#as one might put it. i only know that i know nothing...

[mono-dot-jpeg]

big sister - hyun ju

summary; a big sister will always protect, but when will she be able to relax?

genre/extra tags; one shot, found family, fluff, hurt/comfort?, canon typical violence, i dont like the second season writing, but i can not deny myself this diva, that's mother !!, teen! reader, hyun ju is the only reason i decided to watch this season, slight canon divergence bc i have the mind of a goldfish, canon typical sad heavy conversations, big sister is written to be seen as the korean honorific "unnie", older sister moments written in the point of view of a younger sibling, unintentional love letter for my appreciation to my sister, reader is implied to be some form of lgbt but not out (im projecting)

[platonic] [gender-neutral reader]

[warning; mentions of transphobic ideas]

a/n; before people ask, no, im not doing requests for this show. i just don't feel fully comfortable writing for squid game. i just really wanted to write this because, believe it or not, i write for my enjoyment. even i do switch off here every few months or every other month.

dinner had rolled around after an intense "game" of life or death. how you managed to survive this long is beyond you. but you might have a strong idea of why you're living so long, and it was the strong woman who was sitting beside you with some of the other women who were surviving so far.

the old lady had pointed out that hyun ju was not like other people. and it really was odd to her. but hyun ju was used to that. more than used to it. she lived through it since she decided to come out.

you listen to the conversation, not really putting your two cents in as it seemed like there was no right time to butt in. but as the conversation continued, the mood was just a little lighter. and that was more than enough morale. the old lady seemed to slowly understand hyun ju and her struggle.

you've zoned out so much, you almost fail to notice hyun ju sneaking an egg onto your shabby given lunch box meal. you look up at her as she gives you a warm look before pretending that she didn't just do that.

you mix the rice with not much thought, spilling some bits of rice and egg over its metal container before you slowly eat. unbeknownst to you, hyun ju glances back at you as if to make sure you're actually eating and not staring off with a tired look that no teen or child should have. you've seen everything, you're part of this sick game, she may not know your story, but she knows you don't deserve any of the bad you've been through.

you're the youngest in the entire room, a room filled with people with insurmountable debt and issues. hyun ju can only imagine your worry, your anxiety, the burden.

when the first game got serious, you were trying your damned hardest to keep your fear contained under the watchful eye of that robot scanning every movement. she was right in front of you, keeping you safe along with the rest of the people who lined up with her. you look like you wanted to cry the moment you got to the finish line. if she wasn't full of adrenaline at the time, she probably would've heard how hard your heart was beating.

somehow, she had taken two people under her care. you and young-mi. how could she not care about a young woman like young-mi and a teen like yourself? two anxious people forced to live a life full of debt and pain when you both deserved nothing but comfort and love.

people start lining up in their beds for nighttime. gi-hun was very insistent on being careful at night. it was dangerous. some people were not behind just killing others at night to sweeten the pot of money that loomed over everyone's head like a golden sun.

as most of the adults started to climb in their beds, you stand awkwardly. you weren't a stranger to sleeping a room full of people, but you were definitely a little paranoid after what gi-hun was talking about.

you find yourself naturally gravitating to hyun ju. her presence was just so calming, and she was so caring for others. it was hard not to get attached. young-mi had taken to calling her big sister. and you found yourself doing the same when you call out to her softly.

"big sister?" you gently tap at her arm as she turns to look at you. she silently urges you to continue speaking with a gentle look. you can see the tired in her eyes, but she looks at you, unwilling to say no. "this is embarrassing..." you mutter.

"it's okay. i'm here." she reassures you.

