#anyway whatever.. rolling over and going back to sleep. i hope i have a better day at work today regardless

[studiogrimm810]

Agitated

pairings/characters: (pining)dean winchester x gn!reader

summary: you know you're outmatched for a hunt so you call up bobby for some help but instead he sends dean. now you're forced to deal with his cocky attitude and still somehow get this hunt done. this man will be the death of you

warnings: bickering and annoyance, some blood and a fight scene, fadeaway to sex but nothing too graphic

word count: 5,121

A/N: this is a request!!! oh my god i could not stop writing this. i really hope i captured the pure annoyance they have for each other and also framed it into some steamy sexual tension,, idk, lmk how feel about this one!! :):)

———————

This is the worst. The absolute worst. You knew better than to try and go at this hunt alone but you seriously think you’d reconsider if you knew this was the outcome. You got here early, getting a motel room for yourself and eating lunch while waiting for him. Ugh. Him.

There was a nest of at least half a dozen vamps camped out nearby that you’ve been tracking for a while but you’re out of your league here so you called Bobby.

Ah, Bobby. How you loved him. He was quite the mentor for you when you lost your mother. He showed you the ropes, gifted you a car he pieced together on his lot, and offered a listening ear when you needed it. So of course, when you need help, you call him.

Except this time he’s busy so he sends, what he calls his ‘second-best’, Dean fucking Winchester.

God. You had asked if there really wasn’t anyone else he could send but he insisted that Dean was the best he could do. Bobby and Sam apparently were deep into some research for whatever apocalypse they’ve got on their plate now and they could spare Dean for the sake of your safety. Dean needed to hunt anyways, he itched to get back into action.

So now, halfway through rage eating your lunch, you hear the familiar rumble of Dean’s trademark gas-guzzler and plant your face in your hands. If you wanted to successfully complete this hunt then you needed to just take a deep breath and shove aside your irritations.

You finish your lunch and wait for the text or call saying that he’s got a room and is ready to regroup. That call came a lot sooner than expected.

“Hey, Dean,” you greet indifferently.

“Heya, sweetheart,” you can hear his sarcastic smirk and it makes you roll your eyes, “listen, I’ve kinda got a problem here.”

“What?” You try, but fail, to keep the bite out of your voice.

“Motel’s all booked up and the only other one is across town, looks like I’ll have to bunk with you.” God- of course.

“You’re kidding,” you internally groan, biting your tongue.

“Wish I was, sweetheart,” you can hear his own stifled sigh.

“Don’t call me that,” you scold, standing to go to the door and properly greet him. You open the door and he’s leaning against the hood of his car, pocketing his phone and plastering a fake smirk. You’ve noticed he knows how to make you tick. It usually starts as a feigned sweetness but soon sours as you aren’t receptive. He claims he’s trying to keep the peace between you two but you claim he’s full of shit.

“Whatever, princess,” he uses more sarcastically, as if it’s such a high request to ask to be addressed by your own name. “Hope you’ve got the room ‘cause I’m not sleeping on any floors,” Dean states, rounding his car to get his bags out of the trunk.

Fuck. You could shoot yourself if you had the fucking gun.

“Yeah, about that,” you fold your arms over your chest, squinting from the blinding sunlight you’re forced to face to keep looking at him as he moves. Fucking dick.

“No,” Dean demands, his shoulders slacking from lack of effort to keep his bags held. Yep, he’s pissed.

“I never have to share a motel, Dean!” You shrug with an annoyed bitchface. “I’m not all ‘buddy-buddy’ like you and Sam are. I like my privacy.” You squint at him like that’s a dig and not really a chip at your own lonely ego.

“Well I call the bed sweetheart, you can take the couch,” Dean grumbles, scrunching his nose in a mocking manner as he walks past you and into the motel.

Regardless, this was the last room the motel had so it’s not your fault there’s just one bed.

———

“So, you think they’re camped out here?” Dean asks, looking at the map with his arms crossed over his chest. You nod, nibbling on the end of a pen.

“I’ve been tracking them for a while- it’s their kinda hideout,” you add, thinking of different ways to approach this. Dean turns back as if to say something but rolls his eyes at you.

“That’s disgusting,” he points loosely like the oral act isn’t even worth the energy to spotlight.

“Good thing it’s not your pen,” you retort, looking back down at your laptop and refreshing the local news. Dean just scoffs, walking over to the small fridge provided by the motel.

“No beer?” He baffles.

“I’m not an enabler,” you sass, finding it your current life’s mission to kick him at any turn. God, the nerve to come into your room, make his snippy comments at your fidgets, and bash you for not keeping beer on tap like a fucking bartender. You couldn’t wait for this to be over.

“And I’m not an alcoholic.”

Ha, yeah okay.

You scroll around the 3D map on your laptop, looking for different access points of the rundown building but the shitty satellite rendering is too blurry and bubbly to really make anything out.

“Seriously? That’s what you’ve been wasting your time with?” Dean raises a brow.

“I’m checking my bases, Dean, back off,” you groan, leaning back in your chair and rubbing a hand down your face.

“Just sayin’, you’ll get more info first hand, princess, may as well just get on with it,” Dean insists, “not like we have any way to pass the time,” he’s not letting this beer thing go.

“Fine! Let’s just go, guns blazing,” you sit up, scooting back your chair with the force of which you popped up. You go to ruffle through your bag, grabbing a long sleeve shirt to slip over your tank top.

“You’re gonna be cold,” Dean says plainly.

“Shut up,” you shoulder-check him on the way out.

———

The sun is starting to set, casting a beautiful golden haze across the horizon. You two are headed north so thankfully the sun isn’t blinding your peripheral but instead Dean’s.

The drive is quiet other than the hum of some 80s band, or whatever it is Dean is obsessed with, on the radio. It’s weird, you don’t know why your hatred for Dean blossomed so naturally but it just did. Since the second you were disappointed to find that that is who was the sweet Sam Winchesters brother you’ve been irked by just the reminder of his presence.

He probably started it anyway.

The Impala starts to slow as you two come up to the hidden gravel drive for the abandoned building on Dean’s GPS. The rumble of gravel crunching under the tires is a satisfying dig in your ears.

Dean parks the Impala so you two can go the rest of the way on foot. You both gear up and sneak along the tree line until the building is in sight. It’s an old rangers station- blanketed with moss and vines, shards of glass poking out of crunched window frames, entrance doors missing- it looked completely vacant.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say your hunch was wrong,” Dean straightens out of his pre-fight stance. You don’t offer him a response, you just step past him to the entrance to see if there’s even a hint of this being the right place.

There’s nothing.

God, how could you be so stupid? You felt a pit of embarrassment swirl its way around your insides. You couldn’t confront Dean right now. You couldn’t deal with his sarcastic quips.

You have to though, you have to face him to get back to the Impala and back to your shared room. This was torture.

What if more people get hurt because you didn’t find the right spot? The longer you sit and stew the more likely that is to be true. You have to just keep your head on straight and find the next lead.

So with that, you spin on your heel and head back to the Impala. “I don’t wanna hear it,” you mumble as you pass him, this time shifting your shoulder out of the way so you don’t bump into him.

You miss the way Dean’s features soften with understanding and guilt and he decides to keep his mouth shut.

The drive back for you was thick with tension. Your mind ran with how to go about the situation next. What lead to follow and what instincts to trust because apparently this one was wrong.

The drive back for Dean, however, was different. He kept the music to a volume he knew wouldn’t bother you as much and he drummed along to the beat on his steering wheel with his fingers casually, hoping the common habit of his will show that he’s not angry and how you shouldn’t blame yourself so much. That even if it feels as detrimental as it does that in reality it’s not a big deal but just a failed lead.

He doesn’t use his words though. He’s offering common decency and not pleasantries.

You’re quick to duck into the motel as soon as the car is in park and recenter yourself at the drawing board.

Dean hesitates, finding it annoying how much you’re beating yourself up over this. He doesn’t know why it bothers him so much. Maybe it’s because he understands the guilt of not being good enough. Maybe it’s because he just doesn’t want to be around some mopey child. Maybe he doesn’t have to know.

“There have been a few disappearances- the last location they were all seen is this bar. Maybe we could start there,” you’re starting to doubt yourself.

“I agree,” Dean nods from behind you. You turn to look at him, a little taken back by his compliance. No shoving and no pushback.

“Really?” You cock a brow, still finding it odd that he hasn’t bashed you more for your screw up earlier.

“Yeah, I think that’s the next step,” Dean repeats, the annoyance of having to do so showing in his tone. You squint slightly as if waiting for him to say something else but he doesn’t.

“Fine, let’s go,” you walk right back out of the room and to the Impala, not bothering with your jacket or keys.

Dean snatches your keys from the kitchen table and locks up the room. You could thank him but why thank him for locking a door? It’s not like he did anything special.

The bar was in the middle of town so the drive consisted of a lot of turns but was still rather swift. You reach for the door knob but Dean stops you.

“What?” You ask defensively.

“That look normal to you?” Dean points, not matching your tone. What is up with him?

You follow his point, finding a couple making out against the side of the brick building. They look drunk and disoriented but nothing too out of the ordinary for a Friday night outside of a bar.

“He’s faking,” Dean adds, keeping his eyes on the couple but taking your silence as confusion. “He’s not drunk.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Watch,” he leans in a little closer to see them from your angle. “When she kisses his neck he loses his ‘daze’. You can see him scan-, there!” He cuts himself off as the man across the parking lot does exactly what Dean is describing. You look a little closer now, seeing a slimy smirk lift the man’s lips as he grabs the woman with a bit more force.

“Dammit,” you mumble, straightening up in your seat a bit. Before either of you can get out of the car in time, the woman is shoved into a nearby truck and the man climbs in after. Dean fires up the engine and follows the truck from a safe distance.

You beat yourself down a bit, wondering how you managed to miss something so clear. You would’ve overlooked them without a second thought and they turned out to be your next lead. Were you really this bad of a hunter? Maybe Dean was right to have such little trust in you.

“How damn cold do you keep this car?” You hound, wrapping your arms over your chest to try and churn some warmth over yourself.

“I told you you’d be cold,” you could hear the eye-roll without even looking at him. You stare out the window, Dean still staying on the truck's tail.

A few moments pass and you continue to ignore him. “God, if you’re gonna pout about it,” he adjusts, grabbing a spare flannel of his from the back seat, “here.”

“I’m not pouting,” you scoff.

“Sure you’re not. Just take it,” he shoves it in your lap and you hesitate to touch it. “I’m not diseased, princess, you can borrow my clothes. Won’t kill ya’.”

“Whatever,” you mumble, grabbing the flannel and slipping it over your arms. The cloth settles over your skin like a warm blanket and you have to force yourself to ignore how much it smells like him. You feel a need to thank him again but seriously, was it really that special or was he just doing the bare minimum? Or perhaps you were too embarrassed to thank him because doing so would admit that you didn’t entirely dread his presence.

Dean glances over to make sure you actually put it on and hasn't discarded one of his favorite flannels- which he would take as an act of war quite frankly- but is a little stunned to see how homey it makes you look. You're practically drowning in the tarp of cloth, but the way it melts with your skin catches his eyes for a bit too long. To see your hair settle over the pattern like a claim makes him want to never look away.

But he has to because he’s driving and just nicked the rumble strips.

“Driving at night is hard, huh?” You tease, “heard it gets that way with old age.”

“Hey! I’m not that much older than you,” he defends, forcing his eyes in the road ahead and the truck to follow. He can’t let himself wonder why you caught his attention so intensely or why he’s itching to look back for another peek.

Finally, after what felt like years to Dean, the truck turns off into a driveway of an older farm house. Dean drives past and parks off the side of the road around a turn where they won’t be spotted.

Now it’s time to really gear up, but this time it’s a little different. Dean finds himself wanting to make extra sure that you’re set and that you have any possible weapon you might need.

“Stay close, don’t split up under any circumstance,” Dean instructs. He hadn’t done that last time and you want to combat him because who is he to tell you what to do? But the wind brushing over you too carries his scent past your nose again and it’s almost like it shuts you up completely. You just nod in response.

The night sky rained over you two, soft pelts of misty rain dampening your clothes and you’re now really starting to feel thankful for the offered flannel, maybe you should’ve said something. But as you near the home, you reckon it’s not the right time to mention a lousy ‘thanks’ for such a simple offer.

Dean picks the lock of the back door and you follow him in, machete in hand. You can hear voices and laughter flowing from what you guess to be the main room. Dean halts right along the door frame, ducking in to count what they’re up against, he holds up 3 fingers to you and you nod.

On his signal, you both pounce.

The fight is brutal on your muscles since you often forget just how strong vamp’s are. The one you’re up against is at least a foot taller than you and is bulkier than is really fair, but you use the advantage of being smaller to slip out of his grasp and decapitate him from behind.

Dean is next to take care of his opponent and now it’s two against one. The vamp comes after you first, probably thinking you’re a quicker target, but Dean intercepts and slams the vamp

against a wall. You take this opportunity to go to the woman from earlier who is huddled in a corner, watching in horror as this happens.

Thankfully, she is physically unharmed and the adrenaline of the situation has burned through the alcohol she had ingested.

“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” you shake your head with arms braced to show you aren’t a threat. “Can you walk?” You ask. She nods. “Good, okay,” you reach over to the pocket of one of the vamps, seeing a set of keys hooked to his belt loop, and hand the keys to her. “The truck outside. Take it and go- now.”

She snatched the keys and bolts. You breathe a breath of relief at how easy it was to get her out of here. You turn to see that Dean is still fighting the creature and you jump to your feet, approaching them. You bring up your weapon but the vamp sees you in time and shoves you hard. You stumble into a dusty china cabinet and hear Dean call your name. The impact rattles through your body but you have to help. You have to.

Getting to your feet takes a moment, but a pained gasp sets you with a fresh rush of adrenaline. The vamp has latched its teeth into Dean’s neck. He’s paralyzed with pain, raspy breaths barely escaping his gaped lips. That’s all the fucking power you need. You ram into the vamp, getting him to unhook his jaw and throwing him to the ground. In the blood drunken haze, you’re able to rid of its head with a quick swipe of your machete.

Dean groans, sliding against the wall and you drop your weapon, running to him.

“Hey-, you’re okay,” you speak before you have enough evidence to believe it. “You with me?”

“Y-Yeah,” he pants, his head going slack on the side he wasn’t bitten. It’s deep.

“Okay, hold on,” you say, reaching down to rip off a good portion of your shirt to cover the bleeding. He reaches out to stop you. “Don’t worry, it’s not your precious flannel I’m tearing up,” you actually joke. Not as a mock or tease but as an actual joke that you smile for to show your lightheartedness.

“With you? I’d never know what to believe,” he comes back. He doesn’t seem to have enough energy to smile but you can tell the initial joke was receptive.

He hisses as you press the cloth against his wound, your other hand cupping his cheek to keep him in place. His intense screw of pain seems to melt a bit under your touch.

“We gotta get you outta here, big guy,” you pat his cheek lightly, trying to keep him present. “How dizzy you are, can you walk?” You ask, unsure of how much blood he’s lost.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart,” he slurs. Dumbass.

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” you huff, removing your free hand to grab his own hand. You swear he whined when you did so, but it was so quiet and could’ve been excused as a draw of pain. “Hold tight, okay?” You instruct. You knew if he had enough energy he would be batting you away and demanding he knew how to handle a wound like this and it almost worries you that he’s not. “C’mon,” you snake your arm around his back, lifting him the best you can and thankfully he works with you. You’re really gonna have to start saying your thanks out loud.

You lead him out the front door and curse as the rain has picked up. You can’t walk him through this- between the blood loss and getting wet, he’ll freeze. You set him in a semi-stable looking chair and use your hands to steady his face. The reaction he gives you when your skin lands on his stirs a curiosity in you.

“Wait here, keep applying pressure, I’m gonna get the car,” you enunciate so he can really hear you.

“Ain’t no way in hell I’m letting you drive my baby,” he slurs but you're already fishing through his leather jacket pockets.

“Try and stop me, pretty boy,” you say it as a tease- reprimand for the nicknames he’s bugged you with- but it rolls off your tongue with more meaning than you intended.

He doesn’t fight you as you head off to the hidden location of the Impala. The rain drenched you quickly but you don’t let that slow you down. Dean needs you.

Dean would fight more- he really would. If this were a situation where you needed him or Sammy needed him, he could fight past the haze of blood loss. He could drive his own damn car to safety. If he really needed to, he’s sure his body could supply enough adrenaline to power him through his own petty pain. But that’s just it. He doesn’t need to, and in all reality he can’t but it’s just that if he convinces himself that he’s choosing to let you take care of him then that’s less embarrassing then failing you.

He forces on his consciousness, waiting for the familiar growl of his precious Baby. His chariot to take him far from here and to shelter him in times of need.

And there it is.

He peels his eyes open enough to see you emerge for his car and goddamn. Your clothes are wet and stuck against your skin- his flannel hugging your torso like he should be. To see you in his clothes and in the driver's seat of his car is enough to feel his heart stutter.

“Let’s get you situated,” you announce, slipping your arm to its previous hold around his body. He stands with more strength now and you feel your worry dampen. Dean doesn’t argue and doesn’t make a comment about you driving his car again but he does mumble something about you letting him get in the car by himself so you can get out of the rain. You don’t listen and it ignites the familiar burn of anger in his chest that he’s actually used to with you.

After making sure he’s settled, you close his door and round back to the driver's side, pulling out of the driveway and carefully navigating through the foggy rain and back to the motel.

Light conversation buzzes between you in a primary attempt to keep him awake but also a secondary want to continue to just chat. You’ve never really just talked with him like this before. When you first met, he was quick to flirt and when you weren’t receptive you assumed he took it to heart and turned cold on you. You don’t recognize that Dean right now in the slightest.

He’s able to walk by himself by the time you make it back to the motel. He stumbles out of the car in a stubborn attempt to prove such but you remind him that just because he technically can doesn’t mean he should be expected to. He doesn’t mention how much your statement actually resonates with him.

“Sit,” you instruct, placing him on the king bed that reminds you of your sleeping arrangements. It’s a subtle irk but not enough for you to dwell on again, you have bigger problems to deal with at present. You grab your first aid kit and shuffle through the items and get to work.

The heat is blasting and you managed to get a towel to wrap around his damp frame to keep him from shivering but he’s also got enough energy to combat you, so now you’ve ended up with the towel around your shoulders.

“How’re you feeling?” You ask as you pour the disinfectant over the wound. He hisses but answers the distraction in the form of a question.

“Fine, sweetheart, don’t worry about me,” he says in his usual gruff. No longer slurring. Progress.

“Too late,” you murmur, cleaning the stained blood.

“Awe, someone starting to care? Who gave you a heart?” Dean smirks. You don’t entertain the usual banter.

“You could’ve died,” the words pass your lips with a slight waver. You dry the wound, starting to dress it.

“But I didn’t,” Dean reminds, his eyes watching yours for any hint as to why you got so freaked.

“Yeah,” you say out of obligation and not belief.

“Hey,” he reaches up to stop your working hands and when you don’t meet his gaze and calls your name. “I’m okay,” he repeats once your eyes meet his- you couldn’t help yourself with the way your name sounded on his tongue. “I’ve survived a lot worse.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“It’s meant to.”

You sigh, looking down at his hands around your own now idle ones.

“Okay,” you finally agree, hoping the false belief will settle your nerves enough.

“It’s gonna take a lot more than that to get rid of me,” he jokes with a smirk, “you know how persistent I can be,” he winks and you roll your eyes even if his wink bubbles something in you that’s never been effected by him like that before.

“Shut up and let me finish this,” you push aside his hold and secure the bandage to his skin. After packing back up the kit you start to stand but Dean stops you. His hand grips your wrist gently but the gravity of something not physical pulls you against your will. His lips part like he wants to say something but he doesn’t. He almost looks ashamed as he drops his hold on you like it’s burned him.

“What?” you ask, your voice a whisper.

“Nothin’, sorry,” he shakes his head, averting his gaze.

“You can tell me,” it’s not something you’d ever expect to offer but you can quite help yourself when he looks so pathetic.

“We should get into some dry clothes.”

“Yeah, sure,” you agree, knowing that’s not what he was talking about but accepting it as it is. You grab your bag and get out some comfortable clothes for sleep. You excuse yourself to the bathroom but curse at the broken latch.

“No peeking,” you warn after alerting Dean to the issue and he just scoffs a smirk.

“No promises.” And fuck, he’s glad he didn’t make it because through the crack he catches a glimpse of your shimmering skin as you dry off and replace your outfit with a pair of sleep shorts and a way too big shirt. He admires the cozy feel your clothes give you. As you exit the bathroom he clears his throat and busies himself with getting his bed ready on the couch.

“What’re you doing?” You ask as he lays a blanket over the couch.

“Getting ready for bed,” he says as if it’s a stupid question.

“We can share a bed, Dean, it won’t kill ya,” you use his own remark from earlier against him. You don’t know why he’s suddenly so docile. You worry maybe the injury burned him of his usual spark. “Seriously, don’t make me watch you sleep crunched up on that couch,” you insist.

“Fine,” he subsides, making his way back over to you and the bed. You start to crawl under the covers, sticking to your side but the radiating heat of how close he is makes you want to scooch closer.

“Night, Dean,” you say as he flicks the lamp off but he’s quiet and unmoving, like he has some sort of unfinished business. You push yourself up on your elbow and look back at him sitting on the edge of the bed. “Okay seriously, what’s up with you?”

No response.

“Dean?”

He sighs, turning to look back at you as well. His profile is illuminated by the moonlight pouring in from a split in the curtains.

“Thank you,” his voice is small like you’ve never expected he was capable of. You sit up fully, turning to him with your legs folded.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you shake your head, a small smile pulling up your lips. He doesn’t return the expression.

“You’re a good hunter, yaknow,” he compliments like he won’t get another chance to tell you so. You smile a bit bigger.

“Dean Winchester, did you just flatter me?” You tease.

