#and ive been shaming quiet

[inkyquince]

anyway, Miguel O Hara

content warning. spoiiiiliessssss, stalker and creep miguel o hara, extremely dubious at all times, invasion of the grandes tetas, strong scent kink, rough handling, nsfw but not written sex because its 1am and im sleepy and october is showing me ds2 sims 2 gameplay and i feel myself going insane. oh yeah, and, big ole size kink.

spoilers for the movie under the cut, but yknow its horny

So, canon Miguel sees another version of himself get fucking shot, right? Immediately slips through to prevent a canon event with his daughter, right? Takes over the old Miguel's life. Born to be a single mother, forced to beef with a teenager right?

Well, what if he saw something else in his other life?

He's broken and he's lonely here, but... He has a kid... And he has a partner. And it's someone he knows. Married to a distant friend in this life, but you're his in another one. The one where he's happy, with his kid.

It's hard, tearing his eyes away from what should be. What he should have, carrying his baby in one arm and the other around your waist. His other self looks so happy, so content, so fucking free. Unlike him in his entirety, where he's alone, against the world.

Not only does he become obsessed with this alternative world, he gets stranger and stranger around you. He knows in another life, you lead him into happiness, into being a father. Miguel is usually quiet and stoic, but his presence starts being almost oppressive around you. He seems to stare all the time, his broad, lithe fingers tapping along his muscular arm. Intense and quiet, with something brewing in his deep, dark eyes. He tries to talk more to you, even try to see you away from your spouse, but you never start to look at him like you do in the other dimension. Warm and soft and longing. It starts to irk him, something growing in his stomach. You're fucking his, in another life, yeah, but you're his. But he can't do anything. You're not his. So it builds in his gut.

There's some part of him that believes he can still get this happiness in this world. He can still be who he was meant to be. Miguel spends some evenings climbing the walls to look into your apartment windows, to catch you showering or changing. He doesn't even need to break the window to slip in, the second you leave through the door. A pair of your underwear in his hand, maybe a venture into the bathroom to sniff at your shower wash. Pick up your toothbrush, just to rest it on his tongue. He sits on your side of the bed and rests his broad hand on your pillow, skimming over it, as it to help him imagine stroking your hair as you awaken in the morning.

This isn't what a hero does. He knows that. He knows that Spiderman doesn't enjoy towering over you when the group hangs out, drinking in the size difference. Loves the little expression you look up at him with, like a doe in the headlights. He catches himself dragging a tongue over his canine was he passed behind you, ducking down just enough to catch the scent from your neck.

A hero doesn't follow you when you go out at night. Watches you from outside your window. Doesn't think about how it would be okay if your spouse bled out in the streets one night, and he'd be by your side in minutes.

Each time it all feels too much, he checks over with his other self. Laughing with his daughter jumping into his arms. His other self's hand on your knee as you sit next to him on the couch with a yawn. The way it slowly traces over your thigh as he lean over to give him a kiss.

The feeling builds even more.

Then, the day happens. He watches himself get shot, and he leaves his other life behind. Steps through and becomes someone new.

That night, your husband comes home. Miguel seems to walk straight past you to go to your daughter's room. You were surprised, but gave it no thought as you continued to make him some empanadas, rain lashing against the window.

Miguel hadn't wanted to look at you, not yet. Needed to look at his daughter, needed to take a moment. He kneeled down, by her tiny bed, stroking slowly against her hair as she breathed softly. She slept like there was no pain in the world, no loss... And thanks to him, she wouldn't wake up to her father being dead. Gone. Unable to tuck her into bed anymore. So he just tugged the blanket up to her chin and stood slowly. Leaving the room, he paused in the doorframe, giving his daughter a soft look before glancing towards the kitchen again. Not yet. Not just yet. He needs to make sure.

Turning on his heel, Miguel headed deeper into the flat, looking around until he found the master bedroom. Spick and span, but homey. Unlike his old bedroom. Pictures on the walls. Things on both bedside tables. A blanket laid over the duvet. His dark eyes turned towards the closet, and slowly opened the door, exhaling softly. Your clothes. Next to his clothes. His fingers dragged along the fabric, rubbing it between his forefinger and thumb.

A shaky sigh left Miguel's lips as he gripped the garment tightly, almost ripping it. Shoving the item close to his face, he inhaled deeply, almost tasting your scent on his tongue. It's you. It's no one else. It's you and in this world, you're with him. No one else.

Miguel's clawed hands moved on their own accord as they yanked open the drawers below the hanging clothes, finding socks, bras and... Underwear. Few pairs of his, few pairs of yours. Snatching yours up, he crushed them against his face again, inhaling with his lips parted. He got a dizzying head rush. His eyes snagged on the laundry basket, exhaling loud and slow as he smelled the scent of you and detergent from your clean underwear.

He'll get a proper taste of you if he rooted around in there instead-

"Miguel!" He froze up and immediately stuffed your underwear into his pocket, as if he was a thief instead of your husband, and very entitled them. "Food!"

He dragged his tongue over his lips and stalked from the bedroom.

Miguel was acting strange when he got back from checking on your daughter, his darkened eyes drinking you in as you served up his plate first.

"Hungry?" You gave him a soft smile. "She ate earlier at her friend's house, don't worry."

He wasn't worried. He should be. It's one of those things he'll learn to do, as a new father. But for now, he just walks closer, dragging his broad palm over the counter. His fingers twitch as the distance between you two become smaller and smaller. Soon enough, he's at your back, with his hands twitching before settling on your hips. You hummed as he drew you closer to his towering body, lolling your head back to rest against his shoulder (against, not on his shoulder, Miguel was too tall for that).

Your lips were right there. Perfect and soft and unbitten.

He should change that.

Miguel slowly lowered his head to brush his lips against yours, slowly exhaling as he did so. You gave a similiar sigh and leaned into the kiss, which remained sweet and soft, until you teasingly gave his bottom lip a nip.

The feeling in his gut burst.

He ripped his lips away, just to grip your hips tighter and spin you around. You blinked up at him, surprised by the sudden movement, but couldn't say anything before his tongue was snaking back inside of your mouth, licking at your teeth before forcibly pressing down on your tongue. You could feel his hard cock through his trousers, digging into your stomach as he manhandled you.

"Mig-" You pulled away to breath but he quickly covered your lips with his again, desperation rolling off of him.

"Solo callate." He hissed against your mouth, sharp canines digging into your bottom lip. "Por favor, déjame tenerte primero. Si me amas, déjame usarte."

You couldn't even reply when he shoved you down on the kitchen counter, sending the plates crashing down to the floor. It was like you were immobalised, stunned. Miguel was never rough with you, not really. He was always too aware of how big he was compared to you. But all that seemed to have been tossed out the window.

Your husband roughly yanked your legs apart, breathing low and heavy. Lowering one of his hands slowly, he gave your crotch a squeeze, as his cock began to tent the front of his trousers.

"Quieres que te toque aquí? Te gusta?" Miguel whispered, pressing his forehead against yours, slowly squeezing your crotch, his sharp teeth coming in as you struggled not to moan at his ministrations.

He was scaring you enough for you to try and pull away, but he was too fucking big. He encompassed you. Totally and wholly. Miguel's eyes were two obsidian stones, pupils blown wide and staring down at you with an endless hunger that wasn't there before. He leaned down again and you just pressed your face to the side, avoiding his lips connecting with yours, instead pressing against your cheek.

With a low, almost animalistic snarl, his fingers dug into your jaw and wrenched your head back to stare into your eyes.

"You will let me have you. You cannot take this from me. Not now." You struggled to comprehend what he meant, but he took your silence in stride and pressed his tongue back into your mouth with a low groan.

You cannot stop this, Miguel thought, everything becoming hazy as he felt desire roll over him.You can't make him stop. Not when he finally has you.

rough translations (remember, im using my high school level knowledge, so the grammar is fuck):

"Solo callate. Por favor, déjame tenerte primero. Si me amas, déjame usarte." - "Just shut up. Please let me have you first. If you love me, let me use you."

"Quieres que te toque aquí? Te gusta?"- "Do you want me to touch you here? Do you like it?"

[rainbowbeanstyles]

if dan and phil live streamed i'd watch them for hours

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[ronearoundblindly]

Big Pharma

Steve Rogers x doctor!Reader

Written for @stargazingfangirl18's Birthday Bonenanza--HAPPY BDAY, SIRI!--using the scenario prompt ~quick, frantic, secret sex in an almost public place + babe's hand over your mouth to keep you quiet~ and the dialogue prompt "goddamnit, will you just f***ing let me do this for you?" with free use kink for good measure. Why not?

Summary: The extreme drug cocktail you devise to save Steve Rogers has one major side effect.

Warnings for smut 🥴, sorta dub-con because it's like sex pollen, F E E L S, Steve being the most chivalrous gentleman while railing you (do it for your country, babes 🫡), completely unintentional dirty talk from Steve but 😮‍💨 we'll allow it, Tony being Tony, and--as always-- terrible puns. (There are no mentions of any medical instruments, except an IV, which is not used.) MINORS DNI. This is a mature gift work; see my Light Masterlist for all-age fanfic that is fine for minors. WC 2k

The constant photoflash burns into your retinas obnoxiously, and you’re not even the subject of the paparazzi.

Captain America is alive—all thanks to you—though he could easily have been six-feet under by now. The mysterious infection was so bad and spread so far, the drug regimen you administered constitutes one of the Avengers’ biggest Hail Marys to date, but it’s working. That’s all that matters…to the world. Behind the scenes is a different story.

As Captain Rogers turns to the next hand he must shake, his sharp blue eyes find you, twinged with a familiar fear.

This stupid event scheduled by Stark to boost morale, to show Cap is just fine and back in fighting form, has gone on too long. It’s happening again.

You worried Rogers might not make it when suddenly Stark showed up hours earlier than the initial, planned press conference—because, of course, there’s meet-and-greets, quick interviews, and these damn handshakes. He’s only gone so long between treatments for the last week.

You nod at Cap and make your way in the small crowd back to Stark. You tell him you’ll need a room, somewhere private to put in the IV, and at least thirty minutes to administer the huge dose. Rogers’s super-metabolism makes it necessary to use approximately forty times the prescription average for antibiotics and steroids. In theory, the side effects are well worth his speedy recovery.

Well, the only side effect.

Stark looks horrendously annoyed. “Can’t you just shoot him up with it and be done?” He doesn’t need your lecture repeated though. “Fine, there’s a greenroom thing over there, but you’ve got fifteen minutes at most, you hear me?”

“Twenty-five, Mr. Stark. He’s not a water balloon.”

“Twenty or he can wheel the damn thing around with him.”

You gulp in nervousness, but the problem isn’t Stark’s attitude. Rogers isn’t going to like rushing this. He feels shame enough already.

“I’ll make it work,” you assure the stubborn playboy. If he only knew…

“Good. A team player. We value that here.”

You have no fucking idea how ironic that is, you scream internally, but you follow him to a door off a back hallway, a room that shares a wall with the space all those people are gathered, and thank Stark.

“Oh good, he’s heard the dog-whistle of treat time,” Tony quips, and you swivel to see Cap trailing behind you.

He’s already made his excuses to step away, too. It must be bad.

You’re sure to pull out your props of a saline drip and tubing from your bag while Tony can still see, but you drop the act the instant the door clicks shut.

Cap take one step forward to flip the lock, immediately unzipping the fly of his iconic leather suit.

See, the only side effect of the drugs is Rogers gets hard, often, and can’t find relief from his efforts alone. Through trial-and-error, the clear solution has been help—discretely—from the only medical professional allowed around him until his condition improved.

Of course, he fought it. Of course, you wanted to preserve his dignity. Of course, you tried to keep it as perfunctory, methodical, and uninspired as possible, but the thing is, that didn’t last.

The more distant and cold the experience, the faster he became desperate and wanting again, and now you have just twenty minutes to make sure Captain America can hold out for hours.

Steve, you remind yourself. He prefers you not use respectful address when engaging is what he deems entirely disrespectful behavior. 

You need to get him off in essentially no time at all, so you’ve decided: go big or go home.

Bag tossed to the floor, you unbutton your pants and shimmy out of everything from shoes to panties, letting the longer tail of your dress shirt barely cover your modesty.

Steve looks dumbfounded. It’s bad enough he has to run to you for a handy every few hours, but this?

“Doc, no,” he breaths.

“I understand the procedure,” you say calmly, echoing his harrowing consent from that first night he needed you.

Steve’s brow furrows in strain. “We shouldn’t…”

‘We’ are way past ‘shouldn’t,’ buddy.

“Can’t ask you to…“ but he also knows time’s a wasting.

He’s already fisting himself, struggling to be the gentleman he never stopped being, which at the moment is a huge problem because both of you need to get through the day—you without losing your job and him without popping a boner on national television.

It’s your job to break him and break him right now.

“Goddamnit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?”

There’s a flat smack on the door.

“Do whatever the lady wants and then get back out here,” Tony yells from the other side. “Put us all out of our misery,” he ends with a grumble.

That is by far the most helpful thing Stark has said in the last week, so you mouth “see” and begin undoing your blouse from the bottom, giving Steve his first peek of you. His hand speeds along his length, adam’s apple bobbing in concentration.

“Here, I’ll make it easy for you,” you whisper. You walk to the far corner of the room, put your hands up, shirt rising over your bare ass, and face the wall. Your voice is soothing, pleading even. “Just take what you need.”

In some ways, you feel responsible for his predicament. You are the prescribing doctor, he isn’t in a relationship where a partner could assist, and he insists no one else know. He doesn’t deserve to be poked and prodded more than necessary, and you can’t give him any other meds in combination. None of it is his fault same as none of it is yours. You only intended to heal him.

Truthfully though, none of this is just about his release anymore, much as you’d like to dismiss your feelings.

You can’t deny, however, that each time the air gets a little thicker with tension, the body language a little more intimate. Steve has kept his eyes open, clutched your free hand to his chest, rolled his hips open, and thrust up into your fist. The greater the satisfaction of his climax, the longer he retains control.

“When this is over…I swear,” he grits out, getting closer word by word until his deep voice is right by your ear.

He tugs your shirt up to dip his fingers between your legs. “Been smelling you for two days. Can’t do anything until—” Steve growls, feeling how slick you’ve become in anticipation “—you’re ready for me.” 

His concern washes away when two fingers easily breech you to the knuckle and are immediately replaced by the blunt head of his cock dragging between your folds.

You didn’t expect him to give in so fast. You didn’t expect him to have known this aroused you. The idea he might want to continue, to go further, races down your spine, following the opposite path of Steve leaning into you. His forehead presses your occipital as yours presses the wall. The heat of him makes you arch in luxurious proximity.

Steve fucking forward to enter you in one smooth motion makes you forget to be quiet, but before the whole shout of ecstasy escapes, his hand covers your mouth.

“Shhh, Doc,” he breathes at the base of your neck. “Be good for me.”

That only gets you moaning into the seam of his gloves.

His hips start a staccato rhythm, a second of loud friction for each second of silent, fulfilling pressure.

Steve slips his still wet fingers under your shirt and beneath the cup of your bra to swirl a smooth pattern over your nipple. Instead of voicing your approval, you shove yourself back into him faster.

You notice the muffled chatting of Tony and someone else outside while your eyes roll. The slap of your skin against the Cap suit becomes the loudest thing in the room, but that’s not what Steve minds.

He pulls out and spins you around, pausing to see the cream you’ve created at the base of him drip to the carpet below.

Deep sea eyes meet yours through golden lashes.

“If I can’t hear you…” Steve hoists you up to his waist, threading one arm through the bend in your knee, spreading you wide and diving in swiftly.

Your body curls forward automatically to grasp at him and smother yourself in the leather of his shoulder pad. This pace is much faster, purposeful, utterly unravelling you. The position delivers more range of motion, all of the buildup and less of the noise, with the added benefit of his tool belt nudging your clit repeatedly.

Tony pounds on the door. “‘Bout done in there, guys? Let’s go.” How apt, the unknowing jester.

Steve pants, open-mouthed, against your temple.

You smile but can’t stop your own ruin.

A groan gets buried in your disheveled hair. “Are you…close?” His hips snap brutally. “Are you—“ he sounds wrecked “—you gonna…come on my—uungh.”

You tip over the edge, clutching him tight and fluttering for him in every way. The detonation of your orgasm burns red behind your eyelids like camera flashes, a dirty snapshot for you alone.

“Mercy,” Steve begs, gripping your ass to rut into you, desperate to join. His neck tenses as he spills inside you, pulse throbbing in time with his cock. 

He leans against you and the wall, his steady weight stilling your shaky legs. Slowly, your feet are guided to the floor and Steve steps away to wipe away any evidence of his ‘therapeutic treatment.’ His breathing settles much faster than yours, and by the time he’s tucked back in with his suit righted, you’re simply sliding down the wall to catch up.

He hurries over to the small vanity and mini fridge—usually ‘guests’ for speaking (or interrogating) wait here—to bring you supplies.

A box of tissues is set by your side.

“So…” he hands you a bottle of water “…maybe…dinner tonight?” 

You set the water down in favor of cleaning yourself, glancing up to offer a reassuring dismissal. “This morning was your last dose,” you remind him. “It should be over soon.”

Steve may not need this anymore, may never need you again, but he doesn’t miss a single beat.

“I’d like—I want to take you some place nice, but…” He chugs his whole water then quickly unclasps the glove on his left hand, rolling up his sleeve, veins jumping over a thick forearm.

“I don’t know what food you enjoy.”

Arguably, he knows a few other things that you enjoy.

There’s another impatient bang at the door.

“I—“ Your heart soars with the soft sincerity of his face, no trace of fear left behind, no hesitation. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

Steve stands, smoothing a hand over his hair. “I’ll lock it behind me…and, um, thank you, Doc.”

It’s the first time he hasn’t apologized this whole week.

“You’re welcome, sir.”

Steve flashes you a dopey smile and shakes his head. “See you out there,” he chuckles.

You can’t be seen when the door opens just enough for Steve to step out, but he makes a show of rolling the suit’s sleeve back down like he really did have an IV infusion, selling the lie like a pro. He keeps Tony talking while shutting you back into your debauched bubble.

Through the wall, you still hear “could you have gone any slower?” followed by a curt, “yes,” and have to stifle a laugh.

“What’d you do, blow a vein?”

You’re picturing an incredibly ironic look on Captain Rogers’ face.

“Just be grateful she puts up with us, Tony…” and their voices disappear down the hall.

His treatment may be finished, but Steve wants you to stick around. He wants you.

Would having dinner with that man really be so terrible? No. Not at all. Even the ‘worst’ of this situation has been a great fucking experience. You don’t want to give that up yet.

It seems you’re both addicted now.

[Main Masterlist; Steve Rogers One-Shots; Ko-Fi]

[moonstruckme]

Heyyyy so i was hoping maybe you could write some james or poly marauders x fem reader with really intense ocd and compulsions? Ive just been struggling lately and i feel like the boys might help. If not its totally fine i understand certain things are hard to write! Youre doing great! Much love 🩷

Hi, thank you for requesting angel!

cw: depictions of ocd, specifically hand washing compulsions and obsessive thoughts/seeking reassurance, I know ocd is different for every person and I'm not sure what constitutes "intense" for you or anyone else but I based this on some of the experiences of someone I know with ocd so I hope it's alright <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

“You’re getting hands like an old woman’s,” Sirius chides, taking his time as he smooths lotion into the crevices of your palm and the spaces between your fingers. You’re facing each other on the couch, your legs crossed underneath you while Remus reads in the armchair beside. “You’re going to be looking like my old bird soon.”

