fucking christ- rafe, when did you start again?”

“don’t worry about it. when did you come to the country club?” his tone was demanding, sparking further irritation in you.

“the day i left. i- i let a lot of shit slide for too long, because… because i wanted to be a good girlfriend and support you when i thought you were just stressed out from work. and, in return, i get to watch my boyfriend make me look like a fucking idiot.”

rafe was silent for a minute, his lips pursed as he clearly was trying to remember what he was doing before he came home to an angry ward and an empty room. then realization hit him, he knew exactly what you were talking about. he brought his palm up to his face, groaning.

when he was about to speak, he was cut off. “is cameron bothering you?” jj’s familiar voice called out. you looked past rafe’s large figure to see all of the pogues standing beside him, looking ready for a fight if it came to it.

rafe gave a humorless chuckle, “stay the fuck out of it, pogue.” he clearly wouldn’t go down without a fight either.

your heart stopped for a moment and your body filled with ice cold terror as jj pulled out a gun that was hidden behind his back in his waistband. it was clear you weren’t the only one not expecting it as the rest of them looked at jj with concern, john b telling him to put it away. “yeah? let’s fucking go, rafe. been itching for a fight for too long.”

everything became blurred. the mixture of shouting, seeing figures suddenly moving towards each other, and the unmistakeable sound of a gunshot, and then everything went black.

[munson-blurbs]

We're a month away from Valentine's Day and I was hoping/begging for you to write something very heartbreaking or angsty with Eddie, maybe something where she finally has the courage to confess her feeling for him and he rejects her for another girl who's prettier and cuter. Idk I just want to cry and feel sad on Valentine's Day, please ❤

TW: hurt/no comfort, dead dove don't eat, best friend!Eddie, rejection, angst, Reader wears a dress, smut (18+ only, minors DNI).

WC: 1.2k

Divider credit to @saradika

“Can I ask you for a huge favor?”

Eddie Munson turned from the TV, eyes wandering to keep an eye on the screen as Shelley Duvall swung her bat at Jack Nicholson. “Shoot,” he said through a mouthful of popcorn. 

This was it. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself to say the words aloud. 

“I know you hate dressing up…and school…and, well, people,” you started, relief flooding your chest when he smiled at your joke, “but I was hoping you’d go with me to the prom? As friends,” you hurriedly reassured him. 

His smile faltered, butter-greased lips forming a grimace. “The prom? Seriously?” Eddie blew out a breath. “You do realize I’ve made it through almost six years of high school and never once went to those stupid dances.”

“I know. It’s just…I can’t go alone. The school has that antiquated rule about needing a date.”

“You should tell them to suck it.” Eddie tossed a piece of popcorn in the air. It missed his mouth, bouncing off of his chin and landing on the floor. “Just show up solo. It’s not like they’ll kick you out.”

God, just the thought of it—the humiliation of being turned away at the door, your beautiful dress all for naught—sent a preemptive flash of heat through your veins. 

“Please, Eddie. Think of it as paying me back after all of the times I let you copy my homework.” 

He sighed. “Okay, okay. I’ll go. But only because you’re my best friend, and it would kill me to watch you moping around the place for the next two months.”

Without thinking, you flung your arms around him, nearly knocking over the popcorn bowl in the process. But as soon as he hugged you back, you couldn’t be bothered to care. Everything just felt so right when he held you. 

Just last week at Hellfire, he’d slung an arm over your shoulder and congratulated you on casting the fireball that defeated the demogorgon. You’d practically leapt out of your skin at the weight of his forearm against you, fighting the urge to thread your fingers with his. How natural it might be. 

That longing grew even stronger as prom night approached. When you picked out your prom dress, you couldn’t help but twirl in front of the mirror and imagine Eddie’s hands on it. Every conversation about corsages and boutonnieres sent a giddy wave rushing through your body. 

The moment that left you spinning was when Gareth teased Eddie about slow dancing. You expected Eddie to launch a pretzel across the table, aimed squarely at Gareth’s forehead. Instead, he blushed. 

Blushed. 

“Shut up, man,” he grumbled. “You know I don’t do that shit. If I can’t headbang to a song, it’s not even worth listening to.”

You spent the rest of lunch imagining swaying to a slow beat, Eddie leading. His lips would brush against the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine, as he murmured something about how beautiful you looked. 

Then his lips would travel down your jawline, placing kisses in a trail to your own mouth. And everyone else in the decorated school gym would fade into the background, shrouded in a haze that kept you and Eddie in your own world…

Except you were going as friends. Friends. Nothing more. You had to remind yourself of that fact, had to shove down the burgeoning hope that kept rising to the surface. 

Eddie’s van stuck out among the Beemers and limousines that filled the high school parking lot. It didn’t matter to you; it never did, not even when the engine backfired or the axles squealed. So long as Eddie was your date, you didn’t care if you’d pedaled to the prom on a tandem bicycle.