“You’re strong and resilient,” he continues and your smile falters a bit due to your confusion. “Stubborn and a pain in my ass,” his expression remains a softened yearn. “I never knew why you got to me so damn  bad. You’re smart and funny and captivating,” he snaps his jaw like he crossed a line and his cheeks flush. “I- I think I know now,” he finishes after a beat.

“Know what?” You ask, your heart puttering in your chest.

“Why I can’t get you off my mind,” his eyes dip down to your lips, “why, no matter what I do, I can’t forget you,” he looks so pained. So conflicted.

It hits. It all hits. His helpful offerings, your banter, the way he responded to your touch, and the way you felt yourself reciprocating his apparent feelings.

You lean in, you can’t help it, he’s so beautiful in this light- the way his eyes sparkle under it- but he tenses as you get too close so you halt.

“What are you afraid of?” You ask with a simple head tilt.

“I uh-, haven’t got that one worked out just yet,” he scoffs simply and his smile forces a small one of your own.

“Then just shut up for a minute,” you shake your head, leaning in and placing a soft kiss against his lips. It’s almost a ghost of a kiss but you can feel the emotion he funnels into it. He’s soft and gentle at first but his desperation takes over, leading the kiss through a dizzying spiral as he guides you into the mattress, hovering over you and encapsulating you with his radiating heat.

He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop kissing you until you’re unsure where your clothes have ended up. He doesn’t stop kissing you until you forget your own name. He doesn’t stop kissing you until your breathless pants slow from your high.

And when all is said and done, he doesn’t stop holding you through the night until the warmth of the sun blesses your exposed skin.

———————

thank you so much for reading!! <3

>pictures are not my own, i have the originals linked here (pinterest) >>check out my other works here

>tags: @blossomingorchids @areswasneverhere

[phagodyke]

ik its 4am I just woke up but I can't believe my roommate got upset with me bc she thought I thought she was "anti feminist" for shaving. girl I literally never fucking said that. sorry I was incessantly bullied by strangers friends and family for not shaving as a teen and so body hair positivity is important to me + sorry I like body hair on myself and other ppl and have explicitly said I find it attractive before. I don't care that u shave but I'm not going to clap and cheer abt it? ur already fulfilling societal expectations so why do u need my approval on top of that? its such a non issue like how the fuck is a masc dyke making u feel insecure abt ur cis femininity lmao

[lowkeyerror]

Basically My Boyfriend

Jennifer Check x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Notes: Reuqested, friends to lovers, smut, fingering, cunnulingus, virgin!reader

Summary: It’s a Friday night and Y/n and Needy are spending it bored in Jennifer’s room. When Needy mentions she passed on date night for it, Jennifer and Y/n push her to go. This leaves Jennifer and Y/n alone for the night, and something that started as a joke between the two quickly transforms into something more.

An: First request in forever hope its alright 🫣

Etc. Masterlist | More Jennifer Check

For being a girl as popular as she was, it was assumed that Jennifer Check would have more friends than she would know what to do with. Even despite her bitchy attitude, the attention she garnered from her looks alone was good enough reason to want to be around her. The thing is that Jennifer wasn’t stupid she knew that people would use her to gain social standing. It’s part of the reason that Jennifer didn’t really “do” friends.

The people that were close to her had been close to her for as long as anyone could remember. Needy and Y/n were the only real friends that Jennifer had. She liked it that way.

Jennifer didn’t need to explain herself to the pair, she didn’t need to dumb herself down, and she didn’t have to pretend to be nice. She could just be herself, which was seeming like more of a luxury these days.

“Jen, hello? Earth to Jennifer Check, where’d you go? I think we lost her Annie,” Y/n was waving her hand in front of the brunette’s face, while talking to the blonde at her side.

The three of them were piled into Jennifer’s room, on a Friday night.

Jennifer’s back hit the bed, “I’m so bored, we should’ve went to the bar tonight, I heard Low Shoulder was going to be there.”

“Not a chance. Annie and I would’ve been miserable while we watched you go play groupie to those losers,” Y/n follows suit lying flat on the bed.

“Needy knows how to party, besides she could’ve brought her boy toy.”

Needy rolls her eyes, but lays on the bed too, “You know I don’t like it when you call him that.”

“Precisely why I do it Anita,” Jennifer comments.

Needy lets out a sigh, “You know I canceled a date for this and he was really cool about it.”

Jen and Y/n sit up at the same time and say, “You what?”

“It’s no big deal.”

“It’s only 8, you have time. Tell him to come pick you up,” Y/n says looking at the blonde.

“But I already told my mom I was sleeping over,” Needy whines.

Jennifer gives the girl some words of encouragement, “You are going to sleep over… just at Chip’s. Now call your boy toy, first tell him to thank us, and then tell him that you should see a movie tonight.”

Just as the pair instructed Needy calls her boyfriend and he says that he's on his way.

“Are you guys sure you’re ok with me bailing?”

Y/n nods, “Go get laid, Annie. One of us deserves to tonight.”

She shoves your shoulder, “ Shut up you’re starting to sound too much like Jen.”

The dark-haired girl laughed, “Well you didn’t say she was wrong.”

Whatever snarky remark Needy was going to say dies as her phone rings. Chip is outside waiting for her.

“Remember, if he doesn’t give head, he’s better off dead,” Jennifer says as she pushes Needy out of the house.

“Meet us for breakfast tomorrow, the usual spot?” Y/n suggests and Needy nods.

“I’ll see you guys later.”

Jennifer and Y/n wave to her as Chip drives off in the direction of the movie theater.

“And then there were two,” Y/n says.

“You’re such a predictable nerd, I knew you would say that,” now it’s Jennifer rolling her eyes at you.

“Hey, need I remind you that you picked this predictable nerd to be one of your two friends. The other which is almost the same predictable nerd,” Y/n says as they walk back up the stairs.

Jen scoffs, “You’re nothing like Needy. For starters she’s with her boyfriend tonight, while you’re here with me.”

Y/n is quick to counter, “You’re basically my boyfriend anyway.”

“Oh am I?”

Y/n nods as they re-enter Jennifer’s room, “Yup.”

“And what could have possibly led you to this conclusion?”

Y/n jumps into Jen’s bed, “Well it’s Friday night and you have me in your bed.”

“You haven't heard of a hookup?”

Y/n closes her eyes briefly, “You like me too much for it just to be a hookup.”

Jen doesn't respond, instead she lets her eyes roam Y/n's figure. She’d be lying if she said the thought hadn’t crossed her mind once or twice. Y/n was in a way, exactly her type. Maybe a little more dorky than She'd usually go for, but Jen thought Y/n’s loser tendencies were endearing.

So, as she found herself alone with girl on a Friday night, no Needy, and no parents; she thought she'd try something.

Jennifer climbs onto the bed and straddles Y/n’s waist. The weight on her, made the girl open her eyes. She was slightly startled as she looked up at Jennifer.

“Maybe you’re right, definitely wouldn't call you a random hookup,” Jennifer’s face took on a look that Y/n had only seen her give other people.

Particularly boys that Jennifer would spend random nights with.

“What’re you doing ?”

Jennifer flips her head to the side, “We’ve known each other a long time, right Y/n?”

“Right,” the girl beneath her speaks breathlessly

“Have I ever told you how hot I think you are?”

Her hands reach for Y/n’s, guiding then to sit first on her thighs before sliding them up to her hips.

“Jen,” Y/n audibly gulps.

The dark-haired girl, giggles before rolling her hips down on Y/n. The dorky girl’s hands tighten their grip on Jennifer’s waist.

“Fuck Y/n, don't you want me?”

“Jennifer,” Y/n says more firmly this time.

Jennifer rolls her hips again, “You’re really going to make spell it out for you, aren’t you? You know, I like you right dingus, I've wanted you for a while now. You’re a dork, but I want you to be my dork.”

“This can't be real?” Y/n’s confusion peaks through.

“Let me show you how real it is, Y/n,” Jennifer’s look becomes less predatory and more desperate.

Y/n’s face began to heat up, “Jen I haven’t-”

“I can teach you,” she speaks gently, her hand caressing Y/n’s face.

“Promise me this isn’t just a hookup or some fucked up game you’re playing with me,” Y/n’s insecurities poke at her.

Jennifer leans down, so she is mere inches away from the other girl. Her hair falls, tickling Y/n’s face. Her eyes are softer than Y/n had ever seen as their breath mingles together.

“I like you, genuinely; no bullshit. We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want-”

Y/n kisses her in the middle of speaking. It’s delicate and airy. A type of kiss that Jennifer isn’t used too. It takes the wind out of her.

“Be gentle with me Jen,” Y/n whispers against her lips.

She nods, “I’m going to worship you.”

Y/n feels her face heat even more. Jennifer connects their lips again. She holds back on the ferocity, but let’s the passion shining through the kiss. The sound of their lips colliding with each other and their shallow breaths made the room feel ten times hotter.

Y/n’s hand subconsciously left Jennifer’s waist to slink up and under her shirt. The skin there was cooler than she expected. Her touch was light but became even lighter as her hands skimmed over Jennifer’s bra.

Jennifer sits up breaking the kiss causing the girl beneath her to whine. Jen laughs at the sound before pulling her shirt over her head. Y/n’s eyes dilate at the sight of her abdomen. A small smirk tugs at Jennifer’s lips upon seeing Y/n’s reaction.

Her bra comes off next. Y/n’s eyes scale up Jennifer’s figure , lingering at her now exposed chest. As if she’s testing the waters the Y/n sits up. She keeps eye contact with Jennifer as she takes one of the more experienced girl’s nipples in her mouth.

She sucks lightly, closing her eyes as she runs her tongue across the stiff peak. Jen moans at the sensation nearly cradling the girl’s head further into her chest.

“Can I see you baby?” Jennifer says through her teeth, her free hand gripping the waistband of Y/n’s pants.

Y/n doesn’t answer her immediately, needing to give the other nipple the same attention as the first. She then trails hot open mouth kisses from Jennifer’s breast up to her neck stopping to whisper in the girl’s ear.

“Take it off.”

Jennifer doesn’t need to be told twice as she carefully removes Y/n’s shirt and pants as well. She pushes the girl to lay flat against the bed again. This time instead of straddling her waist, Jen stays near the foot of the bed, spreading Y/n’s legs open.

“You’re so wet for me already,” Jennifer sees the dampness through the other girl’s underwear.

She kisses up Y/n’s thighs, tentatively. She keeps eye contact as she gets closer and close to the Y/n’s cunt. Jennifer places some teasing kisses on Y/n’s clothed pussy, causing the girl to squirm.

“Can I-"

“Please,” Y/n begs before Jennifer even finished the sentence.

Her hip lift, encouraging Jennifer to take them off. Jennifer obliges sliding the soaked panties down Y/n’s legs.

“Fuck.”

The sight alone was enough to cause Jennifer to lose her composure. She couldn't take it anymore. She didn't hesitate to dive her face into Y/n’s pussy.

“Holy shit,” Y/n almost sits up as Jennifer’s tongue swirls around her clit.

Jennifer’s tongues moves fluidly through Y/n’s folds. Playfully going back and forth between teasing the entrance and sucking on the clit.

Jennifer vibrates with pleasure as your taste coats her mouth making her dizzy.

“You taste so good baby, can I put a finger in? I promise you’ll like it.”

Sweat covers Y/n’s forehead as she nods, “Fuck me.”

Jennifer slinks up Y/n’s body to connect their lips. Y/n almost cums as she tastes herself on Jennifer’s lips. This kiss is sloppier than the rest they shared but neither girl cared. The feeling was intoxicating.

While they kiss Jennifer slips her middle finger inside of Y/n. The girl mewls into Jennifer’s mouth. The dark-haired girl groans at how tight Y/n is around her finger. She could already feel the walls pulsating trying to pull her finger deeper inside.

“You’re so tight Y/n, have you even fingered yourself? Feels like I’m the first thing in here, fuck. I can’t wait to stretch you out, fill you up with a fat plastic cock. Have you moaning my name.”

“I haven’t Jen, I haven’t had anything but your finger inside of me. Fuck, add another, stretch me. I want to be good for you, Jennifer,” Y/n whines trying to gain for friction.

Jennifer listens to the girl and slowly pushes in another finger, she can feel Y/n twitching around her.

“Be a good girl and cum on my fingers,” Jennifer ‘s thumb begins to rub circles on Y/n’s clit.

Y/n falls over the edge, nails digging into Jennifer’s back as the only thing she could say was Jennifer’s name, over and over again.

Jennifer is carefully to bring Y/n down from her climax, not wishing to overstimulate her now. When she feels enough time has last, she removes her fingers from inside the girl.

She holds Y/n’s tired stare as she sucks the juices off of her fingers.

“Kiss me,” Y/n reaches for Jennifer, pulling her bavk down into a kiss.

“Addicting, isn’t it?” Jennifer pecks your lips again.

“Let me return the favor,” Y/n mumbles.

Jennifer can tell the girl is exhausted from her own orgasm. Though she would love nothing more than to have Y/n please her, she feels like it would be taken advantage of the girl.

Jennifer shakes her head, “Maybe later, let’s get you cleaned up first.”

Y/n goes to protest, but Jennifer’s soft gaze on her, stopped any rebuttal.

After a quick shower both girls were back in the bed this time clean. They laid facing each other, their hands interlocked. It was Y/n who ended up pulling Jennifer into her grasp.

“I didn’t know you could be so… sweet,” you tell her truthfully.

Jennifer rolls her eyes, trying to distract Y/n from the blush that was building on her face, “You’re such a dork.”

“I think we already established that already. What we haven’t established is when you’re taking me out?”

Jennifer scoffs, “Why do I have to take you out? You could ask me out you know.”

Y/n shakes her head, “Nope, you’re the boyfriend. So you’ve got to ask me out.”

Jennifer huffs in faux-annoyance, “Fine, I’ll ask you out, but you’re explaining it to Needy.”

Y/n pecks her lips again, “Deal.”

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons - Part 10

WC: 817, Masterpost

Jason sighed as the tablet in his hands flashed with alerts. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“How did the meeting with Black Bat go?” Bruce asked instead of responding, because of course he did.

“You know it went fine,” Jason said, trying not to snap. “Besides, everyone likes her, there was a good chance it was always going to go fine.”

“We both know trauma isn’t always that easy,” Bruce said, his tone carefully modulated to be gentle. It rankled Jason, like it always did.

Jason took a breath and let his chin drop to his chest for a moment. Bruce didn’t mean it like that. He knew that now. This was Bruce trying as best as he was able— it wasn’t just another mask. Bruce just had to put effort into emotions that made it seem forced. Jason pushed away his flair of temper; it was harder to do than he’d like after too much worry and too little sleep.

“Ja—”

“I’m fine. It’s just like you said, trauma isn’t always that easy. I’m fine,” Jason said as he waved the concern away. “And names. You know we’re sticking to code names still.”

Bruce tilted his head, observing Jason through the white lenses. (That used to rankle too.)

“You thinking there’s a chance he’ll run.”

Jason sighed. He gave an exaggerated shrug to cover the worry that ran through him at the question. “Not run, exactly. I think he doesn’t believe that he can stay— that it’s even on the table. I think that we’re his last hope and he doesn’t believe in hope anymore.”

Bruce didn’t move. Jason gave him time to think that over.

“That’s why he doesn’t want to see… Wayne,” Bruce said, slowly, like he was feeling the idea out. “He doesn’t expect to get anything from him so it’s better to be healed up first.”

Jason shrugged again.

“Figure so. But also once that meeting happens, whatever happens, then all of this,” Jason motioned to the safe house, “is over as far as he knows. If he puts off the meeting, he puts off the risk of losing the first safety that I think he’s hand in a long, long time.”

Bruce’s shoulders hunched and he almost blended back into the shadows by the window. “If he’s already posed for it to go badly…”

“B, that’s not your fault,” Jason said— had to say. “The kid’s been through hell, maybe by his own family, of course he’s going to expect the worst.”

It was a long moment and then Bruce nodded, just once. “What’s the plan?”

If Jason really had his way, the plan would be to deal with all these ill feelings, but that’s not what anyone in the family was good at, him included. It would be what it would be.

“We’ll have BB over again for a meal tomorrow. I’m sure it will keep going well and she can help be on watch that night. We think it’s best to give that a few days before we introduce O or anyone else new, so you have to keep the rest of the horde reigned in,” Jason said pointedly. Then a though occurred to him. “Where is the little spawn anyways?”

“He’s on the roof across the block.”

“Yeah, is he? Because that was a lot of alerts—”

“Hood!”

Jason didn’t think before he was striding across the room towards Danny’s room. The kid was standing in the door. White hair stark in the low light. Green eyes bright.

Glowing.

Wide with fear.

“Danny?”

“Someone else is here,” Danny said. His voice was almost too quiet to hear, but Jason could half swear he felt it in his very bones. Danny reached out and clung onto the sleeve of Jason’s hoodie. A cold settled into Jason’s bones along with the vibration of the soft words. “Someone touched by death. Can you feel them too? They’re not not like us. They haven’t died. They haven’t died, but they reek of death. Hood, what are they?”

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe here, remember?” Jason assured Danny automatically. The words rolled out of his mouth without Jason having to even think about them, which was good, because Jason’s mind was still caught on Danny’s words: They’re not like us. They haven’t died. “Some Bats just stopped by to check on us.”

Was it Bruce? Did all of Gotham’s death cling to his shoulders like his cape?

Was it Damian? Was it the stench of the Pits?

Or did Jason miss something else slipping in with all of the other alarms.

“We’ll go check on Nightwing together, alright? I bet he has a little red and black guest who slipped in,” Jason said. He twisted his hand to hold Danny’s. The cold bit at his skin. He didn’t let go.

He hoped he was right.

He had a hard time believing in hope too.

---

AN: A myyyyyyyystery *wiggly fingers*. Gods I'm so tired.

I no longer tag, you can subscribe to the masterpost instead!

[socgf]

better left unsaid - dallas winston x reader

it's valentine's day, and reader finds something she shouldn't have in dally's room.

wc: 959

warnings: none just fluff <3

it's not like you had any crazy expectations for what dallas winston had in mind for valentine's day. sure, you spent all your time with each other. you'd gotten real close, in every sense of that word. but he would avoid that commitment conversation like the plague, so you weren't exactly expecting a declaration of love or a bouquet of roses.

but flat out acting like the holiday didn't exist? that was just too far.

the two of you had just left buck's after you'd spent the afternoon doing homework on his bed while he sat around bothering you. like every friday night, dally had stolen the thunderbird to take you to the nightly double. but this was just a routine occurrence, of course. not like he would ever believe in such a mushy holiday.

still, you'd hoped for something - a box of chocolate, some grocery store flowers, maybe a card. you try to take your mind off it as dally puts his foot on the gas, fiddling with his pockets haphazardly.

suddenly, his face scrunches up in frustration and he grumbles, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he cuts the gas. 

"hey. do me a favor, will ya? grab my smokes from my desk. top drawer on the left." 

you roll your eyes but go back anyway. his room is the usual mess - clothes draped over the chair, a couple beer bottles on the windowsill, your textbooks and notes spread out on the bed. you yank the drawer open, already expecting to have to dig past god-knows-what to find the cigarettes.

instead, you find a stack of papers shoved carelessly to the side.

you don't mean to snoop, but something about them seems out of the ordinary. it's not like he's the type to be keeping a diary, but these aren't just receipts or homework. as you take a closer look, you see they're notebook pages crumpled at the edges, ripped out hastily, the ink a bit smudged and messy. 

then you see the date at the top of the first one. an entry from over a year ago. you hesitate for a moment, knowing this must be personal. a flicker of guilt runs through you, but you can't help paging through the headers on the first couple of slips. you swear you can make out your name somewhere between the lines, and against your better judgment, you start reading.

november 5th, 1963

she fell asleep on my shoulder at the drive-in today. she really needs to stop doing that. swear i almost decked steve in his face for laughing at it, but i knew she'd hate if i did it. it's funny, she fucking mumbles in her sleep. i swear she said my name a couple times under her breath. i acted like i didn't hear it but i can't stop thinking about it.

january 17th, 1964

she had to babysit pony today and she dragged me along to keep her company. i was supposed to do a run for buck, but i'll have to figure that out later. it's funny, she was real apologetic about it, like i'm ever gonna be mad that i have to spend time with her.

april 28th, 1964

we were watching some stupid rerun in her living room and i guess i must've been exhausted. she started running her fingers through my hair all sweet like she always does, messing it up. didn't have the energy to tell her to knock it off. next thing i know i wake up laying down on her side. she says i knocked out. whatever.

august 12th, 1964

buck decided to go sticking his nose where he doesn't belong last night… asking me about her. why i won't make it official? make what official? i come to her window every damn night. she lays on my shoulder and tells me all her secrets. not like i let anyone else make me act that way. that's official enough for me, far as i'm concerned.

november 1st, 1964

i swear she did something different with her hair today, or maybe her makeup or something, or her outfit. whatever it was. i just couldn't stop staring at her. she's so pretty it makes me forget what i'm thinking when i look at her…christ, i'm sounding like a fucking sap. if buck ever found this, i would have to kill him.

december 9th, 1964

i found her crying today when i walked in. i wanted to hug her or something, kiss her on the forehead and make everything better. i didn't. just sat there smoking by her side until she stopped, let her get everything off her chest. then she had the nerve to say 'thank you dal,' like i did anything special. i have no idea what the hell she sees in me.

january 28th, 1965

glory, she's got the worst taste in music. i told her that today and she threw a fucking pillow at me. truth is i would listen to the beatles for the rest of my goddamn life if it meant she let me lay in her bed and listen to her sing along. it's cute.

february 3rd, 1965

if she finds these i'm gonna have to tell her it's for an english assignment or something. no, never mind. even she wouldn't believe that. man, i'm fucked.

you reach the last entry in the pile, this one laid out nicely with neater handwriting, on a fresh sheet of paper:

february 14th, 1965

if you find this, happy valentine's day. figured there's no point in keeping these a secret. i'm sorry i'm not better at saying it. you should know i'm not much for words. but i mean everything i wrote, doll, swear.

a.n. writing this made my heart all warm and fuzzy haha happy (late) valentine's day guys!!! hope you like it!