“Mean,” you murmur teasingly, doing your best to ignore the growing anxiety in your chest. 

“I’ve never said I didn’t like older women,” he hums. You laugh, and Sirius grins, his goal achieved. “You’re still gorgeous, all of you.” 

You want to be flattered, but your heart twinges in distress when he lifts your moisturized fingers to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. 

“What?” Sirius asks, though you can tell by his face that he has a sense of what you’re thinking—that you know, you know, you’ve only just washed your hands, but you’re terrified now he’s going to catch something because of you. “I can kiss my girl, can’t I?” He keeps his voice light, but his eyes are soft. “Can I?”

You nod, shoving the worst of your worries down as Sirius leans closer. He presses a pillowy soft kiss to your lips. 

“Everything’s just fine,” he murmurs. “I love you, you know that?” 

You try to let your thoughts go all soft and melty, but they keep solidifying, crystal clear and insistent and at the very front of your consciousness. 

“I love you, too,” you tell him. “Um, Sirius?” 

“Yeah, sweetness.” 

“Did you wash your hands when you came home yesterday?” 

Sirius hesitates. 

You hear a quiet rustling, and look over to see Remus lowering his book. “Dove,” he says, “we agreed we’d only reassure you the first time you asked. Sirius already answered your question yesterday.” 

“I know.” You look down at your hands. “Sorry, I’m just not sure if I’m remembering it right. You did, right?” 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Remus says gently, again avoiding giving you an answer. “We just don’t want to make things worse for you.” 

You push out a breath. “Yeah. I’m sorry,” you tell Sirius, “I trust you.” 

The tension melts from his expression. He tsks at you, bumping your knee with his. “Would you stop that? What’d he just say?” Your lips give a little tug, and Sirius gives you a soft look. “I know you do, gorgeous. It’s not really you talking, is it?” 

He means your disorder. Sirius likes to talk about it the same way he talks about Remus’ pain, as though they’re things separate from you that just like to loiter around and bully his loved ones. It’s comforting, knowing he never holds your compulsions against you because he doesn’t think of them as you at all. You try to give him a better smile, but Sirius sees right through it. Gray eyes narrow on yours. 

“What is it?” 

“I feel like I need to wash them again,” you confess. 

He frowns, lips pulling to one side. “You don’t, though, baby.” 

“I know,” you say, agonized. 

“Try not to, okay?” 

“It’s hurting you to do it so often, sweetheart,” Remus reasons. “Don’t your hands feel raw?” 

“Yeah,” you murmur. But the feeling of griminess is worse. You tuck your lip between your teeth, face hot with emotion and shame. 

“Take a breath.” Remus’ voice is soothing. “We’re all okay, aren’t we? Everything’s going to be fine.” 

“How do you know?” you ask, your frustration with yourself spilling over into frustration with your boyfriends. 

“Hey.” Sirius’ tone isn’t chastising but imploring. He smooths his hands over yours, and you manage not to pull them away for fear of contaminating him. “What if we have a hug instead, yeah?” 

You take the offer, feeling conflicted and all wrong but desperate for comfort. You’re extremely conscious of his hands where they come to rest on your lower and mid back and yours so near his face where your arms are wrapped around his neck, but Sirius somehow knows what you need, squeezing you tight until the worst of your worries squish out of you. They’re eclipsed by the feeling of being cared for.

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “I know this is hard for you, but we’re only trying to help. You know we love you, right?” 

You breathe out. “Yeah.” 

Sirius gives you a little squeeze, teasing now. “You sure? It doesn’t feel like you do. Remus, do you think she gets it?” 

“I think she might know that we love her,” Remus says placidly, turning his page, “but likely not how much.” 

“Mm. Hear that?” One hand sneaks to your side, and the next squeeze makes you gasp out a laugh, ticklish. “You don’t get it.” 

“No, I do! I do!” 

“S’not your fault, dove.” Remus is watching you from the corner of his eye, smiling faintly. “It’s more love than most people could conceptualize.” 

“Oh.” You’re giggling now. “So you guys are just extra special? I love you way more than—ah!”

“Cruel, unfounded claims,” Sirius accuses, digging his clever fingers into your side. 

You reach for his hand, but you’re too weak with laughter to wrestle it away. “You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

“Couldn’t let you finish,” he says simply. “Sounded like the beginnings of blasphemy.” 

“Good lord,” says James. You didn’t hear him come in, but he’s sweaty and breathing hard from having just finished his run. “By the screaming coming from in here I thought we were under attack.” 

“What would you have done if we were?” Remus asks curiously. 

“Well, I…I was running in here to see what happened. I’d have fought them off, I suppose.” 

Remus smiles down at his book, and Sirius pats James’ midsection fondly. “Good thing it’s never come to that, darling.” 

James stares at him. “And how am I meant to take that?” 

“I think you’d do very well in a fight, Jamie,” you say, taking the opportunity to slip out of Sirius’ grasp. 

James turns to you, a smile spreading over his face. “I think so, too. Thanks, lovie.” He bends towards you. You think to take his face in your hands, but remember your fears at the last second, bringing them down to your sides. If any of the boys notice, they don’t mention. 

“Have they victimized you, my lovely girl?” James asks between kisses. “No one’s ever as nice to you when I’m gone, are they?” 

“I resent that.” Sirius pokes your side, making you giggle and bend away from him. “Ever thought that maybe she likes when I’m not nice to her?” 

“Not really, no,” says James, flopping down onto the couch. 

You’re holding your hands away from you, hesitant to touch the couch or your skin or anything until you feel like they’re clean. Sirius really had managed to distract you for a while, but now your anxiety is back in full force, your heart in your throat and dread a swirling mass in your gut. 

When you look up, Remus is watching you. 

“Maybe we should get out of the house,” he suggests. “We could go for a walk. Does that sound okay, sweetheart?” 

“Um…” It makes your heartbeat ratchet just to think about, the barrier of time and physical space between you and the next time you’ll actually be able to wash your hands. But you know that’s the point. 

“That’s a great idea.” James catches on quickly, more than familiar with your compulsions. He takes your hand in his easily, encouraging you up from the couch. “It’s a beautiful day out. Lots of leaves on the ground, you’ll love it.” 

You smile. You think that you must be easy to please, because leaves to crunch underneath your shoes does make the idea of a walk sound more enticing. 

“But you only just got in,” you say. 

“I could use a cooldown,” James says easily. “I came in here thinking my sweethearts were under attack, my heart rate hasn’t had a chance to come down.” 

“I feel like it’s important to note,” says Sirius, grabbing his scarf and your hat from the coat closet, “that there were two other men here in the house when we were under this alleged attack. You weren’t our only hope.” 

“I feel like it’s important to note that that’s sexist,” you say.

“Very,” James agrees, swiping your hat from Sirius and putting it on for you. “I’d think our best defenders would be the ones who spend the most time working out.” 

“Mm. Not Sirius, then.” 

“Certainly not.” 

A hand fists in the back of your shirt, and you choke on a gasp as Sirius yanks you back to his side. He wraps an arm securely around your waist. “Remus,” he says smoothly, “did y/n look like she was having a very easy time fighting me off a couple of minutes ago?” 

“I’m staying out of this one,” Remus says as he shrugs on his coat, but his tongue is poking into his cheek. You find you can’t help smiling, either.

[scarluna]

Y/N, a gifted but self-conscious graphic designer, lands a job at Jeon Enterprises, a powerhouse ruled by the sharp and controlling Jeon Jungkook, whose ruthless perfectionism hides behind an enigmatic façade. Though admired and feared, Jungkook targets Y/N’s insecurities, using them as weapons against her.

Beside him stands his best friend, Min Yoongi, a sly and unpredictable force whose hot-and-cold behavior leaves Y/N questioning his motives.

Tangled in a web of cold authority, teasing games, and unspoken desire, Y/N must navigate a dangerous love triangle where ambition and emotion collide, threatening to unravel everything.

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader x Min Yoongi

Genre/Tags: plus sized reader, enemies to lovers, ceo!jungkook, graphic designer!reader, mafia!yoongi

Link to the other chapters: ACT I / ACT III / ACT IV / ACT V / ACT VI / ACT VII

Chapters: 2 / ?

Chapter Warnings: mature language, bullying, slow burn, enemies to lovers

ACT II.

The office was a battlefield, and I was the only one unarmed.

Every day felt like a fresh assault. Tina’s barbs were sharper, her voice dripping with fake sympathy as she leaned over my desk. “Oh, Y/N, are you sure you’re comfortable in that chair? It looks like it’s a little… snug.”

I tried to ignore her, my cheeks burning as I focused on the mock-up on my screen. She’d been relentless all week, and every comment felt like a jab to my already low self-esteem. I was keeping quiet, minding my own business but the bullying never seemed to stop. I wanted to be the bigger person, the mature person who doesn't take things to heart. And it seemed like it from outside, but from the inside I was suffering. 

Across the room, Yoongi wasn’t much better. His criticisms were less direct, but no less cutting. He had a way of making me feel incompetent without ever raising his voice. “Y/N, these designs lack creativity,” he’d say, his tone calm but loaded with judgment. “Maybe it’s time you considered a role that’s more… fitting for your skill set. Like data entry.”

I bit my lip, swallowing the lump in my throat. I wasn’t going to cry. Not here, not in front of them.

Jungkook, however, was the worst of all. Every glance he threw my way felt like a judgment, every word like a blow.

“You’re moving too slow,” he snapped one afternoon, slamming a stack of papers onto my desk, leaning over to my face whilst his dark eyes burned into my soul. “Do you even understand deadlines? Or is thinking that fast too much for you?”

The team laughed quietly, but the sound roared in my ears. I felt my hands tremble. I wanted to open my mouth, I wanted to shout and say that I quit this god forsaken place, but I couldn't. Call me weak, call me pushover or whatever, but this job was important to me and I wanted to keep proving my worth.

By the end of the day, I was drained of course. My confidence was in shreds, my energy spent. But the worst moments came when I was alone at home, sitting in my small one-bedroom flat with my dog curled up at my feet and tears streaming down my face.

-

That evening, I sat at the kitchen table, staring at a cold cup of tea in my hands. Hades, my dog, whimpered, sensing my distress, and I reached down to stroke his soft fur.

“I’m fine,” I whispered in a shaky voice, wiping my tears away. It has been like this for weeks. I was at work, bullied, mocked at, then came home and cried my eyes out the entire evening. And then when I opened my eyes in the next morning, the cycle repeated itself.

I thought of my parents, so far away and unaware of the chaos in my life. I couldn’t burden them with this. I thought of my brother in prison, the shame my family carried, and the weight of holding everything together by myself.

And yet, I knew I couldn’t give up. If I lost this job, I’d lose everything. My apartment, my independence, my sense of self. I had to keep going, no matter how much it hurt.

-

The next morning, I dragged myself into the office, my body heavy with exhaustion and my eyes burning from all the crying and lack of sleep. 

The morning passed in a blur of emails, revisions, and pointed comments from Yoongi and Tina which I ignored, I was too lost in thoughts to even listen to them anymore. By lunchtime, my head was pounding, but I pushed through, forcing myself to finish the latest round of edits.

“You look terrible,” Tina said as she passed my desk, her voice dripping with mocking concern. “Maybe you should take a break. But then again, even when you take a break you'd do a shitty job afterward yet again.”

I ignored her, focusing on the screen in front of me. My surroundings were like a blurr. Somewhat, I lost sense of my emotions the moment I focused on my design as this was the only thing helping me out in this moment. 

By the end of the day, my vision was blurring. My body felt like it was on autopilot, moving through tasks without really comprehending what I was doing. Of course I did fuck up a few times, stumbling in my tasks and that did not go unnoticed by my boss.

“Y/N, are you listening?” Jungkook’s voice snapped me out of my daze.

I blinked, realizing I had been staring at my screen without hearing a word of the conversation happening around me.

“Yeah. . . I am listening," I lied lowly, refusing to meet his eyes.

I could practically hear him scoff and probably roll his eyes. “You’re useless. Why are you even here?”

The words hit me like a slap, but I couldn’t muster the strength to respond.

-

It happened that evening at the end of my workday, just as I was finishing the last of my assignments. I stood up from my desk, the world tilting around me and my legs went weak. My vision blurred, and before I could catch myself, everything went black.

-

When I came to my senses, I was lying on the floor, a small crowd gathered around me. Rya’s worried face was the first thing I saw, her hands gently patting my cheeks.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” she asked, her voice filled with panic. "Should we call an ambulance?"

I groaned, my body aching as I tried to sit up. “N-no, i-it's fine. What happened?” I was pulled up gently by Rya as the other colleagues slowly walked away because they saw Rya's murderous glance. This girl was doing everything to protect me and she had no clue how grateful and appreciative I was to her for that.

“You fainted,” Rya said, helping me up. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard.” I was also not eating at all, because their jokes about how I looked finally had gotten to me. 

Hoseok appeared, holding a bottle of water. “You need to take care of yourself, Y/N,” he said gently. “This job isn’t worth destroying your health over.”

I felt tears prick at my eyes, but I forced them back, nodding weakly. “I’m fine,” I said, though my voice shook. “I’ll be fine.” I saw Hoseok and Rya look at each other and then back at me. From the corner of my eye I saw Tina stand not too far away, arms crossed against her chest. She huffed and headed down the hallway. This was a lost cause, wasn't it? Working at such a big company, getting paid well, just to be treated like trash...

Deep down, I knew that me saying I was fine was far from the truth. Something had to change soon—because if it didn’t, I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.

-

I didn’t expect the knock on my door that Saturday morning. Weekends were my time to recharge, to hide from the world and the constant judgment I faced at work. I would spend the weekends curled in bed, eating my emotions away and watching crime documentaries while Hades was curled by my side. But when I opened the door and saw whoever was standing there, a small smile on his face and a bouquet of sunflowers in his hands, my heart skipped a beat.

“Taehyung?” I blinked, caught off guard by the sight of my childhood best friend. It had been months since we’d last seen each other, though we’d kept in touch through our parents.

“Surprise,” he said warmly, holding out the flowers. “Thought I’d stop by and say hello. You’re not busy, are you?”

I shook my head, taking the flowers with a smile. “Not at all. Come in!”

He stepped inside, taking in the small space. Hades barked excitedly at the newcomer, running in circles around Taehyung’s legs.

“Hades,” I said with a laugh, scooping up my little dog. “Be nice. This is Taehyung.”

Taehyung grinned, scratching behind Hades’ ears. “You have a dog now? I should’ve brought treats.” "It's okay, he shouldn't eat much or else he'd become pudgy." "But pudgy is cute." he muttered and I giggled. His aura and presense somehow made me feel safe and at ease. I forgot how much of a kind hearted man Tae was. And here he was, dressed casually, hair a cute mess and a lazy smile gracing his features.

We spent a few minutes catching up before Taehyung suggested we take a walk. “It’s been ages since we’ve just hung out,” he said. “Let’s go to the park. Get some fresh air.”

The park was peaceful, the late morning sun casting a golden glow over the trees. We walked along the path, Hades trotting happily beside us on his leash. The park was not filled with many people this early in the morning and I was grateful for that. Somehow a lot of people made me anxious.

“So,” Taehyung said, breaking the comfortable silence, “how’s life in the big city? Still doing graphic design?”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to sound more enthusiastic than I felt. “It’s… a lot. But I’m managing.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Managing, huh? That doesn’t sound like the Y/N I know. You used to dream big. What happened to that spark of yours?”

I shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “Life happened, I guess.”

Taehyung frowned but didn’t press further. Instead, he changed the subject. “Have you heard from your parents recently? My mom mentioned they were planning to visit soon.”

I nodded. “We talk every week. They’re good, keeping busy.”

“And your brother?”

I hesitated, the mention of my brother a sensitive topic, of course. I didn't talk to anyone about him and my parents seemed to be good at avoiding the topic for my own brother as well. They acted as if he was a shame to our family. “He’s… okay. Still in prison, but we’re hopeful he’ll be out sooner than expected. He’s trying to stay positive.”

Taehyung’s expression softened. “If there’s anything I can do to help, you’ll let me know, right? My firm handles cases like his all the time.” Taehyung was a successful lawyer here, he even owned his own law firm and I was so happy for him. Ever since he was a child he was determined and a smooth talker, convincing people with ease. He was also smart and selfless which was one of the things I liked about him.

I smiled, touched by his offer. “Thanks, Tae. I’ll keep that in mind.”

As we continued walking, Taehyung talked about his work and how many weird cases he has been working on recently.

“I still can’t believe you run your own firm,” I said, shaking my head. “You make it sound so easy.”

He laughed. “It’s anything but easy, trust me. But I love what I do. And it doesn’t hurt that my parents are proud of me for once.”

“They’ve always been proud of you,” I said, nudging him playfully. “You’re their golden child.”

“Maybe,” he said, his tone teasing. “But I’ve always cared more about what you thought of me.”

I blinked, caught off guard by his words. Before I could respond, Hades barked, pulling at the leash.

I glanced up to see what had caught his attention—and froze.

My boss was leaning against a dark Mercedez Benz and a cigarette dangled between his lips. He looked so casual. And also there was a man who had his back on me but it did not take me long to realize this was Yoongi.  I was staring for too long. Jungkook's gaze flickered on me and I saw a glint of surprise which made Yoongi turn around as well. My heart stopped.

For a moment, neither of us moved. It was as if the world had stopped, the air thick with tension.

“Y/N?” Taehyung’s voice broke the spell, and I tore my gaze away from Jungkook, my heart pounding.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “What were you saying?”

Taehyung followed my gaze, his brow furrowing as he took in both men's figures. “Is that Jeon Jungkook?” he asked surprised.

I shook my head, the knot in my stomach tightening. “Y-yeah. ” I mumbled and Tae hummed.  "So he is your boss?" I nodded. "Does he give you a hard time? I can give him a piece of my mind." I could hear the annoyance on Taehyung's voice as he spoke about Jungkook. I shook my head and my eyes shifted back on Tae.  "It's fine.Let's just go."

Taehyung didn’t look convinced, but he let it go, steering the conversation back to lighter topics as we slowly walked away.

But even as we continued walking, laughing and reminiscing, I couldn’t shake the image of Jungkook’s piercing gaze—or the way it had made me feel like he could see right through me.

-

Monday arrived far too quickly, and as I walked into the office, I could already feel the tension in the air. The weekend spent with Taehyung had been a rare reprieve, a reminder of the warmth of genuine friendship. But as soon as I entered the workspace, the cruel reality of my job hit me like a cold slap.

The whispers started almost immediately.

“Did you see her at the park?” Tina’s voice carried from the nearby break area, intentionally loud enough for me to hear.

“Oh, yeah,” Yoongi drawled, smirking as he leaned against the counter. “Who’d she pay to walk beside her like that?”

A few chuckles rippled through the room, and I kept my eyes fixed on my desk, willing myself to ignore them.

“Maybe he’s her personal trainer,” Tina continued with a sneer. “Though, let’s be honest, she doesn’t seem like the type who actually listens to advice.”

I gripped the edge of my desk, my knuckles turning white as I fought to keep my composure.

Jungkook’s voice joined the fray, sharp and mocking. “He probably felt bad for her. Sympathy date, maybe.”

Laughter erupted around me, the sound cutting deeper than I cared to admit.

“Morning, Y/N!” Tina’s fake tone made my stomach churn as she approached my desk, her heels clicking against the floor. “Had a good weekend? You seemed… busy.”

I forced a smile, keeping my voice even. “It was fine, thanks.”

Her eyes sparkled with faux curiosity. “Oh, come on, you can tell us. Who was that guy? Friend? Cousin? You’re not seriously trying to say he’s your boyfriend, are you?”