Green, white, and orange streamers hung from the gym ceiling, brushing against the matching balloon towers every so often. A band played some song from the sixties that your parents played on their record player, though you couldn’t quite place the tune.

“This already blows,” Eddie mumbled, snaking a hand through his curls. “You really owe me, y’know that? This is worth much more than homework answers.”

You bit back a snarky comment. Tonight was a special night. Maybe Eddie just needed time to enjoy it. To appreciate it. To appreciate you, in your off-the-shoulder floral dress with your makeup styled just right.

He loosened his bowtie the second he sat down for dinner: some baked chicken and wilted lettuce leaves that constituted a salad. Perhaps not the best way to convince him that the prom was worth his time.

“I need a cigarette.” He blew out a breath and stood up, the chair screeching behind him. “Let me know if I win Prom King.”

You offered a weak smile at his joke and watched him walk away. He’d be back soon, with plenty of time for a slow dance. And maybe even tell him the truth about why you’d asked him to be your date.

Eddie, I like you. I’ve liked you for a really long time, and I want to be more than friends.

Simple and straight to the point. If only he’d come back from smoking that damn cigarette.

After fifteen minutes of no Eddie, you took matters into your own hands. 

The late May evening still held some warmth to it as you pushed open the double doors and walked outside, ready to ask him–beg him–to dance with you.

“Eddie, shit, someone’s coming.”

You whipped around to see Eddie–well, part of Eddie. Specifically, his ass. His slacks were pushed down, the belt clanging as his hips thrusted into one of the cheerleaders. Her own dress was hiked up around her waist.

“S’fine. Just be quiet, mmkay?” Each word was punctuated with a gasping breath. “God, you’re so tight. So good.”

No. No. It couldn’t be…he was there with you…

“Didn’t you bring a date?”

“She’s just a friend–oh, fuck, I’m gonna–”

Just a friend. Brutal honesty, not a lie, and yet it stabbed you like a knife in the heart. Your breath flew from your throat, and you clapped a hand over your mouth before anyone could hear you cry.

Just a friend. Just a friend. Just a friend.

From outside, you could still make out the band playing a slow song. Maybe the one you and Eddie would be dancing to if he wasn’t burying himself inside of a gorgeous cheerleader. There was no way you were going back into the gym. Not with your makeup streaming down your face. And you certainly weren’t going to stick around and wait for Eddie.

Instead, you plucked your heels off of your feet, grounding your feet into the sidewalk, the cool cement letting reality seep in. Walking home sounded lovely compared to any alternative. 

Just a friend.

The words echoed in your brain with each step.

Just. A. Friend.

That’s all you were. All you’d ever be to him. You weren’t the girl he’d kiss and whisper sweet nothings to. You weren’t even the girl he’d have sex with behind the gym.

You were just Eddie Munson’s friend.

--

[ariestrxsh]

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ

⚠️ content warning: ⚠️ smut, friends to lovers

📝 author's note: 📝 part two is going to have a lot of sexual content

✍️ Summary: ✍️ Your best friend Chris, who hasn't had pussy in months, talks you into going out drinking with him in a desperate attempt to get you both laid. Amidst all the alcohol, you guys make a pact that if you both strike out with other people, you'll just go home with each other.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ

destiny, the two-way street part one

"We should go out tonight," my best friend Chris said to me. "What for? We celebrating something?" I glanced up at him from where I was doing my makeup in front of the big mirror in my room. "Yeah, we're celebrating my three months of celibacy," Chris rolled his eyes at me.

"No celebration. I'm just horny as fuck, and it's been too long since I felt the touch of a woman. I'd fuck almost anything at this point," Chris muttered, taking a sip of his Pepsi.

"Anything?" I paused from doing my eye liner for a second and smiled up at him. He rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. It's just been a while. Let's go out and meet some people. I'll get you laid too," Chris said nudging me, a risky move while I was applying mascara. I raised my eyebrows up at him, suggestively.

"Not like that! I meant I'd be your wingman," he giggled. That was something Chris and I bonded on, our immature, dirty humor. "Yeah, sure. Let's go out tonight. But you have to help me find something hot to wear," I agreed. Chris helped me settle upon a long black sleeve sheer top over a black bralette and a red leather mini skirt over a pair of black Converse. Chris wore a white tank top, a leather jacket, jeans, and a red bandana. We both looked hot.

A couple of hours later, Chris and I were in downtown LA, where we met up with Nick, Matt, and a few other mutual friends. We didn't have any solid plans, but we figured we'd just play the night by ear. We all got a bite to eat, Chris and I sat next to each other in the restaurant, and started taking shots together.