[whimsicalpolitical]

a request if I may… matty getting mad talking to someone on the phone and girlie is just watching him like😵‍💫😵‍💫 and he takes his frustration out on her😁

content warning: 18+ mdni, smut, p in v, dirty talk, spanking,

this has been going on for a while now: matty walking back and forth through the room and getting more frustrated by the phone call.

“fucking christ,” matty says gritting his teeth, “what’s your fucking damage?”

you’re sitting at the edge of the bed, done with your nightly routine and only waiting for your pacing boyfriend now.

sleep is the last thing on your mind though.

twenty minutes torture. matty’s little rage act makes your thighs ache because you’ve been clenching them together the second he started to cuss and swear.

“that’s not what i’ve been saying bro, fucking listen.”

your eyes stay on the veins on his forearm when he’s running his hand through his hair, letting a groan slip out of his mouth.

you bite your lip watching him, feeling your panties dampen as his conversation continues.

“you can fuck off with that.”

you inhale sharply and matty hears. he thinks you’re annoyed because you wanted to go to sleep right before his phone rang.

he walks towards you and cups your cheek as he mouths a ‘sorry’.

“actually, i’ve got better things to do, mate. calm down, roll yourself a spliff and chill out, will do you good, i reckon.”

matty is still standing in front of you, so close to touch, to do anything you want to do to him. your hands sneak around his body to his back over his soft shirt.

“nah, have a nice one, i will not fucking continue this conversation. jesus, yeah, you too.”

matty slides his phone into his back pocket, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. the tension in his jaw doesn’t ease even as he exhales sharply, muttering something about “fucking tosser.”

“i’ve been a right twat tonight,” he says, his voice softer now, almost contrite. the furrow in his brow lingers, though, like he’s still half-lost in whatever argument just happened over the phone. “sorry it took so long.”

you swallow hard, suddenly hyperaware of how close he is. the space between you is barely there, his knees brushing yours where you’re perched on the edge of the bed. his t-shirt clings to him in all the right ways, the faint sheen of sweat on his skin catching the light, and you can’t help but let your eyes wander.

you watch him for a moment, taking in the way his shoulders are still tight, his hands shoved into his pockets. he’s not looking at you directly, not yet, but the way his chest rises and falls in short bursts tells you he’s still got all that anger simmering under the surface.

“it’s alright,” you say softly, shaking your head. “but do you want to talk about it?”

his lips press into a thin line, and he tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling for a moment like he’s hoping it’ll swallow him whole. “no,” he says finally, voice flat. “you wanted to go to bed, yeah? you must be knackered now.”

you frown, your head tilting. “i’m not, though.”

he glances down at you then, his brow furrowing like he doesn’t quite believe you. “you should be,” he mutters.

you shake your head again, slower this time. “you should talk about it,” you murmur, reaching out to rest your hands on his forearms. your fingers skim over his skin, and his muscles twitch beneath your touch. “it’ll help. get it out of your head, and then maybe you won’t feel so mad.”

he snorts, shaking his head, his eyes darting away from yours. “what’s the point? won’t change anything. and, anyway, you shouldn’t have to deal with me when i’m like this.”

“i don’t mind,” you say, your voice gentle. your thumbs rub small circles against his arms, coaxing him to relax even just a little. “besides, it’s better than letting it fester. you’ll just drive yourself mental.”

he doesn’t respond right away, his gaze dropping to where your hands rest on him. his jaw tightens again, like he’s still debating it, still trying to work through it on his own. but you can feel the way his tension hasn’t eased, the way he’s holding himself so rigid, and you slide your hands up slowly, tracing over his chest now.

“or,” you say, your voice quieter, almost testing, “you could find another way to let it out.”

his eyes snap to yours at that, narrowing slightly. “what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, his tone sharp, defensive, like he’s daring you to say it.

your fingers spread out against his chest, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart under your palm. “it means,” you say slowly, your gaze not wavering from his, “you could do something to relieve that anger.”

his brow lifts slightly, and for a second, he just stares at you, his expression unreadable. and then he scoffs, shaking his head like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “are you serious?”

“what?” you ask softly, your voice even, steady.

“were you—” he starts, breaking off with a disbelieving laugh before leaning in closer, his eyes narrowing. “were you getting off on that? me losing my shit?”

your face flushes hot, but you don’t pull your hands away. instead, your fingers curl into his shirt, gripping it lightly as you hold his gaze.

“not like that,” you say quickly, though your voice wavers just enough to make him raise an eyebrow.

“not like that,” he repeats, his tone skeptical. his hands come down to rest on your thighs, his grip firm but not harsh, and he leans in closer, his eyes searching yours. “go on, then. explain it to me.”

you swallow hard, your pulse quickening as his thumb brushes over your cheek. “matty, don’t—”

“don’t what?” he cuts you off. “don’t call you out on it? don’t notice the way you’ve been watching me like you want to devour me. i saw, love. the way you clenched your thighs together.”

you open your mouth to retort, but the words die on your tongue when his lips brush against your neck, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. his hands slide up your thighs, his fingers curling against the fabric of your sleep shorts.

“that’s dirty. thought you’re being a nice girl and you want to talk,” he scoffs, “instead you just want to be fucked.”

your eyes roll to the back of your head as he continues kissing your neck and his hands wandering to your upper thighs.

“fuck, you’re warm,” he murmurs, his voice rough in your ear. “and so bloody worked up, is this what my little tantrum does to you?”

you let out a soft whimper, your hands gripping his shirt to ground yourself. “matty…”

“say it,” he demands, pulling back just enough to look at you. his pupils are blown, and his chest rises and falls heavily. “say you like it when I’m like this.”

you hesitate for a moment, but the way his hands tighten on your thighs has you caving. “i like it,” you admit in a shaky whisper. “i like it when you’re… like this.”

“knew it,” he mutters before capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

the kiss is all-consuming, a perfect mix of frustration and desire. his hands wander freely now, sliding under your shirt to grip your waist. you gasp against his mouth when his teeth graze your bottom lip, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours.

when he pulls back he shakes his head, “you want me to be rough?”

“yes,” you breathe out as fast as possible.

“christ. alright. lay down, get on the bed.”

you nod and scoot backwards, your eyes fixated on matty, who’s already pulling his shirt over his head.

he looks divine. black jeans with a belt and no shirt, his tattoos on full display for you drives you insane. you squirm a bit, waiting for his next move.

he’s taking your feet into his hand, rubbing your skin softly.

“darling, i need you to be absolutely sure and if you don’t fuck with anything i do, you need to tell me.”

“i swear, matty,” you say, offering him a warm smile.

“perfect.”

you watch his face as he carefully and slowly grabs at the fabric of your sleeping shorts, pulling them all the way down.

“gonna let me do what i want to you then?”

“yes.”

his hands find your hips, he's sliding down the bed, just enough so his head is level with your middle, he dips his head down and presses his lips to the soft flesh, his teeth sink into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, you involuntarily let out a soft moan.

he grips your hips more firmly, almost like you'll disappear before him if he doesn't, he moves his lips to your other hip and nips at your skin, "my fucking gorgeous girl, absolutely filthy for me," he says lowly, his breath hot against your skinz

you whimper softly as both of your hands find the nape of his neck. his mouth moves to the soft swell of your tummy and he nips at the supple skin right above your belly button.

he pulls away and peers up at you, eyes dark and full of lust, his mouth hovers over yours, "you drive me mental, you know that, love?" he whispers fervently against your lips, his fingers squeezing the meat of your thighs.

“i'm pretty crazy about you too, matty," you whisper, his cheeks flush pink at your words, still so bashful. he kisses the heel of your palm before patting the side of your thigh, "turn around for me darling, go on, all fours, need to see all of you," he smirks, his eyes full of intensity as they drag down your body.

you do as he asks and move to the middle of the bed, flipping onto your knees and walking your hands out in front of you, arching your back slightly and hiking your up ass in front of him, he moans at the sight.

"just like that," he praises softly behind you and your pussy throbs, a familiar sticky heat pools in your panties at his words. you playtully take a glance back at him, his eyes dark and half-lidded as he sits up and moves to his knees behind you, his hands run up the backs of your thighs all the way up until they meet the globe of your ass.

"look at you, so fuckin' perfect," he murmurs, oggling the curve of your ass as his index finger sneaks under the lace trim of your panties, taking the material between his forefinger and his thumb and lightly skimming his fingers down the lace, "jesus.”

matty scoffs, “s’kind of pathetic. drenching your little panties because i’m angry.”

his fingers roam down to your covered slit and you let out a soft gasp, which only spurs him on, he runs his fingers along the wet spot on your panties, smirking when he feels the wetness staining your panties, the tips of his fingers dip below your clothed slit,

"that’s my girl though, right? always so fuckin' wet for me.”

it should embarrass you, how easy you are for him but it doesn't because it's matty and knowing how much he revels in this, in you makes that small pinch of embarrassment fade away instantly...every single time.

you risk a look at him over your shoulder as he pulls his finger back out and in one swift movement he puts his finger between his lips, quickly sucking your arousal off his finger, like it's a mindless, habitual thing for him.

his hands reach for the waistband sitting on your hips, pulling the lacy fabric down, marveling at the dark fabric against your skin as he slowly drags the material down your thighs, his eyes catch the wetness soaking the lace while he pulls them down and he moans shamelessly.

“such a pretty cunt, darling.”

your eyes widen while you watch him bunch up the material and shove the lace in his back pocket and then his hand lands an affectionate smack to your ass, "eyes forward, i won’t say it again."

you tear your eyes away as he brings a firm hand to the small of your back, pressing you down and deepening the arch to his liking, you instinctively drop to your forearms- so pliant and needy for him-he brings his mouth down and sinks his teeth into the lush of your ass in approval.

“fucking christ,” he groans behind you, “you’re so easy. gonna let me do what i want to you just because you’re needy, pathetic.”

his hands grab your inner thighs, spreading your legs, now he has full sight of your glistening core, two thick fingers stroke through your folds.

"you’re a mess, darling, look at that- you’re dripping down your legs.”

his words make your cunt throb, you can't help the whine you let out, "matty, please."

matty laughs, “you’re a fucking beg. what do you want?”

"i need you, please do anything, please," you mewl, not caring how pathetic you sound.

but still, not enough for matty. a loud wet smack fills the room as he lays a firm slap to your cunt, your body flinches forward, the edges of your vision blurs and your aching, swollen cunt tingles and clenches at the harsh, yet welcomed contact.

he tuts, "that’s it? you need to try better than that, love. beg for it.”

"matty please, i want your cock. i want it," you whine and writhe beneath his firm palm.

"see? s’all i’ve wanted to hear," he cooes, his slick-coated fingers now soothing your folds. “wouldn’t be fun though if we already skipped to the best part, would it?”

he shifts behind you, sliding down off the bed, kneeling on the floor, he pulls you back towards the edge of the bed by your thighs. he tilts his head up just enough to dig his teeth into the meat of your upper thigh, just below the curve of your ass cheek and soothes the sting with a wet kiss.

you shiver, you're aching for him and his mouth is everywhere except for where you need him to be.

“stop writhing around like a needy slut,” he spits out, “you don’t want me to stop immediately, right?”

“no, no, sorry.” you plead, closing your eyes.

matty’s hands come up to grab the meat of your ass, spreading you open and gently pushing you forward for better access, he brings his mouth to hungrily kiss your inner thighs, tasting the sweet, sticky slick coating your skin and a pitiful moan slips from your lips.

“mhm, perfect.”

matty seems to have heard it and that's all it takes for his lips to make contact with your pussy, your breath hitches in your throat as he flattens his tongue and licks a long, slow swipe through your slicked folds, the first one always drawn out and meticulous and just for him.

“oh f-fuck.” you moan.

a pressure already begins to pull taut low in your belly, you're squirming in his grasp but his hands move to firmly grip your outer thighs, keeping you open for him and pressed flush against his eager mouth. he fucking laves at you, devouring and savouring you like he'd never get the chance again.

“such a perfect one, yeah. my favorite taste.”

the vibrations from occasional muffled moans and groans against your pussy make you chant his name over and over like a prayer, even though he's the one on his knees.

“jesus matty," you moan out, your eyes roll back into your head as the coil inside your belly wounds up so tight every muscle in your body tenses. you start grinding your hips back into his face, he groans in response and loosens his grip on your legs, letting you take what you need from him.

it takes a moment to come down from your high, matty not being a help at all with the same pace he has on your clit.

he flattens his tongue against your clit before he closes his lips around it, suckling it into his mouth and moaning around it, the vibrations from his mouth makes the coil in your belly snap, and you cry out, using the sheets beneath you to stifle the noises slipping through your lips.

“fucking god,” you moan, “matty- can’t.”

matty hums a “you can,” and immediately latches on again.

the tip of his tongue works small, tight circles on your clit around and around, only this time with more pressure than before and within minutes or seconds-you don't really know at this point-you feel the pressure building in your belly and it's growing stronger by every lick and suck from his mouth. his tongue flicks over your clit before he licks it into his mouth once more, closing his lips tightly, he gives it one last tight circle of his tongue and suckle to your clit and you break, your second orgasm crashes over you.

“matty,” you moan over and over again, your brain completely empty with thoughts.

a choked moan escapes you, your legs quiver as they threaten to close while your hands fist the sheets beside your head, the grip he has on your thighs holds you open for him while you come all over his mouth and he laps you up, savoring, slurping, and swallowing down everything you give him.

“fucks sake,” he groans, “perfect cunt.”

milliseconds pass and he shifts behind you, lost in the haze of your orgasm, you can faintly hear ruffling as he stands up. he leans forward, kneading your ass in his palms before bending down to lay another bite on your other cheek, this time with more fervor, leaving a mark, your skin tingles.

matty’s hand is on him, stroking himself slowly, while his other hand is touching your body.

“just a little toy for me, aren’t you, darling?” he asks, not expecting an answer, “gonna let me fuck you?”

matty positions himself right against your ass and places his hands on your hips again and squeezes, “talk to me.”

"not like this,” you whine, not daring to look back, “wanna see you.”

“aww,” matty pouts, “you’ve got too many wishes, you know?”

nevertheless he grips your thighs and turns you around so you’re on your back. you’re eyes are staring at him but it seems like you’re not there, your brain feels hazy.

“you’re alright, love,” matty says, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

you can only whine and grip the nape of his neck to receive a proper kiss.

“needy girl,” he murmurs, leaning down to give you a kiss, licking over your bottom lip before tugging it between his teeth.

your sounds are swallowed by his mouth as he keeps kissing you, grinding himself against your thigh.

“can-please,” you whine, stretching your arm out to find his cock, which is already leaking with pre cum.

matty lets out a quiet groan, you can't help but smile at this as you start to rub him between your legs, grabbing his attention back onto the task at hand.

“didn’t say you could touch me, love,” he grits out, “s’like you can’t get enough.”

“i can’t,” you smile, tugging at his hair, “can you please fuck me.”

you’re desperate. how could you not be with matty between your legs, right there.

matty slides inside of you roughly, not slow and steady, not giving you any time to adjust, he’s using you.

“fuck, this what you wanted?” he asks as his eyelids flutter closed.

he’s got one of your thighs in his grasp and he's pushing it up against your ribs as he begins a steady pace with his hips against yours. there’s strings of your slick attached to his upper thighs from your inner legs rubbing against him.

matty notices immediately, “fucking christ, you’re making such a mess, s’heavenly.”

“matty,” you moan, “you- s’perfect.”

“yeah?”

matty brings his right hand back down to continue flicking your clit back and forth with his wet fingers.

you bite down on his shoulder. your propped up foot thuds softly against his back as the other one grips onto the sheets.

"feel nice?" matty asks into your hair as you bite down onto him, “fucking enjoy yourself?”

“feel so perfect," you whine against him. "jesus, so good,” you slur.

his weight is pushing you down so you can't wiggle away from any of the stimulation he's giving you. it accumulates quickly and, just laying there and taking it, you don't get enough time to warn him you're close.

you’re clenching around him uncontrollably, rolling your eyes back and clawing your nails into his shoulder blades.

“let me have it, come on,” he groans, rutting into you as deep as before, “come for me.”

he fucks you harder, his pace frantic. "such a perfect cunt, darling." he groans, dipping his head into your neck to nip at your skin. “my gorgeous girl."

"oh, god, matty..." you cry, your orgasm quickly approaching, unable to stop it no matter how much you want to prolong the feeling.

it doesn't take long before your orgasm crashes over you, pulsing through you in waves, back arching off the bed as you reach out for anything to ground yourself. hands finding the back of his head, pulling him into your chest.

“just like that, perfect, darling.”

he follows soon after, his cock pulsing inside you as he empties himself into you, collapsing on top of you, his chest heaving.

“fuck,” he exhales, moving one more slow time again to torture the both of you.

you’re overstimulated, your legs hurting so good there are tears prickling in your eyes. you brush your hands over matty’s shoulders and back, humming as you try to love on him.

“you still angry?” you ask, smiling to yourself.

matty groans when he lifts his head to look at you, stealing a quick kiss, “nah. unless you want me to be,” he jokes.

“give me a break,” you giggle.

“i love you, darling,” he murmurs, sliding out of you, hissing at the cold air.

you scrunch up your nose in pain, your ass, thighs and the skin between your legs hurting real good.

“i’ll draw you a bath, don’t worry, love.”

you enjoy this the most. matty being the sweet boy you’ve known forever, his only mission to take care of you.

[leighsartworks216]

What's In A Name

dragon!Sylus x blind!oracle!Reader

Series Masterlist - Chapter One - Prev Chapter - Next Chapter

Today has been rough, but I still wanted to get out this chapter since it's already written up

Warnings: injuries, pain, banter

Word Count: 1,005

Main Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You hiss as you carefully pour the medicine over your palm. The bottle clatters against the floor, unintentionally. The pain is all you can think about, willing the sting to fade so you can keep working. As soon as it becomes bearable, you pick up the roll of cloth from your lap and work through feel alone to line it over your hand and start wrapping it. It’s not the best job ever, but it’ll do. Hopefully.

You repeat the actions on the other side. Soon enough, your hands are as well treated as you can manage. You feel the ends of the cloth, checking that they’re secure and won’t come unraveling.

Something almost giddy wafts up in your chest. You giggle dumbly as you open and close your hands, testing the limits of the wraps. “Hey, not bad!” you say to yourself. “Hah! I knew I could do it!”

Your cheering voice echoes back to you, slowly petering off into nothing. The silence sours the glee. You sigh and wrap your arms around yourself.

You have no idea what time it is, no idea where you actually are, and no idea where the stranger went off to. All you do know is that the longer you sit here on the thin sheet meant to be your bed, the more aware of your exhaustion you become.

You try to set everything where you can find it again. The room is small, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.

You feel out how long the sheet is. It’s not even half as wide as you are tall, but you’ll have to make do. You wrap it tightly around your shoulders and lay down slowly on the rock floor with your arm acting as a pillow. You wrap your cold feet tightly in whatever excess blanket you have left.

With a quiet prayer to Astra, you let yourself be consumed by a restless sleep. Visions of darkness, blood, and flowers, and a story that spans hundreds of years.

-

“Has your god seen fit to answer my prayer, yet?”

“He has, actually.” You walk alongside the edge of what you can only fathom to be a pile of gold. The metal coins dig into your feet, but that you can handle just fine. It’s when a gem is suddenly underfoot that you’re cursing and trying to brush it aside. You can feel his smug look every single time it happens.

You hear metal clinking against metal a short ways behind you. “And?”

You shoot a sly grin in that direction. “Why should I tell you? What would I get in return?”

He huffs an amused laugh. “What do you want in return?”

“Fresh food and water, and new clothes. It’s freezing in here, you know? And I haven’t eaten anything since…” You trail off, thinking. “What time is it, anyway?”

“You’re demanding a lot for a simple prophecy, pet.”

“Oh?” You turn away, walking along the mounds of treasure again. “Then I guess you’re not interested in what your future holds? Pity. I found it quite interesting.”

He sighs. Good. Serves the bastard right for kidnapping you. You hope he regrets it every single day. Though… whether he’d kill you over it is definitely a risk.

“I’ll get you some food. There’s a spring in the tunnels that you can get your water from. As for clothes…” You turn to listen better as you hear furniture creaking. Heavy footfalls approach, rounding you. “I have some tucked away. Whether they’ll fit you or not is questionable.”

“Are they good quality?”

“They’re better than your tattered rags. Does that suffice?”

You hum, considering. “Your destiny is going to be intertwined with someone else’s.”

He scoffs. “That’s it?”

“Until I’ve had a proper meal, yeah! Besides, I’m still trying to decipher some of what the prophecy is saying.” You cross your arms over your chest with a frown. “It’s like it spans millennia, but that shouldn’t be possible.”

He’s blessedly silent for a minute, giving you time to consider this predicament, before something hard nudges at your back. “Come on, pet. I’ll show you where the clothes are.”

You follow the clinking of metal under his shoes out of the chamber. “Stop calling me that! My name is Y/N, I’m not a pet, least of all yours, and I’m not some helpless ‘little thing’ for you to toy with!”

He tests your name on his tongue. It’s startling to hear it said in your captor’s voice. Perhaps you should have held your tongue and let him continue insulting you. A name can be a dangerous thing, after all.

“What’s your name?”

“I don’t have one.”

“What?!” you balk. “You must have one! What am I supposed to call you?”

You run into something solid and warm. The heat of his breath brushes your skin again as he whispers teasingly into your ear. “You can always call me master.”

You try to shove his face away with no luck. He laughs at your efforts, but gives you space once more. “Not in a million years. What about…” You wrack your brain for any semblance of something he liked from what little you could piece together. “Silver? Or Gold, or something?”

He chuckles. “I’m a bit more precious than that.”