The heat rose to my cheeks, but I refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. “Just an old friend.”

Tina’s smile widened, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Oh, that makes sense. Because, you know, someone like him... with someone like you? Not exactly believable.”

The laughter started up again, and I clenched my fists under the desk, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from snapping back. I shot her a glare however and she did see it. That errupted a chuckle from her and she walked away with graceful steps, shaking her hips because she knew Jungkook was there.  Pathetic bitch.

-

The hours dragged on, each task feeling heavier under the weight of the relentless mockery. By lunchtime, I felt like I was suffocating, the walls of the office closing in around me. I haven't felt like this since I was in damn high school.

“Y/N, you okay?” Rya’s voice was a lifeline, her genuine concern cutting through the fog of humiliation.

I glanced up to see her and Hoseok standing by my desk, their expressions sympathetic.

“Yeah,” I lied, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”

“Let’s grab lunch,” Hoseok suggested. “Get out of here for a bit.”

I hesitated, but the idea of escaping the toxic atmosphere, even for a little while, was too tempting to pass up.

As we sat in a small café a few blocks away, I felt the tension slowly begin to ease. The warm, comforting smells of coffee and pastries wrapped around me like a blanket, and for the first time all day, I felt like I could breathe again.

“They’re absolute trash,” Rya said bluntly, stirring her latte. “Tina, Yoongi, Jungkook—all of them.”

Hoseok nodded, his eyes serious. “You’re better than all of them combined, Y/N.”

I shrugged, poking at my sandwich with a fork. “It’s just... exhausting. I try to ignore them, but it’s like they go out of their way to tear me down.”

“They’re jealous,” Rya said firmly. “That’s all it is. You have talent, Y/N. They see that, and it scares them.”

I gave her a doubtful look. “They don’t seem scared to me.”

“Well, screw them,” Hoseok said, his tone unusually sharp. “You’ve got people who believe in you, Y/N.” I wish I could believe his words, but deep down I didn't. I was too absorbed in my inner pain to even think someone was believing in me. I wasn't believing in myself in the first place.

-

As I stepped through the doors, Yoongi’s voice rang out, loud and mocking.

“Back from lunch with your friends?” he said, smirking as he leaned against his desk arms crossed against his chest.

The others laughed, their eyes gleaming with amusement as they watched me walk past.

I didn’t respond, didn’t even look at him. But inside, I was crumbling, each cruel word chipping away at the walls I’d built to protect myself.

How much longer could I keep this up? How much more could I take before I broke completely?The answer lingered in the back of my mind, terrifying and inevitable.

-

The rest of the day passed in a haze of barely contained emotions. I kept my head down, focusing on the screen in front of me, even as whispers and snickers floated through the air like poison. Even my team was just as disgusting except Hoseok and Rya. What was wrong with adults acting like children? 

By the time 4 PM rolled around, I was hanging on by a thread. But of course, Tina wasn’t about to let me leave without one final jab.

She sauntered over to my desk, her heels clicking against the floor like a countdown to my inevitable implosion. Today she wore a bright blue pencil skirt, a white blouse that had too much buttons popped off. I could see her cleveage clearly. This was definitely not job appropriate but I knew who she was doing this for.

“Hey, Y/N,” she said, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your designs. They’re… fine, I guess. For someone who clearly hasn’t seen the inside of a fashion magazine in, what, years?”

Her laugh was joined by Yoongi’s low chuckle from across the room, and my chest tightened.

“Not everyone can have an eye for detail like I do,” Tina continued, her voice rising so the whole office could hear. “But don’t worry. Maybe if you spent less time stuffing your face with food and more time paying attention to trends, you might actually produce something worth presenting to a client.”

The room fell silent, all eyes on me. My hands trembled, my nails digging into the edge of my desk.

“Enough,” I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. I could feel the rage bubbling up from deep inside of me. It was getting hard to control myself at this point. All these weeks of bullying and me being silent had to come to an end.

“What was that?” Tina leaned closer, a smug smile tugging at her lips.

“I said enough!” I stood up so quickly my chair toppled over, the loud clatter startling everyone. Tina's expression changed, I could see her blue eyes grow wide as she took a slight step back and her hands fell down her sides.

Tina blinked, clearly not expecting a reaction from me. “Excuse me?”

“You fucking heard me,” I said, my voice shaking but growing stronger with every word. “I’ve had it with your constant shitty bullying. Every day, you find some new way to tear me down, and for what? To make yourself feel better? To prove you’re better than me?”

She scoffed, crossing her arms. “Oh, please. Don’t be so dramatic.” she tried to look disinterested but I could see the surprise in her eyes from my outburst. Somehow I couldn't keep my mouth shut anymore. The words kept spilling out.

“Dramatic?” I laughed bitterly. “You’ve been treating me like garbage since the day I got here. Mocking my work, my weight, the way I dress, the way I look. And for what? Because you’re insecure? Because you can’t stand the idea of someone else succeeding? Someone else that is plain looking? Or should I say, someone that is different looking?”

The color drained from her face, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“And let’s not even start on the way you constantly throw yourself at the boss, who mind you, is just as shitty as you are.” I added, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “The way you bat your lashes, lean into him, practically cling to his arm whenever he’s in the room... everyone sees it, Jungkook especially. And guess what, he is not interested. Pathetic, isn't it?” I took a step toward her. She was taller than me wearing those heels, but I didn't gave a fuck. I was full with rage.

Gasps rippled through the office, and Tina’s cheeks turned crimson. From the corner of my eyes I could see Yoongi lean back on his chair and stare at us in pure silence.

“You want to act like you’re above me, Tina? Fine. But don’t think for a second we don’t all see how desperate you are to get his attention—and how he couldn’t care less. And you trying to bring me down by being a shitty Direct Manager does nothing to make the boss notice you.”

Her jaw dropped, her confidence visibly crumbling. “You—”

“What?” I snapped, cutting her off. “You don’t like hearing the truth? He doesn’t want you. He never will. So maybe, instead of tearing other people down to make yourself feel important, you should take a good, long look in the mirror.”

The room was deathly quiet, every pair of eyes glued to the unfolding scene.

“I-I will have you fired for this!" she stuttered, her face red with embarrassment.

I stared at her, my chest heaving, and for the first time, I saw her for what she really was: small, scared, and desperately clinging to the illusion of power.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice steady. “Do it, maybe I will finally get the mental break I deserve.”

Without another word, I grabbed my bag and walked out of the office, the sound of my footsteps echoing in the silence.

I didn’t make it far before the tears started falling. I ducked into the stairwell, sinking onto the cold concrete steps as the weight of the confrontation hit me. My shoulders shook with sobs, the release of weeks—months—of pent-up frustration and pain. Fucking hell, was I going to get fired for this? Fuck fuck fuck.

The door creaked open, and I looked up to see Rya standing there, her expression a mix of concern and pride.

“That was epic,” she said, sitting down beside me.

I laughed weakly, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “It didn’t feel epic. It felt terrifying.”

“Well, it needed to be said,” she said firmly. “And you said it. You stood up for yourself, Y/N. That takes a lot of guts.”

I nodded, my tears slowing as her words sank in. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a spark of something I hadn’t felt in a long time: pride.

“Thanks, Rya,” I said softly.

She smiled, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Anytime. And just so you know, you’re not alone in this. We’ve got your back. And don't worry about getting fired, Jungkook can't afford to look for another candidate right now besides, deep down he knows you are brilliant at what you do and that you are a hard worker.”

Her words were like a balm to my wounded spirit, and as I sat there with her, I realized that maybe, just maybe, I was stronger than I thought.

-

The office was buzzing with murmurs in the aftermath of my confrontation with Tina, but I tried to focus on my work. My chest was still tight, my emotions raw, but I felt an odd sense of relief. Standing up for myself had been terrifying, yet it also felt strangely empowering.

I barely had time to process the relief before a sharp voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Y/N,” Jungkook called from the doorway of his office, his tone clipped. “My office. Now.”

Every pair of eyes in the room shot to me, their gazes heavy with curiosity and judgment. My stomach sank, but I refused to let the anxiety show. With my head held high, I pushed back from my desk and walked toward him, determined not to let him intimidate me anymore.

The door clicked shut behind me, and the room suddenly felt much smaller. Jungkook stood by his desk, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his tattooed forearms, his dark eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my breath hitch. I saw him wearing a dark suit. However, his jacket was gone and he had his shirt on, black slacks and his tattoos complimented him perfectly. If he wasn't such an ass, I'd have been secretly attracted to him. 

“What’s this I hear about you causing a scene?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. He was definitely annoyed with me.

I crossed my arms, meeting his gaze head-on. “You mean standing up for myself? Sorry if that doesn’t fit your idea of acceptable behavior.”

His jaw tightened, and he took a step closer, the space between us shrinking. “This isn’t about acceptable behavior. It’s about keeping your head down and doing your job without making a spectacle of yourself.”

A laugh escaped me, bitter and unrestrained. “Oh, you mean like the way you and your little entourage make a spectacle out of humiliating me every chance you get?”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, the tension in the room shifted, charged with something electric and unspoken.

“Careful, Y/N,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “You’re treading on thin ice.”

I took a step closer, closing the distance between us until I could feel the heat radiating from his body. And his cologne intoxicated me. “And you know what? I don’t care anymore. I’ve had enough of your condescending remarks, your bullying, and your constant need to remind me that I don’t fit into your little world.”

His gaze flicked to my lips, just for a second, but it was enough to make my heart race.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice rough."I have done no such thing. It was to push you so you can get better."

“Are you kidding me?!” I shot back, my voice trembling with anger. “I see the way you look at me, Jungkook. The way you go out of your way to make my life miserable. What is it? Does it make you feel powerful? Or are you just trying to cover up whatever it is you’re really feeling?”

His hand flexed at his side, and for a moment, I thought he might reach for me. But instead, he took a step back, his expression unreadable.

“You’re crossing a line,” he said, his voice tight.

“No,” I said firmly. “I’m finally drawing one.”

The room was silent except for the sound of my own breathing, ragged and uneven. I could feel the weight of his gaze, heavy and unrelenting, but I refused to back down.

“Is that all, Mr. Jeon?” I asked, my voice cold and formal.

His jaw clenched, but he nodded. “Get out.”

I turned on my heel and walked out of the office, my heart pounding in my chest. As the door closed behind me, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of triumph and dread.

Whatever was brewing between Jungkook and me, it was far from over. And something told me it was only going to get more complicated.

I left Jungkook’s office with my heart pounding and my hands trembling. I didn’t know if I felt victorious or terrified, but I couldn’t afford to overanalyze it right now. I just needed to keep my head down and survive the rest of the day.

-

On my way back to my desk after my lunch break, I ducked into the break room to grab a glass of water. I needed at least a second to breathe before I faced the curious stares of my coworkers.

That’s when I heard voices drifting in from the slightly ajar door from one of the closest meeting rooms.

“Man, she really snapped at Tina...” Yoongi’s familiar voice was laced with amusement.

I froze.

“She didn’t just snap,” Yoongi continued with a low chuckle. “She obliterated her. And the best part? She called out Tina’s ridiculous crush on you. In front of everyone. Priceless.”

“Shut up, Yoongi,” Jungkook snapped, his tone sharp.

“Why? It’s true.” Yoongi’s voice grew more teasing. “I’ve never seen Tina look so humiliated. It was a masterpiece, honestly. Someone had to put her in her place eventually.”

“She was out of line,” Jungkook growled.

I inched closer to the door, my heart racing. Were they talking about me?

“Out of line?” Yoongi scoffed. “You’re kidding, right? Tina’s been terrorizing her for weeks. Y/N finally decided she wasn’t going to take it anymore. Honestly, I respect her for it.”

“It’s not her job to cause scenes in the office, besides, you have terrorizing her as well.” Jungkook shot back, his tone cold.

Yoongi laughed, the sound dry and mocking. “Oh, please. Don’t act like you’re mad about the professionalism or whatever excuse you’re clinging to. You’re mad because she stood up to you too. Admit it, Jeon—she caught you off guard. And you hate not being in control. And you also terrorized her. Is that apropriate for a CEO to do?”

There was a brief silence, and then Jungkook’s voice dropped, low and dangerous. “Careful, Yoongi.”

“Why?” Yoongi said, unfazed. “Let’s be real, Jungkook. You’ve been riding her harder than anyone else in this office. And for what? Because she’s not your type? Because she’s not like the other girls who throw themselves at you? Or because she is fat?” Fat. This word made my hands shake. I hated it so much. It was a reminder.

“That’s enough,” Jungkook growled, the edge in his voice enough to make me hold my breath.

“Or maybe,” Yoongi continued, clearly enjoying pushing Jungkook’s buttons, “it’s because she doesn’t give a damn about you? She doesn’t hang on your every word or bat her lashes at you like Tina. She’s not afraid to tell you off, and it’s driving you crazy. She is not attractive at all and you cannot comprehend how come someone who is not pretty not into you?”

“I said that’s enough!” Jungkook’s voice echoed through the room, loud and commanding.

The sudden outburst made me flinch, and I stepped back, my foot scuffing against the floor.

The noise was subtle, but in the silence that followed Jungkook’s shout, it was loud enough to draw attention.

“What was that?” Jungkook’s voice was sharp.

I turned and bolted before either of them could investigate, my heart racing as I slipped back into the main office.

My mind was spinning, replaying the conversation I’d just overheard. Yoongi’s words lingered in my mind, poking at emotions I wasn’t ready to confront.

Jungkook wasn’t mad about professionalism. He wasn’t mad about Tina. He was mad about me.

And that terrified me more than anything else.

-

A few hours after overhearing the heated conversation between Jungkook and Yoongi, my head was a whirlwind of emotions. I couldn't focus on my work at all. I needed air—fresh, cool air that wasn’t tainted by the stifling tension of the office.

The rooftop seemed like the perfect escape. I’d been there once before during lunch, and it was usually deserted.

Pushing open the heavy door, I stepped out into the open, letting the crisp breeze wash over me. The city stretched out in every direction, its sounds muted by the height.

But my solitude was short-lived.

A familiar figure leaned against the railing, a cigarette between his fingers. Yoongi.

He glanced at me over his shoulder, one brow quirking in surprise. “Didn’t think you’d be the rooftop type.”

I crossed my arms, irritation bubbling to the surface. “And I didn’t think you’d be the smoking type. Guess we’re both full of surprises.”

He smirked, taking a long drag of his cigarette before exhaling a plume of smoke into the air. “Touché. So, what brings you up here? Trying to escape the circus downstairs?”

I took a few steps closer, my frustration from earlier finding a new target. “If by circus you mean you and Jungkook, then yeah. Congratulations, you two are the ringleaders.”

Yoongi let out a low chuckle, the sound grating against my nerves. “Ah, so you heard us.”

“Hard not to when you’re practically shouting,” I snapped. “Though I’m sure you both figured no one would dare eavesdrop on the great CEO and his sidekick.”

He turned to face me fully, leaning back against the railing. His sharp features were illuminated by the city lights, giving him an almost ethereal, dangerous look. “Careful, Y/N. You’re sounding pretty bold for someone who usually keeps her head down.”

I took another step closer, my anger pushing me forward. “Bold? You think this is bold? No, Yoongi. Bold is bullying someone for no good reason. Bold is turning the office into a soap opera just because you can’t act like an adult.”

His smirk faltered, replaced by a flash of something darker. He took a step toward me, closing the distance between us.

“You don’t know me,” he said, his voice low and cutting.

“And I don’t care to,” I shot back, though my voice wavered slightly.

We were close now, too close. The air between us was charged, a volatile mix of anger and something unspoken. His gaze locked onto mine, unyielding and intense, and I refused to back down.

“Let me guess,” I continued, my voice shaking with both rage and nerves. “You’re just another overgrown man-child who thinks the world owes him something. Smoking on the rooftop, making snarky comments—what’s next? Brooding poetry about how misunderstood you are?”

He tilted his head, his smirk returning, though it carried a dangerous edge. “You’ve got a mouth on you, Y/N. Didn’t think you had it in you to snap twice in one day.”

“Yeah, well, you and your buddy Jungkook seem to bring out the worst in me,” I bit out.

Yoongi stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But don’t think for a second that you can figure me out with your little insults. You should look at yourself in the mirror.”

“Figure you out?” I laughed bitterly. “I don’t want to figure you out, Yoongi. Trust me, I know who I am, I look at myself in the mirror everyday. What about you? Do you know who you are?" there was a pause." Leave me the hell alone.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Then why are you still standing here?”

I froze, my heart hammering in my chest. His words hung in the air, heavy and taunting. I hated the way he got under my skin, the way his presence seemed to pull at something deep and unwanted inside me.

“Because someone needs to tell you off as well,” I said finally, though my voice lacked the conviction it had moments ago.

He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “You’re cute when you’re mad, Y/N. But if you think you can scare me off, you’re in for a rude awakening.”

I glared at him, refusing to let him see how his words affected me. “Enjoy your rooftop melodrama.”

I turned on my heel, marching back toward the door. But as I reached for the handle, his voice stopped me.

“Y/N.”

I glanced back, my hand hovering over the door.

“You’re stronger than you think,” he said, his tone softer, almost contemplative.

I didn’t know how to respond, so I said nothing. Instead, I pushed open the door and walked back into the stairwell, his words following me like a shadow.

[betterthana-six]

| MUSIC TO MY EARS - [ABBY ANDERSON] - CHAPTER ONE |

PAIRINGS: stoic!rugby player abby x fem!reader

SUMMARY: you and your new(ish) roommate, Abby Anderson, have gotten into an argument. about what? unclear at the moment. but it's got Abby in a fit of shame. until late one night she hears you outside with someone whose voice she doesn't recognize and listens in.

WARNINGS: this is my first story ive ever published here. please be kind! i am fragile lol. this is definitely a slow burn, but lots of pining, yearning, and, yes, smut to come. TRUST. so, mdni. there are a lot of flashbacks between now and when they met so we get the full story eventually. this is more of a light hearted story but it does deal with coming to terms with sexuality (and who best to help you along that journey but rugby playing and stoic Abby Anderson?). anyways, i hope that the five people who might read this like it. I've proofread but, like, nobody's perfect. if people like this and want it as a series, ill make a more personalized playlist for it.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Music To My Ears: Chapter 1

Abby is in your dorm room stretched out in bed with a book in her hands when she hears voices coming from outside. She watches the shadows dance in the light that extends under the door and into the room. It’s late. Abby hasn’t seen you all day. 

She tries to go back to reading, but her eyes glaze over the words almost immediately. Someone is leaning on the door, off and on making the hinge jingle in a way that is most times ignorable. Drunk students came through all the time, lingering in the hallways and leaning on the doors. But it isn’t ignorable now, not for Abby. 

The voices are muffled. They sound like they’re… giggling. One giggle is definitely yours. Abby could spot it from a mile away. The other’s is unfamiliar. Abby’s been reading the same passage over and over again and doesn’t even realize it.

It goes quiet outside and this time Abby closes the book, suddenly over-aware of her surroundings. She looks up at the reading light hanging from the headboard and instinctively switches it off. But she doesn’t want it to look like she turned it off because of them? She turns it on again without thinking and turns it off again, quickly entertaining the idea of faking sleep and listening in. With her hand on the switch Abby stops, realizing that they might start noticing the light going on and off and think she’s trying to signal something. She shakes her head at herself with embarrassment. She covers her face with both her hands. So stupid… she says under her breath. 

It’s been quiet for so long out there. But the shadows are still there. Abby lays down in bed and forfeits to her desire to eavesdrop. As icky as it makes her feel.

Your voice comes through finally. 