"can i stay with you tonight? i'm-" you choke a little bit on your words, not only out of embarrassment but fear. "i'm really scared. i don't wanna be alone." you confess.

she softens, "i would love to let you, but it's too risky. if people come for us, it would be very hard to fight back. i'm so sorry, kid." she opens her arm out for a hug, and you take the comfort you can get in this shitty place. "i will do my best to keep you safe, alright? when we get out of here, i'm going to find you again, and we can help each other, yeah? i'll protect you."

you nodded with her words, not finding the heart to say anything. she takes this as a sign to start guiding you into your bunk bed on top. at least the top bunks would be somewhat safer for you. you hesitantly climb into bed. "if a fight breaks out, hide. run. just be safe. i will find you, and you'll be safe." she continues to reassure you the best she can.

"okay. goodnight big sister." you whispered. "please be safe."

"i will." she said with a calm confidence that only she could pull off that didn't make you feel worried for her.

you hope that you get out of here, so you don't have to see the worried exhaustion in her eyes anymore.

she was a big sister by heart and soul. you just hoped her big heart wouldn't lead her to her doom. she protects and gives, but when will she relax?

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - non/con, kidnapping, LOTS of non-consensual touching, threats of violence, implied public sex, and unbalanced power dynamics.

Geto Suguru is a surprisingly tactile man.

You wouldn't expect it from a man so cold, so withdrawn, so prone to keeping his hands tucked in his sleeves away from any filthy, undeserving lesser beings like yourself, but it's not hard to spot once you know what you're looking for. When his girls were young enough to put up with it, he always had at least one, if not both of them in his arms, and his preferred form of greeting towards those in his select, but not exclusive inner circle has always been a hug, kiss, or some combination of both. Even when he claims he can't stand to look at you, when he orders you to bathe in scalding-hot water before admitting you so much as might be worth of his affections, he never lasts more than a few minutes before slipping in beside you with excuses of 'you're not thorough enough' or 'I can't even trust you to do this correctly' ready on his tongue. It might be sweet, if it wasn't so controlling. You're not really in a place to complain, though.

He likes keeping you close. For someone he claims is nothing more than a pest, he treats you akin to a lapdog; constantly calling your name, constantly petting through your hair, constantly keeping you pressed against his side or slotted against his chest or perched on his lap, an arm as thick as your leg wrapped around your waist to better snuff out your attempts to squirm. Any attempts to withdraw before he allows you to are met with punishments of the most severe order. You don't like being at his beck and call, having to sit through his depraved sermons for the sole reason that he doesn't trust you to leave his sight, but it's better than being shackled to his bedpost for another four weeks. You can be a lapdog, so long as you aren't a collared one.

Even the politest touch he offers you is unspeakable invasive. You're not sure how he manages to turn something as simple and as shallow as grazing you're lower back into yet another show of his authority over you. Part of it just might be the whole 'genocidal cult leader' shtick (it's hard not to find someone a little creepy after they've abducted, tortured, and traumatized you), but you'd like to think that even if you had entered into his company more willingly, you'd still find his intimacy more than a little off-putting. The worst of it comes at night, when he assumes you're asleep. The way he holds you to his chest, clings to you like a child does a stuffed animal might be cute in another context, but it rarely serves to endear him to you. If anything, it only proves that even unconscious, his greatest pleasure in life is smothering you.

Worst of all, he's handsy. That, in itself, shouldn't be all that surprisingly, but the lecherousness of it, the shameless of it still manages to leave you as disgusted as you are unnerved. It's rare for a full hour to pass in his company without his hand slipping under the collar of the silken kimono's he dresses you in and groping at your best until he's left indents in the shape of his blunt nails. Other times, his fingers will find their way underneath your skirts or into the waistband of your shorts while he's preoccupied with another matter, splitting you open on his fingers with all the attention one might pay to tying their shoes or brushing their hair. If you're lucky, he'll choose a private moments, one where you'll be forced to fall apart for his entertainment alone, tucked safely away from the prying eyes of his co-conspirators and congregation.

You don't get lucky very often.