“Okay, fine, then how about, um, Jewel? Jewels are better than silver and gold, aren’t they?” You hear him sigh, long and drawn out. The clinking of coins follows his footsteps. You trail after. “Look, give me something to work with here!”

“Jewel is fine. I don’t need a mortal’s name anyway.”

“That’s the second time you’ve specifically called out mortals,” you point out. The airflow in the cave changes as you step from the grand treasure chamber (this guy has some weird hobbies) to the closed-in tunnels. You’re grateful when you hear him bypass the stairs. “What are you if not a mortal, too?”

“Like I said before, maybe I’ll tell you one day.”

You sigh. “Jewel, you are one strange guy.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08 @lunaizhere @sine-nomine0 @beautifulthingsiadore @lalaluch @burningtrashgentleman @nothankyew @terriblesoup @jeleryyy @leiakitty

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Ravel

A Seams Christmas special oneshot | Moodboard

{ Part IV: Notch | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: T

Summary: Joel swings by yours with a little something before Christmas dinner at Tommy and Maria's.

Warnings: Unapologetic fluff and softness, inspired by this ask from @casssiopeia from the beginning of the year, no use of Y/N, very lightly edited

Word count: 2k

Notes: I'm so proud of writing up this little drabble. I've been in such a weird place with my writing, I'm just happy to end the year on a creative high. Obviously, I'm a few days late to Christmas, but better late than never!

There is a voice in my head telling me that this isn't good enough, that it doesn't hold up to what I was writing earlier this year. But I need to rewire my brain. There is no such thing as 'good' or 'bad' when it comes to fanfiction. All fanfiction is good fanfiction. This is our hobby, not our jobs, and we need to be kind to ourselves.

I am posting this at 11:59pm on New Year's Eve. Happy new year y'all, I hope Joel and Pin can bring you some festive cheer ❤️

Joel is this close to have a fucking breakdown.

He would measure out how close this is between his thumb and index finger if they were not currently tangled in webs of yarn, rapidly unravelling from from the bottom of what is supposed to be a sweater.

Your sweater.

The book that Lucy lent him months ago lies on the table before him, the pages yellowed and dogeared, open at the the easiest pattern of the lot to knit - a simple pullover in chunky yarn, in your favourite colour.

Well, it was supposed to be easy, anyway.

Despite Lucy basically holding his hand throughout the whole project, he’s had far less time than anticipated to work on it. Too many nights he finds himself at Tommy and Maria’s, elbow deep in dirty baby’s clothes and diapers, making himself useful for whatever needs to be done around the house. 

Even Ellie chips in without being asked, often bringing back food from the canteen and making sure the severely sleep-deprived adults are eating, if not well fed. Joel honestly doesn’t remember how he did it with Sarah as a clueless twenty-something, with an even more clueless younger brother.

As he attempts to free himself from the quagmire of wool, he grimaces at the stiffness all over his body, feeling it especially in his back after sleeping in an armchair all night with a rapidly growing two-month old.

He’s too old for this shit - but there’s no saying no to the little rascal with Tommy’s nose and Maria’s eyes.

The knitting needles clatter to the floor when he jumps at the front door opening and slamming shut, a frustrated fuuuuuuck slipping past his gritted teeth. 

Ellie’s voice rings out loud and clear as she scampers up the stairs, getting progressively louder until she’s outside his study. ‘Hey! Did you remember to put the potatoes in the oven? We have to leave for Tommy’s in an hour - dude, what the fuck is happening?’

‘What do you think is happenin’?’ he growls.

Crossing her arms, Ellie leans against the doorframe wearing a far too amused expression. ‘Maria said no gifts.’

Joel rolls his eyes. ‘It’s not for Maria.’

The teenager squints, perplexed, at the bits of wool in his hands. ‘What is that meant to be?’

‘... A sweater.’

Ellie bites her bottom lip, holding in a poorly concealed giggle. ‘I think a sweater is meant to have sleeves.’

‘You think?’

‘Want me to go get Lucy?’

With a heavy sigh, he mutters, ‘Fine.’

At the arch of her half-eyebrow, Joel adds begrudgingly, ‘Please.’

Ellie grins, sneakers skidding on the floorboards as she takes off. ‘Hang in there, old man!’

Despite the cold, his palms are sweaty, sticking to the kraft paper wrapped haphazardly around the even more haphazard package clutched tightly in his right hand. 

The night air mists before him in puffs of white as he shuffles a path through the falling snow. His ears are tingling from the cold, and flexing the stiff, frozen tips of his fingers, Joel knows he should’ve worn his gloves. They weren’t in their usual place by the door though, and he was so frazzled that he barely got his shoes tied up before dashing out the door, sending Ellie ahead with the potatoes (that are definitely undercooked) to his brother’s.

Your cottage glows yellow and orange in the darkness, and your stairs no longer creak when he trudges up them, having fixed them just in time before the first snowfall.

He hears your footsteps come from deep within this house when he knocks. Your eyes are wide when your door cracks open tentatively, but then your lips curve into a smile - the smile that he takes with him and keeps him warm when he has to leave Jackson for days-long patrols.

‘What are you doing here?’ you ask, ushering him inside, not batting an eye at the snow he tracks inside. ‘I thought we were meeting at Maria’s.’

Pressing a kiss to your lips, he softens at the way you lift your face towards him to catch it, careful to keep the parcel out of sight behind his back. ‘Yeah, we were, but thought I’d see if you need a hand with anythin’.’

‘Such a gentleman,’ you tease. 

A low fire burns in the hearth, the wood he chopped for you in the fall stacked in a tidy pile next to the mantelpiece. Sweeping his eyes across the living space, he spots the book with the cracked spine that he reads when he’s here on the coffee table, next to yours. On the other side of the couch is the Christmas tree that he cut for you, and he watched you dress it up in tinsel and fairylights one night after a quiet dinner and before hot cocoa under thick blankets.

He likes seeing himself at your home. In the things he does for you; in his things, casually scattered around - like they belong in your space.

‘The pies are in the kitchen, could you please put them in a bag?’ you ask. ‘I’ll just grab my coat and we can go.’

‘Sure, sweetheart,’ he answers, waiting until you’ve disappeared into the bedroom before setting down the present under the tree.

He’s leaning against the back of the couch when you pop back in, a few layers deeper than when you left him, the pies nestled safely in a carrier bag by his boots. 

‘Shall we?’ you ask brightly.

Joel hesitates, wondering if he should wait until after dinner to tell you about the present. It only takes his eyes darting to the foot of the tree for the briefest moment for you to catch on. The slow smile that stretches your cheeks and lights up your eyes warms him from the inside out.

You cock your head to one side, playing coy. ‘What’s that, Joel?’

He shrugs, feigning cool. ‘Why don’t you go ahead and find out?’

His chest physically swells at the way you dash towards the tree, landing on your knees in uncharacteristic recklessness, the impact only softened by the rug underneath. You cradle the lumpy package to your chest like something precious. ‘You got me a present.’

He settles on the end of the couch next to you, his heart beating harder in his ribcage than he’d like to admit. ‘Don’t get your hopes up, sweetheart.’

You frown at him. ‘Why?’

‘You’ll see, but I wanted to give it to you anyway.’

You open the package carefully, as if it was wrapped in the fancy paper people used to buy at the shop. Joel holds his breath when you peel it away to reveal what’s inside.

He’s far too inside his own head to hear your inhale that sounds a lot like wonder. You pick up the sweater gently, shaking it out, and Joel winces when he sees it in the flicker of the firelight.

Disastrous doesn’t begin to cover it. Lucy managed to connect the sleeves to the shapeless body in a last-ditch salvage attempt, but one is clearly longer than the other. The stitches are untidy, some have obviously caught onto something and pulled loose. Rough around the edges is putting it kindly.

Joel wants to reach out, grab it, chuck it into the fire and let the flames swallow it whole.

Finally, the silence gets the better of him, and he blurts out. ‘I’m sorry.’

You stare at him, stunned. ‘What?’

Under his whiskers, his cheeks flush in embarrassment, and he rambles, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinkin’. You deserve better sweetheart, here, let me -’

You almost lose your balance keeping the sweater out of his reach. ‘Don’t you dare, Joel Miller.’

Confused, he watches you rise to your feet, shucking your outer coat and another layer. ‘What are you doin’?’

Grabbing the sweater, you slide it over your head and thread your arms through the sleeves. The soft knit drapes over your curves, too big over your shoulders and the hem falling unevenly, higher on the right side than the left. One sleeve is long enough to cover half your hand, while the other sits right on the wrist.

And yet. 

You’re beaming like you just picked up something at Bloomin’dales or whatever the fuck those department stores were called back then. 

‘I love it,’ you declare, no trace of irony in your voice, as hard as he’s trying to find it.

He scoffs in disbelief. ‘C’mon, sweetheart, you’re just sayin’ it -’

You surprise him, grabbing him by the scruff of his collar and dragging him towards you to plant a firm kiss on his lips. 

‘I love it,’ you repeat slowly, with conviction, as if willing him to believe you. ‘Thank you.’

He doesn’t quite still, but he smiles and kisses you back. ‘Merry Christmas, sweetheart.’

‘Since we’re doing this -’ you trail off, sliding out of his grip to reach around the back of the tree, pulling out a neatly wrapped gift. ‘This is for you.’

Joel pauses. 

For him.

For the longest time, nothing had been for him unless it was soul-crushing grief and pain.

And yet here it is - his name on the tag written in your neat handwriting. Something he can hold in his hands. For him.

His fingers tremble when he reaches out. The package is soft, and the paper crackles under his grip. He all but tears it open, uncaring of the way the wrapping falls to the floor.

A laugh bubbles out of his throat, and you look relieved at his reaction. ‘You like it?’

It’s not quite a Santa hat. It’s a chunky dark red beanie with a white brim folded back, and topped with a white pompom. 

‘My ears were so cold walkin’ over. It’s perfect,’ he says, pulling it over the crown of his head. Of course, it fits just right, sliding soft and warm over his ears. He adds with a wink, ‘Y’know what, I might just shimmy down some chimneys after dinner.’

‘As long as you shimmy down mine too,’ you retort, not hearing the euphemism.

Joel quirks an eyebrow at that, one large palm squeezing your backside through the layers. ‘That an open invitation, sweetheart?’

You duck your head, more out of habit than actual shyness, with mischief in your smile. ‘Don’t be so crude, Joel Miller.’

Adjusting his new hat so that it sits comfortably, he points at the pompom and jokes, ‘Shame I can’t wear this on patrols.’

Right on cue, you hold up a finger. ‘Funny you should say that.’

He chuckles when you pull out a second, plain black beanie, as if out of thin air. ‘You really thought of everythin’, sweetheart.’

You shrug playfully. ‘I’m smart like that.’

‘I know you are,’ he smiles.

‘Merry Christmas, Joel.’

His lips find yours again in a slow, lingering kiss that has you leaning into him for more when he pulls back. ‘Thank you. For everythin’.’

You hold his gaze - heavy with meaning, light with joy. It wouldn’t take more than a tilt of the head towards the bedroom to derail your evening plans, and you both know it.

In the end, you’re the one who stays strong. Taking one step back from his warmth, you reach for your coat. ‘We’re late, we should go.’

His eyes widen. ‘Wait - you’re not wearin’ that to dinner are you?’

‘Of course I am,’ you say, buttoning up your coat over the sweater.

‘You don’t have to, sweetheart,’ he almost pleads with you.

You grin, heading for the door, blowing out candles as you go. ‘Too bad, I’m never taking it off.’

Joel shakes his head with a wry huff. ‘Well, I hope not never -’

You have one foot out the door when you suddenly remember. ‘I almost forgot - you left your gloves here last time. They’re in the cupboard by the door.’

Ah, that’s where they went. He opens the drawer and pulls them on, one after the other, the leather, worn smooth with age, creaking as he wraps his fingers around the handles of the carrier bag.

Joel is about to follow you out the door when he pauses over the threshold. Glancing down at the black beanie in his grasp, he reaches up and hooks it on the coat rack, nestled among your clothes.

He hopes that when the time comes for him to wear it for the first time - maybe on a patrol that will take him away from you for a few days - it will smell like you.

Gorgeous dividers by @firefly-graphics ❄️

More notes: I hope I will return to the main series in the new year. I've missed these two lovebirds, I hope you enjoyed this little interlude! ❤️

[d0youc0py]

Hello!!! I was wondering if you could do something where Ghost and fem!reader (or can be GN!reader, whatever you prefer :)) work alongside each other in 141 and have secret romantic feelings for each other? And the team is sent on a mission, and Ghost and reader have to share a room with each other and it just gets super fluffy and cute, with a side of banter? Maybe they even reveal their crush?

If not, that’s totally fine! I hope you have a marvellous week 🤍💗

warnings: none really, fluffy, female reader, one bed trope (kinda)

He did a quick sweep of the safe house, rolling his eyes as he already heard the sound of your gear thumping to the floor.

“What did I tell you about letting your guard down?” He scolded, beginning to peels off his own gear. His mask was the first to go, a soft sigh leaving him as the tight fabric hit the floor.

“You looked like you had it covered.” You smiled. You reached into your bag grabbing a pack of wipes.

“Not a chance. Last time you cleaned my face you scrubbed me raw.” He huffed, his feet moving backwards. You paused, soaking up his handsome face before he tugged a clean mask on.

“Fine, but don’t get upset when you get pink eye.” You playfully sneered. He rolled his eyes at you before plopping down on the rickety mattress. “Umm, excuse me? What’re you doing?” You asked slowly.

“Relaxing.” He responded. He stretched, his back cracking back into place. He laid down, wanting so badly to kick off his tight boots.

“You always let me have the bed.” You reminded. You pushed his knee softly to get his attention.

“You don’t want this thing. Trust me, pretty girl, it’ll give you bedbugs.” He pressed, hitting you back with his foot.

“Well I’d rather have bedbugs than termites.” You insisted, sitting down on the edge.

“Suit yourself.” He groaned, moving to get off of it.

“Wait.” Your hand reached out gripping his shoulder. You could feel him tense and twitch under your hand. “It’s pretty big.” You began slowly.

“I know I’ve been trying that new workou”-

“The bed, not your shoulder dummy.” You huffed.

“Oh.” He sighed. “Oh.” He repeated, your words hitting him like a boulder. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Sweetheart. I don’t really sleep out here anyways- you know that.”

You laughed like you suddenly remembered that little fact about him.

“You’re right. I forgot.” You said flashing a fake smile. You always had trouble sleeping- especially on missions. You had never admitted it but one of the best night of sleep you’ve gotten was when you and Simon crashed on Gaz’s couch when you all got a little too tipsy. You woke up sandwiched between him and the cushion, his strong arms seemingly shielding you from whatever bad things crept into your mind while you slept. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been chasing that feeling since. He’d never admit it, but the same scenario flashed through his mind- and he’d be a liar too if he said it didn’t have the same effect on him.

It had gotten dark quick. The hooting owls provided a ambience you wished you could someone manipulate into being romantic. He had settled by a window smoking cigarette after cigarette to pass the time. His preferred activity was sneaking peaks of you ‘sleeping.’ He could tell you were faking it, nobody- not even you could look that perfect as they slept.

“We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow, pretty girl. Better get to sleep.” His voice caused you to jump.

“I was.” You snipped. He ‘tsked’ putting out his cigarette with his boot. He stood up, grabbing his gun, propping it up next to the bed. “Make some room? If you haven’t changed your mind.”

You quickly scooted towards the wall and he rested his hand on your side to keep you from bumping into it.

“Don’t have to go that far. Don’t have scabies.” He huffed. You were shoulder to shoulder. “Don’t you usually sleep on your side?” He asked after a moment of silence.

“Yeah.” You agreed. You rolled over, facing him and you quickly realized he probably intended for you to roll the other way. Yet you were so close to getting what you wanted it felt weak to give up now.

“Si?” You asked quietly. He grunted, urging you to continue. “Could I- maybe.” You stopped yourself. You saw his blonde lashes flutter open again, his hazel eyes meeting yours. Without a word he lifted his arm up, the invitation being one you were dying for. You huddled close to him, your head finding its way to the crook of his neck. Your hand tangled itself in his sweatshirt (that you swore couldn’t be tactical). His head rested against your own and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the perfect fit.

“Thank you.” You murmured.

“Course.” He muttered back.

[breadbrobin]

friendship bracelets

leo valdez x reader — heroes of olympus

[gn!child of demeter reader]

summary: friendship bracelets are a love language in themselves. it’s a shame leo can’t wear the ones you make him.

warnings: little bit of swearing, possibly ooc leo, fluff, food and eating, leo forgets to eat sometimes.

word count: 1.2k

(so i wrote a leo fic too uhhhh. anyway. i love him and i have always loved him and i will always love him, so here’s a lil gift from me to you and uhhh yeah enjoy!)

——————————————

you’d given leo two bracelets. one was at the wilderness school. it was flimsy and made of red and yellow beads, held together by an elastic tie you’d smuggled into the school. the second was after your first quest. you’d managed to get some leather straps and made a braided leather bracelet for him.

he thought you’d made them for your other friends too, but he soon found out that he was the only one to get a matching leather bracelet with you.

“i don’t have enough for everyone,” was your excuse as you hid your rolls of leather threads and straps under your pillow. “i wish i could.”

that was good enough for him.

he soon realised, though, that he couldn’t wear them.

the risk of them burning was far too high, and after he nearly melted the beaded one when he got too excited one day, he decided to stop wearing them.

they held pride of place on his bedside table though. they were right beside his three-day-old water glass and the shrivelled pot plant you’d given him that you swore he’d be able to keep alive.

“it’s a cactus, leo! you can’t kill a cactus.”

he killed the cactus. or, at least, he mostly killed the cactus. you’d even named it jeremiah in the hopes that it would make him remember to water it, but he’d known a jeremiah once and hated his guts, so it hadn’t really helped much.

so leo valdez was a plant-killing, bracelet ignoring bastard. what was new?

oh, nothing. just the fact that he was madly in love with you.

maybe it was the bracelets, or your insistence that he would be able to keep a little cactus alive, or your uncontrollable laughter as he showed you the wilted plant, or maybe even the way you used your influence over plants to heal the little cactus and bring it back to life.

whatever it was, he was totally screwed. so screwed, in fact, that he took to staring at the two bracelets on his table every night before going to sleep, wishing he could wear them to see the look on your face.

leo worked hard. he always did. once he got into something, he didn’t stop until it was finished. sometimes, that meant ignoring his body’s need for food and water.

you marched into bunker 9 with a bag in hand. “leo valdez!”

he looked up from his workbench. “what did i do? whatever it was, it wasn’t me. i swear.”

“yeah, you didn’t do anything. like eat! i didn’t see you at breakfast or lunch!” you sat on his workbench beside him and placed the bag down in front of his busy hands. “it’s three o’clock now, so i bought you food.”

“i really have to—“

“eat? yes, you do.”

“no, but—“

“and drink water? that too. there’s a water bottle in there.”

“y/n—“

“leo, if you don’t eat your food i’ll break your hands so you can’t work anymore and then i’ll spoon feed you chicken soup every day until your hands are better.”

he looked up at you, offended. “i hate chicken soup.”

you smiled and leaned forward. “i know. so eat your fucking food.”

he raised his hands in defeat. “okay, fine.” he set his tools down and opened the bag with a teasing roll of his eyes. “if it pleases you so.”

“it does, indeed.”

as he ate, you walked around the bunker as you did every time, your hands behind your back like you were at an art gallery. to you, it was a gallery. bunker 9 was like the inside of leo’s mind: chaotic, messy, always moving and changing, and covered in memories of you. there were polaroid pictures that you’d given him pinned to a cork board. the whiteboard beside it read: ‘meet y/n for campfire’. there was even a note you’d scrawled to him in Ancient Greek a few weeks ago: ‘don’t forget to eat, dumbass.’ Apparently, he hadn’t listened to that one.

you walked back over just as he finished his food. he made to hand the back bag to you, but you stopped him. “you didn’t get everything.”

he frowned and opened the bag again, looking inside. “what are you— oh!”

he reached in and pulled out a leather bracelet. it was similar to the one you’d made him before, but tidier. you’d clearly gotten better at making them. “it’s beautiful, but, y/n, you know i can’t—“

“you can’t wear them because you’ll burn them. i know. put it on.” you smiled knowingly.

he put it on warily. it was nice, and his heart fluttered a little at the gesture, but he still couldn’t wear it out of fear.

“now burn it.”

his eyes widened and his eyebrows raised. “what?”

“burn it.”

“i’m not gonna—“

“do you trust me?”

“sometimes, like when you tell me to burn your hard work, i don’t, no.”

you stepped forward and tightened the bracelet on his wrist. “leo. burn it. or i will.”

he frowned up at you. “you’re very scary today.”

“thank you,” you smiled, stepping back. “just trust me.”

he sighed and shook his head, but lit his hand and lower arm on fire, watching forlornly as the bracelet melted to nothing—hold on. he extinguished the fire. the bracelet was still there. “how did you—?”

“talked to lou ellen. there’s a spell on that one. i had to get her to do it as i made it, but it won’t burn. it’s magic.” you smiled proudly, rocking back and forth on your heels.

he looked at you in shock and stood up. “you made a fire resistant bracelet for me?”

you shrugged. “of course, i did. and look!” you extended your wrist to him, showing a matching one. “i made a better one for me too!”

he looked from your wrist to your face with his signature impish grin. “thought you didn’t have enough to make anymore.”

you shrugged. “maybe i underestimated myself.”

“maybe you did.”

for a moment, you just smiled at each other, and he thought he could have kissed you right there and maybe (just maybe) from the look on your face you wouldn’t push him away, but then you slipped your hand into his and pulled him to another work bench. his hand was still warm, as always. “now, tell me what this is, because i have no idea.”

so, as he explained how one of his many projects worked and you hung onto his every word and held his hand tightly, he couldn’t help but feel a little warmer than usual.

and maybe, when you left that afternoon, leaving him to continue his work, pressing a kiss to his cheek like you always did, he could summon the courage to pull you back in for a kiss on your lips, like he’d always wanted. and maybe your friendship bracelets would turn into something more.

but, even if they didn’t, he knew he’d fall asleep that night without staring at his bedside table. he’d stare at his wrist instead. and he’d never take that bracelet off. ever. not even if the gods themselves required him to.