“What?” You ask, innocently.

“Don’t look at me like that.” An unfamiliar voice chimes in. It’s a woman’s voice. Abby couldn’t tell if she was feigning some sort of annoyance with you or if it was genuine.

“Like what?” 

A silence passes.

You sigh loudly. “Well, what’d you think of what I sent you? That wasn’t a cheap effort, you know. Full body mirror in the ladies’ locker room. Not too shabby.”

“You have to stop…” The other voice says, with a playful twinge that makes Abby’s curiosity perk up like dog ears. 

“Stop what? I can’t send you photos?” Your voice tells Abby you were in some daze, in the same way she could sometimes hear singers smile through their lyrics. Just thinking about you out there in the hall hanging onto the door and onto each of her words, shining your big green eyes at her. It sends a shiver down Abby’s spine.

“Not anymore,” the stranger says casually. “It was really good seeing you tonight but I have a boyfriend, remember? And I’ve told him about…us. High school. He knows… is the thing. He thinks I’m studying for midterms right now.” 

You laugh at that. In a sweet way, though. “Right,” you say and you sigh, seemingly unaffected by the reminder. “Jeremy?”

“Jeremiah,” the woman corrects.

“God, that’s even worse.” 

Abby snorts, basically smashing her lips shut with her hand, and then rages at herself silently in the dark for fear they may have heard her.

 “Did you… even look at them?” you ask. God, are you drunk? Abby has now given up on the book entirely, laying up on one elbow to stare at the door, imagining the conversation visually. 

A laugh from the woman. Mumbling now, feigning sheepishness, “Yeah.”

“And?”

“And…I think…about them, about you. Of course.” Abby’s hands are clasped together, tightening around one another at this.

“Yeah…?” you draw out the stranger’s words seductively with your own. Abby imagines you in the long, maroon dress you typically wear for special occasions. Was this a special occasion? She nearly has the impulse to check your closet just to be sure, but that’s crazy and much more invasive that what she was already doing. Her knuckles are turning white.

“And I think in another universe, maybe. Not this one. I can’t. You know why,” the stranger says sheepishly. “You’re so sweet.” And, in Abby’s imagination, there’s a dainty, gloved hand reaching out to caress your face condescendingly. The illusion entrances her to near paralysis.

A long pause from you. Abby listens hard, completely unable to stop herself from paying close attention now. In the near silence, Abby could sense your breath faltering through the door. Despite how the two of you left things, she didn’t want to see you hurting like that. Say something… Abby thinks.

When Abby hears you speak again, the sweetness in your voice has vanished. She nearly doesn’t recognize the sound. 

“Fuck…” There’s a lump in your throat, Abby could tell just from your voice when you were smiling and, just as easily, she could hear when you were about to burst into tears. “Why… why did you invite me out tonight then?” 

No answer.

“You have a boyfriend…” you continue in a matter-of-factly tone, raising your voice a bit, to Abby’s surprise. “Jeremy…yeah, so you’ve explained. Great guy, great future. So, you have the boyfriend, the good job lined up, you’re almost done with college. Man, you’re doing fucking great.” Abby’s mouth was left agape, her heart cheering with unwarranted pride for you, urging you on to read this stranger to filth. “Why start texting me again?” You ask.

“You’re here,” the woman clarifies indignantly, like it should be obvious. “I wanted to see you. I didn’t know you transf-”

 “That’s not what I’m ask- why’d you ask me out tonight?” You cut her off. “Purely to fuck with me?”

“No…”

“No, what? I’m just- I’ve always just been here at your disposal. Ever since we were teens. Chasing my tail around like a dumb dog, waiting for her master to one day be unashamed to be seen with me.” Abby’s hand travels to her mouth now in delight. She’s smirking like a clown, fully impressed with you. But, you were in tears at this point. Abby knew by now that, only drunk, would you show your tears like that. “Abby was right,” you mutter. Abby almost didn’t hear you.

“I’m gonna go,” the woman said. “It was good seeing you tonight.” It sounded like more of a question than a genuine statement. And then the sound of footsteps, a shadow moving away and then out of sight.

“Yeah. Go, for fuck’s…” You say messily. You were definitely not sober. And then Abby hears your body thud against the door one last time and senses you sliding down to the floor. She hears the tears. Abby instinctively began to get up, feeling the need to see you, talk to you, hold you. 

But she stopped herself. You wouldn’t even talk to her a few hours ago, why would you want her comfort now?

***

At that point in time, you and Abby were seasoned roommates. Well, not seasoned. You guys were in that awkward in-between stage of knowing each other where you’d half-memorized each other's schedules but there wasn’t any synchronicity to your dynamic yet. Changing clothes in the same room was still very touch-and-go.

However, when you first met there was immediate tension. It was winter then, and transferring colleges midway through sophomore year meant knowing absolutely no one. At least, you thought, you would have a roommate. But, when you first met, Abby was so much… harder. And, she was stoic and casual in a way that threw you off entirely.

“Are you looking through my shit?”

“No!” You said stiffly, whipping your head around to catch sight of the figure in the door. But, there you were. You stood fixed on her side of the room, where you just had your eyes deeply focused on the engraved rugby medals hanging on the shelf, her shelf. You were caught red handed and the lie came out of your mouth readily and in a panic. Abby was already smirking. 

“Yes,” you corrected yourself. “Sorry. I don’t know why I lied. But I’m just looking. I’m not going through it, per say, I promise.” 

Abby laughed and rolled her eyes. “Calm down. It’s fine.”

You smile and take five awkward steps over to your side where your bed was just a bare, blue mattress and your luggage rested waiting to be unpacked. It was a stark comparison between our sides of the room even still. Her bed was military neat, with perfectly tucked in covers and a single pillow centered at the head. The medals were all lined up but in a way that didn’t look too showy. Some polaroids were tucked into the creases between her window and the sill. Your suitcases were patterned and scuffed badly on the corners. Littered across them all were stickers you had found from anywhere you could find them. Your clothes made you look avant garde compared to Abby and you had a sudden knot in your stomach that told you to feel self-conscious. 

“They didn’t tell you who was moving in here, did they?” you asked.

“Ah. Typical administration shit. I didn’t even know someone was moving in today,” she explained, throwing her gym bag down onto her bed and then turning to you with an open hand to shake. “Abby.”

You shook her hand, returning her name with yours. You noticed the way Abby looked deeply into your eyes for a long second, too long for a first introduction. And the way she smirked at you while she did it confounded you; it was the same way someone held out their hand to a stray cat. To be fair, that was an accurate analogy. You were clad in winter jackets with a flushed face whereas she was radiating heat, skin almost steaming under her gym clothes. Her hands were rugged, you noticed.

“Well,” Abby said, turning to her bed and unzipping her gym bag. “I’ve been told I’m a good roommate. By no one actually. You’re the first roommate I’ve had since the first half of my freshman year. Uh…I keep to myself. I need quiet most nights because I get up early, so no boyfriends over on weekdays.”

You nodded along when she turned to you and sat on the edge of her bed wearing a slight grimace at that last idea. “But if you do, do me a favor and just text me beforehand. Don’t want to be walking in on any man butt.” You laughed a bit loudly at that. You just shook your head.

“No. That won’t be a problem,” you said. Abby caught your eye suspiciously and cracked a small and crooked smile.

“Okay,” Abby said. She turned back around, grabbed a towel from her drawers, and threw it on the bed. Then, she casually lifted her sweaty wife beater up over her head and it’s only then that you look at Abby long enough to notice her size and shape. She was severe, and you’d been so caught up in meeting her, you didn’t necessarily take in her physical appearance. But now that she faced away you could see the sheer definition of her body, starting at the dimples on her lower back trailing up to her massive shoulders. All of it glistening with a polished coat of sweat.  And the rest… it would take a few more interactions to even comprehend all of her.

She must have sensed the eyes on her back because she turned around. You looked away quickly, trying busy yourself with the things around you, but there was nothing. 

“Sorry,” your cheeks flushed red. But Abby was full frontal, positioned now with her messy hair unbraided, sprawled around her shoulders, grinning at you. She paused for a moment, maintaining eye contact, with only a towel around her waist.

But then she just shrugged, grabbed her toiletries, and said, “Later.”

You watched her leave. Watched her with wide eyes as she opened the door with one hand and used the other one to lazily cover her chest as she headed towards the showers. You even heard her say “sup” to someone on her way.

Alone, you felt the rush of the moment channel directly to your stomach and burst like flames across your face. 

***

That was just the beginning. Abby thinks of it now.

Now, face up on her bed, contemplating her next move, Abby recalls you as you were. She was immediately taken with you, that first day. Your wide eyes and timidity around her. Abby's own stupid, casual arrogance. Obviously, as Abby quickly learned later, that first impression of you was not at all fully representative of the truth. 

Maybe if she had stopped then, stopped the teasing, stopped what she intended to be light, meaningless flirting, Abby wouldn’t be hesitating to open the door. Perhaps she would be opening the door to find you in tears, take your face in her hands and tell you everything she’d been aching to say for three months now.

Abby gets up off her bed and walks to the door. She squeezes the handle, takes a breath, and then turns it slowly.

Comment if you want to be on this story's taglist!

Chapter 2

[bugflies00]

OKAY so what ive been thinking about for ages is ctommy and being soft vs quiet . because i feel like it's one of those things in his fandom characterisation that sparks the most debate and in my opinion theres a huge difference between the two but i keep seeing people mix them together.

ctommy is soft but he's not quiet, and to disregard either of those things is what makes him less believable in fanworks imo

because on one hand, of course he's not quiet, that's the most obvious and i think one of the most commonly accepted qualms that we have with general fan interpretations of him. he doesn't just lie down and take shit, he's always committed to being an annoying shit, he's straight up rude so often, and even just. vocally. man's loud as fuck. i think that's pretty easy to establish .

but then what i find is that sometimes we veer into the other opposite, by completely denying that ctommy is also very soft sometimes. and by this i don't mean he turns into strawberry shortcake or starts being polite or whatever, but it's the fact that he's not just crass and rude. he's very considerate a lot of the time, he just shows it. uh. in his Own Way let's say. he cares for animals so so much, he's always so apologetic when he thinks he's hurt one of them, for fuck's sake he sung to the FLOWERS. he's very soft with nature, with things he's attached to, with things he perceives as weaker than him and needing protection.

the complexity of ctommy and what makes him so hard to grasp is that he's loud, he's brash, he is NOT a perfect quiet victim who suffers in silence, he asks for help, he's rude, he steals stuff, he's annoying as shit; but he's also soft, and incredibly empathetic, and he has no shame in showing that softness for animals or nature or his friends.

ctommy, and this is very much because cctommy himself acts like that a lot, is constantly vacillating between someone with the maturity of a thirteen year old boy who shouts and swears and pretends not to give a shit, and a boy who will stop everything he's doing to look at the sky or a flower or an animal (which does contrast his stereotypical rude teenager persona, because lots of aforementioned thirteen year old boys Would be embarrassed or whatever to do that).

he does BOTH. he's not just quiet and nice and sad and lonely; but he's not just rude and loud and """uncaring""" (if there is one thing ctommy is not i think we can all agree its UNCARING).

and i think this is why a lot of debates around "woobifying" ctommy (who remembers the july 2021 trenches . the butterfly clips.) tend to point any ctommy design that portrays him as soft, cozy, or even leaning into his feminine side as the be-all end-all of reducing his character.

in reality i think that misses the mark a bit because while there IS something to be said for sure about people turning ctommy into Blonde Anime Child #249824 and stripping him of his Very Vibrant character, i don't think that putting him in butterfly clips and skirts erases him in the same way. i think he could very much lean into that kind of thing . as long as he's still flipping off the camera we're all good

TLDR : fans strip ctommy of his loud-and-annoying persona but in avoiding that some forget that he's a character who's not afraid to be soft

[froggibus]

The Three Times You Share A Bed - Leon S Kennedy

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x reader

Genre: fluff, some light angst thrown in towards the end?

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: two times you sleep in leon's bed, and the one time he sleeps in yours

CW: roommate! Leon, kinda friends to lovers?, light angst, abandonment issues, paranoia, fear + insomnia, mentions of zombies, bedsharing, leon has intimacy issues (get therapy challenge)

OMG HAPPY RE4 RELEASE!!! I am SO excited to play once im done work this weekend! Leon looks so damn fine in the gameplay ive seen and i am going FERAL! pls no spoilers for anything new in the game! <3

RE4 remake spoiler free zone!! I have yet to play the remake so there are no spoilers in this!

————

The telltale clicking of a key in the door has you on your feet in seconds, abandoning the plush throw blanket on the couch. Before it even opens, you’re standing on the doormat. You feel a little silly, like a golden retriever waiting for its owner, but the shame is washed away when Leon steps through the door.

It’s been three weeks since you’ve last seen your roommate and best friend, and just as long since you last had company. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of you standing in front of him, the dark circles under his eyes becoming more prominent. 

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He sighs and drops his backpack on the floor, locking the door behind him.

“How was it?”

You fight the urge to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and inhale his scent, knowing that’s not what friends do. Still, the feeling is there and if he went in for it, you’d reciprocate in a heartbeat.

He opens the fridge and beams at the fully stocked drinks and snacks. He cracks open a can of cider and leans against the counter. “Long,” he admits, “way too long. And my nose is still burning from the smell of rotten flesh.” You crinkle your nose at the thought. Leon’s never been much of a talker and most of his work being classified didn’t help. Whenever something wasn’t top secret, though, you were sure to sit there and listen no matter how horrific the details were.

You settle in on the couch next to the agent, listening to him drone on about a zombie-like creature that had peeling flesh and fifty eyes. You could vividly picture it from his words alone, and the image of the creature sent a shiver up your spine.

Leon talks for hours, spilling every miniscule detail of every horror he encounters. You stay the whole time, nodding along. Leon laughs at the way you scrunch your face in disgust or close your eyes in fear. He hates how cute you are, but he can’t seem to stop telling you stories. After many hours and a few drinks between the two of you, he’s almost run out of stories to tell.

Leon pats your shoulder gently, collecting his cans from where he’d set them on the coffee table. “I need a shower,” he states. “I’ll see you tomorrow, y/n.”

“Go shower. You stink,” you joke and punch him in the ribs.

He feigns injury at your blow, pretending to suck in a breath like you’d really hurt him. He keeps up the facade the whole way to his bedroom, only leaving character when he shuts the door behind him.

It’s only when he’s disappeared that you realize how late it's gotten—and how dark. Even though your shared apartment is on the 19th floor, you can’t help but worry something is going to crawl through your window. You shake the thoughts away and get ready for bed, but every gust of wind and rustling of leaves makes you flinch.

You close your eyes and tug your comforter over your head, hoping that if there is something out there, it won’t know you’re there. You toss and turn for a while longer, staying dead quiet and pushing your fears away.

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. You take a deep breath, throw your comforter off of your shoulders, and sprint to Leon’s room. It’s like your brain is on autopilot—it knows exactly where to go to be safe.

You don’t knock on the door, instead quietly twisting the knob and slipping in through a crack in the door. Leon sits up as soon as your feet touch the wooden floor, eyes snapping towards your silhouette. He’s been a light sleeper ever since Racoon City, waking at the slightest of sounds.

He relaxes at the sight of you but only for a second. He glances at his digital clock, eyes widening at the time. “Y/n? What are you still doing up?”

“I-I couldn’t sleep…I feel like a flesh eating zombie is going to climb through my window and eat me.”

He chuckles. “That would be my fault.” He shuffles over in bed and pulls back the comforter. “You’re more than welcome to stay here for the night.”

You crawl into bed next to him, keeping as much distance between the two of you as possible. You can feel his body heat radiating through the blankets and smell his body wash on his skin. The feeling is new, yet so familiar it eases you instantly.

“Leon?”

He hums in response.

“Is it safer to sleep next to the window or the door? From like, a secret agent standpoint.”

“We’re on the 19th floor so window, but unless it's a hotel room, the door. You would more than likely hear it if they broke down the front door so you’d have more time to get out.”

You think for a second. “Can we switch places?”

“Honestly, y/n,” he laughs dryly, “the safest place to sleep right now is next to me.”

Your face warms at that and you nod, relaxing into his pillows. While you drift off to sleep, Leon watches over you. He knows nothing is going to come for you here, but he did promise to keep you safe, and he’ll keep that promise no matter what.

—

When you get home, you’re in a foul mood. You practically throw the groceries onto the counter before walking to your room and throwing yourself onto your bed. It’s been a long day. All of the stores were so busy you could hardly get through the aisles, and all of the people you encountered were rude.

Leon comes out of his room a few minutes later. Seeing the groceries abandoned on the counter, his first thought is to check on you. He doesn’t check on you, though. Not yet, anyway. He knows you’ll just be more upset if the frozen items melt and the milk sits out all night, so he sets out on putting them away.

After almost an hour of laying in your bed trying to recuperate after the day you’ve had, you’re snapped out of it by a text.

Leon: Come here, I have a surprise for you

You don’t feel like leaving your bed, but you force yourself out of it anyway. It’s not Leon you’re mad at. Leon is probably the only person in the world you don’t hate right now. You knock on his door softly, holding your arms behind your back.

“Come in!” He shouts.

You open the door, shuffling into his room and closing it behind you. Your jaw drops when you see a tray in the middle of his bed piled high with your favorite snacks, drinks and two wine glasses. Leon pats the spot next to him and you’re happy to oblige, relaxing onto the mattress.

“You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

He shrugs, pouring you a glass of wine. “It already seems like you had a bad day, I just wanted to do something to make it a little better for you.”

“Thank you.” He nods in acknowledgement, turning on his tv and handing you the remote. “You can choose the first movie. Just—maybe no zombies?”

You snort at that. Classic Leon, using his corny jokes to make light of even the worst of situations. You settle on an old favorite movie you love, handing the remote back to the blond and switching it for a wine glass.

Between your favorite movie, the delicious wine and your favorite snacks, your spirits are lifted in no time. One movie turns into two, and two turns into three. Soon enough, you’re dozing off in Leon’s bed.

He moves the tray of snacks and the glasses off of the bed to give you more room to sprawl out. Laying down next to you, he watches you sleep. A part of him wishes he could see this every night—the same sight he fantasizes about on even the hardest of missions.

He flicks off the lamp on his side table and settles in. “Good night, cutie,” he mumbles, knowing you’re far too deep in sleep to hear him.

—

You wake up in the middle of the night, moonlight streaming through the window and illuminating Leon’s bedroom. You’re still numb from sleep, your senses dulled just enough that it takes you a minute to realize that something is grabbing you. No, not grabbing—holding. 

You blink a few times. Leon is laying next to you, his chest pressed to your back, his arms around your waist. You can feel the slow beating of his heart and the heat coming off of his skin. He’s so close it overwhelms you, yet it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

You think about slipping away but you know what a light sleeper he is, and you don’t think you could handle it if he woke up and saw how close you were. You close your eyes and try to calm the beating in your heart so you can fall back asleep.

When you wake up again, Leon is gone. Your body feels cold where his once was. You sit up—is he showering? He can’t be, the bathroom door is open. You sit up, letting the blankets fall off of you. You swing your legs over the side of his bed, walking out to the kitchen, but he’s not there either.

Did he leave to go get something? 

You check your phone, expecting to see a text saying he ran out to go get more milk or something, but there’s nothing. You sigh, typing up a message and sending it to him.

Y/N: where’d you go?

You practically jump when your phone lets out a noise, but your heart sinks when you see what it is.

Message Not Delivered. Try Again?

You sigh. That can only mean one thing: he’s on another mission. Typical Leon, disappearing in the middle of the night to go god knows where for god knows how long. The frustration bubbles up in your chest and you feel like hitting something, but you don’t. It’s not worth it.