Sometimes, you think he does it just to be cruel. He does most things to be cruel, and this would be far from the only way he's cruel to you, in particular. But, when drapes himself over you at night, when he drags you so suffocatingly close to his side, when he grinds his palm into your most sensitive point of vulnerability and whispers so possessively that you ought to be thankful for each second long he lets you live, it's not cruelty you see in Suguru's dark eyes, but rather something much, much more dangerous.

Desperation.

[creamecafe]

I haven’t seen many fics about player 333 yet (Myunggi) 😔 Could you do maybe an enemies to lover type story with him!!!

Wicked Game | Myung-Gi Pt. 1

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: You're stuck in the squid games fighting for your life. It also doesn't help that you are stuck with a wanna be rich scammer fraud.

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Myung-Gi x GN!Reader (No pronouns used)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: enemies to lovers, hurt

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝:

𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎: Thank you so much for requesting. I hope you enjoy this! Also the reader is an ex of Myung-Gi before the games. Please understand I don't HATE Kim Jun-hee, I just thought it would fit more for enemies to lovers. I also believe I may put this into two parts as the 3rd season is yet to come

If you would like to be tagged for the next part, let me know in the comments down below and I'll add you to the list!!

Want a request for a Squid Game character like this one? Check out my latest post, read my request guidelines and send a request!

Read on Wattpad & AO3 here

Joining the squid games could possibly be the last thing any person with common sense and a reason to live would consider doing. Unless they either had none.

That's what it looked like for you. The games you had to do to win 45.6 billion won had you either questioning if it's still worth it to still keep going or just to end it all on this island.

Out of all the people in these games, there's one face that you despised seeing and wondered how he's still alive after what he did, Myung-Gi.

He's your ex boyfriend. Being with him was great at first, but once he was invested in the crypto coin thing business, it felt like you're being cheated on. It also didn't help that he had an affair behind your back with a girl named Kim Jun-hee who turned up pregnant.

You didn't hate Kim Jun-hee, as you felt bad for her that your ex abandoned her and their baby, but the whole thing hurted you.

There's nothing more you wanted to get out of here with enough money to move to another place and start off fresh.

When you first woke up in the dormitory with all the other players, you wondered where this possibly could go. You looked around to see so many unfamiliar faces.

Then a man in a pinkish red suit all the way across the room wuth a black covered mas with a white triangle comes out from double doors and starts explaining why majority are here. Because of their debts.

They showed different videos of people playing Ddakji and getting slapped in the face. There was one face you recognized, your ex. It wouldn't be surprising that he was in debt for trying to chase after the crypt coin thing.

It looks like you're not the only one who hated him, many people who fell for the crypto coin were also mad at him. A purple-haired guy stood out from the rest, as he was a rapper you heard from others who were apparently fans. You had no interest in him or your ex but were wondering what the whole ordeal of winning money is.

You had to sign a waiver for the games, and you were soon directed to take pictures. It was rough enough. Then you would have to climb stairs that seemed like you were going to Mount Everest. You saw your ex from the right side across. You also didn't want to risk being seen.

Finally, you reached the first game after what seemed like an eternity. There was a huge robot doll and the whole layout was supposed to imitate a school playground with its blue sky and sand ground.

"Hey there pretty" You turn around and see the purple haired guy who was talking to your ex

"Who are you?" You exclaimed looking him up and down not in the mood to be hit on.

"I'm Choi Seung-hyun, Thanos for my music. You might of heard my raps before?"

"If I did, I probably would want to be deaf right now. Including not hearing this conversation."

He pretended to be hurt and put a hand over his heart.

"Ouch girl. Cold aren't you?"

You rolled your eyes. He sees another girl walks by and also tries talking to her. Poor girl, you thought.

"Y/N?" You hear your name being called and look around.

"Y/N!" A hand fell on your shoulder and you flinched turning around.

It was Myung-Gi. Your panic turned into annoyance as you rolled your eyes again.

"What are you doing here?" He asks

"Should be asking you that too, but I think it's obvious."

"Can we please talk?"