[pholla-jm]

Stubborn

IMAGINE: STUBBORN~ LAW X READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: established relationship ***********

There was something off, and you could feel it. Even if you were sleeping. That is why you woke up, your hand immediately going to Law’s side. However, you were met with an empty bed. The sheets were cold, meaning that he has been gone for quite some time. You can’t say that you were surprised. This occurrence happens quite often. 

You knew exactly where he would be too. So you got up and headed straight to where he would be. You didn’t even bother knocking on the door. You just went in, not surprised to see that he was hunched over his desk with books littered around him. 

His head snaps up when he hears the door open. Ready to snap at one of his crewmates to leave him alone until he saw that it was you. With a sigh, he turns back to his books. 

“Go back to bed, (y/n).” “No.” 

Law’s eyes twitch at your answer. He could tell this was about to be a long interaction. One that he wasn’t sure he was going to win. 

You could be stubborn at times, much to Law’s dismay. You plop yourself on the couch that was across the room, tucking your legs underneath you and you cross your arms. 

“Come back to bed.” You say. Well more of a command. “I’ll be back soon.” “No you won’t. You’re lying.” 

“Huh?” Law spins around in his chair, now facing you. Now that he was looking at you, he could get a better look at you. 

Your clothes were a bit wrinkled, your face a little puffy from sleep and your eyelids were drooping a bit. However, you were fighting them to stay open. Clear signs of still being tired. But did you care? No. 

“You heard me. I know you won’t come back to bed.” “(y/n), stop being ridiculous. I’ll be back soon.” 

“Hmph,” You lean back against the couch with a frown on your face. “I will be staying here until you come back to bed with me.” 

You were a bit upset. Mainly because you were tired. You enjoyed your sleep, and you especially enjoyed sleeping next to your boyfriend. However, when he wasn’t in bed with you, your sleep quality went down. So it is important that Law sleeps with you. 

“You’re so stubborn.” Law grumbles, “fine. Do whatever you want.” “I will.” 

Law rolls his eyes, “you just have to get the last word in. Don’t you?” “Yup.” 

Law sighs, while turning back around. 

He doesn't expect you to go back to bed. He knows how stubborn you could be. However, he knew that you wouldn’t be able to stay up that long anyway. 

So Law gets back to work. Hoping that you would fall back to sleep in the next five minutes. That way, he would put you back to bed himself. 

Soon five minutes went by, but Law decides to give it another five minutes just encase. When ten minutes went by, he could hear some shuffling. He slightly turns his head, seeing what you were up to. 

When he sees the cup of coffee in your hand, he quickly turns back to you. 

How did he not hear you leave the room to get coffee? When did you even leave? 

“Don’t drink that!” He shouts, but you were even fazed by it as you continued to take sips of the hot coffee. 

“I clearly got to stay up… so why not have something that helps me.” 

A vein pops in his forehead, eyebrow twitching as he continues to hear your sips. You had a smug look on your face, which annoyed Law even more. 

“Fine! Just stop drinking that coffee.”

You pull the cup away from your lips, “and why is that?” “You clearly need to go to sleep. And coffee isn’t going to do that.” “You clearly need to sleep too. And I can’t go to sleep unless you're next to me.” 

Law sighs, pushing himself out of his chair. “I know. You keep telling me that.” “And yet. You don’t listen to me.” “Clearly my mistake.” 

You grin, getting up as well. “Clearly. You should listen to me more.” “You know I’m your Captain. You should listen to me.” “And I’m your partner. You should listen to me as well.” “How are you so stubborn?” He asks. 

You just shrug as the both of you leave the office. Heading straight back to your quarters. Where the both of you slept.

“Your stubbornness is going to be the death of me. I can feel myself aging faster.” “You’re being dramatic.” 

Law’s eye twitched at your light insult, “just get in bed.” 

You jumped in the bed, happy that your boyfriend was finally joining you in bed. 

Law lays in the bed as well. Turning to see that you still had a grin on your face. “Happy?” “Yes, very much so now.” You tell him as you cuddle up to him. 

As soon as you cuddle up to him, his body relaxes. Your body warmth flowing into his, and he couldn’t help but wrap his arms around you as well. 

A blush flushes his cheeks when you place a kiss underneath his chin. Your version of a goodnight kiss. He pulls you in tighter, successfully hiding his blush from you. His chin goes on top of your head. “Goodnight, my love.” “Goodnight.” You whisper as you fall back to sleep.

[scorpioriesling]

Bad Idea, Right?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Lucien x reader

Warnings: SMUT oh my -- 18+, MDNI

Summary: Do they like eachother? No. Did they want to go on this mission together? Also, no. Did they plan to share a bed tonight? Definitely not! But are they complaining? Well...

SR’s Note: Using prompts #6, #17, #25, #50, #63, #72 as requested for @hardcoremarvelfan <3 This is absolute filth I hope this is what you wanted HAHA

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

“Why would Rhysand send you anyway? I’ve been a perfectly good emissary up until now.”

You couldn’t believe the gall that your High Lord had — sending an emissary from another court, just to help you with what you deemed a simple mission. You’d been to the Winter Court before, what was the deal with sending a Spring Court dweller with you?

“Must not be all that good,” the redhead chides. “Not good enough to travel to Winter to make a bargain, without me, that is.” You roll your eyes hard, continuing to walk two paces ahead of the Vanserra you were stuck with for the next few days.

“Whatever. You didn’t have to come, he isn’t technically your High Lord — he can’t make you do anything.” You purse your lips, hoping the dig hit its mark that Lucien technically didn’t belong to the Night Court. Hearing his exasperated sigh behind you, you know it did.

“So you say.” Is his only tired response. You had to admit, the dusk that had finally set over the horizon had you yawning every few minutes as well, the long day of travel finally catching up to you.

“Are you,” Lucien pauses behind you, and glancing back you catch his yawn as well. “…too tired to keep going?” He asks. “Maybe if you can’t complete this remedial request for your High Lord, you should head back. Get your beauty sleep.” He chuckles. You whip around to face him, a scowl plastered on your face.

“Get lost, Lucien.” You growl. He only stares past you, which has you glancing at the clearing beyond. A small trail of smoke breaks across the skyline.

“Hmm. An inn. How lucky.” You shrug. Lucien rolls his eyes, striding past you.

“I’d only be so lucky to have a few hours apart,” he scoffs.

You gasp dramatically, walking quicker than you’d like to catch up. “Oh please, you’d only be so lucky to spend the night with me.” Lucien simply shakes his head, continuing on his war path toward the inn.

And oh, was he lucky that night.

“You really don’t have anything else?” Lucien pleads with the pretty female behind the front desk. She sighs, shaking her head apologetically.

“I’m so sorry, this is the last room we have for the night.” She seems to address the both of you, however her eyes are glued to Lucien. He sends her a soft smile, taking the key she’s holding out for him.

“That’ll just have to do then.” He glances at you, and you roll your eyes. “Thank you.” The woman nods eagerly, and you are walking toward the stairs in an instant.

“I can’t believe this is all they had left.” You complain, setting down your pack and approaching the unmade bed. Lucien softly closes the door, glancing at your motions to prepare the bed with the clean sheets folded atop it.

“Better than nothing.” He deadpans. You begin stretching the sheets over the corners of the bed, quickly working on one side, then the other. Lucien simply watches, arms folded.

“It’s no wonder you’ve taken so many lovers,” he teases. “With the way you always make a show of bending over like that-“

“Ya know, I could really use your help, not your attitude.” You interject. He simply chuckles, moving toward the small bathing chamber attached to your bedroom.

“Or I could make the best use of my time in the shower.” He smirks, opening the door.

“Whatever. You’ll do what you want anyway.” You continue wrestling with the corner of the sheet you have handy.

“And I’ve never taken any lover, not of enjoyment, anyway.” You mutter as the door finally shuts behind him.

Once you’re finally satisfied with the bed presentation, you’re quick to change into the tank and shorts you have with you, the sheets providing comfort as you lay upon them. You can’t help but glance around for an open window as a chill hangs in the air, but you find none. Just another cold, barren night, spent with none other than Lucien. Fantastic.

You’re snuggled under the covers when the bathroom door opens, steam rolling out and momentarily warming your exposed skin. Lucien doesn’t bat an eye as he changes into nothing but sleep shorts before you — thank the Gods his back is turned. You can’t help but watch every muscle in his back as he tugs them on, blushing at the intruding thoughts creeping in.

No. Lucien was… annoying, remember? Annoyingly beautiful, yes, but ugh, could he get under your skin. Almost as easily as he was getting under the blankets beside you.

“Hands to yourself, Y/N.” He grins as he turns on his side, his back facing you once more. You scoff, your eyes narrowing at the back of his head and the dampened locks splayed on the pillow beneath.

“Please, Lucien. Spare me for once.” You faux-beg. He turns slightly, nose scrunched.

“Hey, I don’t know what you think about alone at night,” he accuses.

“Who said I was alone?” You quip. Sure, he was right, but you’d never let him know that.

“Right,” he drawls. “I forgot about all the lovers you take to bed each night.” You don’t have the energy for another tiff, so you just lay quietly. He turns, laying on his back and looking sidelong at you.

“Or is it just your imaginations you have to get you through the nights?” He implies. “Your fantasies?”

You only narrow your eyes at him, but his light up at your reaction, a cruel smile curving his lips.

“Tell me, Y/N — do you fantasize about me?” He wiggles his eyebrows, and you smack his shoulder, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“Lucien! Gross,” you chastise. He only laughs at you, and you turn away from him, staring now at the wall beside you. “Just do us both a favor and go to bed.” He only chuckles once more, the movement of his abdomen rather close to the small of your back than you’d noticed before.

You’d be an idiot to not notice the tension, the heat between you two warming your skin. You could practically feel his eyes staring into the back of your head. In seconds, he’s scooted close enough to spoon you, his hands lightly drifting to grip your chin between his fingers.

You barely have time to gasp as he says, “Beg for it.”

Your eyes widen, and you take in his darkened features as he tilts you to face him. He’s solely focused on you, his eyes switching between yours and your lips — you can’t help but do the same. His features are illuminated in the small candlelight of the room, highlighting the panes of his face flawlessly. You know you shouldn’t — and this is a really bad idea, right?

“Oh come on, Y/N,” he pleads. “You’ve been such a tease…” he trails off, his idle hand tracing along the curve of your hip, snaking upward until it finds purchase on your left breast. His fingers slowly trace circles around your nipple through your tank top, and your breath comes out in short pants.

“If you really want me to go to bed, just say the words,” he purrs. You nod slowly, ever entranced by the stunning man moving beside you. This is wrong, this is so wrong-

“Lucien,” you whisper. He bites on his lower lip, reveling in the way your nipple hardens below his tantalizing touch. You wished you could bite it for him, put your mouth on his, let out your frustration for every second you’d been forced to be with him-

“Mhm?” He coos. You don’t say another word as he slides overtop of you, leaning in to press a small kiss to your collarbone. He continues a path of wet kisses down, leaving your top on and going right over top of it. Gods, why must he torture you?

Reaching the hem of your shorts, he glances to you for only a moment before yanking them down harshly. A small squeak leaves your mouth as he tosses them aside, the cool air hitting your core sending goosebumps over your skin.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So… pent up and needy.” He runs his index finger through your folds, gathering a trail of your wetness as he goes. You groan, eyes fluttering shut.

“Lucien, please,” you grit out. He chuckles below you, and slides his finger inside of your slick entrance. A hum of approval from you doesn’t go unnoticed as he slowly moves it in and out, eyes watching as your face contorts in pleasure.

“Good thing I’m here to take care of you, huh,” he teases. You glare at him, and he only adds speed to his ministrations which send another soft moan flying from your lips. His mouth finds your jawline, kissing across it before biting softly just below the soft spot where it meets your neck. You gasp, hands leaving their grip on the sheets and instead threading through the damp tendrils of Lucien's hair. He growls lowly, his palm roughly hitting your clit as he continues to pump two of his fingers now inside of you.

As you feel the pressure building in the bottom of your stomach, he pulls his fingers from you, and you whine, a silent plea for more. He chuckles again, bringing his fingers to your lips instead.

"Open." Is all he says, and you gaze up at him, popping your lips open as he slides in, allowing you to taste yourself. His thumb slides over the fat of your bottom lip as his lustful gaze travels from your lips sucking greedily on his fingers to the swell of your breasts still concealed beneath your tight top.

"Good girl," he purrs, and the action and praise alone have you rubbing your thighs together with the need for more. All of it has you questioning why you disliked one another so much to begin with...

"Tsk tsk," he pulls his fingers out, using both hands to spread your legs apart and shove your knees up to your chest in a mating press position. The cool air on your exposed pussy has your core throbbing, aching for a release you know he could give you.

"Lucien..." you groan. He leans in, positining himself between your legs with his lips so close to yours that you share a breath. His auburn hair falls from his shoulders in soft waves, tickling your collarbone.

"I told you," he mutters. "You'll have to beg me for it."

Ahh, there it is. The reminder of why you hated him so much; here it is. Arrogant, self-absorbed-

"Cat got your tongue?" He chuckles. You glare up at him, your hand snaking between the two of you and dipping below the seam of his shorts. He's already hard, your fingers bracing around the length of his cock only draw a suprised grunt from him. He doesn't stop you as you begin quickly moving your hand, a tiny trail of precum wetting the top of your palm as you pump him. He groans in pleasure, his eyes closing for only a moment.

"No, a fox." You chuckle. His eyes snap open, finding yours to glower at you. In seconds, he sits back, too far from your grasp that you are forced to let go and retract your hand. His fingers grip the hem of your top, shoving it over your boobs and pulling it over your head without thought. He tosses it aside, not caring where it lands. He then pushes you into the mattress, his hips pinning yours and his hand holding one of yours above your head.

"You're really," his free hand finds his cock, sliding over it once. "…really...” another stroke. “…annoying," he sneers. You roll your eyes, breathing heavily underneath him in anticipation.

"Don't go thinking I'm doing this because I like you," you fire back. He chuckles, stroking himself slowly twice more before aligning himself with your entrance and slowly pushing himself inside. Your mouth drops open, and you meet his hauty gaze as he continues to push in, inch by inch.

"We'll see if you still hate me by the end of the night." He pulls out, almost all the way to the tip, and slams back in, all the way to the hilt.

"FUCK," you shout. He pulls out, again, slamming back in once more, and again, and again. Each time he pulls out less and less, his thrusts becoming faster and more needy as he continues to fuck all of himself inside of you.

"Lucien.... ohhhh fuck Lucien," you moan. He pants above you, his gaze drifting to where his dick is constantly pounding into you mercilessly, and you can't help but become more turned on by the sight of his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, low grunts of pleasure rolling from his throat. His hands move to grip the backs of your legs, pushing them up farther so he can continue to fuck you as deep as possible.

"Lucien... I'm-" You feel the heat already approaching, your stomach twisting with the need to release. He looks up at you, eyes dark with lust.

"Fuck... cum all over this cock Y/N," he growls. You gasp, the wave of pleasure crashing over you as his thrusts only speed up.

"Mmmmhm," he praises. You writhe at the overstimulation, squirming and crying out in pleasure as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. His fingers wrap around your neck as his other hand grips your hip to hold you still.

"We're not done yet," he grunts. You breathe deep, your breasts bouncing with every sharp hit of his cock inside of you, and his eyes meet yours.

"You take me so good, fuck... I won't last much longer." He sighs. You already feel another orgasm quickly building; but there's no way in Hell you'd let him know that. His ego definately didn't need it.

"Is this what you fantasize about, Lucien?" You say as sweetly as you can through your heavy breathing. You expect a snarky response, but you watch as Lucien's head tips back and he pounds into you harder. A soft groan rumbles from his throat, his eyes pinched shut in pure bliss. You have to admit — it’s one of the hottest scenes you’d ever seen, an image now burned into your brain whether you liked it or not.

"Gods, Y/N -- do you know how badly I've wanted you?" He breathes, and you stare silently up at him in shock. It's only a few moments before he realizes what he's admitted, his eyes widening in what looks like… shame?

Before you can think, rationalize your actions, you move your fingers along the skin of his hand still bracing your throat.

"Tell me exactly what you want." You whisper. He halts his movements, slowing down and leaning to your level. His lips are mere inches from yours, and although you'd really just want his mouth on yours right now, he stares at you through his half-lidded eyes and softly commands;

"Flip over -- ass up for me."

He releases the hold on your neck, and you scramble to do as he's requested, already missing the feeling of his big dick stretching you out so deliciously. Your legs tangle beneath you, and he moves only when you're leaning on your forearms with your butt in the air for him to grip your ass in his large, warm hands.

"Y/N... you're..." he sighs. You turn your face slightly, peering at him over your shoulder as he marvels at the way your butt moves when he squeezes it beneath his palms. It isn't long before he's moving behind you, his thighs brushing yours as the familiar stretch comes once more. He lets out a loud groan this time at the feeling, not taking as long to thrust into you once more and pick up the pace.

Soft grunts escape your throat for every thrust he provides, and you watch as his hands grip at your waist to bring your butt flush with his hips, sheathing his cock fully inside of you. He speeds up a little more, continuing to gaze down at your ass as it bounces against him with every drive.

"I'm.... I’m what… I… ohhh," you moan. You can't get the words out, can barely form thoughts over the way he's fucking you, the way his cock feels against your walls, filling you in a way you hadn't had before.

"Mmmh, Y/N," another huff, and his hand softly smacks against your butt. You gasp, and he groans before continuing. "You're fucking perfect," he goes on.

You can't help but blush at his words, even in your fucked-out state. "Oh Gods... you're made for this dick, hmm?" he says, his grip on your waist tightening as he pushes in faster.

"Lucien..." You moan. The heat in your stomach builds again, so so close you can't hold on much longer. You feel his fingers winding through your hair, gripping softly but forced enough to draw you up, your back hitting his toned chest as his short breaths softly grace your ear.

You cry out at the new angle, pleasure surging through every vein as his wandering hand finds your breast, kneading and pinching the left nipple.

"My fucking perfect girl," he growls.

"Oh.... oh Lucien I'm so close-"

"Mhm that's it, cum for me again," he drives in hard, and you moan loudly as your legs begin to shake, your orgasm barreling through you harder than it did the first time. Lucien only thrusts in twice more before the sweet sound of him chanting your name rings out, and his warm seed is spilling inside of you. He holds you tight, both of his hands wrapped around you as he lowers you to the bed, the finality of your combined waves of pleasure drawing near.

When he pulls out, a string of clear semen trails from his tip to your entrance as he moves from the bed toward the bathroom.

You glance over your shoulder, still panting as you make out his form retreating toward you, towelette in hand. He runs the warmed cloth over you, pulling it from reach when you silently hold your hand out to do it yourself.

Once he's sure he's got it all, he simply tosses it to the ground as he did your tank top, slipping under the covers beside you and pulling the sheets over your body.

Maybe rational thought hasn't returned yet, you think as he pulls you close, his body heat warming you through the chill in the air. You fit perfectly against him, your back to his front as his fingers trace idle circles along the column of your spine. You can't help but feel... relaxed, despite the rather wild activities you'd just engaged in.

You're almost drifted completely off to sleep, the comfort and warmth surrounding you wholly when you feel soft lips brush your cheek. You can't help but smile, Lucien's voice the last thing you hear before sleep engulfs you in full.

"Still claim to hate me, sweetheart?"

* ✧･ﾟ: *

[pjmmania]

If Snow Decides to Fall

7. “Something to celebrate.”

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has liked, commented, or reblogged this story. I truly didn't imagine it gaining this much traction. I hope all of you continue to read. Anyway, a LOT happening in this chapter, so I won't take any more of your time;)

Chapter Warnings: pregnancy, smut, explicit language, references to alcohol abuse, misogynistic language, explicit language, mental health struggles

Taglist: @marihoneywk @amarawayne @chimmy-licious

Back to Chapter Index

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Fuck.”

His grunt was muffled against the back of your neck. Unable to help it, his fingers dug painfully into your inner thigh, which he was holding up to give him a deeper entry. His seed burst into you as you both moaned.

This was you way of celebrating your first morning waking up next to each other, with you fully moved into the apartment. This was your home now, your bed.

“I love you.” you exhaled.

Spent, Jimin pulled out of you and kissed your temple, “I love you too, you little minx.”

His hand smoothed over your hip to find rest ok the side of your belly. At almost twenty weeks, you were definitely looking pregnant.

A faint smile drew across your face, “Hormones, or whatever.”

“Mm,” he kissed your neck again, “Glad I could satisfy. You’re so fucking hot like this, baby.”

You laughed and turned your head so you could kiss his lips slowly, the world slipping away for a moment. It could now only be you and him, locked faithfully together with your unborn child nestled comfortably within you.

True, there had been some bumps in the road with your argument, the Namjoon situation, and with your parents, but the two of you were breaking through all of that. Your relationship felt stronger and better than ever before.

When your lips parted, he sighed. You read his mind immediately, with the trip to LA looming over both of your heads. The flight would be early the next morning.

“Don’t go down this road again,” you whispered, “Doctor Yoon gave it the green light, and pregnant women fly every day. Plus, I won’t be alone. Chae will be with me.”

“I know,” he spackled his worries over with a grin, “It’s a very long flight, though. It’s going to feel so uncomfortable for you and I don’t want it to affect your sleep. Lack of sleep can raise your blood pressure.”

You giggled a little bit, adoring how much he cared for you . You sat up and scooted off the bed so you could head into the bathroom, “Countless things can raise my blood pressure, Jimin. Now why are you the one getting all worried, hm? You were the one who told me not to be concerned. Doctor Yoon approved this trip, and she would have said something if she was worried about my or the baby’s health.”

“You’re right, but do me a favor for my own sanity?”