You try to keep your mind off of his sudden disappearance by throwing yourself into chores. You wash his bedding and make his bed, then wash your own. You sweep and mop the floors and vacuum the carpets. You dust the blinds.

It doesn’t help.

Your mind keeps wandering back to the fact that he left without saying goodbye. That he woke up at some ungodly hour, saw you laying in his arms, got up and left without another word. He didn’t even leave a note. He really cares that little. 

You shake your head and even though the pit in your stomach makes you feel like not eating, you make yourself a sandwich regardless. Seeing the untouched groceries in the fridge just adds to the feeling.

Even though you know he’s not going to get it, you pull out your phone and start typing.

Y/N: do you at least know when you’ll be back?

Message Not Delivered. Try Again?

The message makes you roll your eyes. Leon fucking Kennedy.

—

A week goes by, and then two, and you still hear nothing from your roommate. You send texts here and there, hoping for an answer, but none of them go through. Eventually, you start venting to him through there, too. Expressing how frustrated you are that he didn’t say goodbye, how annoying your feelings are, how sometimes you wish you didn’t know him so you didn’t have to go through this.

It’s a random Sunday night when you’re sitting on the couch, watching trash reality tv and eating snacks. It’s cold in the apartment, but you can’t be bothered to turn on the heat. Only when your arms puff up with goosebumps do you scour the room for a sweater, settling on a random one hanging on the back of a chair.

It’s Leon’s, an old one from the Police Academy. His smell floods your nose when you pull it over your head, and it's so bittersweet you don’t know if you should laugh or cry. You settle back on the couch, but a rustling at the window makes you freeze in your tracks.

It stops for a moment, and you can almost convince yourself you’ve imagined it or it’s a part of the show—until it happens again. You scramble for the remote, pausing it so you can hear better. The noise starts again, and you waste no time in hightailing it to your bedroom and slamming the door behind you.

You flop onto your bed, trying (and failing) to remind yourself that it’s just the wind. That you’re safe here. But it’s hard when it’s late and you’re tired and you’re alone and the only person you feel safe with just abandoned you.

You curl up into a ball, pulling Leon’s sweater over your mouth and inhaling the familiar scent. It’s enough to calm you down, if only for a few moments. If you close your eyes, you can almost trick yourself into thinking he’s there, and for now, that’s good enough.

—

Leon knows he fucked up when he gets back to the country and turns on his phone. Almost fifty messages from you, each one more sad than the last. He wants to slap himself—why couldn’t he just grow a pair and say goodbye? Why did he have to be so noncommittal?

He reads every message on the cab ride back to the apartment, and his heart breaks for you. He didn’t think about how you would drive yourself crazy over him or how worried you must have been. All he thought about was getting the call for the mission in the middle of the night and not wanting to wake you up.

But he didn’t abandon you. He thought about you every day and god—he wishes he could have talked to you. Hearing your voice and seeing your face was enough to make everything better. With the horrors he’s seen lately, all he wants is to be back in that bed with you for one more night.

He’s quiet coming into the apartment, hoping he doesn’t wake you up or scare you. And even though he knows you’re sleeping, he’s still disappointed you’re not waiting at the door for him.

He tosses his backpack into his room and strips off all of his holsters and velcro.  He’s quiet walking down the hallway to your room and even quieter opening the door. He relaxes at the sight of you curled up in a ball. 

You look so cute and so peaceful and—is that his sweater? The sight brings a smile to his face. He closes the door behind him with a soft click, climbing into the bed next to you.

You wake up when the bed dips down and arms wrap around you. You’re so tired you don’t even care who or what it is.

“If you’re gonna kill me, can you at least let me sleep first?” You mumble.

You fully awake as soon as you hear Leon’s laugh.

“You’re back?” You say, and you hate the way your voice cracks. 

You turn around to face him, tired ocean eyes meeting yours. He nods sleepily, “‘m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. It was stupid of me.”

“It’s okay,” and it really is okay. All the resentment you felt melted away at the sight of him. 

“C’mere,” he mumbles. 

You lay your head on his chest, wrapping your arms around him. You can hear his heart rate slow down at the contact. 

“I just—I just need you tonight.” Those are big words coming from the agent, and they leave you completely stunned. He must have seen or done something horrible while he was away for him to be this vulnerable, even with you.

“You can have me tonight.” You try to keep your voice even, “you can have me whenever you need me,”

He kisses the top of your head. “But I always need you.”

“Then I’m always yours.”

Neither of you speak after that, Leon falling into a light sleep. You stay up a while longer, watching the blond boy rest beneath you. He looks so fragile like this, you can’t imagine him fighting off monsters and handling weapons. You kiss his collarbone through his shirt and let yourself fall asleep with him. 

[doctorwhoandfairytaillover]

Loving Arms (4)

Summary: The children of Viserys I from his wife Alicent Hightower had always been lacking in affection from their parents. They simply didn't realize how much until their widowed aunt was brought into their lives. (AU where Alicent has an older sister and her kids get the love that they deserve, takes place some time after the Driftmark event)

Part IV: Changes must be made

|| Loving Arms Masterlist ||

A/N: There were so many ways that I wanted this chapter to go, but I think this was as good as I was going to get it. Please leave a comment and let me know what y'all thought. 😊

BTW: I have tagged everyone that asked, but some weren't working for some reason

For quite some time, Aegon was used to being harshly woken in the morning and dragged to different lessons or things that he absolutely despised attending because it was the expectation. Curtains would be pulled open quickly, further bothering his morning as light would seep into his eyes and making his head pound with pulsing pain from drinking quite a bit the night before.

His mother, grandfather, or perhaps the septa would harshly pull him from his bed, tell him off for his previous behavior and that he was shaming not just himself, but his family by his actions. It was all things that he had heard and experienced more times than he could count.

A routine that he had lived for so many years that he had lost track at what point did it begin.

So it was certainly a complete shock to wake up slowly one morning, the soft feeling of someone playing with his hair was what had stirred his sleep addled mind. His room was still fairly dark, the curtains had not been drawn and there were no servants or other attendants milling about his room. His bleary eyes slowly focused in to see that his lovely muña was the only one in the room.

"Did you sleep well, sweet boy?" she asked softly while combing her fingers through his hair. "I figured that we might try a different way of going about your morning since I heard that you imbibed quite a bit."

She sat on the edge of his bed and had such a tender look of affection as she stared at him that it overwhelmed Aegon to see it. Instead of answering, he hid his face in her skirts and gripped the fabric of her dress between his hands. Kneading the material in his hands and whimpering softly.

There was no reproach from his sweet muña and she shushed him softly, petting his tangled locks.

"Oh Aegon," she whispered. "I am sure that your head hurts, but we must start the day. There is quite a bit that must be done."

He snuggled into her lap and peeked an eye to look at her, "Must I?"

She laughed gently, "Yes, you must."

She turned to the side table by his bed and carefully picked up the teapot that was placed there by the servants to pour some tea into his teacup. "Here, sit up a little."

Begrudgingly Aegon sat up against the headboard of his bed and pushed back his hair away from his face, rubbing at his eyes in exhaustion.

"I made sure to add a bit of honey to your tea this time," she smiled. "I thought a bit of sweetness would be a nice way to start the day before we break fast."

"Thank you," he whispered. He took his light purple teacup with gentle care and blew softly on the steaming liquid, humming in delight when he managed a small sip. "It tastes better, thank you muña."

"You are welcome," she said as she picked up her own teacup and drank her tea silently beside him.

It was quiet.

Aegon wasn't used to soft mornings like this one.

To hear the distant clatter of life outside the walls of the Keep.

The gentle birdsong as they also greeted a new day.

The quiet hums of his muña, whose smile hadn't left despite the fact that he wasn't even ready for his lessons.

Even with his hesitance to become too comfortable, Aegon hoped that he could more mornings like this one.

"Muña?" he called out softly. "It is not that I don't appreciate this change of pace, but what stirred all of this?"

"I heard amongst the grapevine that your mornings were quite the chaotic events" she said gently. "That it was quite the spectacle to be present when the eldest prince was put in his place or so I had heard."

His face burned in shame and he looked at the dregs left at the bottom of his cup. Because even though he appeared aloof and uncaring to others, it was humiliating to go through it.

He just didn't know how to change what he was doing, when every day felt like a burden.

When his limbs felt like lead, his head would hurt from all the letters that would swim on the page, and as if his heart would pound out of his chest as nothing that his tutors said made any sense to him.

"It seemed to me," she said quietly and carefully lifted his chin to look her in the eye. "It seemed that everyone around you had failed to help you. Or was I mistaken?"

Tears pooled in his lavender eyes and shook his head, swallowing the lump that was stuck in his throat.

"I know there will be quite a bit of backlash, but I have relieved all of your current tutors from service and have sent word to a few that we will see if they fare any better" she said. "Would that be alright with you? Trying things a little differently?"

He quickly but carefully set his teacup beside him, practically leaping into her lap and wrapped his arms around her tightly. His sobs wracked his body and made it difficult to speak.

"H - how? H - how is it that y - you can s - see ME?!" he cried. "H - how? When my own m -mother cannot?"

She only held him tighter and rubbed his back softly, "Because I know what it is like to go through life never being seen by those we cry out to the most."

He could only cry.

And she held him in her arms for quite some time, letting him cry even when his nose ran and stained her dress. It took a long time until his breaths merely shuddered as the last of his tears dried and he let himself be held.

Slowly he sat up and wiped at his nose, "I think that I would like a bath now."

"I will have someone come up and draw the water for you," she said wiping his stray tears away. "I have someone that I need to speak with soon, go and look for your siblings. Spend some time together, I have made the arrangements so that you are not interrupted."

With that she leisurely stood up and brushed her skirts from any wrinkles. He sat back on his bed and watched her.

"Where will you be going, muña? May we come along?"

"No Aegon, it is probably best that you and your siblings not come with me today. I do not think it would be appropriate for you all to witness me stir up more trouble than is necessary."

"Trouble?" he tilted his head confused.

"Heaps of trouble and hopefully I will not need any help getting out of it" she laughed. "But knowing my big mouth, there will be times that I cross the line."

"I don't know if I like where this will go" he said. "Please take care, muña."

"I will do my best, Aegon" she said. "But do not worry and I will be back as soon as I am able."

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

"My lady, I must tell you once again that the King does not wish to have any visitors at this time," the guard said with his gaze forward.

"And I will tell YOU again Ser, that if you do not tell the King that I wish to speak to him about an urgent matter, that you are stripped of your post and tongue" she smiled.

The guard trembled in his place but remained firm in keeping his gaze forward.

"My lady, please -"

"What seems to be going on here?"

Their gazes darted to King Viserys standing by his partially opened door, he looked between them expectantly.

"Good brother, how lovely to see you" she said with a saccharine smile. "I was telling this kind ser that I needed a word with you, but it seems that you were preocuppied."

"Nonsense, I have time to speak with my good sister. Come in (Y/N), don't dawdle by the door."

Walking by the guard, she curtsied sarcastically and followed Viserys into the room, only to stand by the door itself as her gaze looked over the massively detailed city that he was constructing.

"This is.... quite the project that you have here, Viserys."

"I have been making it for a long time, I would hope that it looks impressive for all the effort that I put into it" he chuckled, while working on another portion of the city. "But tell me, what brought you here that needed you to threaten that poor young man?"

"I will be blunt Viserys, were you in a drunken stupor when you agreed that Aegon and Halaena should be married? This kingdom follows the faith of the Seven and despite the brutish ways of your ancestors, they should not be married."

His expression hardened and he stopped what he was doing.

"Your Father and Alicent made quite a few points and I saw no harm in them," he said. "If you have any qualms bring it up to either of them."

"But you are King," she stated. "A decision like this cannot be made without your say, so yes there is a few things that you could do to make sure that this marriage doesn't happen."

"We must all do things that are our duty even if we are not fond of them, I am sure that with time they will find it agreeable" he waved it off.

"And you are the speaker of such things?" she scoffed. "Here you hide away from your own children and wife, it is hypocritical to say that they will one day find it agreeable when you can't stand to be in their presence."

"That isn't true!"

"Then explain it to me Viserys! You say that we must all do things that we are not fond of and because of duty, but those children are suffering because of it!" she yelled. "You wanted an heir! Now you have plenty and cannot even spare them a moment of your time or care!"

"My children want for nothing! They are princes and princess of this realm, they have never gone hungry and more things than they could ever want!" he argued. "In time they will learn to grin and bear it, because there are others that would love to be in their place!"

"With parents like theirs, it is punishment enough!"

"Silence! You have said enough!"

"No Viserys, I haven't!" she rushed forward and stood toe to toe with the man. "If I must forfeit my life here, I will do all in my power to ensure that those children have someone fight on their behalf!"

Viserys was practically shaking in anger, but her eyes had a look in them that made the man turn away. "See yourself out, (Y/N)."

"No."

He looked at her in disbelief, "No?"

"No" she echoed. "Until you concede, I will not."

"I am King, I could have you thrown in a cell for this insolence!"

"All I see is a weak man, there is no King here."

It was unnerving how she stared at him, Viserys was used to grown men trembling at his word and groveling for forgiveness at his feet. People pleading that he would find mercy in his heart for them and not following through with his threats.

Yet his good sister refused to back down

His legs shook as he sat down and tried to keep his gaze on her.

"What would you have me do? I have already agreed."

"Allow me to find good matches for the children and that I may have say in what must be done for them" she said simply.

"That is asking for too much, (Y/N)."

"Oh it is merely the start, Viserys."

"What else is there?" he asked.

"We will have many more things to discuss," she smiled. "I hope you are comfortable because changes must be made."

[the-winter-spider]

Good Guy | S.H

Word count: 1k

Warnings: None? Angst?

A/N: Yall i havent posted in ages, im still very much active reading everyone elses writings buuut im deciding to go thru and post everything i have in my docs, maybe finally fix my master list 💀🤭 we’ll see! Enjoy

—

You were sitting on the edge of his bed, your legs dangling over as you turned to look over your shoulder at him snoring peacefully while you were holding your breath trying to savour this moment before the reality of what happened last night crushed you.

You knew what it was, it was ‘the world is most likely ending and the girl ive been in love with since high school still doesn’t love me back’ sex. Because there was no logical way Steve had feelings for you of any sort that would make him want to tear your clothes off and litter your bruised and scarred body with such tender kisses, whispering the sweetest of words in your ear, then proceed to hold you in his arms while he falls asleep.

There was no way in any world upside right or down that it was anything more than that.

You sighed, finally pushing yourself off the bed, tip-toeing around his room to gather the pieces of your clothing, ushering as quickly and quietly to his bathroom as you could. You wanted to avoid the mirror so bad, you were disgusted with yourself, not for sleeping with him, no but for letting your self think for a mere second that it was anything but sex to him. In all honesty it was probably just an itch he wanted to scratch, you were probably just a flavour of ice cream he was lingering on for a while something no one else in their right mind would pick but once you’ve tried all the other flavours you were the only one left.

Pathetic. That's all you were, you slipped off his boxers letting your tears hit the ground with them. The cotton fabric catches your salty waters as they hit the tile.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid” you whispered to yourself pulling on own clothes, before sliding out of his room and house.

The morning spring air hit you refreshingly as you closed your eyes, stopping to gather your thoughts for a brief moment, steadying yourself and the whirlwind of emotions going through your head.

You knew you had to hurry home and change to be ready to meet at the Wheeler's house for 9:00am sharp to discuss your next moves with Vecna, and arriving with Steve while you were still in yesterday’s clothes would raise suspicion, questions and leave you open for friendly banter and teasing but more importantly you didnt wanna still be at Steve’s house when he woke up, you couldn't handle seeing the pure regret in his eyes, the shame that would be radiating off of him, surely that would be your tipping point.

You looked at your watch, 9:00AM “Shit” you mumbled, downing the rest of your coffee like it was a shot at a party, you quickly tied the laces on your converse before running across the street to the Wheelers.

You let out a huff of hair, running your hand through your hair before knocking, the door whipped open revealing Robin “Oh! I'm so glad to see you” She grabbed your arm, yanking you inside, “We've been here all but maybe 10 minutes and everyone is already arguing” She threw her hands up “Can you believe that? it's too early for this!” You reached the door to the basement as Robin loudly started troting down “Y/n is finally here!”

You reached the bottom of the stairs giving a small wave and smile looking everywhere but the brown haired boy in the corner whose eyes you could feel piercing into you “Hi” your voice quiet before manurving your way to the side, far away from Steve.

You were sitting legs crossed on the wheelers couch, you could hear a buzzing surrounding you, squeezing your eyes shut, rubbing your temples you weren’t sure if at this point if it was the headache you’ve been nursing for a few days, the lack of sleep, or all the tears you cried this morning in Steve’s bathroom. All the voices of your friends overlapping one another mushing into a single sound.

tick, tick, tick, tick

“So we now know Max is one of Vecna’s targets, we just have to.…” Nancy spoke her voice trailing off as you tuned it out. Their chatter immersed into one inconvenient noise to you, the pounding in your head overpowering the conversation no one cared that you weren't taking part in. Even though you have always been more of a listener, never giving suggestions because someone always had a better one. You were just here to do as you were told and make sure no one else got hurt because they all had families, parents, people who loved them, you didn’t. And if one of your dumb ideas led to the possibility of one of them getting hurt or worse ending up dead, you would never be able to forgive yourself, so you stayed out of it.

You found picking at your pant leg was a better distraction, wasting all the energy you had on making the hole in your pants bigger than it already was, revealing a scar on your knee that you obtained last year running from russians, when for a brief moment the buzzing stopped and your sense zeroed in on the trickling cool wetness you felt on your upper lip and your eyes growing wide as you watched a single droplet of blood land on your jeans.

You moved your hand to catch the rest of the droplets when you looked up your eyes met Max’s, her eyebrows raised in shock before they softened as she watched a tear run down your cheek “Guys” she spoke, her voice could barely be heard over Steve arguing with Nancy that he didn’t want to be a babysitter anymore “GUYS!” she screamed even louder as all eyes turned to her

Steve and Nancy both turned their heads to her yelling “What?!”

Max lifted up her hand, directing her finger to point directly at you, suddenly one by one all pairs of eyes turned to you

“Holy shit” Dustin muttered “Holy shit!” He got louder as he pieced it together.

“No” Steve froze “No, no, no” He was panicking suddenly the room felt heavy, the air was leaving his lungs as he watched blood dripping from your nose.

[grugruel]

Lust for Vampyr

Pairings: Paul Hill x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: A new handsome priest arrives at Crockett Island and youre desperate for his attention, but when he seems to be avoiding you, you do the only logical thing. Show up at his door

Word count: 3.8K

Warnings: Blasphemy, age-gap (reader over 20), oral sex (f! receving), pinv sex, rough sex, praise kink, slight thigh kink? Little bit of edging and cock-warming, tasting of blood (vampire shenanigans), PRIEST KINK.

Id never really found any interest in attending mass, despite my parents insistent attempts to drag me along. I had been watching the old monsignor preach for years now until he left for his pilgrimage, leaving a blank spot for a new priest to take his place.

Paul Hill had he called himself, and it was like lightning struck. All of a sudden I had a new fevor for the faith and although I had moved out long ago, my parents were thrilled to say the least. Little did they know though, that a fire had stirred within me. I started with innocent glances, admiring him from a far, telling myself it was just because of his enthusiastic way of preaching. But then getting a thing for his tall stature, big hands and stark black hair. He had me cleching my thighs together as I sat next to my parents in the church pews.