"You know," Chris started after we'd each choked down a shot of tequila, "I'm an optimistic man, but on the off chance that neither of us score tonight.. we should just do it with each other," Chris smiled at me with a toothpick between his teeth. My jaw dropped, "Christopher, you are desperate!" Chris fiddled with the toothpick in his mouth, "I really am. I need pussy. I'm literally already bricked up right now. I'd only last a few minutes anyway."

"Wow! How tempting," I exclaimed sarcastically, rolling my eyes. "No, I mean, I would take care of you too. I promise," he laughed. "Do you really wanna do this?" I asked him. My gaze lingered on his lips and, for a second, I considered it.

Chris shot me this look of lust and desperation that let me know he really meant it. "Okay, deal. If neither of us finds somebody to go home with tonight, we'll go home with each other." And we shook on it. "Plus that might give me the motivation I need to find somebody to fuck before the end of the night, that way I don't have anything in common with the sad, insecure, desperate women who sleep with you," I slugged him on the arm and he smiled.

Before we knew it, we were several drinks in, hopping from bar to bar. Chris was hitting it off with a pretty redhead he'd met a couple hours prior at another bar, and I was chatting with some emo looking boy Chris had introduced me to, but I couldn't remember his name for the life of me, and to be honest, I was fairly bored.

"Hey, I'm gonna go smoke a cigarette," I shouted to Chris over the music, and his eyes followed me as I made my way to the smoking area outside. In a drunken haze, I looked up at all the stars on this clear night and took it all in. I watched the smoke from my cigarette dance across the landscape in front of me as I mulled over the deal Chris and I had made earlier. I'd never thought about him like that until tonight. In fact, I'd always found him to be a huge player. I mean, of course I thought he was good-looking, but he wasn't the type of guy I usually slept with. I found myself selfishly getting my hopes up that Chris and Redhead wouldn't work out because of how horny I was, but at least I always had my hand.

I took a few drags off my cigarette, my mind wandering and thinking about things I'd never considered before - like what Chris was like in bed, what kind of things he was into. We'd talked about our sexual conquests before, but never gone into much detail, just casual, surface-level conversation.

Suddenly, I felt someone come behind me and grab me, and I spun around as fast as I could. When I saw that it was Chris laughing at me, I was pissed. "Chris, what the fuck?! I literally almost went to burn you with my cigarette because I thought you were some creep!" I shoved him away with my free hand and took a final drag before dropping the butt to the ground and squishing it into the pavement with my sole.

"Ooh, that would have been hot, I like a little pain here and there," Chris smirked back, clearly drunk. "Where's whatever her name is?" I asked. "Would you believe she blew off an upstanding guy like me?" He laughed it off. "No way, she looked like she was totally into you. I thought for sure you were gonna take her to pound town," I said in disbelief.

"So did I. She even teased me and made me all hard, and then didn't even take care of it," Chris whined, getting close to me and poking my hip with his erection. I gasped at him doing this. "Please, can we get out of here? I want you so fucking bad," Chris said, cupping my face and looking into my eyes. In that moment, I knew I wanted him so fucking bad too.

I threw my arms around his neck and let my lips crash into his. He let out a soft moan. Our kiss was long and passionate and full of tongue. I was surprised at how good Chris was at kissing. He took my bottom lip in between his teeth and tugged at it a bit, making it swollen, and I moaned against his mouth.

Chris picked me up and pushed me up against the brick wall that was behind me, I straddled him, and he held me up by my ass. I felt his rock hard member poking me between my legs, and as we continued exploring the inside of each other's teeth with our tongues, he started grinding against me, causing a wet spot to form on the front of my panties. Chris pulled away from my lips and started to kiss my neck. I needed him.

"Fuck, should I call an uber or should we walk? We're about six blocks away from my place," I asked, unhooking my legs from Chris' waist as he let me down off the wall. "Neither. We should fucking run or else I'm literally about to rail you in an alleyway," Chris said with a serious look on his face.

"Last one to my place has to give the other person head first!" I screamed, already taking off down the street. Chris chased after me, grinning bigger than I'd ever seen before.

The whole time I sprinted home, I thought about how I was actually a bit nervous to sleep with Chris. I was in the lead the first few blocks, but Chris caught up to me. "Bet you can't wait to slob all over my knob," Chris teased me as he passed me.

Sure enough, by the time I made it to my front door, Chris had already been standing there for about 30 seconds. "I know you've been waiting several months, but you're gonna have to wait another five minutes so I can drink water and to catch my breath," I said, unlocking the door.

We both had a glass of ice cold water in my kitchen. "I totally smoked you back there," Chris teased me. "Please, I let you win," I responded. "Oh yeah, you wanna go down on me that bad?" Chris asked. "Yes, actually. Dying to," I said, purposely sounding like I was being sarcastic, but I meant it.

part two here 💖

[lyvhie]

okay hi haechan anon again!! im back with another request! so I'm missing my taeyong a lot (hashtag military wife..) and I was listening to 2 baddies as any baddie would and. the line "now you wanna ride these wheels" had my legs FOLDED 🥴 those wheels aren't the only thing I wanna ride.

and that brings me to my request. riding tyongie pretty pretty please???