“Hm?”

“Tell Chaeyoung about it,” he pleaded, “That way, she will be able to look out for you when I’m not there. It would make me feel a lot better with not being able to watch you like a hawk.”

You would be with her for most of the trip. For PR reasons and to avoid rumors, stylists were always flown separately from the boys.

You picked up his boxers off the corner of the bed and threw them at his face, “If that’s what will get you to relax, then fine.”

He chuckled as he balled up the underwear in his hands. As you disappeared into the master bathroom, he decided he wasn’t done toying with you. Smirking mischievously, he rolled out of bed and followed you.

You were brushing your sex-knotted hair in front of the mirror. The changes to your body were immaculate in his eyes. The fullness of your breasts and belly was so maternal. It created some kind of spiritual beauty that he’d never imagined. He adored how you had a little extra cushion on top of your hip bones and in your face. Your hair was silkier. Even your lips were a bit puffier.

And to top it all off, his cum was leaking down your legs.

As you brushed, he stood behind you, drinking in the sight through your reflection in the mirror. His hands cupped around the bottom of your bump, lips planting on your shoulder.

“You are the most stunning creature I’ve ever seen.”

You yawned deeply, putting your plastic hairbrush down. Your head fell back to rest on Jimin’s collarbone, eyes closed.

“And the most tired.” Jimin chuckled, kissing your jaw.

You grinned with a hum, letting him sway you gently, “Getting fucked at twenty weeks pregnant can be taxing.”

His low chuckle was another octave below normal, as it was the morning, “You asked for it sweetheart. Don’t think I don’t know what it means when you shift your ass against me like that.”

“You were asking for it,” you giggled, rubbing your belly along his hands, “Your morning wood and the way you held me tighter was quite the tell.”

The two of you stayed like this for a minute or so.

“At least it’s Sunday. You have all day to recuperate.”

You gently broke free of his hold and went to jump in the shower, “Not entirely. I haven’t packed a thing for this trip."

She was folding her boyfriend’s boxers and sorting them into a small pile on his bed. It was in her nature to offer assistance with things like this whenever he had a lot on his plate.

Namjoon finished whatever emails he had to send and made his way into the bedroom to contribute to the stuffing of his own suitcase. He paused in the doorframe and crossed his arms, letting his back rest against the post as a smile crept onto his face.

She was beautiful even performing the most mundane of tasks.

“Hana,” he sighed, “You really don’t need to be folding my underwear.”

Her round, dark eyes met his with humor, “I know. I guess I just wanted something to do.”

He could have sworn she became more endearing every day. With a laugh, he removed himself from the doorframe and went to crouch on the floor beside her, beginning to fold a pair of pants.

“Should be a fun trip.” Hana said.

Namjoon drew in a breath and spoke it out, “Yeah…should be.”

She pursed her lips, trying to appear amicable to his perspective, “You don’t need to pay her any mind, you know. You could decide to simply go away on business with your closest friends in the world and be content.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, his hands pausing all motion, “As a friend, that’s impossible.”

Hana rolled her eyes. As much as she adored the man beside her, she was beginning to wonder how correct his speculations were on this matter.

“Joonie, I love you, but this grudge of yours seems to be getting you nowhere. If you can’t be in close proximity to this woman, why on earth did you agree to that get-together with everyone?”

“That has nothing to do with her. I just miss being around the guys like that. I don’t intend on so much as speaking to her.” his tone reeked of bitterness.

She rubbed his shoulders, “What happened to the wise Namjoon? This is unlike you. I hate to say it, but I can see why this has grown a rift. I don’t believe you are being reasonable.”

Her tone was so gentle that it couldn’t possibly stir anger.

He continued to fold his clothes and pile them into his suitcase, “I can understand how it appears that way, I really can. But baby, you weren’t there when Seoyeon broke his heart. I have never seen a man so shattered. Jimin has always been a sensitive soul. And though he’s strong, I fear that another incident like that would break his spirit irreparably. He can’t handle that again. You weren’t…you weren’t there, Hana. He was drunk all the time, he stopped caring about anything, saying really…worrying things.”

He'd never mentioned it before - the episode. It was one of the worst moments of his entire life. Flashes of that dark morning ran through his mind, causing him to wince.

Her heart dipped, “I see. But, she pulled him out of it, right? She showed up and he’s been happy ever since.”

Namjoon bit the inside of his cheek, his tone dropping, “I see what you’re saying, and I even agree. I don’t deny that she makes him happy.”

“But…You’re trying to get him to give up on his happiness.”

“He was happy with Seoyeon too, Hana.”

She stood up, heading into his closet to grab some socks, “What evidence do you have, beyond mere speculation? I know you said she apparently she's told people that the father has wealth...but you don't know for sure that it's even true. Even if it is, are you sure that proves your theory?"

He groaned, "Why are you pressing so much? And yes, I believe it gives me a reason to be worried for Jimin."

"I don't think so." she muttered.

Namjoon huffed, turning his head to look at her, "Well I do."

"I think-"

"You're the world to me, baby, but I don't care to know what you think right now."

She ignored his warning, plopping some pairs of socks into his suitcase, "I think that at this point, you simply want to be right. You have dug your heels so deep that it's no longer about reason. You just want to win."

Now a heat began to rise between his ribs, "If 'winning' means that my younger brother doesn't go past the point of no return, then yeah, Hana. I want to fucking win."

The young woman softened. Her resolve to go to battle weakened once she realized there existed a story untold. Instead, she knelt beside him, looping her arms around his tense neck.

She kissed his cheek, “I’m sorry.”

He let out a breath and pulled her in for a quick hug, “I am too. And maybe I’m wrong. I just can’t risk feeling comfortable with her right now. I’m the only one in the group with his guard up. Until there is proof that her intentions are genuine, someone has to be vigilant.”

Hana grinned sympathetically, pushing some of her highlighted brown hair behind her ear,“You’re a really good friend, Joonie. But maybe the lack of any wrongdoings is the proof, you know? If she was really going for fame, she could have gone public a long time ago. You said they’ve moved in together, right? And still nothing?”

It gave him pause.

“Yeah, they have.”

She landed one final thought before the topic would be dropped, “Try to open your mind just a little bit, hm? If you want to be a good friend, then you also need to be prepared to be incorrect. Otherwise, you might miss out on something really amazing happening for Jimin. For all of you, really. One of you is going to be a father. If Y/N isn’t some gold digger, then this is good, right? Something to celebrate.”

Your knuckle was firm around the handle of your wheeled carry-on. You were waiting in line to show your passport so that you could then proceed into the security area for bag checks. Chaeyoung had texted you that she'd gotten out the door late and that her husband would be dropping her off in a short while. You didn't blame her - she had her twins to care for and say goodbye.

You were dressed in your most comfortable clothing possible, without overheating yourself on this humid first of September. The top you had on was Jimin's - an indistinguishable plain white t-shirt. He'd owned it for years and it came from a non-designer brand. It had a couple holes along its hem and a small tear on the right sleeve.

This new stage in your gestation had you growing out of your normal clothes, and almost none of your tops fit. For bottoms, you had a pair of black biker shorts. These were the only real maternity wear you had thus far, accommodating your swelling bump well enough to not make you feel suffocated.

Standing in line gave your mind time to wander. You thought about how you’d bid your boyfriend farewell at the apartment. You had to be at the airport earlier than he did. A small smile came to grace your features as you thought about his gentle touch, the way he held you and kissed you, making you feel secure as the most important person in his life. How he got on his knees to give the baby a kiss before you went out the door, his hair wet and slicked back after just getting out of the shower.

Any reminiscing was cut short by the sound of a young woman’s squeal. It was soon followed by a swarm of others, and a rush of quickened footsteps in one direction. As everyone else in the waiting line did, you lifted your head to see what the commotion was about.

You should have known.

Behind and enclosed by their security guards, the members entered the airport. They were closeby, but you could only faintly catch a glimpse of Jimin before a group of people gathered to block your view.

People were clambering to see them, buzzing past you like a flock of birds. One young woman, blinded by the frenzy, ran into the back of your shoulder, barreling you forward.

Unable to catch yourself on your suitcase, you fell to the white terrazzo floor with a thud that no one could hear above the screaming. Thankfully, your body’s protective motions kicked in and you landed on your palms first, giving yourself a split second to reinforce yourself on your knees, guarding your belly from impacting.

The woman who was standing behind you was quick to come to your aid. She had long espresso hair and bangs, dark eyes filled with concern, “Oh gosh, are you alright?”

She put her hand on your back and the other held your forearm as she helped you to your feet.

“Yes, I’m okay,” you said with a raised voice so she could hear you, “Thank you so much.”

You hadn’t noticed you were doing it, but your hands were on your bump, making it more apparent. It was as if you were trying to soothe your mind, or your child, or both.

The woman glanced down, “Oh, I didn’t even realize. Are you out sure you’re alright? I can call for the medical staff to check you out.”

You offered a nervous smile and waved your hand, “No, no I’m okay. I appreciate it, though.”

The woman’s eyes were in your torso for a moment. Then she sighed, placing her hand on her own abdomen, which was rounded unmistakably. She looked further along than you were.

“No worries. We have to look out for each other, don’t we? BTS shows up and suddenly no one cares about running over a pregnant woman.”

You laughed lightly, “Yeah, apparently so.”

The line began to move a little, and you both shuffled forward where you could.

“So how far along are you?” she asked, her tone oozing with a honey sweetness.

“Twenty weeks.”

“Halfway,” she chuckled, “I’m Twenty-eight.”

Your brows raised as you gladly engaged her, “Wow. You look great, by the way.”

She beamed, “Thank you. Believe me I don’t always feel that way, but I’ve been assured that it will be worth it.”

It was a pleasure to be able to relate to someone like this, “Same. Is this your first?”

The woman nodded.

“Me too,” you sighed, moving up in the line once more, “Anyway, where are you traveling?”

“Los Angeles,” she said, “My husband is wrapping up on some business there. We’re going to treat this as something of a babymoon.”

You giggled, “I am too! Not for a romantic getaway, though. For work.”

“Oh, how funny,” she laughed, “Let’s grab a decaf together then, as we wait to board. Takeoff isn’t for another hour or so.”

You were the next person in line now, waiting to be called forward by one of the security officers to show your identification.

“I’d love that,” you smiled, “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

She nodded her head, “Seoyeon.”

It took all willpower to not appear shocked and slightly horrified.

Your mind made every attempt to rationalize so you wouldn’t freak out.

Perhaps this was a coincidence. There was certainly more than one woman with that name. She didn’t have to be that Seoyeon.

You feigned a smile, pointlessly hoping that somehow Jimin or Chaeyoung would come and whisk you away from her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Seoyeon.”

“Next, please.”

The security officer’s voice rang out, calling you up.

You turned away from her and all traces of contentment disappeared. You went slightly pale as you approached the desk, taking out your passport to show.

The officer examined your identification and instructed you to look into the face scanner. Once you were clear, you took off into the next zone. Your mind was spinning as you took off your shoes and put them and your bag into bins. So much that you didn’t hear the airport personnel calling you up when it was your turn to step into the body scanner.

When you were through security, you sat on a small bench and jammed your shoes back on, which was tricky with your feet being as swollen as they were. Seoyeon was right behind you.

She sat on the bench next to you to put her own shoes back on, smiling, “At least after all the waiting, they take you through quick.”

You mustered up a chuckle, “Yeah.”

The pair of you got up at the same time, a couple of pregnant women feeling uncomfortable for varying reasons.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing her bag, “There’s a coffee shop this way.”

Reluctantly, you wheeled your carry-on after her. A part of you wanted to decline, and another was curious to know if this was really her. Was this really the woman who’d broken Jimin’s heart? The one he’d been in love with for longer than he’d known you?

Chaeyoung had mentioned that she ended up marrying a wealthy man, and this woman was dressed in fine clothing. Her suitcase was designer, but that didn’t confirm anything.

You just wanted to know.

You ended up sitting down at the coffee shop with her, ordering yourself a decaf iced latte. Sitting across from her, you got a much clearer view of her face. She was gorgeous. Aside from nearly perfect hair and a flawless complexion, her lips were a pretty bow shape, stained with a nude rose color. Her eyes casted a twinkle. She even smelled lovely, like jasmine.

“So,” she sighed happily, removing the paper wrapping from her straw while glancing at your shirt again, “You said you’re going to LA on a work trip. What do you do?”

You had no idea how to answer. If she was the Seoyeon and you told the truth about your job, then maybe your answer would trigger a response in her to give you confirmation. Then again, would you want to share that information? You were meant to be discreet, and certainly in your situation, you were in no place to be risky.

You used taking a sip of your coffee as a means of buying yourself time to think of a response.

“I’m in fashion,” you said after swallowing, “There’s a shoot I’m working on.”

She seemed intrigued, “Wow, that sounds amazing. I once envisioned myself going into a creative field like that. But I’ve been around the industry a bit and I found it…challenging.”

Though still lacking one hundred percent certainty, that comment didn’t help her case. You came closer to believing it was her.

You took another sip of your cold, bitter drink, “Did you? How come?”

“Ah, it’s not important,” she waved it away with a laugh, regaining a sense of nonchalance, “Just isn’t my scene. I mean you saw with BTS coming through here. It’s pandemonium, chaos.”

You raised your brows, “Yeah. Anyway, what do you do?”

She hummed as she sipped on her drink, “I work at my husband’s firm, but I will likely stay at home after the little one gets here.”

Her husband’s firm. You recalled Chaeyoung saying she’d married a CEO. One step closer.

The more it sank in that this was likely the woman, the further the pit in your stomach dug.

“That’s nice,” you nodded, “I’m doing the same.”

“My,” Seoyeon’s eyes were on your collarbone, “We seem to have a lot in common, don’t we?”

You smirked, masking your rising repugnance, “We do.”

At last, your saving grace arrived, though it was awkward as could be. Chaeyoung appeared and spotted you. Her beaming smile faded slightly when she saw who was with you. Despite your own discomfort, you had to play it off as if you had no idea who you were talking to. Your coworker never told you the name of Jimin’s ex. If you gave any indication that you had connected the dots, it could raise suspicion in your friend. You should have had no way of knowing.

“Hey!” she approached you both, “So sorry I’m late. Have you been waiting for me long?”

“No, not at all.” you said.

The woman sitting across from you seemed to recognize her.

Her face was pleasant as could be and she looked at Seoyeon, and then back at you, “Do you two know each other?”

"We just met," you said while glancing across the table, "This is-"

"Seoyeon," Chaeyoung nodded, bowing to her politely, "I remember perfectly. Um, I don't know if you remember me..."

She nodded, "Ah, yes. I do recall your face. You're a stylist, correct?"

Your colleague affirmed, "I'm Chaeyoung."

Then she seemed to put the pieces together, looking at you while sipping her coffee again. When her lips parted from the straw, she grinned at you with a dimmed enthusiasm, "Oh, so you're a stylist too. The same company?"

You both nodded in reply, and her eyes grew a hint of skepticism. She knew you were with BTS, and that you knew her ex. But she didn't know the half of it, and that gave you the upper hand.

"I see," Seoyeon trailed off, unlocking her phone, "Oh! I didn't realize the time. I forgot to mention that my husband is expecting a call from me."

Then she rose from her chair and grabbed her bags, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. And to see you again, Chaeyoung. Please excuse me."

"Of course. It was nice to meet you as well. I hope you have a great babymoon." you bid her farewell.

With her coffee in hand, she left the cafe area and started in the direction of the gate. Then Chaeyoung sat down in her place, her expression changing to one of flabbergastment.

She put both of her palms down on the table, "Okay, first of all, I'm sorry I'm late. The twins were cranky and I had trouble getting out the door."

You smirked, "It's fine."

"Second of all," she wasted no time in lowering her volume, "That woman is Jimin's ex. The one I told you about."

You pretended to be surprised, though you knew it in your gut already, "Oh, shit. But I thought you said she was a total...well, bitch. Honestly, she was very kind. We started getting acquainted after she helped me up. She seems nice."

"Wait, you fell?" Chaeyoung's eyes were full of concern, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. It happened when the guys showed up, actually. There was a bit of a scuffle and I got shoved," you shrugged, "Anyway, that's not the point. Funny enough, she's going to LA too."

Your friend looked disturbed, "Right...We may have to give the company a heads-up."

You almost choked on your cold beverage, "What? W-Why?"

"Just out of precaution. Y/N, this person came close to blowing the lid on their relationship and causing a giant press nightmare for the boys. I'll never forget how torn up Jimin was..."

You looked down, "I understand that. But why would she pose a threat now? She's married, she's having a baby of her own. I feel like she's moved on by now. Plus, she was clearly intimidated by us. You saw how she got up and walked away. We made her uncomfortable, maybe even ashamed. I know she probably brings back bad memories, but it's in the past."

You were conscious of the fact that you were partly trying to convince yourself, but you also felt that it was logical. Seoyeon wasn't who she was back then. She was a married, pregnant woman who seemed to have no time to get involved in drama again.

Chaeyoung sighed, "Well I guess for my own moral clarity, I'd still like to notify someone. They'd rather have all the facts, you know?"

There was a pit in your stomach, "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

You finished your coffee before you realized, sipping away nervously as you thought about how you would break it to your boyfriend. If she told Management, they'd certainly give him a call.

To your right and across the wide hallway, there were the giant window panels with a view of the tarmac. A smaller jet roared as it glided down the pavement, lifting off the ground in a tilt.

"That's probably them," Chaeyoung said quietly, "The boys."

Lost in thought, you nodded, voice low, "There they go."

The flight was halfway over. His thumb and his index finger kept rubbing together subconsciously. He was unable to sleep, though weary.

He shifted in his roomy reclining seat. It could turn into a makeshift bed, if wanted. Many of the other members, or at least the ones he could see, had taken advantage of this luxury feature. Some light snoring could be heard - Namjoon’s, but he was sitting on the opposite end of the cabin. The two men still were hardly speaking, even when in close proximity.

Taehyung was nearby and awake, scrolling mindlessly on his phone. His face reflected the light of his screen, as the cabin was dark. It was nearing dusk, still plenty of light outside, but all the windows were shut to allow for better sleeping conditions.

Alert and bored out of his mind, Jimin checked his phone once again to see if you’d replied to his texts. He knew better, aware that you probably put your phone on airplane mode, but couldn’t resist. However, when he saw no reply from you, he sighed and decided to open the window next to him. Perhaps watching the skies could occupy his thoughts for a while.

Taehyung heard his sigh from across the aisle and looked over.

There was never mistaking Jimin’s inner feelings, especially with this second youngest member. Only a couple months apart in age, their bond had always been unique - rocky at times like siblings, but overall especially linked.

The younger cleared his throat and said quietly, “Talk to me, Jimin. What’s up?”

He looked over with a pained expression, not even bothering to conceal anything, “I’m sitting here, on a private jet. With so much space in my seat that you could fit two of me. I can recline and stretch my legs. I could even press this button here and the chair will vibrate on my back.”

He looked around to make sure that no flight attendant or outside individual was nearby. Luckily, their security guards and the attendant were sitting on the other end of the plane, out of earshot.

Jimin leaned closer and lowered his voice, “Meanwhile, my pregnant girlfriend is flying commercial, probably uncomfortable as hell. It just feels so wrong. I should have pushed for her to be onboard with us.”

Taehyung chuckled, “You know why you couldn’t have done that. Then, we’d have to have Chaeyoung as well, and there’s no room.”

“It’s not funny, Tae,” his brows furrowed shaking his head out of annoyance, “We found out at the ultrasound that her blood pressure is too high. If she doesn’t sleep or eat well or keep her stress down, it could be dangerous for both of them.”

His bandmate’s face softened, as did his tone, “Oh shit…I’m sorry, I didn’t know. But she was given the okay to travel anyway?”

Jimin sighed, “Yes. It was more of a warning, not an immediate risk. I know I’m kind of being irrational. If the doctor said it’s fine, then I should trust that. I’m just worried is all.”

Taehyung grinned a little and reached across the aisle to put his hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle shake, “Well I think that probably just comes with the territory of being an expectant father. It would be concerning if you weren’t worried.”

He nodded, “That may be true, but that does nothing to change my guilt about her comfort. If anyone should have a nice, cozy place to sit for this long journey, it should be her.”

“I agree with you, I do,” the younger said with more reservation, “But it just had to be this way, unfortunately. Y/N has proven she’s tough going through all of this. She’ll be fine and when you two get home you can spend all the time you want doting on her.”

The thought made Jimin chuckle as he leaned back to his original position in the seat, “Actually, she wants to spend time decorating when we get back. She brought all of her wall art and fake plants with her. Safe to say I think my apartment is about to undergo a feminine transformation.”

Taehyung laughed in return, “Nothing wrong with that. You barely decorated your place to begin with. It could use some wall art and fake plants and shit.”

“And throw pillows,” he laughed quietly as he thought of you carrying in that giant black trash bag full of them, “So many pillows…”

The other shrugged, “Eh, let her make it what she wants. Make the place more homey before the little bundle of joy gets here. You have a nursery to build too, my friend.”

His head his the back of the seat, “I know. So much to do. We haven’t even discussed names yet.”

“You still have months for that.” Taehyung said.

There was a silence that fell between them, both daydreaming for a moment. Jimin pictured what was currently a guest bedroom transformed into a nursery, perhaps painted a different color. Toys littering the floor. A crib along the wall with a mobile hanging overhead. A small, precious new person tucked safely in its confines. He couldn’t stop envisioning a baby girl in a pink onesie.

“You’re so ooey-gooey,” Taehyung chuckled, “Looks good on you.”

He shrugged, but he couldn’t contain his smile, “It’s been a lot, but thank you.”

*The next day*

Your alarm went off, and you were already awake from the hunger. You got in late the night before and found a small bite to eat, but you were still ravenous.

Hotel breakfast would begin in half an hour, giving you enough time to shower and refresh. After breakfast, you and Chaeyoung would head over to the site of the music video shoot and get to work.