He made me want to confess my every sin to him and eventually I did, when I grew desperate enough. Just for the chance to hear him breath in that quiet intimate way I had begun to crave.

We had met briefly, just to introduce ourselves, but thats it. I wanted to talk to him more though, learn more about him. So I started lingering after mass, telling my parents to go on ahead without me just so I could get a word with the new father. But he usually dissapered into thin air before I got the chance, seemingly avoiding me like the black death.

Which Is how I ended up in my current situation. It was after the usual mass, I had dressed extra nicely tonight. I was standing in the cold on the fathers poarch, knocking on the rectory door in my fancy dress, black tights and mary janes.

I felt out of place, I know I shouldnt be here for this reason, I know I shouldnt have dressed nice in an effort to seduce a man of the church. Shame crept up my cheeks, coloring them a bright red. But I heard shuffling behind the door, then footsteps coming toward me and immedietly regretted my decision.

What was I doing? This is so stupid, hes going to send me away, direct me back to my parents like a lost child. My thoughts came to a sudden halt when the door finally opened, and there he stood. Father Paul.

He was in his regular black shirt and white collar, wearing his tight jeans. His eyebrows rose when he saw me, 'Ah' he sighed, as if expecting me but surprised none the less.

'Father.' I greeted, smiling faintly, 'Youre a busy man, you always disappear after mass, its hard to find time to talk with you.' I told him, he smiled apologetically 'Unfortunately yes, Ive had some urgent business to atend to lately, its taken up all my past time.' He explained as his gaze trailed down my body, eyes lingering on my thighs, 'I- uhm. . .' he shook his head, completley lost in thought when a particularly chilly breeze blew by. He shuddered, apparently noticing the cold for the first time, which managed to break him out of his trance and making him pay attention to my own shivers. Noting the goosebumps lining my arms and collarbones. He met my gaze again, hestitating slightly before moving out of the way 'Its freezing, please do come in.' He said, smiling cheapishly. 'Thank you.' I whispered as I passed him, intentionally brushing against his arm and hoping that he would catch a whiff of my perfume.

He closed the door behind us and made his way to the kitchen, 'Tea?' He asked.

'Yes please.' I answered and he smiled to himself, pleased with my manners. He gestured to the armchair in the middle of the room, 'Please, sit.' He urged me, then put a kettle of water on. I nodded and sat down, crossing my legs.

We waited on our opposite ends of the room, an akward silence settling over us. Finally though, the wistle of the kettle rang through the rectory and he made us two cups and sat down on the sofa opposite me. He handed me my cup and our fingers brushed as I took it, our eyes met, lingering on eachother. But he cleared his throat and looked away, 'So what brings you here?' He questioned.

I rested the cup in my lap as I tried to come up with an appropriate answer. 'We havent peoperly met, I suppose. . I simply wished to get to know you a bit better.' I said shyly.

He smiled, 'Well ofcourse, thats reasonable enough. Did you have any specific questions in mind?' He asked, sipping his tea.

I blanked completley, what was my plan here? 'I- No, not really. Uhm.' I stumbled ahead blindley.

He chuckled, 'Youre never this nervous in confessional are you.'

My face lit up in shame, averting my faze from him 'Well father, I suppose it gets easier in the dark.' I said, sipping my tea nervously.

He chuckled, 'I suppouse it would yes.'

I nodded gravely, looking back at him and found that his eyes had drifted to my body. It took me by surpise, but pleased me grately, 'Father?' I asked, trying to get his attention.

'Mmhm?' He hummed distantly, not taking his eyes off of me. Perhaps I wasnt so far off in coming here after all, my tights and skirt seemed to be working. Gaining some confidence, I uncrossed my legs and his gaze followed them intently. God, all he needed to was look at me and I was his, completley and utterly. In a sudden surge of brazenness, I let the cup rest in my lap again, clutched in my hands. Then spread my legs wider and slid the cup between my thighs, still in my grip, so that the view of my panties was blocked by that alone.

His bresthing stuttered, a made a sound that was barely a gasp. He rubbed his hands over his face and combed them through his hair in an effort to collect himself. But it did not work, he felt himself being affect by you, in the same way he was everytime he saw you. Which Is why he had to run off, why he had to keep his distance from you.

He sank further into the sofa, liftning his lap to adjust his position and then sat back down. I practically drooled at the sight, a tingling sensation pulsing through my core. I had to close my eyes for a few seconds, making an effort to think straight, at least until the feeling had calmed down and I could talk freely again. I moved my gaze back onto him and our eyes met, communicating with eachother, exchaning desires we could never say aloud.

Both a bit distracted by eachother, I decided to take the bull by its horns, 'Listen, father. I-' I began, but he shut me down instantly.

'Dont-' he said, holding his hand out to stop me, 'I know. . . I know.'

My mouth fell open in shock and I scrambled for an excuse, but I could not find the words. Shame tainting my tounge. 'Ive tried to stay away, but youre persistent. And I told myself that you must be a trial from god, tempting me, testing my faith.' he said, sitting up straighter and looking into my eyes.

'A trial that I will undoubtedly fail.' he confessed. Relief surged through me, he did want me. I reached out to lay a hand on his knee, but he jumped up, walking backward until he hit the kitchen counter. He leaned against it and crossed his arms, ensuring that they could not reach for me. He was fighting his urges, his own body was betraying him. I stood up, walking around to sofa to meet him, but he shook his head 'No, NO!' he shouted, making flinch in response to his sudden outburst.

'Im sorry, but this- this cannot happen.' He gestured between us, 'Whatever this is.' he sighed desperately and I stopped in my tracks, because I knew he was right. But he was just meters away from me, he was in my vecinity. Free to do with me however he pleased, if he pleased.

I whined at the thought, beacuse it could never happen. I grabbed the back of the sofa and bent down to rest my forehead against it, in a desperate attempt to collect my thoughts. A quiet complain reverberated through my body, "Why did it have to be a priest?" I bashed myself, a whine escaping me as I shook my head slowly. I slid forward, resting my elbows on the sofa so that my hands were free to hide my face. If only I could turn invisible, just disappear. But I was too painfully aware of his looming prescence to escape the moment, he kept a safe distance, occupied with battling his own thoughts.

I burned hot, terribly hot, my face ablaze from the shame of my indecent thoughts and actions, in stark contrast to my body which was only lubricated by them. Every single nerve-ending was tingling in reaction of what I craved.

I was trying, but failing very badly to calm myself, when there was movement in my peripheral, it happened so quickly that I was sure I had imagined it. But it was too late either way, because he had appeared behind me. All I noticed was a small gush of air and then he was pushed up against me, hips to ass and I involuntairily froze.

A shuddering gasp came form behind me as he lrt go of his restrictipns and his hands made contact with my skin, one hand moved to hold my hip while the other explored the dip of my lower back, testing its limits. He rubbed a few slow cicles with his thumb onto my skin, seamingly mesmerized by the goosebumps that rose. He stopped, for only a moment and then flattened his hand against the small of my back. He pushed downward with his palm and as if he'd found a hidden button, my back arched, and my breathing faltered. It was as if god himself had touched me and I had to bite my cheek to stop from moaning.

A low intake of breath could be heard from behind me, as if astonished by what he could accomplish. And as he kept the hand on my lower back pushed against me, he strengthened his grip on my hip and pulled me closer to him. When completley flush, I felt him again. But this time, there was an evident hardness in his jeans and I moaned reflexively, I couldnt help myself. How could I be excpected to? The priest of Crockett Island himself was hard, for me. How I did not scream and beg for him to tear me apart right there is beyond me.

He hissed in response to the friction that the thin fabric of my dress created against the rough fabric of his tight jeans. I tried griding against him with what little movement his hold allowed me, which earned me a displeased grunt and smack on the ass in punishment. I had to cover my mouth as another moan threatened to escape me.

Visions of everything I've dreamed of him to do to me flashed through my mind, things I've only ever imagined while touching myself. My entire skin was on fire as I tried to collect myself, scarcly succeding. I could only manage a single word.

'Father?' whispering it quietly, I turned my head a sliver, as far as I dared. It was enough to make out his disheveld state, chest heaving from supressing his heavy breathing, his usually perfect hair fallen in stressed strands over his forehead, his shirtsleeves carelessly folded and rolled up, showing his forearms. Such simple things drove me absolutley feral, I had to restrain myself from shaking in anticipation of his next move, barely daring to move in fear of him retracting from me.

But he never moved and everything was quiet apart from his shuddering breaths, a result of him fighting his most carnal desires. I wanted to touch him, to caress his beautiful face, to feel his skin under my fingers, and although I loved the shallow feeling my impact had on him, I wanted it deeper. So despite my better judgement, I straigthened my arms and moved to stand up and turn to him. But he quickly stopped me, grabbing a fistful of my hair and thrust my body forward into the sofa, my hips colliding with the back of it as he shoved my face into the pillows, cushioning the force of it.

He hadnt wanted me to see him like that, as if I saw him it would all become real. His desires, his unholy thoughts, his betrayal of god. But I did not care, I had crossed that point a long time ago.

'Father, please.' I begged, voice muffled by the pillows. And there was a slow realisation in his movements as he loosened his grip on me and stepped back. Confusion crowded my already full mind, as he began rubbing the back of his head in distress, turmoil brewed inside of him.

'Im so sorry' he whispered. Oh. . . Poor father, he mustve thought I was begging him to stop. 'Please forgive me, I dont know what came over me. I would never want to hurt you, please know that.' he rambeled, meeting my eyes, begging for for my forgiveness.

I stood up, shaking my head in dissmissal as I made my way to the light switch, turning it off, darkness enveloping us. I searched for soothing words to reassure him, 'You could never hurt me father, im yours.' I said and made my way through the darkness to him, trying to locate him from memory, I reached out blindley in an effort to avoid colliding with something but he met me half way, seeing my struggle.

I did not question it as he laced his fingers with mine and led them to his chest, making my heart skip a beat. I slowly traced my hands upward until I felt his face, enjoying everything my working senses had to offer me. His scent and the feeling of his soft shirt and skin. I placed my hands on either side of his face, cradeling him 'Take me now, in the dark.' I said carefully and stod on my tiptoes.

I leaning into him and as he did not retreat, I kissed him once, tenderly. 'Nobody but us will know' I whispered against his lips, then moved to kiss his jaw, feeling him relax under my touch.

'We will repent in the morning' I assured him and then quated myself, '"It gets easier in the dark"' I found his hands, and moved them to my breasts 'Take me now.'

This time, father Paul did not hesitate. He squeezed my breasts as he met my lips forcefully, kissing and biting me like a starved man. One of his hans dove behind my back, while the other found purchase under my ass. He hoisted me up into his arms in one quick motion, I gasped, surpised by his strength.

He walked me to the armchair, setting me down in it and kneeling in fornt of me. He spread my legs with his strong hands, and laid them on each thigh, squeezing hard. His hands slid up my thighs until they met the hem of my dress. He met my eyes, asking for reassurance and I nodded enthusiatically, giving it to him. He continued moving his hands upward, the dress catching on his wrists and follows his movements. He leaned closer, kissing a trail along the inside of my thigh until he came to my core. He ripped my thights open and moved my pantied to the side, and as he already had me go-ahead, he dove right in. I gasped as he made contact with my core, his tounge thrusting inside of me. Tasting my very being, he moved one of his hands to my clit, attacking it feverishly as the other stayed squeezing the soft flesh of my thigh. He was feral, and I loved it. He hummed as he ate me out, absolutley loving every second of it. My moans became needy and high pitched as I grabbed his hair to shove closer, he did not protest. I came hard and fast, closing my eyes as white light blinded my vision, making me dizzy. As I opened my eyes again the room was spinning, and the father sat proud infront of me grinning. 'Youre doing so good, my girl.' He said and rose up to kiss me, I could only manage a smile. To lost in pleasure to do anything else.

He picked me up and walked me to the sofa, laying me down on top of it and puttin almost all of his weight on me. He rested his forearm close to my head, letting it support his weight and tangling his hand in my hair, grabbing it and gently pulling my head to the side. While the other hand traced down my shoulder and lowered the strap of my dress, to gain easier access to my breast, then kneading it greadily. His lips moved from my mouth and kissed their way down to my neck, sucking and licking at that tender spot above my collarbone. I moaned reflexively, which only spurred him on further. His hips were moving against mine, enthusiastically and rythmically with the rest of his body. Our closeness made his clothed erection rubb against my core perfectly. I moved my legs to stradle him, tightening the grip and bringing him even closer to me, then rutting my hips against him. The friction was delicious and that paired with the fathers delerious assault on my neck, his breath hot against my skin and his moans vibrating through me, had me close to coming undone right then and there.

My hands had found their way to his back, scratching and pulling at the fabric, but it wasnt enough. I moved my hands to unbutton his shirt, but struggled due to our position. I grew tired and greedy from not succeeding, so I removed his colar and tore his shirt open, yanking it down his shoulders, but did not manage to get it further. Displeased about ruining his shirt, he bit me, once, hard enough to draw blood. I gasped and he stopped, removing his hand from my breast and slid it to my neck, coating his fingers in my blood. Stunned silence had settled over us, apart form our unanimous labored breathing. He brought his fingers to his lips, tasting my blood and it was like he became a whole other person. If lust had not driven him before, it did now. I found it strange, but was to mesmerized by the moment to question it. He stood up, resting one knee on the sofa between my legs and began unbuckling his belt. I bit my lip from anticipation, the sight driving me mad, he looked positively devine. 'Have you done this before?' He asked me, I nodded my head in response, 'Have you, father?' He did not answer, his eyes were just drinking me in.

'Touch yourself.' He ordered, and I wasted no time. I moved my hands down my body, lifting the skirt of my dress with one hand and shoving the other down my panties, sliding it inside me to wet it then circling my clit in slow deliberate motions.

'Oh. . . ' he shook his head, 'Good girl' he praised in a shallow whisper, he looked at me like I was no longer a test from god, but a gift. He moaned as I touched myself, surely I was a sight in itself, my breast out, the skirt shoved up over my thighs and hips and my chest heaving from breathing heavily as he was towering over me. His tussled hair and shirt pulled down beneath his shoulders, exposing his chest and collarbones, his veiny hands working his belt. I closed my eyes as I felt myself coming close, and the sound of him drove me further. The belt buckle clanging, a zipper opening and the rustling fabric of clothes falling to the floor was erotic in a way I never could have suspected. White dots were specking the darkness of my eyelids, and a spring was tightening deep in my stomache. My breathing became frantic as I envisioned the father inside of me. I was a second away, when he snatched my hand out of my panties and I whined in frustration, the specks darkened and I felt moving around me.

I opened my eyes and he was below me, stark naked, holding my hand to his face and licking my slickness from my fingers much like he had done with my blood. 'Beautiful angel, you taste divine.' He sighed.

I moved the hand he was holding the caress his face 'Please father, I cannot wait any longer'. And he odded, sliding his hands under me and lifting my hips to pull my dress upward, once he'd done that I sat up to help him pull the dress over my head. He then lowered himself on top of me, pushing me back into the sofa and resuming his previous position.

'Im yours, only yours father.' I whispered and he kissed me tenderly as his hand traced down my body, feeling every curve on the waw down and pulled my panties to the side. He lined himself up with my entrance, teasing my opening by sliding himself through my folds. My breath caught, 'Please, please, please.' I whined desperstley, begging seemed to be the only thing I was capable of around him.

He suddenly slid inside and we gasped in unisome, our eyes met and we stayed like that for a while. No one moved, no one talked, we just admired eachother silently while he let me adjust to his size. He raised his eyebrows, as if asking for consent and I nodded eagerly, pecking him on the lips. He slid out of me completley, confusing me terribly and I desperatly clung my arms around his shoulders, burrying my hands in his hair to make him stay. But he only chuckled in response and kissed my arm lovingly, then slammed back into me. Setting a brutal pace, almost knocking the air out of my lungs.

I could not tell whos moans belonged to who, but amidst the frenzy he gave me a few short kisses on the lips in reassurance, then nuzzled his nose against my cheek and moved his forehead to the crook of my neck, whispering against my skin 'Youre doing so good, sweet girl.' His sweet words were a stark contrast to his hard, fast thrusts.

A few hours ago I was nervously getting ready for mass, dressing nicely in hope of the new priests approval, and now hes ballsdeep inside me.

He moved his hand to my clit, rubbing it in fast circles. I covered my mouth with one hand as a scream threatened to escape me, while the other tore into his back, leaving long red scratch marks and he hissed into my neck. Enjoying every part of the pain and pleasure mixing with eachother.

He straigthened his arm to sit back anf change position, but never relenting his pace. He raised my hips onto his thighs, placing one hand on my waist in a grip that will be leaving bruises on my skin, and pushing the other hand down on my abdomen while still circling my clit with his thumb. His thrusts hit that spot inside me that made my toes curl and it all became quite overwhelming, about to push me over the edge.

'Im- Im close' I managed inbetween breaths and he hummed, nodding as his own movements became irregular. I grabbed onto the cushions for dear life as I was tipping over the edge, electricity sparked between us, and all of a sudden I felt thunder tearing through me and he collappsed on top of me. His thrusts slowed down, allowing me to ride through my high.

'Good girl' he sighed and kissed my forehead as his ruts came to a stop and pride surged thorugh me.nHe stayed inside me, laying comfortably with me as oour breaths calmed together. I could feel his seamen sippering out of me, and I loved it. Because it was him.

'Will you stay with me tonight?' He asked.

'If you'll have me.' I answered, smiling as he kissed my lips.

[caramelt4me]

Secret. - Part IV

(Yandere Idol X Kidnapped Reader)

Trigger warning: mention of sexual themes, gaslighting, manipulation, implied violence and mental health ab*se

·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

Prologue Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

𝕋he muted hum of the TV filled the quiet living room as you aimlessly scrolled through the endless list of movie options, each flick of the remote accompanied by a restless sigh. Your eyes strayed repeatedly toward the guestroom door—still closed, much to your disappointment.

You glanced at the clock, taking note of the time once again.

Thirty-seven minutes.

Thirty-seven minutes had passed since Asher excused himself to check on Nex—a task that shouldn’t have taken more than twenty. But he seemed to break his own record each time.

It had been three days since your lover had dropped the bomb on you that the maknae from his work would be staying at the cabin for a while to recover from a near-fatal overdose.

Of course, it was understandable. You recalled the worried look that would occasionally cross Asher’s face when he mentioned the youngest’s spiralling addiction. Still, you couldn’t help the guilt-ridden frustration gnawing at you.

The cabin was supposed to be your sanctuary—a private retreat for just the two of you.

Or so you had thought.

Shouldn’t he have at least discussed this with you?

You didn’t like the idea of another man in your space, a space that was meant for you both. As much as you understood the need for confidentiality, you couldn’t fathom why Nex couldn’t be placed in a top-notch rehab facility that could handle both his recovery and the secrecy.

Sure, your selfless lover knew a thing or two about caring for those with psychological needs, thanks to you. But that thought only fuelled your irritation.

Were you just another charity case to him?

Was there no distinction between Nex and you in his eyes?

With a huff, you let the remote clatter onto the coffee table, abandoning your futile search for a film for your seemingly ‘postponed until further notice’ movie date.

But then, a wave of guilt washed over you as the intrusive thoughts spiralled.

When had you become so selfish?

Just a while ago—if you remembered correctly, you were the one urging him not to give up on Nex, to not let the drug scandal ruin his life—You had whispered words of encouragement, pleading with the silent disappointed Asher to give the youngest one last chance to fight his demons.

But that was then.

The last chance was over the moment he tried to overdose.