── .✦ everybody makes mistakes

ex-bf!lee taeyong x fem!reader

𓂃 ࣪˖ summary: You were going through a busy time in your life, and going to a party was supposed to help you relax a little and... Well, your ex certainly turned out to be a good distraction. 𓂃 ࣪˖ cw: smut, riding, car sex, unprotected sex, creampie because why not 😞, pet names. 𓂃 ࣪˖ a/n: HIIII, ANOOOON!!! GLAD YOU'RE STILL HERE 😚😚 i get you... i feel like we are 12949 years without tyong, we need him back ASAP, i can't have a happy life if taeyong isn't here PLEASE. ANYWAYS, I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS ONE!

This was definitely not part of the plan. It was supposed to be a fun night at your friend's party—a chance to unwind and forget about the chaos that had taken over your life lately. Honestly, you hadn’t even planned on coming, but your friends had insisted, saying some fresh air would do you good. You finally caved, figuring what was the harm?

Wrong decision.

If you had known your ex-boyfriend would be there, you’d have stayed home.

You thought you were over him, it had been months since the breakup, after all. There was no reason to panic, you told yourself. Besides, he hadn’t even seemed to notice you were there. You could enjoy the night without a care. Or so you thought.

Your eyes kept drifting to him, as if drawn by some invisible force. Watching how he moved through the crowd, laughing, leaning in to whisper things in people’s ears, flashing that smile that used to make your heart race. The same smile he was now directing at others.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to tear your gaze away from him. Focus on your drink. Your friends. Literally anything else, you told yourself, desperate to ignore the annoying tightness in your chest every time you caught sight of him leaning in close to someone else. But it was no use.

You didn’t even need to look. You could feel it. His eyes were on you, burning with that same intensity you’d once found irresistible. Against your better judgment, you glanced over and instantly regretted it.

There he was, lips curling into a smirk, that infuriating, knowing expression that only made your stomach twist further. And then, as if the universe itself was playing a cruel joke, he started walking toward you.

Your heart skipped, and you quickly looked away, pretending to be engrossed in whatever your friends were laughing about. You even forced out a chuckle, hoping it sounded convincing.

Taeyong, of course, wasn’t fooled. He thought it was cute, how bad you were at subtlety, how transparent you always were when you tried to act cool, just as he remembered. If anything, it made him want to reach you faster.

From the moment he approached you and murmured a soft “hey,” everything became a haze, your senses drowning in the intensity of his presence. You remembered the way he leaned in, his lips so close to your ear that his warm breath sent shivers down your spine. His voice was low and familiar, dripping with charm as he told you how much he missed you, how surprised he was to see you there when he knew this wasn’t your usual scene.

His hand had found its way to your waist, his touch firm but not forceful, as if asking for permission rather than demanding it. You hadn’t stopped him. The heat of his body pressed against yours was both comforting and electric, stirring something in you that you thought had long been buried.

Every subtle gesture—a thumb tracing lazy circles on your hip, the way his fingers lingered just a moment too long as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the way his gaze never wavered from yours—pulled you deeper into the gravity of his orbit. You knew you should step back, but instead, you let yourself lean into the closeness, into him, even though you both knew exactly where this would lead.

And all of it led to a kiss, slow, as if to test the waters, then deepening with the kind of urgency that only old lovers can share. That kiss led to lovely whispers and stolen touches, and before you knew it, you were in the parking lot, your heart pounding as he opened the door to the backseat of his car.

The air between you was thick with tension, your breaths mingling as he pulled you close, his hands finding your waist like they never forgot the shape of you. It was reckless and impulsive, the kind of decision that you knew you’d question later—but right now, with his lips on yours and the heat of his body pressed against you, it felt like the only decision to make.

His hands gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin as he held you down against him. His mouth was relentless, his tongue exploring yours with a fervor that made your breath hitch. Your hips began to move instinctively, a slow grind against him that drew a deep groan from his lips. The confined space of the car only heightened the heat between you, every movement feeling more intense, more urgent in the close quarters.

You felt his hands slip to the hem of your shirt, ready to pull it over your head, but you stopped him just in time, pulling away from the kiss, both of you panting softly.

"This is a bad idea," you whispered, though your body leaned into his, contradicting your words.

"Maybe," he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses that made your resolve waver. You tilted your head slightly, giving him more access.

"We really shouldn't be doing this," you tried to reason, though your hands remained on him, your touch lingering.

“You can blame the alcohol if it helps," he suggested, his lips tracing a path up to your jaw before capturing your mouth again. You didn't resist, kissing him back.

"I didn't drink that much," you argued softly.