Stepping out of the shower, your phone was vibrating on the sink counter. It was Jimin. You felt guilty when you saw his name appear, having missed a call from him last night. You were just too tired.

You picked up, “Morning.”

His soft, hoarse morning voice brought you comfort, as always, “Hey. You alright sweetheart?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Just exhausted.”

“I am too,” he said, “How was yesterday?”

“Fine," was your answer out of habit, but then you remembered the news you had to share with him about the person you met, "Actually, um, there was a slight hiccup of sorts. I, uh...I got pushed."

You chickened out, squeezing your eyes shut and putting a hand to your forehead as soon as the regret hit you. He had to know - the company would inevitably reach out to him once Chaeyoung explained it. Though you knew it was best to be the one to tell him, it was unbearably awkward, and you didn't want to add more stress to the pile. It would mean opening a whole new can of worms.

What Jimin heard was more than enough to send him into a tizzy, "What? Was it deliberate? Were you hurt?!"

"N-No," you stammered, "It happened while you guys were entering the airport. That rush of people. Someone blew right by me and knocked me over. But I'm alright. I landed on my hands and knees.”

You heard him let out a long breath, “Oh, good. Y/N, please don’t scare me like that. You know I already feel bad about not being with you.”

A pang of guilt jolted in your chest for avoiding the truth, “Sorry, I know. Um…I guess what I’m trying to tell you is something else. After I fell, a woman helped me up. She-”

You heard the sound of a door in the background, followed by a muffled voice.

Jimin muttered something before getting back to you, “Shit, baby I’m going to have to let you go. We need to head down for the overview while they are prepping the set. Um, we’ll find a minute to talk there, okay?”

“Oh,” you stiffened, “Yeah, sure. I’ll see you there soon.”

“Great, eat a good breakfast, hm? I love you.”

You pulled a subtle smile, “I will. Love you too.”

Once you hung up, there was no reason to do anything other than get ready for your day. You took care of your hair and makeup, and put on whatever clothes that would fit you and permit you to look the least bit presentable. Then, you grabbed your purse and went down to meet Chaeyoung for breakfast.

The morning was pleasant with her. She made little to no mention of Seoyeon - just talked about the shoot and the baby. It had been a while since she checked in with you.

She forked a bite of scrambled eggs, “So, how is everything? You just had your ultrasound, right? All good?”

You smiled as you chewed, “Yep, all good. And no, we didn’t find out the gender.”

She laughed, “That was going to be my next question. I’m intrigued that you used ‘we’ instead of ‘I’, though. Care to explain?”

Her smile was for lighthearted gossip, so it didn’t bother you that much. You’d gotten used to lying to her face.

“Yes, the father was there,” you sighed, sitting back in your chair, “He missed the first one and really appreciated being there for this one.”

“And did you appreciate him being there?”

You grinned, “Yes, as a matter of fact I did. We get along…And I think he will make the most incredible father.”

Chaeyoung subtly pointed her index finger at you, “I’m detecting a blush on your cheeks. You’re really into this guy, huh? Do I get to know his name now?”

You giggled to hide your dismay, “Once again it’s a no. I told you, he’s private. Maybe I like him too much to disregard his wishes.”

She teased, “Oooo, alright I can get behind that. I’m sort of jealous of you, actually. Having a baby, enjoying a fun little love affair. And on top of that, you’re traveling across the world. You’re killing it.”

You nodded and smiled, but your spackle job crumbled. Bit by bit, your pleasant expression faded, and then soured. Your heart was racing. Your gut was churning. Tears pricked your eyes and you gulped, all while maintaining a nodding motion of your head.

It was all railing you over at once.

Your secret relationship with one of the most famous men in the world. Your unexpected motherhood. The friend of your partner who hated you. Your probable job loss. Your parents who weren’t speaking to you. The ex girlfriend who had re-appeared like some cruel joke from the universe.

It hardly came out as a whisper, “Y-Yeah.”

Chaeyoung’s lightness dropped immediately. She leaned in, concern plaguing her features, “Hey…Hey, what is it? Did I say something?”

A tear rolled down your cheek as you shook your head, reaching for your napkin so you could dry your eyes, “No. I’m sorry, I’m okay. I just…It’s been difficult at times. And on top of all of it, the OBGYN gave me a warning about my blood pressure. It’s been elevated and I feel like it’s just been one more thing to worry about.”

Her hand found yours, “I get it. I’m sorry, I should have known. I should have remembered that feeling, when everyone is so happy and excited that you’re pregnant but you feel like complete shit on the inside.”

You forced a short-lived grin, “Yeah, it’s hard.”

If she only knew.

Chaeyoung patted the back of your hand a few times as she leaned to her side, apparently digging for something in the purse that lay by her feet, “I was going to save this for another time, but I guess now’s as good as ever.”

She pulled a small, thick book out of her purse and set it on the table, “For you.”

You picked it up, sniffling, “A baby naming book.”

The sweet woman smiled softly, “When I felt overwhelmed carrying the twins, a little escape would always help me. I found that going through all the names in this book was a comfort. I got to forget about all the hard stuff and focus on my babies. What their names might be. Who they might become. Only the good stuff. Maybe give it a shot?”

You wiped another tear and smiled, grateful to have a friend, “Chae…This is so kind. Thank you so much. This probably doesn’t come as a shock, but I haven’t started thinking about names yet.”

She shrugged happily, “Well you will now. It’s fun.”

You both finished your meal and ordered a ride to the Los Angeles Theatre, the set of the music video.

“Holy shit,” Hoseok smirked, bobbing his head as he checked himself out in one of the building’s ornate gold mirrors, “You guys did amazing with the looks. Wow.”

You and Chaeyoung laughed, watching all the guys look at each other’s clothes in delight. They were all dressed and made up, waiting on the director to give them the signal to begin filming.

Jungkook, who was in a corset, was particularly pleased, “Yes. Chef’s kiss, ladies. Thank you. They match the venue perfectly.”

Chaeyoung murmured in your ear, “I wish my waist was that fucking small.”

You covered your mouth as you giggled, “Mine certainly isn’t.”

Even Namjoon seemed content, joking here and there with Yoongi. Ironically, his was one of your favorite outfits of all. It was a black suit with a simple yet bold cargo detail on one side, a satin band to highlight his torso. Nothing highly elaborate, but cool. Complete with lug-sole boots, it was the perfect mix of debonair and rugged.

While the others goofed around in the spare time, Jimin approached both of you stylists. It was the first glimpse of him up-close since you said goodbye at your apartment the day before. He looked beyond words, hair dyed a bluish black for this concept. It was the first time in a while you’d seen him with anything other than his natural hair, but he pulled almost anything off.

He bowed slightly as he greeted you, wishing he could bring you into his arms instead, “Thank you both. How was your flight?”

Chaeyoung crossed her arms, “Ah, you know. Awful.”

You elbowed her gently and reassured Jimin, “It really wasn’t that bad.”

Your colleague rubbed your back, endeared by your fib, “Says the one who is five months pregnant. It’s alright to admit it sucked.”

You shrugged a little and looked at your boyfriend, “Alright it did kind of suck. I had to periodically get up and take walks up and down the aisle, just to stretch. I was able to sleep a bit, though. It was just a lot of sitting.”

You knew that would ease his concern a level.

“Speaking of sitting,” Chaeyoung said, craning her neck to either side in search of something, “Let’s find you a chair, shall we? Being on your feet for long periods will increase your blood pressure, girl.”

Before you could say a word, she was off to find something for you to sit in. Jimin looked quite pleased with this. He inched closer to you and grinned, “Thanks for telling her like I asked. She’s a good friend.”

You nodded, “She is. She also gave me a baby naming book.”

He chuckled, “Ah, so when we get home, we can talk about names while finding a way place for the million throw pillows you brought, hm?”

You laughed, narrowing your eyes in jest, “I would love that actually, thank you very much.”

A comfortable silence arose between you two. He just took you in, dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved black top that likely wouldn’t fit in a matter of weeks.

Maybe this was the time to tell him. You didn’t know when Chaeyoung aimed to get in touch with the company, but you doubted she’d wait very long.

You checked your surroundings quickly before muttering, “Jimin, I-”

Then a deeper voice called to him, “Hey.”

Both of you looked to find Namjoon, the members filtering away to the filming area behind him. His hands were in his pockets, eyes switching between you and Jimin for a second. Even a brief stare from him was intimidating. Then he cocked head towards the set, “We’re starting.”

Jimin’s eyes went cold, but not bitter. He nodded without a word before turning to you once more, “Sorry, really quickly, what were you going to say? Is it what you wanted to tell me earlier?”

You froze for moment, locked in a dilemma. You hated to let it slip by again, but you had to. It could wait until the end of the shoot.

“Uh, nothing,” you grinned, “Later.”

He agreed reluctantly, “Alright. Go sit down, please.”

Then he went off to join the guys. The shoot commenced right on schedule. For a while, you and Chaeyoung sat in the background, watching them perform to a much more contemporary choreography than normal. The song was called “Black Swan”. It was beautiful and artistic - and Jimin was perfectly in his element. He sank into his craft wholeheartedly, fluid and precise with every movement, right down to his finger tips.

Watching him do what he was born to do made you warm inside. You were proud of him, while also relieved that he had his performances to escape the chaos. It was like his character disappeared, and he took on a new persona. He was freer.

In between takes, you and Chaeyoung would refresh their looks wherever you could. They would film certain parts of the choreography in different places. Each setting called for different looks, and it was your job to help them get settled quickly.

At one point, they were directed to take shoot both still shots and parts of the dance at this grand staircase. The wardrobe for this setting consisted of black suits with black, reflective rhinestones in varying places.

You divvied up the task of lint rolling all the jackets. You and Chaeyoung went through each member with haste, to a point where the only two left were Jungkook and Namjoon. She went in the direction of the youngest member before you could, leaving you to handle the one you wasn’t particularly fond of you.

Maintaining your dignity and a sense of security, you approached him as you would anyone else.

Jimin was subtly but dutifully observing from a distance.

You smiled at the tall man, who was blonde now, “Hey.”

He offered a congenial grin in return, “Hey.”

You felt so pathetic, rolling the sticky paper down his sleeves.

“How are you, uh, feeling?” Namjoon asked.

You didn’t know if he was trying to be genuine or if he simply didn’t want to deal with an awkward silence. Caught off guard by the remark, you took a moment to answer in a hush, “I’m alright. I appreciate you asking. How are you?”

“I’m doing okay,” he said, biting the inside of his cheek, “Look, I don’t know if this is the place, but I’m sure you know what’s been going on between me and him.”

You glanced at Jimin. He was leaning against the large and gorgeous post of the staircase, now with a fire in his eyes. His head was tilted slightly downward as he glared at the situation unfolding before him. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but he could see something was off-kilter. If Namjoon was about to try anything with you, he’d have hell to pay.

You started to lint roll the back of his jacket, “I have heard, yes. It’s…That’s not what I want for you guys.”

“Me too.” he lamented.

The real regret was palpable in his voice. It made you pity him, in a way. It reminded you that he wasn’t truly a good man, with a good heart.

Namjoon continued, “I realized I never gave you the chance to defend yourself. So I’m asking you now, Y/N…Do you, in any way, have bad intentions towards Jimin? Do you seek notoriety out of all of this, even the slightest bit?”

Your stomach was in a coil. In one respect, you were glad to have been given the chance to speak for yourself, but it was such an unexpected move on his part that you fumbled for an answer.

You took a deep breath and let the words out as confidently as you could, “I do not and have never thought so lowly of him that I would deceive him like that. My feelings have always been real. That is the truth.”

He was quiet as you went about your work. When you finished, he nodded to you and walked away to go join the guys.

You knew your boyfriend was still looking at you, searching for your eyes to know if you were okay. You avoided his gaze, feeling somewhat dirty. It was odd - you had told Namjoon the truth, but you felt shameful that someone really felt the need to ask you that.

You tore the used lint paper off the roll and crumpled it in your hand as you and Chaeyoung reunited off-set. You sat back down on your collapsible chairs behind all the crew, fading into the background once again.

As the leader of the group climbed the staircase to his position as directed, Jimin grabbed his wrist. It looked like a gentle hold to everyone who might have been able to see it, and he was mindful to keep a composed demeanor. His face was totally neutral.

He and Namjoon shared a look. You noticed and prayed he wouldn’t start anything.

From afar, you watching Jimin crane his neck the tiniest length to one side. His lips didn’t move. He just wanted the other to see his expression. He wanted him to know he’d seen that little interaction, and he wasn’t happy.

The tense moment was over in a couple of seconds, and they went back to performing for the camera.

Well into this portion of filming, Chaeyoung nudged your arm and whispered to you, “What were you and Jimin talking about?”

Your heart dropped, “Nothing. Just joking around. You know how he is.”

She sounded apprehensive, “You didn’t tell him about Seoyeon, did you?”

Timidly, you replied, “No.”

“Good,” she sighed, “I wouldn’t want him to know that I told you about her. Oh well, he will be getting a call from Management sometime today, most likely. I told them early this morning. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe. They know you had no way of knowing who she was.”

You nodded, “Right…Thanks for doing that. H-How do you think he’ll take it?”

She shrugged, pursing her lips as both of you watched the guys go about their routine, the song playing in the background, “Honestly, I don’t know. He’s been really great without her. But this is going to come out of nowhere and it might stress him out. It's just a little mess.”

You looked at your shoes, “Yeah.”

You and him kept sharing periodic eye contact throughout the rest of the shoot. It was like he was monitoring you, and you could only assume he’d demand to know what his bandmate had said to you during that little rendezvous.

Each time his eyes floated over to yours, your heart would ache. You held so much adoration for this man. The lengths he would go in order to care for you were more than you could have imagined for yourself. He didn’t just want you to be happy - he chased after it.

You put your hand on your belly, letting in the bond. A part of that wonderful man was growing inside you. His legacy and yours.

As your thumb stroked up and down, you felt a light tapping from within.

It was here, finally. The child in your womb was moving with enough force for you to feel it.

Tears welled up. After everything, this baby was growing strong. Your world had been turned upside down. You’d been under more duress than ever in your life, yet your child was healthy. You were both soldiering through it all.

You closed your eyes, relaxed in your chair, and smiled as the taps continued.

Chaeyoung caught this. While she was grinning, she was confused, “What’s got you so gleeful?”

You looked at her, “The baby’s moving.”

Your friend shared your excitement as you peered back to find Jimin. He was focused on his work. You couldn’t help but think your little one was trying to dance with him.

The boys were celebrating in Hoseok's hotel suite late at night. They always did this after completing a music video shoot, which was no small feat. Someone ordered a few bottles of champagne to toast, and more drinks were bound to flow afterward. However, one could cut the tension between two of the members with a knife. Now it could finally be brought up, and Jimin wouldn't miss that chance.

As soon as the leader plopped down on the sofa, Jimin sat next to him.

The air between them wasn't hostile - just strained. It wasn't enough to deter any of the other members from having fun with one another. They hardly noticed at all.

Jimin leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs, holding a champagne flute in the middle of his legs. He simply sighed. Namjoon situated his right ankle on his left knee and let his posture relax and recline.

The younger of the two chuckled ironically, "Do I really need to ask?"

Namjoon smirked, taking a sip from his glass, "Did I chew into your girlfriend? Of course not."

"She looked uncomfortable with you from where I was standing."

"Yeah, well you were standing pretty far away."

"Namjoon," Jimin's teeth were nearly at a grit, "What did you say?"

The older let out a breath and shifted forward, meeting his eyes and softening his tone, "Out of fairness, I asked her if her intentions were benevolent."

No longer could he maintain his cool, but he kept his voice low, "What?"

"Yeah, I flat out asked her. We were being cordial, and so I just thought I'd give her the chance to speak for herself."

Jimin's tone was dripping with revulsion, "Well how very generous of you, Joonie. How very gracious. You showed her so much respect by asking her if she's a fucking gold digger!"

The raised voice drew the attention of the others.

He went on, "What the fuck is wrong with you?! Don't you realize that by asking her that question, you were essentially calling her that?!"

"Jesus Christ, you guys," Yoongi groaned, "What now?"

The infuriated man gulped down the rest of his drink and set the glass firmly down on the table in front of them. Then he stood up and looked at Namjoon, gesturing to the group with his hands with flaring nostrils, "Tell them, huh? Tell them what you just told me."

The man on the couch put up his hands in self-defense before calmly stating, "Today at the shoot, I asked Y/N if she has good intentions."

Several eye rolls and sighs came about.

Jungkook was almost as frustrated as Jimin, "What the hell, hyung?"

"That's a bit much." Taehyung remarked.

"I was seriously trying to be fair, okay?" the head of the group objected, "I felt bad that this whole drama centered around her has been happening behind her back. I wasn't trying to fucking intimidate her. We were talking like adults and I honestly thought it would be the right thing to do."

"You thought it would be good to ask our friend's pregnant girlfriend if she's only in it for fame and money?" Hoseok scowled.

"I'll admit that it sounds so much worse when you put it like that, but yes."

Jimin threw his hands up in his exasperation, “It sounds bad because it is!”

Jungkook came to his aid, patting his back to try to get him to calm down, “Hey, just relax. The yelling doesn’t help anything.”

“No, I’m fucking sick of his foolish, insane agenda! It was bad enough when you were saying these things to me, but now you go and take it straight to Y/N?! She’s carrying my child! She doesn’t need you and your ridiculous false assumptions cast down from up there on your high horse!”

This time, Jin tried to soothe the enraged member, “Alright let’s just take a breather, okay?”

He put his hands on his shoulders, but Jimin broke out of it immediately, “Stop acting like you know everything, Namjoon! Just because you are the leader of this group on paper doesn’t mean you are the fucking alpha! You don’t know!”

Namjoon couldn’t take it anymore. He shot up, “I know you, Jimin! And I knew you at your very worst! At your lowest! You don’t remember?! The day Seoyeon ended things, who was at your side?!”

Yoongi tried to stop him, “Joon, you don’t-”

“Who, Jimin?! Who checked on you every day, only to find you drunk and saying you didn’t want to live anymore?! Who helped you wash the bloodstains from your shirt after you broke a fucking fifth of whisky and cut yourself trying to clean it up wasted?!”

Jimin was still fuming, but speechless. He was just a tight ball of nerves.

“I did! I fucking did! I don’t ever want to see you in that state again and I won’t apologize!”

“SHE IS NOT SEOYEON!”

Just then, his phone began to ring. With veins popping out of his neck and a face red, he stopped.

Everyone was frozen, shocked by the outburst. They’d never seen him scream at anyone like that.

The phone kept ringing.

Aggravated beyond words, Jimin rolled his eyes, “Where’s my goddamn phone?”

Yoongi found it resting on the dresser against the wall. He picked it up and looked at the screen, eyebrows furrowing, “Uh, it’s Management…”

The anger slowly drained from his demeanor. They rarely called out of the blue, but when they did, it was almost never good.

Jimin calmed his breathing and pushed a tuft of hair out of his face, taking the device out of Yoongi’s grasp.

Everyone remained quiet as he answered.

“Hello?”

“Jimin,” a familiar manager’s voice came through, “Apologies, I know it’s late over there.”

“It’s alright. What’s going on?”

There was a brief pause before the reply.

“Seoyeon is in LA. And I’m afraid she met and spoke to the styling team that traveled with the group.”

[yallthemwitches]

“Do you do this for all your sick mates?” She asks, breaking the silence with a wry smile. He chuckles, hand still sliding against her cheek. “Only the ones who deserve it—only the ones I’m especially fond of.”

Rated T. Read under cut or on AO3

“Evans–now this is getting ridiculous.”

She clenches her eyes even more shut, keeping her body curled into a tight ball in the squashy arm chair. 

“Go away—I’m fine. Just…resting.” The effort to speak makes her head ring. “Shouldn’t you be in class anyway?”

She hears the dampened sound of footsteps and opens her eyes. James stands in front of her, tugging at his tie until it comes loose around his neck, his bag abandoned on the ground. 

“Peter told me you were up here looking like a shriveled up flobberworm,” he says plainly, “Can’t have my friends looking that bad.”

“Well, remind me to tell Peter exactly what I think he looks like next time he comes around,” she huffs, a frown too painful to muster.

It gets a smile out of him and for a moment she can look past the utter embarrassment of probably actually looking like a flobberworm. Through her pounding temples, his use of the word friend rattles around, taunting her in a way that she doesn’t have the energy nor desire to focus on. They are friends— that is a good thing. So why does it feel like a knife to her frontal lobe everytime he says it?

Her eyes blink open again to see him rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, tie now lost and the top buttons undone in a carelessly disheveled look. 

Oh, that’s why. 

“You should at least go to the hospital wing,” he chides. The good advice sounds foreign from his mouth. 

“No hospital wing,” she croaks out. “Honestly, it's just a cold. I need to just sleep it off…”

A sharp chill runs through her chest and she shudders her body closer, burrowing her face into her knees. The fire next to her crackles warmly, but it’s like someone has put a shielding charm on it— all she can feel is the cold hollowness of the castle. 

“Alright, suit yourself.”

Something resembling warmth slides under her and pulls her up out of the chair. Body going into panic mode, she begins to squirm in his arms, trying and failing to push against his chest and back into the chair.

“James, put me down. I’m disgusting–my nose is running.” 

“Nah, you’re not disgusting,” he says with full sincerity, “just sick.” His arms tighten around her and she abandons all hope to be released, taking advantage of the opportunity to be cradled against him. 

“We both know you won’t make it even two steps up to the girls dorm anyhow,” she adds, weakly. Playing a battle of wits with him on a normal day was exhausting enough, but with a fever it seemed downright unfair.

“Good thing I’m not going to the girls' dorm then.”

He turns his body in the other direction and starts climbing the steps to the boys’ dorm, having a far too easy time managing to carry her up such a cramped, spiral staircase. On the landing, he kicks open the door to the dorm room, all the boy’s bed curtains open and vacant besides leftover candy wrappers and bits of parchment. 