Your bitter inner voice justified the thought as you shut your eyes, attempting to will away the irritation and guilt with an angry nap. Asher wasn’t coming out of that guestroom anytime soon, and you knew it.

Your thoughts drifted back to the day five days ago when you had fainted—recollecting the time Asher had excused himself to take the call. It was definitely about Nex. It had to be. He didn't want you to feel guilty for trusting the maknae, you reasoned. But your mind wouldn’t let it go, dragging you even further back into memory.

You recalled a seemingly ordinary night, curled up in Asher's arms.

As your lover spooned you in his arms, his husky voice teased in your ear about how softer and cuddlier you had gotten while he had been away.

You nudged him sharply with your elbow—looking annoyed yet flustered as you warned him to not fat-shame you. But on the inside, you didn’t need an introduction to his azure love-stricken eyes as they lingered on your figure; nothing too remarkable or noteworthy apart from the self-doubt that stemmed from it—yet to him, it was an epitome of human perfection.

He kissed your neck deeply, his lips making sure to leave a visible mark—as in the meantime, his one hand gently unbuttoned the top of your nightdress, while the other tugged your hair behind to prevent it from getting in his way. Once he had free access to your cleavage, his lips moved to taste the soft subtle skin of your bosom—earning a little gasp from your bashful lips. Your little protests were as insincere as your blushing cheeks—unable to hide how enticed you were by the raw primal look in his icy eyes, as he nibbled on your flushed skin.

“You taste sweeter than caramel, baby,” He cooed in between, his tongue darting out lick his lips hungrily. “Tell me, what have you been up to really these past two days to become so irresistibly delicious?”

You cringed aloud at his cheesy line, your hands diving into his thick dark hair in an attempt to push him away. But it only made him cling tighter, his arms wrapping around your waist like a vice. His angelic face pressed against your chest as he took a deep inhale of your scent, his voice dropping to a needy murmur.

“I missed you so much, baby.”

His obsidian blues sought out yours, his fingers clumsily cupping your face as he gazed at you with a vulnerability that left you momentarily stunned. His proximity made your knees weak, yet the warmth of his embrace was your safe haven.

“Did you miss me too?” he asked, his voice soft and hopeful.

“Hm,” Was all you managed to say—the words caught in your throat as you suddenly felt too self-conscious to even converse properly. But that didn’t deter your lover from trying to get the answer he was looking for.

“Did you miss me as much as I missed you?” He purred lowly, getting closer to your ear—his hot breath fanning your flustered skin.

Your breath hitched, as you watched him lean back –his lustful blue eyes eagerly waiting for the words of confirmation to spill out from your timid mouth so that he could claim it in a heartbeat, but instead you seemed to have found another loophole—and nodded in quick approval.

Asher groaned in mock despair, resting his head on your shoulder like a child denied his favourite treat. Your lips curled into a mischievous smile, but you quickly dropped it once he looked back at you.

“Why are you always so mean?” he pouted, his nose brushing yours endearingly. Yet, your nerves must have been truly made of steel in that moment—to be able to glance away from his heart-wrenching gaze.

“I can’t wait to see you again the moment I leave your side,” he murmured, his voice a mix of playful accusation and raw yearning. “And you… you probably wouldn’t even notice if I were gone for a month or two, would you?” Your silence teased him, and his dramatic sigh made you chuckle despite yourself.

Alas, if only the past Asher knew how clingy you would get after not seeing him for two weeks in the future—let alone two months.

“Be honest,” he urged, his brows furrowing. “Don’t you ever watch my performance clips when you miss me? Fancams, even?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, masking your growing smile.

“The disrespect!” he gasped, before breaking into a grin of his own as he playfully tackled you, all pretence forgotten.

Perhaps back then, you should have told him the real reason why you avoided the crumbs of his life as an idol. Maybe then, he would have understood, maybe even been considerate enough to not leave you hanging in the living room while he disappeared behind the closed door to sort things for Nex.

But what could you have said, really?

That you wished, with every fibre of your being, for him to never leave your side—not even for a second? That the sight of others touching him, joking with him, sharing the smallest parts of him, felt like an unbearable intrusion? That you purposely avoided digging into his world, avoided learning too much about his group members or his public persona, just to preserve the illusion that he was yours alone?

Could you admit aloud that you felt a near-physical urge to keep anyone, human or otherwise, from getting too close to him?

Would Asher still love you if he knew what kind of creature you really were?

The thought coiled around your heart like a vice, a twisted cocktail of insecurity and paranoia. You told yourself he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Not if he knew the depths of your possessiveness or the shadows of your doubt.

Perhaps that was the true reason you were tucked away in the cabin—not for your sake, but for his safety.

You often thanked whatever force had granted you this gift of botched memories, your fragmented mind offering a second chance to rewrite the wrongs you were certain you had committed. In the shards of your past, there was one constant—Asher. That unshakable certainty only convinced you further that you had always been obsessed with him, long before you became his lover.

The thought haunted you—You weren’t one of his many fans.

No, at least not a real one.

—But perhaps, a stalker.

Someone who didn’t see Asher as an idol, but rather an object of obsession.

You were no muse like Mary from Guilty Files—but the depraved artist herself.

Had you wormed your way into his life, manipulated him, crafted lies so intricate that even he had believed them?

It made sense. It explained why someone as radiant as Asher would devote himself so completely to someone as unworthy as you. Surely, you had hijacked his heart, forcefully binding him to you in a web of manipulation. And now, it was far too late to undo the spell.

So, you stayed hidden. Out of sight. You told yourself it was penance, the least you could do. You convinced yourself to be content with the mere fact that he still visited you in the cabin, despite everything.

But the medicine, perhaps too effective—may have muddled your thoughts, blurring guilt and regret into anger and betrayal. A sense of déjà vu washed over you, leaving you feeling wronged, betrayed—only to come full circle as you remembered a version of the tale your fractured mind would patch together from time to time.

If only you knew that you had the whole story flipped around.

A wave of self-hatred washed over you. Guilt, the heaviest it had ever felt—settled in your frail chest—threatening to burst out and spill any moment then. The realization—even though faux, was a gut-wrenching blow to your conscience.

Panic set in as you struggled to breathe—your heart pounding in your ears, a frantic drumbeat echoing the chaos within. Hot tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision. You gasped for air into the endless void, your lungs constricting with each desperate breath. But just as the darkness threatened to swallow you whole, you jolted awake from your nightmare—gasping for air, before your terror-stricken eyes met Asher’s worried-sick blues.

Without missing a beat, your arms wrapped tightly around him, instinct taking over as you panted, your body trembling and drenched in cold sweat. The frantic rhythm of your kisses—pressed sloppily against his neck and cheeks—betrayed the panic clawing at your chest. You didn’t notice the soft nonsense Asher murmured to soothe you; the only thing grounding you was his warmth.

But then the thought hit you, sharp and cruel—

A parasite.

You were nothing but a filthy leech sucking off his life.

The word echoed in your mind, making you freeze mid-movement. Your frantic kisses stopped as you pressed your face against his neck, seeking refuge, too afraid to speak or to confront the spiralling chaos of your self-loathing thoughts.

Asher’s response was immediate, his voice calm and familiar as he cooed to you, one hand gently patting the back of your head while the other traced soothing circles on your back. He didn’t need you to explain; he knew the way your mind would play tricks on you once in a while to paint you the villain—when in reality, you were right in his arms, being lulled by him.

A bittersweet pang hit him as he held you, watching you mourn for sins you believed were yours—when in truth, the guilt was his to bear. The weight of his lies, his actions, should have crushed him, but instead, he felt a strange satisfaction as you clung to him so tightly, almost desperately—making him an utter blushing fool.

He couldn’t deny it—part of him loved these moments when your self-control slipped, when your nails dug into his skin or your teeth left marks he’d savour for days after. Those fleeting bruises became his secret treasures, physical proof that he belonged to you as much as you belonged to him.

He wanted to claim your lips badly enough, but then his icy blues flickered to finally acknowledge the elephant in the room—or rather, the awkward maknae, who was contemplating where to look while you two were getting comfortable.

As the bubble of intimacy shattered, Asher sighed reluctantly. He placed a light kiss on your temple before leaning back slightly to meet your oblivious, still-teary eyes.

“Baby,” he began, his tone gentle but firm, “I want you to meet Nex. He’s feeling well enough to finally come out of his room.”

The words lingered in the air as you reluctantly turned, meeting the maknae’s hesitant grey eyes for the first time.

___

The rhythmic crash of waves against the shore provided a soothing backdrop to the otherwise still evening. Damian leaned against the cool metal railing of his sea-facing apartment balcony. A wisp of smoke curled upwards from the cigarette held loosely between his fingers, disappearing into the twilight sky.

His dark chocolate eyes, shadowed by a tousled fringe, flickered over the screen of his phone. A quick text to Jay, a fellow soloist and industry friend, confirmed Theo and his attendance at the upcoming birthday bash. A brief smile played on his lips as he tapped out a message on Theo's behalf.

With a satisfied sigh, he extinguished the cigarette, the orange ember fading into the darkness. Then, he glanced at his reflection in the dark screen of his phone—running a hand through his messy hair, as a wry smile played on his lips.

“I need a bath,” He commented under his breath as he checked out his dishevelled appearance. Just as he slipped his phone into the pocket, a notification buzzed to life. It was from the group’s social media manager, a flurry of posts awaiting his approval as the leader.

He sighed lightly, a new cigarette finding its way between his lips as he ignited it with a practiced flick of his lighter and inhaled deeply.

Getting his phone out, he unlocked it with a simple touch—no password or ID to bypass unlike his industry peers.

A slight frown creased his brow as he noticed an error in one of the posts. A quick text to his manager, a concise correction, and the issue was resolved.

With a final drag, he extinguished the cigarette, the smoke swirling around him as he stepped back inside—his dark eyes flickered briefly to the clock, then darted—almost unconsciously—to the faintly blinking blue lights nestled at the back of his personal library and study table. Even hidden within a cabinet of his wardrobe, the surveillance cameras would have gone unnoticed by anyone less observant.

However, Damian’s expression betrayed nothing—his face remaining calm, almost bored. It was as though he had expected the intrusion.

Gathering a fresh pair of PJs from his wardrobe, he carried them under one arm while placing his phone on the study table. With a quick swipe, he connected it to the Bluetooth speaker. Moments later, the bathroom filled with an almost absurdly cheerful jingle—a playlist he reserved for his extremely long bathtime.

It was as if he wanted the not-so secret onlooker to lose interest over time—pay less attention to him at least during that time of the day.

The bathroom door clicked shut behind him. Damian’s sharp brown eyes immediately scanned the room, scrutinizing every corner and crevice for any newly installed cameras or suspicious additions. Finding none, he let out a quiet sigh of relief.

His fingers worked swiftly, clawing at the edges of a seemingly ordinary tile on the wall. With a subtle tug, the tile came loose, revealing a concealed compartment. Inside lay a burner phone, a plain black diary, noise-cancelling earbuds, and a few essential stationery items.

He retrieved the earbuds first, slipping them into his ears to drown out the cloying, brain-rotting jingle still playing over the speaker. Once cocooned in silence, Damian powered on the burner phone and unlocked it, the screen illuminating his features as he opened his inbox under a fake email address.

He was expecting two specific emails.

The first message caught his attention, and his brows furrowed as he read its contents. A quiet huff escaped him. Just as he had suspected—there was no record of Nex being checked into any rehab overseas.

It wasn’t hard to confirm.

A pink-haired, strikingly attractive Korean male, contractually obligated to maintain his appearance until the group’s next comeback, wouldn’t exactly blend into obscurity. Moreover, Nex was scheduled to resume solo activities in two weeks—a timeline that didn’t align with a genuine rehab stint. Damian’s jaw tightened.

Nex was missing.

And, unsurprisingly, the CEO was helping cover up the truth.

Again, for Asher.

Grabbing his diary, he jotted down the key details, his pen tapping rhythmically against the paper as his mind raced to connect the dots.

But why Nex?

Either him or Theo should have been targeted, if at all by the eldest—both the younger members were silent during the tense exchange after their last tour. Isolating the maknae made no sense, Damian thought, biting his nail out of habit in deep thought—when suddenly, his eyes widened as it struck him. Unless,

Nex had been foolish enough to mention the Cabin directly to Asher.

“That idiot,” he muttered under his breath, tossing the diary aside and grabbing the burner phone again. His mind couldn’t help but expect the worst.

He scrolled to the second email; one he had initially dismissed as unimportant. Anxiety coiled in his chest as he opened the message, fingers trembling slightly as he tapped on the attached PDF.

The forensic lab report loaded slowly, each passing second grating against his nerves. When it finally opened, Damian’s frown deepened.

The blood type matched Nex’s, not Asher’s—evidence enough that the maknae had been the one bleeding. However, there was no trace of unmetabolized drugs in his system. This ruled out an overdose before the incident in the bathroom.

But the next line puzzled him further. The white, powdery substance scattered across the floor wasn’t a narcotic.

It was sugar.

Specifically, sucrose and tricalcium phosphate—common ingredients in icing sugar.

For a moment, Damian stared at the report, thinking it had to be a mistake or some sort of cruel joke. He scrolled through the document again, searching for any mention of drugs, but all the samples he had discreetly swabbed from Nex’s bathroom contained only blood and sugar.

Sugar? Really?

Damian leaned back, tapping his pen against his chin. Something didn’t add up. He replayed the scene in his mind, recalling the smeared blood and the faint trail of dragged footsteps. Nex hadn’t been conscious when he was moved—of that, he was sure. But why sugar? It felt like a bluff, almost playful, as though Asher’s initial plan was to just mock the maknae into sense—but then he ended up kidnapping the latter.

“Too sweet of him,” Damian muttered, his voice laced with sarcasm.

What was the point of it all? Torture? Intimidation? If so, why risk exposing his secret by releasing the maknae just after two weeks? Was this just another round in their cat-and-mouse game?

Or was there something far more sinister at work this time?

The question lingered, a persistent thorn in Damian's mind. His gut, ever reliable, told him that the supposed ‘Cabin hostage’ was at the heart of it all.

Asher had been “well-behaved” for too long, even helpful in recent months to uplift the group’s image—like a ticking bomb biding its time before it exploded.

What if his meddling had been the spark to reawaken the blue-eyed Devil?

The thought gnawed Damian’s mind, twisting his gut with an uneasy mix of guilt and fear. He couldn’t shake the feeling that his attempt to uncover the truth had only fed the fire lurking within Asher’s cold, calculated demeanour.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Damian shoved the burner phone, diary, and earbuds back into the secret compartment. He pressed the tile into place, ensuring it left no trace of its existence.

Then, stripping off his clothes, he stepped into the shower. The icy water crashed against his skin, a sharp contrast to the heat of his racing mind. He tilted his head back, letting the cold torrent drown out the cacophony of theories spiralling through his thoughts.

___

The car screeched to a halt at the signal, tires squealing slightly against the asphalt. A heavy silence filled the interior, broken only by the rhythmic ticking of the dashboard clock. Damian sat in the driver’s seat, brown eyes staring blankly out the window, his mind elsewhere.

He was going back to the scene—back to Nex’s apartment.

Damian knew Asher and his ever-loyal right hand, Manager Baek, were fully aware of his last visit. Yet, it didn’t stop him.

Unlike his growing suspicion about Asher holding someone captive at a cabin, Damian had been careful not to let the other members catch on to one of Asher’s more disturbing habits—the on-and-off bugging of their phones and apartments. It was a relatively new development, cropping up in the past year and a half since the oldest’s long hiatus.

He had always made a point not to pry into the strange habits and obsessions of his members. Each had their quirks, their unique ways of coping with stress, and as the group’s leader, he felt it was his duty to preserve their fragile sense of brotherhood.

That’s what he told himself, anyway.

But then came the overheard conversations—Manager Baek on the phone with Asher, his words dripping with secrecy. Mentions of a cabin, of “her,” and of extensive grocery lists for deliveries.

The details painted a troubling picture—Asher was holding someone hostage.

With even a child, perhaps, he thought—misinterpreting Asher’s use of “Baby”.

He tried to rationalize the rest.

They were all teetering on the spectrum of insanity, weren’t they? Obsession, paranoia, secrecy—it came with the territory of their high-stakes, suffocating lives as K-pop idols. But even in his skewed perspective, Damian recognized that kidnapping and captivity crossed a line, even if substance abuse didn’t.

That’s where he’d made his first mistake.

He had voiced his concerns to Theo in the green room, hoping his hot-headed but loyal bandmate might provide some clarity. But before he could finish explaining, the other two members had walked in, overhearing enough to shatter the tenuous silence that kept their group functioning.

Asher hadn’t been there—it was one of his rare days off—but the damage was done. Now, Nex was missing, and Damian was certain Asher was behind it.

And it was all his fault.

If only he’d turned a blind eye, like always.

If only he hadn’t interfered.

The self-recriminating thoughts echoed as Damian stepped out of the elevator at Nex’s building, moving on autopilot, spare keys in hand. But his steps faltered as he approached the door.

There, slumped against the wall, was a familiar blonde figure—dishevelled and ghastly pale, he instantly recognized. “Clade?”

·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

@shadowytravelerlover

[eepwriting]

thigh anon here, absolutely loved what you wrote so I'm back again!! might be too much idk but

could we please get another ivy fic, where the reader has feelings for him and there is some playful flirting between them and ivy, but they don't know if he's being serious so they break down and confess and turns out ivy also has feelings for them but was in the same boat of being unsure

ending with lots of reassurance and comfort (and maybe a passionate sex scene if it's not too much to ask 👀)

This Whole Time ✶ IV x GN! Reader

Warnings: nsfw, smut, intercourse, masturbation, slight angst

Omg hiii thigh anon!! I made sure to not delete your entire ask this time ha. Thank you as always 🤍

!! mdni !!

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You couldn’t deny the way your heart ached slightly every time you saw him.

He was always so kind, considerate of your thoughts and feelings. He was funny, charismatic, and handsome. The two of you had became friends almost 2 years ago, this little crush growing everyday. Sure, you could confess how you felt, but you knew you’d never recover if he didn’t feel the same. Maybe the two of you could remain friends if that was the case, but the reminder of absent attraction would always be at the back of your mind. You couldn’t bring yourself to think of your everyday life without him in it.

So, you remained just friends with him. You play along with his naturally flirty nature and pretend to not be affected by it, not letting him see how much you wished it was real. “Jokingly” flirting back. Just two friends joking around.

So when your phone buzzes with a text from him, inviting you over for “shit food and trash tv” you push your feelings down and think on the positive side: You get to hang out with your good friend!

Your heart hammers in your chest as you climb the stairs to his apartment later that night. It always seemed to do that before you saw him, only slowing down after sitting with him a while. You knock on his door before letting yourself in, kicking off your shoes at the door. IVs standing in the kitchen, leaned over, looking into his fridge. He hears your entrance and stands straight, closing the fridge door.

A smile reaches his eyes as he walks over, reaching out to pull you into a hug. He squeezes you tight, his fingertips lightly scratching up and down your back. “Hey, you.” His voice is quiet in your ear.

“Hi, how’ve you been?” Your hand squeezes his shoulder. He pulls away from you but keeps his hands on your hips. “Good, you?”

You nod, “Good. Hungry.”

“Well lucky you, I ordered your favorite.” He gently pushes you towards the living room, hands on your shoulders. Your eyes land on the coffee table, on it a small spread of food from your favorite take out place, plus your favorite drinks.

“Oh wowww, you’re really spoiling me, huh?” You laugh as you take a seat on the couch.

“I gotta give my best to my favorite person, don’t I?” He sheepishly shrugs before sitting down next to you. He grabs the remote, switching on the tv.