"Then blame me," his hand drifting lower, inching toward the space between your legs, sending a wave of anticipation through you. "You're always good at that."

"Shut up," you retorted, nipping at his lower lip, earning a hiss and a soft chuckle from him. “Tell me to stop," he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his lips hovering just above yours. "And I will, pretty.”

Yes, you just needed to say the word and get out of his car. Of course, that would be the right thing to do, but... you were already this far.

You would blame him.

"Fuck, I'm gonna regret this," you muttered before crashing your lips against his again, kissing him more fervently than before, grinding against him harder, his bulge applying just the right amount of pressure against your core.

Your hands fumbled with the button of his pants, a mix of nerves and anticipation guiding your movements. He was quick to undo yours in return, his desperation evident as he helped you, pulling his pants down just enough while you slipped out of yours along with your panties, leaving no barriers between you.

His hands gripped your hips, guiding you over him, one of your hands rested on his shoulder for balance while the other slid down, wrapping around his hard cock. It throbbed under your touch, and he let out a soft moan at the slightest contact. You stroked him slowly, savoring the way he responded, before lowering yourself just enough to let the tip brush along your slick slit.

He groaned, his fingers tightening on your hips, urging you to stop teasing. "Don't play with me," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. You smiled faintly, enjoying the rare moment of control you had over him, but your own need was overwhelming.

With a soft exhale, you slowly sank down onto him, both of you gasping as he stretched you, filling you completely. Fuck, how he missed this—the feeling of your warm heat enveloping him, just as tight as he remembered. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling your intoxicating scent, his breath hot against your skin.

“You feel so good," he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You missed this feeling too, the delicious stretch of him inside you, your walls fluttering around him, as if your body was echoing the same sentiment. He bit your neck to muffle a moan, the sound vibrating through you.

And for a few seconds, you both stayed like that, motionless, just reveling in the feeling of him taking up all the space in your pussy. Then, slowly, you began to move, rolling your hips over him before lifting yourself just enough and sinking back down, drawing moans from both of you. His hands slid down to cup your ass, fingers digging in as he followed your movements, his head falling back against the seat with a deep groan.

Your movements were slow at first, teasing, but you quickly found your rhythm, pressing down on him, the sensation sending waves of heat through your body. The heat between you was unbearable, the cramped space of the car amplifying every sound—the wet glide of your bodies, the breathless moans, the creak of the leather seat beneath you.

His hands moved back to your waist and his grip on you tightened, fingers pressing into your flesh as he urged you to move faster. You picked up speed, setting a pace that felt good for you, making him gasp with each roll of your hips.

"That's it, baby," he groaned, lifting his head to watch where your bodies met, eyes dark with hunger. "Just like that... take me deeper."

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a whimper as you obeyed, bouncing harder, grinding down to feel every inch of him. The pleasure was dizzying, overwhelming, stealing what little self-control you had left. His hands left your hips, moving up your body, dragging your shirt up to expose more of your skin.

“Fuck, look at you," he murmured, leaning in to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. The sensation sent a shockwave through your body, making you clench around him.

A deep, guttural moan tore from his throat as he thrust up into you slightly, meeting your movements. "Shit—keep that up, and I won't last," he warned, voice strained. But you didn't stop. You couldn't. You were too close, too lost in the way he filled you perfectly, the way his body fit against yours like he was made for you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to kiss you, the heat between you both intensifying. Just as he had said, he wouldn’t last much longer. It wasn't just because it felt incredible, but because it was you.

“Don’t stop,” he murmured, almost a plea, his thighs tensing beneath you. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, every little sound he made pushing you closer to the edge too, but you weren’t there yet.

You didn’t need to say anything; your body said enough. The way you moved, the way you squeezed him with every roll of your hips—it was too much. His grip on you tightened as he groaned deep, his body shuddering beneath you as he came, his release spilling inside you as you kept moving, letting him ride it out.

But he didn’t stop there—you still needed to finish too, and now it was his turn to take care of you. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he buried his face in your neck. Even with his body still trembling from his own release, he started moving again, thrusting up into you with deep, desperate strokes.

A shaky whine escaped his lips as the overstimulation hit him, but he didn’t let up, his grip on you firm, determined. “Gotta make you feel good too,” he murmured against your skin, his voice strained, breathless.

Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, your walls fluttering around him, dragging him deeper despite the sensitivity. His name spilled from your lips, hands fisting in his hair as he held you close, chasing your release like it was the only thing that mattered.

His breath was hot against your neck, his movements growing sloppier, more desperate, but he didn’t stop—not until he had you right where he wanted. His fingers slid down between your bodies, finding your most sensitive spot, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that made your thighs tremble around him.

"Come on, baby," he coaxed, voice hoarse, lips brushing your ear. Your grip on him tightened as pleasure coiled low in your stomach, the pressure building with every stroke, every thrust. His name tumbled from your lips, breathless and needy, and he groaned at how good you sounded.