“The lads are out in classes until at least dinner,” he sets her down on her feet but she holds onto his arm for balance, woozy from the blood rushing back to her body. “--and even so, I’ll tell them to shove off if they happen to try to skive off a class.”

Still holding onto his arm, he leads her over to his bedside. It’s not a place she hasn’t seen before: since fifth Remus would sometimes invite her up to listen to records and now in more recent months she would come up to join in whatever antics they were up to—but to get in his bed? If her body had the leftover energy to make her cheeks burn, she would have been on fire. 

“You want me to sleep here?” She whispers, eyes darting around his space. None of the boys other than Remus had made their beds and looking down at the pulled back duvet she could imagine him clearly —sitting up with impossibly messy hair and eyes still full of sleep, stretching his arms over his head and yawning with some t-shirt on—or no shirt at all…

Suddenly everything went from freezing to blazing hot. 

James blinks, brow crinkling. “Well, I guess you could sleep in someone else’s bed but I think it would be better to ask–”

Her head jerks up to find his face dangerously close. Too close when she’s probably pale as a ghost and full of mucus and just a friend.

“No–sorry. That’s not what I meant. I’m not trying to be some kind of goldilocks…”

“Goldi—what?”

Suddenly, succumbing to sickness seemed awfully appealing. “Nothing, I’m delirious.”

“Right.” His brow furrows and his eyes scan over her face for a moment. “Is this ok then? It’s just that you said you didn’t want to go to the hospital wing and–”

“It’s fine. Really. It’s honestly too kind of you.” She means it, though she doesn’t have the energy to imbue her words with exactly how much. 

His face softens, a triumphant smile breaking onto his face. “It’s nothing. You can use my bed anytime—now, off you go.”

He leads her to sit and contemplate the most loaded statement she’s ever heard. 

Acting as though offering his sleeping quarters is as natural as sharing a quill, he goes over to his wardrobe and starts pulling out drawers, hands fishing through pieces of fabric.

“So what will it be? Socks I presume? Maybe something more comfortable to sleep in?”

She can’t tell if he’s talking to himself or not. The room starts to go fuzzy again and she wishes she still had his arm to hold onto. 

“Er–I have socks thanks.”

He turns around, holding thick, Gryffindor socks that are three sizes too big for her. 

“Yeah, but do you have quidditch grade, comfy, wool socks?” He tosses them in her direction and she just barely makes the catch. 

“Really, you’re doing too much I’m fine with—”

He pulls out a shirt and holds it up to inspect. She immediately recognizes it as his quidditch jersey from last year, the words quidditch captain not yet emblazoned on the front, but his name still written in gold lettering across the chest. It happens so quick she could have dreamed it, but his eyes shift from the jersey to her, a smattering of red starting to appear on his cheeks. 

“Ah, maybe…something else.” He mutters to himself, quickly stowing it away back into the drawer. Moments later, he pulls out a Montrose Magpie t-shirt and gives it a once over before walking it over to her in outstretched arms. 

“Here you are. Can’t say I have the coziest of things, but it’s better than wearing a bloody tie.”

She takes it with a quiet thanks. The burning feeling of being in his room now gone, the unbearable chill from downstairs starts to creep back into her bones. Wanting desperately to be horizontal and under covers as soon as possible, she starts shucking off her tie and unbuttoning her shirt without care, only one button in before she realizes that James’ eyes are zeroed in on the act, completely blown out and frozen on her fingers. 

“Uhm,” she murmurs and he snaps out of it, turning his body so fast that she would have surely fallen over if their roles were reversed. 

“Ah sorry!” He calls, now facing the wall. “I er–just wasn’t expecting that.” He continues to stare away from her, hands on his hips and leaning forward slightly as though he might be in pain. She continues to change, taking off her uniform and pulling the oversized shirt over her head. It’s long enough to cover down to her upper thigh, but she climbs under the covers anyway before letting him know the coast is clear. When he turns around again, he looks bashful—a full bloom of red covering his cheeks as his eyes naturally fall to the pile of her clothes on the floor.

“Feels better, thanks,” she calls out.

“Yeah…’course.”

With her head on a pillow, her body gets taken over by illness. The aches, the booming feeling in her head, the shivering cold all working together to make her want to disappear from the world entirely. From beyond the screen of her fever, she feels the edge of the bed dip from weight and can just barely make out the sound of his voice, talking low with someone else. 

“Yeah—she’s really unwell ...found her in the common room and she refused to go to Poppy…no, just tell everyone else to give her some space and maybe if you pass by pick up something for her to eat when she wakes—otherwise I’ll go in a bit….”

She hears the garbled responses of another voice, but they sound distant, as though coming from a telephone receiver. 

“...don’t be disgusting mate, she’s sick,” she hears James say, his voice flustered. “I’d do it for you too y’know….”

She misses the final exchanges, feeling the lull of sleep attempting to beat out the frigid feeling that continues to circle her like her own private blizzard. 

The loss of his weight on the bed rouses her again as he gets up. Her body reacts immediately, an endless chant of no no no spiraling through her. 

“Stay,” she calls out. From across the room his movement stalls. 

“It’s so bloody cold—I can’t stand it. Can you please just stay,” she tries again in earnest. There’s no response other than a padding of feet towards the bed, then the press of his weight now next to her. 

“You’re cold?” He murmurs, concerned. “ I have the fire running, but I can get more blankets—just give me…”

“No,” she says harder than before. She must be delirious, completely absolutely mental. There’s no other explanation for it, but the words bubble out anyhow.

“Can you just–come here?”

She scoots herself over on the bed, making just enough room to make her intention clear. She hears him swallow hard and the sound of his glasses landing on the bedside table before feeling something solid and warm press flush against her back. 

“Of course,” he says softly and arms wrap around her. She grabs onto them to hold them even tighter, wishing she could just melt into him where evidently all the warmth in the whole world has been hiding from her. His heart hammers at her back and she hears herself give a soft shhh to it–acting as though he is the one needing the comfort rather than her. 

“Is this ok?” He whispers. His lips are so close to her ear that his breath tickles her skin, but she is already drifting away, the sharp pain of cold subsiding and being filled with a delightful, encompassing warmth. The constant ache in her bones calming to just a dull memory as the room becomes darker and darker.

“Yes–you're perfect.” She thinks she hears a response but it's so far away it gets lost entirely. Pushing herself even closer to him, the calming wave of his breath and the smell of his clothes lull her deeper and deeper, until everything disappears entirely. 

* * * * *

It’s no longer warm—it's burning. Her eyes flutter open and outside the window the sun is ducking behind the mountains, taking the last of the daylight with it. Her t-shirt sticks to her, covered with sweat as she turns her body, only to freeze when something warm and heavy skims across her hip. 

An arm—and not hers. 

“Your fever broke about an hour ago,” a voice says softly behind her, a bit gruff with sleep. “I got you some wet washcloths for your head—you should probably drink something, you’ve been sweating for a while now.”

She twists around to see James’ eyes staring back with concern but not making any further movements to untangle himself. Instead, he reaches an arm behind him onto the bedside table and procures a white fabric that drips slightly onto the comforter. Without her permission, he begins dabbing at her face, eyes following his movements with precision as he softly presses the cloth into her hairline. She settles onto her back, the feel of the cold doing wonders to her skin and he pulls himself up to hover over her slightly, a hand holding at her waist while the other continues to work up and down her face and neck. 

If she lets herself ruminate on it for even a millisecond, it will become too much. 

“Better?” He whispers, hand stalling against her cheek. With the fever gone, she is all too aware of how close he is and has been for the past few hours. His shirt, his socks, his bed, him swallowing her like some James Potter vortex that, if she is being honest, would seem like a pretty spectacular place to be—if they weren’t just friends.

“Lots–thanks,” she murmurs. His hand moves to the other cheek and presses soft circles there. She leans into it, finally able to bask in the feel of his body against hers and the way his breath softly falls over her. 

“Do you do this for all your sick mates?” She asks, breaking the silence with a wry smile. 

He chuckles, hand still working against her skin. “Only the ones who deserve it—only the ones I’m especially fond of.”

Her heart clangs against her chest and she knows he can feel it. He stops again, dropping the rag by her side and going back to cup her chin. 

“What else do you need?”

It’s a far too dangerous question given the circumstances, but her hand moves on its own accord, wrapping around him to hold him there as though he might disappear if she lets go. 

“I don’t want to get you sick,” she musters out, “You’ve already done so much.”

“Then let me do more,” he says simply, eyes searching hers, the hand on her waist giving a soft squeeze.

“I want—” she begins, voice faltering. He hangs on her every word, eyes glittering from above her. There’s a thousand ways she could answer that sentence, each more true and raw than the last, but to say them now—now that they are finally getting along, finally mates— is a gamble she isn’t willing to make. 

“--I want you to stay here.”

His mouth goes into a straight line, then forms into a soft, eager smile. “Of course, Evans. Of course, no problem.” 

He settles back down next to her, a hand still cupping the side of her face and her eyes close, sleep already coming to take her away again. Even falling away, she can feel his eyes on her and pictures them clearly through the fog: gleaming and willing and unmistakably kind. She wonders if he can sense the double meaning in her words or if she is going to wake up again and find him gone, back to being just mates who talk and laugh and do nothing more. 

“Lily?” His voice cuts through the quiet, breath hot at her neck.

“Hm?” 

“Is it selfish of me to say I don’t want you to get better?” His voice sounds small but firm. “Is it selfish to say…I like having you here.”

It’s a bright, healing feeling that pulls him closer to her. 

“Not at all,” she whispers. Suddenly, she’s feeling a lot better now–maybe better than she ever has before. 

“It might even be the best thing for us.”

[kira-fluff]

hello! if its okay with you, i’d like to request fluff/comfort with mikey from tr. i’ve been in a mental slump lately and contrary to the whole “worst boyfriend” ranking, i feel like he’d be great at comfort if we gave him the chance :3

whatever you need - mikey sano x fem!reader

after getting let go, you'd been struggling. thank goodness for boyfriends. (fluff/comfort) tw: language, mental health struggles, getting fired a/n: i hope you've been feeling better as of late. just finished my last exam, i have a presentation tomorrow, but i'm not worried about it. thankfully finals are mostly over so i have time to write! thanks for requesting. i love me some mikey. worst boyfriend slander will not be tolerated!! i gotchu

you couldn't seem to catch a break. just when you thought you were crawling out of this hole you didn't even dig yourself, something (or someone) would push you down further. was there really a way out? nope. clearly not. of course you were fired. well, "let go" as he said. your asshole of a boss sat you in his office and said, "i'm afraid we're gonna have to let you go." like it was this sad, reluctant choice he simply had to make. a sacrifice. but you could tell by his expression he was anything but remorseful. the worst part was that the company was flooded with cash, and you'd not be prideful to say you were a major contributor in that success. so why were you let go? because the business was "expanding" and therefore, there needed to be "reprioritizations" made. which basically just means you weren't worth keeping on board the ship. probably because you're a woman and god forbid any female succeed in the workplace. whatever. fuck him. it was all so overwhelming anyway. your sleep schedule was - is - fucked. all the work you're putting in and was it even worth it?

you ignored the sense of dread pooling in your stomach whenever your eyes happened a glance on your bank app. funds weren't going to be coming in any time soon. sighing, you powered off your phone, chucking it to the side of your bed. before you realized it, a week had passed. a week of productivity? no. a week of bed-rotting. a week of napping, getting up to eat a few crackers, and then trudging back to sleep. it's what you deserved for busting your ass for an ungrateful corporation and an ungrateful piece of shit boss. you just wanted to close your eyes forever and forget about the world for a little bit. was that so wrong? mikey was gone visiting takemichi, so it's not like you needed to try to look cute. just a little longer. just a little longer.

-

you heard a faint thudding sound. you groaned and rolled over on your bed, covers twisted around your form, your hair tangled and knotted. the sound was getting louder. were you getting robbed? eh, what does it matter. it wasn't like you had anything of value in here anyway. covering your ears with your pillow, you burrowed deeper into your blankets, basking in their warmth. thankfully, the thudding noise stopped. it was probably just your dryer, which you're fairly certain is possessed by satan (not that you'd done laundry in... awhile.) your peace was short lived. suddenly, you heard a sound that was suspiciously akin to the bolt of your front door being unlocked. your eyes shot open, but you were too scared to move as you heard your front door burst open. maybe they won't know i'm here if i just lie still. maybe they'll think i'm dead. loud steps made a beeline for your room - a voice getting closer, mumbling something under their breath. if you got up now, the intruder would surely know. throwing the covers over your face, you hoped maybe they'd mistake you as some extremely large body pillow. the thief stopped at the entrance to your room. you held your breath, hoping he'd move on and maybe steal your microwave instead. could this month get any worse? there was an exasperated sigh. "what are you doing." it wasn't a question, more just a statement. and you recognized that voice. shit. what's the date today? the mystery intruder, you realized, was actually your boyfriend mikey. but he sounded kind of pissed. so... you decided to play dead a little longer. the loud thumps of his boots came closer to you and without warning, he ripped the covers off of your body before returning his hands to his pockets. his eyebrow raised in a mix of confusion and perhaps a bit of concern. he repeated, "what are you doing, y/n?" you blinked up at him slowly, your eyes trailing up and down his body. "you look nice. back from takemichi's?" he moved closer. "you weren't answering any of my calls or texts. couldn't even find your location. did you turn off your phone?" your brows furrowed in puzzlement. you looked around your room, realizing it had been at least a couple days since you'd last seen your phone, much less heard from it. you were shocked to find it lying next to you. pressing the power button, you watched the screen ignite back to life. "oh. sorry. turned it off. i was tired." his voice rose in frustration, "for how long? i tried to text you on monday and you didn't answer." you paused. "...what day is it today...?" mikey's eyebrows rose in worry. "it's sunday. i've been trying to get ahold of you for almost a week. y/n, what's going on?" you frowned, biting your lip to stop it from quivering and shook your head. don't cry. don't cry. don't cry.

"got fired. yay..." you said with no enthusiasm, your voice breaking at the end of your sentence. he blinked. "what? when?" "last friday. well, last last friday, i guess." his shoulders lowered and he let out a deep sigh, running his fingers through his hair. "shit, i was so worried i sounded like such an asshole just now. 'm sorry babe." slowly, he sat down next to you on your bed, shucking off his boots. "he didn't even give me a good reason. like, they're "expanding"?? doesn't that mean you can afford to keep your most loyal workers??" "i always fuckin' hated that guy." "i just--" you tried (and failed) to hold back a sob, "i just don't know what i could've done differently!" you cried, tears streaking down your cheeks. "it's not a 'you' problem, babe, it's their fucking loss." "but there had to have been something i did wrong!" "there isn't." "maybe i should've--" "hey, look at me. please?" you stopped midsentence, adjusting your gaze to meet his eyes for the first time. cupping your cheek in his palm he smiled sadly, "sometimes it's not you. sometimes there's nothing you coulda done better in a situation because you weren't the problem to begin with. and that's ok, because you don't deserve to be around piece of shit people like that anyway, ya know?" "i know, but--" "but nothing. i know i can't convince you, but i want you to know that i think you deserve the fucking moon. i'd get it for you if you asked. somehow." you laughed wetly, "well, you do have connections." a corner of his mouth turned up. "yeah." his voice was uncharacteristically soft as he pulled a strand of your hair back behind your ear. "and 'm gonna take care of you know, you know that. whatever you want. whatever you need tonight. i'll make it happen, ok?" "it's just... what i need is a job, and i've just been lazing around all week and i don't even know where to start..." without a moments hesitation he said, "work for me." "but wouldn't that be--" "i'm the boss, i make my own rules. shit, you don't even have to work. like i said, i'll take care of you." "no, no i want to work. but i'm probably not qualified enough to work for you..." "who says?" "well, you haven't even looked at my resume...isn't that, i don't know, kind of nepotism-ish?" mikey grinned. "yeah, because everyone else that works for me got their jobs through hard work." "ok, ok, but...thank you. ok." you sighed. "it's gonna be ok. 'm here now."

-

mikey truly meant it when he said he'd take care of you. as soon as he helped dry your tears, he got your into your bathtub and helped you wash up, gently massaging shampoo and conditioner into your scalp while you scrubbed soap on your arms. he sprinkled light kisses on your forehead and cheeks as he helped you dry off. when you finally settled back into bed, cozy and clean, mikey was right there by your side. not ten minutes later, your favorite chocolate and ice cream was delivered to your door. when you turned back to say thank you, he waved you off, gesturing you to come back to your bed so you both could watch a movie. in the best way, mikey helped you forget. or at least let go. in a way. you spend the rest of the weekend binging your favorite shows. what others might not suspect is just how physical mikey is in his affection. he was showed more than told, and it was the same in his love for you. in those moments you spent together, he clung to your side, as if he had to have at least some part of his body touching yours at all times. when at last he had to leave to go back to his penthouse to "make some calls" (you suspected he had mountains of work to do), he'd already tried to convince you at least a dozen times to move in with him, which you staunchly refused because 1) you can't afford to help pay for whatever the hell he pays to live in a fucking penthouse and 2) you're not about to freeload. but as he said his final goodbye with a chaste kiss on your lips, you wondered if maybe you could finally give in and let someone take a little more care of you, after all, he'd shown you just what it felt like to not have to worry so much about your own needs.

-

back at his penthouse, mikey quickly dialed a familiar number. "hey. it's me. yeah. think you can take care of it for me?" there was a pause. "i don't care what you do to him so long as it's painful." another pause. "make sure to keep this underwraps. remember, it's all an 'accident'. if you can't do it, i'll go take care of it myself. bye."

a/n: mmm protective mikey y'all

[rabesbabe]

intertwined, sewn together

Cassandra Webb x Reader

Summary: Your girlfriend, Cassie, has been away from you for too long. And now that she’s finally back around you she feels like you’re not giving her the attention she deserves. (alludes to smut but no actual smut)

Requests: Open!

A/N: I wanted to write a little bit of some insecure Cassie soo here’s that. Readers a little idiot in this but they get better towards the middle I swear. I hope you guys like this sorry for my shitty writing as usual!

Cassie rolled her eyes. She sat on the couch in the apartment you and her shared. She sipped at her wine while watching you laugh at a joke your friend, or so you said, made.

Your friend was gorgeous, she had brown eyes, freckles, blonde hair and somehow always looked like she came straight from the beach. So basically the exact opposite of your girlfriend, Cassie Webb.

Deep down Cassandra knew she shouldn’t be jealous. You were deeply devoted to her and she knew you’d never do anything to ruin your relationship. But, her surface feelings were greater than what her mind was telling her.

I mean, she had just gotten home from a week long trip to Peru and the most you had said to her since your friend arrived was “Good Morning”.

She couldn’t stand the sight of watching you two giggle while drinking wine and talking. Maybe she could’ve tried to join in the conversation but instead she got up suddenly and went into your shared room. She’d rather not watch her girlfriend be stolen away from her. So, instead she decided to go to sleep.

“Is she okay?” Your friend, Grace, said. You slightly raise your shoulders as if to shrug. And you look at her with a puzzled face. You had no idea why Cassie walked off so abruptly.

“It is getting late i’m sure she’s probably just tired,” You say looking down at your wrist checking the time.

“You’re right I should probably go home anyway.” Says the blonde.

“Sounds good i’ll see you later Grace.” You give her a sympathetic smile goodbye as she exits your apartment.

As you clean up the left over dishes you smile at the thought of finally being able to go to sleep next to your girlfriend after her being gone for so long.

But first you had to make sure she was okay.

Cassie has never really been a people person. So, you just assume that maybe having company drained her social battery faster than usual.

You walk over to your room to check on her.

“Cassie?” You say lightly before entering the room.

You take in the sight of her. She’s basically buried under the covers with just her head peaking out. She looks cute and you almost wish you could take a picture of her, but you knew better.

You sit down on the bed next to her and lift the covers up. “Are you okay babe?” You ask, while reaching over to fix her lopsided bangs.

She pushes your hand away from her face and mumbles out a barely audible “Yeah.” She turns away from you and pulls the covers back over herself.

You frown at her reaction and wonder if maybe she just doesn’t want to talk about whatever’s bothering her. Sometimes it takes her a while to open up and you wanted to respect that.

“Do you want to watch a movie maybe?” You ask hoping that maybe the topic change and the idea of relaxing together would cheer her up.

To your surprise she sits up and moves from under the covers. Glaring at you she snaps out, “Why? Wouldn’t you rather watch a movie with your friend Grace? I wouldn’t want to interrupt you guys ‘quality time.’” She says emphasizing the words quality time.

You widen your eyes at her accusation and even though she’s upset she moves closer to you silently begging for your attention. You finally start to realize that maybe, just maybe she was jealous.

You smile at her in a teasing way. She rolls her eyes at you, “What?” She says, struggling to stay mad at you when you have such a goofy smile on your face.

“Are you upset? About Grace and I hanging out?” You ask.

Cassie sighs and looks down realizing she was a little bit harsh. “No, It’s not her fault,” She shrugs “I guess I just wished you were paying attention to me and not her. I mean I haven’t seen you for a week. It’s like you didn’t miss me at all.” She admits running her hands through her hair.

“Cassie,” You whisper, not knowing what to say to her. You look at her and frown at how sad her beautiful blue eyes look. “I didn’t mean to make you feel ignored, you know I missed you. I spent the whole week thinking about when i’d be able to see you next,” She looks up at you, hopeful.

“I’m sorry my love. My focus should’ve been on you tonight.”

You lean into her for a hug and she opens herself up to you, accepting your apology.

She softly kisses you and when you pull back you notice a small blush over her cheeks.

“I missed you so much.” She admits.

“I missed you too Cassie.” You say and you lean back in to kiss her. This time more passionate than the last. She moves her hands down to your waist. Lightly trying to move your shirt up and you giggle. You pull away from her. “Ohh so you said all of that just to get lucky huh? Wow.” You say sarcastically.

She looks at you and laughs, slightly out of breath from kissing you. “You’re such an asshole.” She says, smiling through bruised lips.

“I know.” You say with a smile.