You hope he doesn’t notice the blush that rises to your cheeks. You watch the side of his face for a moment before reaching forward to open the food boxes in front of you.

You hear the theme song of a show you hate and glare over at iv. “Oh no, no.” You reach over him to pick the remote up, hitting the back button.

“What? I like that show.” He turns to you, his arm flying up to point at the tv.

You shake your head and snicker, “That show sucks, ivy. C’mon.”

“Oh that’s real rich coming from you. At least it has substance! Unlike what you watch.” He jokingly shakes his head in shame.

Your mouth opens in fake hurt, a hand reaching up to your neck as you gasp. “Wow. That’s quite rude, you know?” He just lets out a loud laugh as he pulls his mask up over his mouth to take a sip of his drink.

You settle on an early 2010s sitcom before grabbing a container of food and sitting further back on the couch.

Before you know it, the two of you are 4 episodes deep, food long gone. You sat with your back against the armrest, your legs lay over iv’s lap, who’s sat further down the couch. His hands rest on your calves, absentmindedly rubbing, occasionally squeezing whenever he laughs at something.

You watch as the two main characters share a loving moment towards the end of the episode. They vow to not let the small things break them apart, even the silly little conflict the episode had revolved around. You can’t help but to look over at iv as the people on screen share a kiss, wishing you could have a moment like that with him. You blatantly stare at him, too lost in the thoughts racing through your mind.

“Hey, what’s wrong.” You feel a squeeze on your knee.

You blink, your head shaking slightly as he looks at you with a look of concern. “Oh, uh, it’s nothing.” You shake your head again, looking back to the tv.

“No. It’s not nothing. You seem upset.” He pauses the tv and pulls you towards him by your legs. You couldn’t see your own face, but you felt that familiar ache in your chest, only assuming the look on your face matched what you were feeling.

“I’m okay. Just thinking about stuff.” You pull the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands, crossing your arms over yourself.

“What stuff? Sad stuff?” His brows furrow. Even under the mask you can see the pure concern.

You can’t believe you’re about to open up about this. You’re terrified but you don’t know how much longer you can keep up this act. Keep pretending that your entire mind, body and soul doesn’t yearn for the man next to you. You clear your throat, “You’ll think it’s stupid.”

“What are you talking about? Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that right?” His hand rubs comforting circles over the side of your thigh.

You take a deep breath, your eyes close in a long blink before you speak. “Ivy. I like you. I really like you. More than a friend should ever like a friend.” You pause, your words getting caught in your throat. IV’s hand stops moving on your leg but he doesn’t say anything. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but I owe it to myself to let you know. I love spending time with you but I can’t just act like I don’t have strong feelings for you, not anymore.”

You look at him, frozen in his seat. You’re screaming at him in your head. To say anything to you. To give you any sign that he really heard what you just said.

It feels like forever before he speaks. “How long? Have you felt this way?” His voice is quiet.

You shake your head, not expecting that answer. “Since I met you.”

He lets out a breath he seemed to be holding, his head falling forward. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.” He pulls you to sit fully across his lap and you let him, heat crawling up your neck to your cheeks.

“What do you mean?” You blink at him.

“I mean, I really like you. I’ve never said anything because I was so sure you weren’t interested.” He reaches up hold the side of your face. “I flirt with you and try my damn best make you feel special, hoping maybe one day, I’d have the confidence to finally say something. Even if it meant the end of our friendship. I’ve always wanted to tell you.”

You want to pinch yourself, convinced you’re dreaming.

“So… this whole time we’ve both just been torturing ourselves?”

He laughs softly, his thumb swiping back and forth over your cheek. “I guess so.” His eyes repeatedly flick down to your mouth. “Funny how that works, huh?”

Your mind races with thoughts of surprise, confusion and pure happiness as you try to make sense of his words.

You notice the way his breath quickens as his hand slowly reaches up to pull his mask up over his mouth. You meet him halfway as he leans into you, your mouths meeting in a hesitant kiss. It starts slow, occasionally interrupted by shy smiles from both of you. He tilts his head when he feels you grip the back of his neck, letting his tongue swipe over your bottom lip. A quiet and low groan leaves him when his tongue finds yours. His hands run up and down your back, squeezing your sides occasionally.

He gently guides you to lay on the couch, his mouth never leaving yours. He half straddles your hips and lets you pull him down so his chest is against yours. His mouth moves to kiss your cheek, across your jaw and down the side of your neck. A breathy whine leaving your mouth when you feel his tongue press to your skin.

Your fingers hook into the belt loops of his jeans, pulling his hips to yours. You’re rewarded with a deep groan, his hips bucking into yours.

He pulls away from your neck breathlessly. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?”

You smile up at him and bring your hands up to cup his face. “I’m more than okay with this. Trust me. I’m just so happy that you feel the same.”

He nods his head and turns to press a kiss to your palm. “Me too.” His voice soft and sweet. His hand caressing your cheek and jaw before he pushes himself off you to stand, impatient hands working over the button and zipper on his jeans.

You take the opportunity to push your sweatpants and underwear down your legs, the two of you unabashedly watching each other undress.

He’s on you again before you know it, his mouth attaching to yours again. Your hands wander under his shirt to roam his back, fingertips digging into his shoulder blades. His hand cups your jaw as he kisses you as if you’re his life source. He presses his hips to yours firmly and you can’t stop the moan you let out into his mouth. The feel of his bare skin on yours making you impatient.

“Hold on, love.” He mumbles on your lips before pulling away from you. He grabs your hand and brings it to his chest. “I feel like my hearts gonna beat out of my chest.” He lets out a breathy laugh.

You feel his heart racing under your palm, yours not feeling much different. “It’s okay. Mine too.” You give him a small nod and smile. “I’ll help, okay?” You reach a hand between the two of you, your hand nudging his cock before you wrap your fingers around him. He lets out a deep breath at the contact.

Your hand slowly slides down his shaft and back up again, your thumb catching a bead of his arousal before swirling it around on his tip. He whines a needy mewl above you, his eyes closing. The sound only makes the ache between your thighs ten times worse. You want to watch him like this forever, but let’s be honest, you’d waited 2 years for this already and you were done being patient.

Your fingers continue working him as you bring your other hand to your mouth, gathering some spit in your palm. Your wet palm soon replaces your fingers, pumping him smoothly. He bucks into your hand, another whimper leaving his mouth. You spread your legs open further and angle your hips up.

He gets the hint, angling his hips down slightly, his hand guiding his cock to press against you. He locks eyes with you again before slowly pushing himself in halfway. He leans down to you, mouths connecting in a hot, open mouth kiss. He draws his hips back before he’s even fully buried, and snaps them back in with a quick thrust. It catches you off guard, fingers digging into his side, a moan muffled by iv’s mouth.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He breathes out and rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve just waited too long for this.” A groan punctuates his sentence. His cock slips in and out of you with ease as he picks up his pace. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, bringing him back down to you again. His quiet grunts sounding ever so nice in your ear. “I wanna look at you.” He says as he pushes himself up, hands gripping your sides as he looks down at you.

You can’t help but look down to where the two of you are connected, your teeth biting over your bottom lip as you whimper at the sight. Your hand slowly makes its way down to play with yourself, your eyes snapping up to look at iv.

He breathes out a huff and quickly nods his head. His attention fully on the way your hand moves over yourself, as well at how his cock glides in and out of you.

It doesn’t take long for that familiar feeling in your lower half to blossom. You could tell iv was on the edge as well, his movements loosing the fluidity they once had. He bends down to pepper small kisses on your cheek. “You gonna cum with me?” He hums as you quickly nod, your mouth opening in a silent cry, your climax crashing over you. Your hips buck up to him as you grip his bicep, a long string of moans leaving you.

IV’s release is right behind yours. His brows furrowed, mouth hung open slightly, eyes squeezed shut. He lets himself collapse over you, but still careful to not use his full weight. His head is in the crook of your neck, his breathing fast and shallow. You feel his hips spasm against yours, the movement sending a weak shock through you.

He presses a soft kiss to your cheek before pushing himself up. You both let out a soft groan as he pulls out of you. He looks down at you with a relaxed smile, his hand reaching out to smooth over the top of your head. “You’re telling me, we could’ve been doing that this whole time?” He chuckles.

You laugh, lightly nudging him with your knee. “I guess so.”

He helps you sit up before walking you to the bathroom, soaking a washcloth with warm water before he gently cleans you up. He helps you get dressed before running to the kitchen to get you some water.

He joins you back on the couch, his arm falling around your shoulders as you cuddle up to him. The two of you knowing you’d not regret the decision to open up about how you felt this whole time.

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This is looong sorry, I got a little carried away.

Absolutely loved this idea! Hope you enjoyed anon! 🤍

K. Bye bye.

[milfjuulpod]

Guidance Ch IV

An apology is shared between you and Melissa, with a surprise had afterwards.

read the first chapters here

A/N hi don’t hate me for this being so late, i’m working on the next chapter for you lovelies already! does anyone read these notes? anywho lmk what you think!! kisses 💋

Before your alarm went off in the morning, you were up. Anxiety high, mind full of everything that could go wrong meeting with Melissa today. Last time you saw her it went…not well. You were ready thirty minutes early, heading to the coffee shop much faster than you should be driving at 6:30 in the morning. 

Coming on to the school grounds, you had your bag slung over your shoulder, two coffees in hand. A latte for you, and a macchiato for Melissa. Of course there was an apology to go along with the coffee, but it couldn’t hurt to bring her a little present. After dropping off your personal belongings, you made the unbearable trek to her classroom. The warmth from the drinks didn’t help the sweat coming from your hands. 

At her door, you took in a deep breath. Never before have you been so nervous to apologize. What if she was still mad and didn’t want to listen? What if she didn’t believe you? Realizing the options were to go inside and give it your best shot, or stand outside the door and spiral out, you finally decided on the former. 

A couple quiet knocks on the door, and you gently let yourself in. Melissa’s head popped up at the sound, her demeanor stiffening at the sight of you. “Hey, I wanted to apologize,” you started. The redhead said nothing, in fact she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. Nonetheless, you approached her desk and continued. 

“I shouldn’t have believed what I heard, especially since things were going so well, there was no reason to. And I’m sorry for making such a big deal out of it. I know you’re probably regretting starting to be friends, so I hope we can at least remain professional.” You ended the statement by placing the coffee in front of her and immediately leaving. After accidentally getting a bit emotional with your words at the end, you just wanted to leave. 

Luckily your office wasn’t far, and you were back in a safe space, for now, at least. You pulled out your phone to text Gregory that you took his advice and hoped for the best, and texted Janine the same thing as well. One for logical support and one for girl talk, of course. After wrapping up those conversations, you started up your computer for the work day. Only fifteen minutes until the kids came in, which didn’t affect you as much, but chaos would sure ensue. 

You had barely gotten started when there was a knock at your office door, strange since it was so early. You offered a “Come in!” and poked your head past the screen to see who could be needing something at this hour. It was Melissa, with a look you hadn’t seen on her before. Embarrassment, shame maybe. 

     “Hey,” She started, closing the door behind her. She didn’t sit down at your desk though, instead she remained at the door. “Thank you for the coffee, you didn’t have to do that. If anything I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that hon, I know how Janine can be and the reputation I have. I know you mean well.” 

You were silent for a moment. Shocked, honestly, at Melissa’s words and actions. It took you a moment to gather your words, trying to be careful this time. 

       “It’s okay. I think it’s safe to say neither of us handled it well,” You joked. She smiled, but didn’t look at you. The floor seemed to be more interesting at the moment. The redhead stood there silently, looking at the floor. Her smile faded into a furrowed brow. Unsure of what to do, you waited, afraid of scaring her off. From what you knew about the woman, Melissa was not one to get emotional with others, so treading lightly seemed best. 

      “I don’t regret it, by the way.” She finally spoke. Her emerald eyes finally returned to your gaze again after she got her first sentence out. You bit back a smile, trying to hide the joy and pride from watching Melissa work out and speak about her emotions not only in front of you, but to you directly. It was a big step for her, so it was clear she was no longer upset with you. She seemed to be in a better place, so you tried for more. 

      “You don’t regret what, Melissa?” You asked, but instead of keeping eye contact, you focused on moving your bag from the desk to the floor and a few other items around, giving her a moment of space and pseudo-solitude. 

       “Being friends with you. Earlier when you were…bringing me coffee you said I might regret starting to be friends with you. I just want you to know I don’t,” She answered after a couple moments. You looked back up at her and smiled, unable to hold it back this time. “I’m happy to hear that, I’ll see you at lunch?”

        “I’ll see you there,” Melissa replied and returned your smile, turning to make her exit. “Hold on…Did you just, guidance counselor me?” She asked, hand frozen on the door handle. 

      “Maybe,” You replied, not taking your eyes off the screen in front of you. The redhead huffed in annoyance but you turned your gaze at the right time and saw she was still smiling. 

The first half of the day was easy to get through thanks to the buzz from seeing your work crush earlier. Lunch luckily came sooner than expected, and you made your way down to the break room with a pep in your step. Upon arrival, you saw Melissa and Barbara were already at their usual seats, with a third empty spot next to Melissa. You started walking towards the fridge, but stopped halfway. In an effort to make amends with your friend this morning, lunch was completely forgotten about. With a sigh, you turned back around to get lunch elsewhere. 

       “Hey kid, where ya goin?” You knew that voice from anywhere. With an extra pouty look, you turned to face Melissa. 

       “I may or may not have forgotten my lunch this morning, so I’m going to grab something at the store really quick,” You answered. Melissa kicked out the seat next to her and motioned for you to come to her, so you did. She pushed the tupperware she had to you and got up to the fridge to grab a salad she had as well. When she sat back down, you gave her a quiet thank you, to which she gave you a warm smile. 

    Your phone buzzed on the table, a text from Jacob that read, I’m glad to see this morning went well! 

    You smiled and set the phone back down, and when you looked up, Melissa was looking at you with a smirk and raised brow. Rolling your eyes earned you a nudge from the other woman, she obviously saw the text as well. Lunch continued with this light energy, everyone chatting about their day and whatever was on their minds for the next thirty minutes. It was nice, you were starting to feel settled at Abbott. Even though the issue with Melissa wasn’t pleasant, it made you realize how quickly you had become one of the group.

Despite getting a head start on this morning, the day seemed to drag with the amount of work on your plate. It wasn’t until after the kids had left that you were finally pulled away from the strenuous projects you took on. 

“It’s open,” You said sweetly to whoever was behind the door, not yet glancing up from the computer. 

“Hey, what’s-Oh! Melissa!” You interrupted yourself as soon as you looked up and saw the Italian woman. She tried to hide her smile and pink cheeks, but you caught it, just in time. 

“Hi hon, could I sit with you for a minute?” She asked, but instead of pulling out the chair in front of you, she crossed sides of the room and sat herself atop your desk, barely scooting over your keyboard. 

“Yeah go ahead, make yourself at home,” You teased. In that instant, you realized how close she was to you. Her knees were level with your abdomen, just a couple inches away, sitting oh so pretty on your desk. You couldn’t look anywhere but her even if you wanted to, and couldn’t help but wonder if she did that on purpose. 

“Listen…I’m startin’ to think my apology this morning wasn’t enough. Let me make you dinner tonight, at mine,” Her sultry voice spoke. 

Dinner? At Melissa’s? Cooked by her? Was this a dream?

“Words, my dear. Yes or no? You won’t hurt my feelings.” It was so hard to focus on her words and speak your own when she looked this good, this close, treating you with this kind of attention. 

“I- Yes. Yeah, I’d love that.”

“Good, because I lied. That would’ve hurt my feelings,” She smiled at you, and you returned it. “I’ll text you my address now, just let me know when you’re heading over. I’ll probably start cooking around 6, but you’re welcome over whenever,” Melissa told you. She went to stand and take her exit, but you stopped her with your hands on her knees. 

“Wait, do you want me to bring anything? I can’t expect you to do all the work,” You said honestly, trying to ignore how warm Melissa’s skin felt through the fabric of her pants. Unbeknownst to you, she was trying to ignore the sensation as well. 

“Mm, I think I have a couple bottles of wine at the house but if you want anything specific I’d grab it on the way. Other than that, just bring you. That’s all I need,” The redhead smiled and gently took your hands off her so she could stand. As she walked out of your office, she shouted, “See ya tonight!”

[days-until-burnout]

Day 106 -

Characters - Etho/Gem Words - 631 Time - 22 mins Content - Hermitcraft

Gem cuts the air between them, the edge of her blade barely missing the bridge of Etho’s nose. He takes another step back, both sets of eyes quickly glancing at the dropped sword—Gem’s lips curved into a malicious smile. 

Etho leaps to grab his sword and Gem is close behind, cutting the space in front of the weapon and nearly getting Etho’s fingers. His reflexes are good, better than the last time they sparred, though that only drives her to push for more. Test his limits, know where the line is to disregard it. 

After all, Etho is the one who came to her. 

He tries to make a grab for it again, and this time, Gem kicks his arm, drawing a groan from his masked lips. She giggles tauntingly, taking her rightful place in front of the sword, holding her own up. The blade parts his concentrated face, the lines of his frown, the line of his mask splitting his face too. Quadrants that make a whole. 

“This is unfair,” Etho eventually breaks the silence, and he is really hoping she will let him get his sword. His frown deepens when she only digs her heels into the dirt. 

“You’re clever,” Gem encourages, selfishly driven by the curiosity of him, “you’ll find a way. You always do.”

Etho’s eyes drop to her feet, behind them to the sword, promptly returning to her gaze. Icy eyes, calculating and running situations. Etho is very technical, Gem knows since she first heard of him, and she cannot help the thrill of excitement that runs through her when she realizes he’s looking at her the same way he looks at redstone. 

Something complicated yet simple. Something that needs fixing and breaking and trials. Something worth paying attention to.

She smiles wide, delighted. 

But she still startles when Etho leaps for her, suddenly and recklessly—carelessly until he is standing in front of her, sword knocked aside by his forearm. Gem is too slow to react, freezing the only second she had, when Etho grabs her right wrist, twisting and turning her. He pins her wrist to her back, and her sword falls to the ground in a thundering clunk. 

Her back burns when he steps into her space, digging his fingers into her wrist when she instinctively tries to free herself. 

Her gaze drops, shame running where adrenaline once was. She looks to the ground on her left, catching the glint of two swords reflecting the sunlight above them. The wind sings as it dries the sweat from her brow—and she exhales until she is lightheaded. 

Gem closes her eyes, chuckles when she fails to free herself again.

“I learnt a thing or two,” he says lowly, very close to her ear. Etho breathes down her neck, hot from exertion and the mask on his face. 

“Yeah? From me? I’m not particularly a good teacher.”

“Not quite,” he whispers this time, lower from her ear. She shivers and he does not hide the quiet laugh. “Can I get my sword now?”

“Can you?” She taunts, planting the sole of her boot on the blade. 

Etho moves closer, and the way the heat between their bodies burns makes her delirious. Thrilled still, but her face is starting to hurt from smiling. 

“I can. I think I can.” 

Gem presses her boot down, then slides the sword away. Just a couple blocks, but enough that Etho cannot get to it unless he lets go of her. He tugs at her arm in retaliation, but the moment that really seals it is when he runs the bridge of his nose along the line of her neck behind her ear. 

And he stays there. Up close. Incredibly hot. 

Breathless and with a thundering heart, Gem mouths, “Can you now?”

_____

ive been thinking (very dangerous), and a: i really need to write outside of the usual 4-5, b: i am re-considering ao3, and c: i should give myself a pfp picture because of the new bots going around

anyways -> [click for a random day]