And then, with one more deep, well-angled thrust, pleasure crashed over you. Your body tensed before melting into his, a broken moan leaving your lips as your release washed through you. He groaned at the feeling of you tightening around him, his arms holding you steady as you rode out your high.

Even as your body sagged against his, he pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder, his breaths ragged, shaky. “That’s my girl,” he whispered, tracing slow circles on your back as he helped you come down.

It wasn’t the smartest decision, you knew that. But, in that moment, you felt... satisfied.

You pulled away slightly to meet his eyes. Your friends had been right, maybe you did need to let go of the weight on your shoulders and relax a little.

"Wanna come home?"

↝ taglist: @yizhrt, @sinisxtea, @peterm4rker.

[rewiringtoheal]

My Darling, You Enchant Me

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: a little teasing and a lot of pleasing.

Words: 1,453

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, strap-on, soft smut

A/N: The first few paragraphs are from a scrapped piece but I flushed it out and made it for Natasha. Thank you for the support. You guys are awesome.

You are mesmerized by the goddess astride you. The stunning flush that painted her once creamy white skin is breathtaking. Those green eyes you adore are set ablaze as they look upon you begging for release. 

Your eyes trail down her body appreciating the long crimson hair cascading down Natasha’s left shoulder. And the soft full breasts swaying with the motion of her hips as she rides your fingers. 

Your mind is lost in a haze. All you see is her. All you feel is her. The tensing of her thighs, the rolling of her hips, and the feeling of being inside of her is enchanting. 

The walls of her core welcome you like an old friend. They stretch around your fingers with familiarity. Your hand strains as a cramp runs through your wrist but you double your efforts wanting to please her. 

“So good, baby. Don’t fucking stop.” Natasha whimpers. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, love” You husk. 

You feel small hands digging into your shoulders, nails tear into your flesh, leaving crescent marks in their wake. Your free hand flutters down the smooth warm skin of her back landing on her hip trying to help stabilize her as she loses herself in you.

The rhythm you’ve had thus far is becoming erratic as Natasha starts to mindlessly hump your hand as she chases her release. Indecipherable words leave her kiss swollen mouth. You know she’s close; with practiced ease you curl your fingers into the sweet spongy spot inside of her. Your thumb slides through slick folds to stimulate her clit. It is the catalyst that pushes her over the edge.

“Fuck, Detka. So good.” Natasha cries out.

She is a sight to behold as she reaches her climax. A sheen of sweat coats her taut body, strands of her red hair are stuck to her forehead, and her eyebrows are furrowed. Full pink lips drop open with a whimper as she basks in her pleasure. 

Small trembles work their way through her body as she slumps into you. She burrows her nose into your neck and the warmth of her breath sends shivers down your spine. You kiss the side of her head, lingering there for a little while, relishing in this closeness. 

You eventually withdraw your fingers from Natasha with reluctance.  She nips at your neck in displeasure causing you to chuckle. 

“Darling, as much as I would like too. I can’t stay inside of you forever.” Fondness coats your voice as you clean your slick covered hand in the navy blue sheets of your shared bed. 

“I know but I like feeling full.” Natasha mumbles into you. 

“Oh baby, I know you do. If you want I can fill you up properly? We won’t even need any lube with how wet you still are.” 

She withdraws from your neck, with a playful smirk, and green eyes filled with mischief. “Detka, the wetness our lower halves are drowning in is as much your fault as it is mine.” That perfect eyebrow of hers lifts sassily. “Don’t even pretend you aren’t going absolutely feral at the thought of fucking me with your strap.”

 Your hands creep up Natasha’s sides, landing just below her ribs, shooting her a cocky smirk of your own. “My little spy thinks she’s so funny, doesn’t she? Mhmm. Something definitely needs to be done about all of that sass…” 

Natasha anticipates your next move but it’s too late. She's caught in your clutches. You roll her over onto her back with a burst of adrenaline and you start tickling her in earnest. The most adorable squeak leaves the redhead before transforming into giggles.

You’re smiling so hard from the sounds of her happiness. It’s a privilege to know that you are the only one who gets to experience this side of her. The playful, loving and goofy woman that most people wouldn’t believe is hidden underneath the black widow persona. Is the same woman you get to love. What a wonderful life you lead.

“Baby, please stop tickling me.” Natasha manages to get out in between giggles.

Your heart fills with undeniable affection as you look upon her. The small smile she so rarely gets to wear outside of your home is present and you adore seeing her look so content. She’s covered in sweat, sticky with your shared arousal, and yet she looks at peace. You couldn’t help but match her energy. 

Your hands slow down, tickling transforms into a gentle caress, the mood between you shifting into something more tender. “Alright, my darling. No more tickling… I think it’s time I finally fill you up. Don’t you?”

Natasha hums in agreement. Her small hands push you towards the nightstand, urgent, you know how much she loves watching you prepare. 

You wink at her cheekily, before reaching towards your nightstands drawer and grabbing your well loved leather harness. Her gaze burns into you as you clamber off the bed to buckle yourself in. 

You reach back into the nightstand drawer, grabbing Natasha’s favorite toy, and shove it through the o-ring. The thick piece of silicone stands erect between your powerful thighs. 

Natasha’s hands are on you within seconds. She’s pulling you as close to her as she can get. Grasping onto your lower back and hips like her life depends on it as you settle between her legs. 

“Don’t worry, my love. I’m gonna take good care of you.” You murmur, allowing yourself to be drawn in. You push forward slightly just enough to grind against Natasha’s clit for a minute or so; making sure that the toy is coated in her slick.

She squirms beneath you; hips rutting against you in desperate need. “Detka, please. I need you inside.” 

You can’t deny her when she asks so sweetly and in truth you want to be inside of her as much as she does. You cradle Natasha in your arms, resting your forehead against hers, loving the intimacy. Her shaky inhale caresses your lips as you slowly push the tip in.

You push forward, at a leisure pace, until you are fully buried inside of her. Nails dig into your hips encouraging you to move. Your initial thrusts are mindful, wanting Natasha to adjust to your thickness, before you set a familiar pace. 

A slow sensual grind of pelvises, as you clutch to one another. You glide your nose along Natasha’s savoring her warmth. Stopping to draw her into a deep kiss; it’s all tongue, teeth and incoordination. 

You trail kisses down her jawline, pausing to suck an irresistible  earlobe into your mouth, nipping at the soft piece of flesh. A low moan echoes from beside you. You travel down her neck, leaving a wet path of saliva and love bites in your wake.

Natasha’s thighs tighten around your hips; begging you to go faster. 

“Oh god, fuck baby filling me so good.” Natasha keened.

You grunt in agreement. The toy is rubbing against your clit in the most delicious way every time she rocks against you. 

“Shit, babe. You feel so fucking good.” You nuzzle your nose into the crook of her neck. “Taking me so well. No one can make you feel as full as I can.” You anchor your hands on Natasha’s thighs, setting a faster pace, incoherent mumbling spews from supple lips.

“So full. Fuck, Jesus christ” Natasha mewls.

The two of you are rutting against each other like wild animals as you both chase your release. You know it won’t take long for either of you to cum with the franticness of your movements. 

Every thrust into Natasha is met with resistance as her walls tighten around your strap and her thighs start to shake. 

“Come with me, baby” one of your hands trails through dripping wet red curls to rub circles around Natasha’s clit. 

She tenses up with a shout of your name, fingers dig into your shoulder blades, holding on for dear life.  As shockwaves of pleasure ripple through her body. 

You cry out, as your own orgasm overtakes you. The neglected pressure in your loins finally being taken care of.

The adrenaline seeps out of you and the only thing you’re left with is bone deep exhaustion as you collapse onto Natasha.

The two of you curl around each other, breathing heavy, but satisfied.

“Damn, we really need to shower at some point but I don’t know if I will be able to stand anytime soon.” Natasha pants.

“Fuck, I know we are so sticky but I don’t want to get up.” You whine.

She hums in agreement. Neither of you try to move. You just stay there snuggled together and joined in the most intimate way. 

[ptolemaeacles]

♡ becoming hazel callahan's cheerleader gf hcs

pairing: hazel callahan x cheerleader!reader

synopsis: headcanons i have about becoming hazel's cheerleader gf.

notes: … i did rush the ending a bit because i have school and i did not proofread the entire thing but hope guys liked :))))

word count: 1.3k

i'd imagine you guys meet when you decide to join the self defense club that pj and josie were teaching.

she always admired you from afar but being the loser lesbian that she was, she never made a move on you.

eventually, the both of you got paired up to fight. poor baby was so scared she might hurt you, she barely hit you. more like slightly aggressive taps rather than punches.

"c'mon hazel! hit her!" pj yelled from behind you. you had hazel on the ground, crouched over her body. her nose was dripping blood and it was all over her teeth. no matter how many punches you threw her way, she never retaliated. not a single kick or punch was given back to you. the sight of you on top of her certainly wasn't helping her win this fight.

now that you guys were acquainted, she would get so nervous around you. of course she was always nervous around you but more so now since you actually knew who she was.

you guys would actually speak to each other in the classes you shared instead of her just staring at you. (and you taking quick glances because you're a lot more slick than she is)

hazel convinced herself you were pin straight. to her, there was no way someone so hot was gay. (god damn cheerleader stereotypes) so when she heard from isabel that you liked girls, she had no idea what to do. she had no idea what to do even when she thought you were straight but now it was 10x worse.

she started second guessing every compliment, every time your hand brushed past her when you guys were getting lunch, every single time your eyes held her gaze a little too strongly.

you always thought she was cute. even when she acted a little crazy. the whole bomb situation was actually a bit endearing to you, as concerning as that is. while everyone was in the car, yelling at hazel for setting off a fucking bomb on jeff's car, you squeezed her hand and sent a sweet smile her way. that smile alone erased any feeling of guilt or blame within an instant.

and when pj had said hazel had no friends and called her mom a skank, you were the first person running after her. you searched half the school campus before finding her hiding under the bleachers,

"haze, oh my god, i was so worried about you!" you crouched down and brought hazel into your arms. the nickname brought a warmth to hazel's heart. you were the only person who called her that.

"everything that pj said is not true at all," you let go of her to hold the sides of her face in your hands, "forget all that shit about your mom. and you have friends. you have josie, you have isabel and brittany, you have me."

hazel looked up to you slowly with a new look in her eyes.

"i don't want to be your friend." you felt your heart get heavier for a second. hazel leaned in without thinking. she caught your bottom lip between hers and-

she was kissing you. hazel was kissing you. and to her surprise, you were kissing her back.

after the unexpected love confession under the bleachers (typical high school romance), hazel decided she wanted to take you out on a proper date. it's what you deserved. (plus she's not getting caught in the 'u-haul lesbian' allegations crossfire). unfortunately, those plans were postponed.

she never told you that pj and josie lied about juvie or that she agreed to fight the school's star boxer. (you later find out she had no idea she was fighting him too.)

the aftermath of the fight was terrifying for you. of course, you had seen her bloody face before (and had even been the cause of it before) but it was never this bad.

you stayed with her for a long while after that. always taking notes for her in class and coming by her house to check up on her. the other girls would come by as well. it made you happy that they were all there for her, even after the club disbanded.

you opted to sleep over from time to time which she was always appreciated. it quickly got old when you guys could barely hear each other talk over the sound of ms. callahan and jeff going at it.

both you and hazel were in her bed, laying on your backs, next to each other. hazel laid with her hands behind her head, elbows facing outwards, and you laid with your hands on your stomach, palms facing down. both of you still giggling over a joke hazel made about your shared english teacher earlier.

"hey so, uh, i wanted to ask you something." hazel turned to face you, resting her head against her arm on her pillow.

"yeah? go for it." you turned your head to her.

"well, um, i wanted to ask if you wanted to go on a da-" hazel's question was interrupted by loud moans and rhythmic thumping coming from her mom's room.

'goddamn it...' hazel thought. it was jeff and her mom again.

"you know what, never mind, it was stupid."

eventually, the game against huntington arrived. hazel was nervous for the game and she wasn't even playing nor did she care about sports. she was going to officially ask you out. and she wasn't going to let anything ruin it this time. she watched you do your cheerleading routine, admiring your uniform. (she was obsessed with it and wanted to see you wearing it all the time. but not even batman could beat that information out of her...)

once again her plans were cut short, when a frantic pj and josie came up to her in bleachers asking her for another distraction. you were in the middle of your routine when you saw hazel running across the field towards the girls from the club. (you didn’t happen to see the little device she had in her hands)

what confused you even more was when hazel ran up to you mid-routine.

you moved your pom poms in a choreographed motion, the way you had been practicing for weeks.

the girls from the club had been running around in the corner of your eye and you couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. they looked distressed but you had to focus on your routine. that was until hazel came up to you.

she called out your name, loud enough for you to show some concern and put your pom poms downs.

“come ‘ere” she murmured. she wrapped her arms around your waist, slotting her lips between yours.

to say it took you by surprise was an understatement. you tilted your head, deepening the kiss, and brought your hands to either side of her face.

when the both of you pulled away, the mixed groans and cheers finally met your ears. but by then, it seemed you guys had bigger problems.

the fight was chaotic to say the least. the huntington players were known to be ruthless and unforgiving. throughout the entire fight, you and hazel fought back to back, constantly covering the other. more like hazel stared you while you broke a guys nose in. and your mouth definitely didn’t get a little dry when she kicked a guy unconscious.

the fight felt like it had been going on forever, especially with the way your body was aching. you and hazel looked around the field and you see tim getting on the ground, sticking his tongue onto the wet field.

“it’s pineapple juice!” he exclaimed as he got up.

you finally put 2 and 2 together.

you turn to hazel.

“we did all that for jeff?”, you huffed, “god, we’re just as brain dead as the rest of the school.” hazel chuckled before bringing her bloody, bruised hands to either sides of your waist.

“i wanted to ask you something and i’m not letting anyone ruin it this time,” she looked at you with a newfound confidence, “will you go out with me? i know it took me a long time to ask, i was looking for a good moment-“

you crashed your lips into hers, shutting her up. which she took as a definite yes.

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