"What's there to talk about Myung-Gi? You chose a cyrpt coin over me and cheated on me, and got another girl pregant"

"And I regret it very much. Please come back."

"Share those regrets with the others in here too, including the mother of your child."

He tried to reply back but you walked away from him, ignoring him.

Speakers came on, explaining the rules of the game.

A screaming man came into the front and said it's not what we think the game is. He exclaims that if you move, you'll die.

People around you scoffed and found the man crazy. It seemed like to you he was crazy too, but what if he was right?

He was still screaming telling people not to move a muscle when the game starts.

The robot started turning around and putting her hand up to the tree to not look at the other player.

It started singing.

"Everyone freeze!" The man in front says.

Nobody moved a muscle. Your eyes looked around and saw no one moving. What if the guys telling the truth?

The doll looked away and you started moving forward quickly along with everyone else.

"Everyone freeze!" Yelled again the older man.

There was a scream coming from a girl who moved. She laughed exclaiming she just moved. A bullet came through her head and she dropped dead.

The guy really wasn't lying then. One wrong move, you're dead. More people started moving and more gunshots were coming.

Bodies were dropping. People are screaming. This was a bad idea to be here. You were also pretty sure you were going to die with your ex boyfriend. That another cherry on top to add.

"If you don't make it to the finishing line on time, you'll also die." The man yells but has his mouth covered like he was going to take a sneeze.

It felt impossible to win this game. You were so sure you were going to win money but now the only thing you could be winning is death. You wanted to see if Myung-Gi was still alive.

But you couldn't risk being shot. Everyone sooned formed into a single file line. The man explained that the doll can't see what's behind a person if there's a bigger person in front.

More gunshots came. More bodies dropping. You couldn't stop now though. You're close to the finish line, you can feel it.

You soon reached the finish line relieved that you made it alive. You looked around for Myung-Gi to see if he's alive.

Why do you care so much about him? You thought to yourself.

It's just basic human sympathy you thought. Hating him is one thing, but him dying is another.

The game ended and you witnessed the man who warned about the game, you see his number was 456 and another, a woman helping a man who got shot in the leg reach the finish line get shot in the head.

This isn't just a game. This life or death. Everyone including you who passed were allowed to go back to the dorms.

Zoned out walking, seeing bodies and blood, you hear your name being called.

"Y/N!"

Turning around to see who called your name, you see Myung-Gi run up to you.

"Hey, are you okay?"

A light smile came from your face.

"Yes I'm alright and you?"

"Alive thank God." He chuckled.

You chuckled lightly but didn't know what to say after. Usually, you would have something smart to say to him but after what happened, you wanted nothing more to be out of here.

There were yelling and shouts to how the man knew they would shoot if you lost the game. They were accusing the man of being behind the game.

A pink guard then came out and congratulated us for completing the first game. It then if a majority voted to O, you could leave the game.

Everyone chose their own sides O and X. You chose X, even though you desperately wanted the money to be able to move to another city. You see Jun-Hee, his other ex, chose X too. Myung-Gi chose O, which you weren't surprised.

Unfortunately there were more O's than X's which meant you had to stay. You were heartbroken but also upset and turned to Myung-Gi. Now you wish he died in the first game.

You went up to him and turned him around aggressively and slapped him across the face. People looked at you guys, but you didn't care.

"You're really that selfish, you had to choose O?"

"Y/N-"

"The mother of your child is in this game and you choose O. I should have known from the start dating you was a bad idea. If these games don't kill you, I will."

You stormed off away from him and went to your bed. Myung-Gi probably thought you were bluffing about you killing him.

Something deep down you wanted to keep that word true.

It looks like you'll have to wait and see the next day.

𝙽𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 | 𝙼𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝚂𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚍 𝙶𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝙹𝚘𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝!

[retiredteabag]

Wishful Thinking

arranged marriage with Nanami… a continuation

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4 - next part

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

It was fair to say that the Belmond Eastern & Oriental Express was by far the most luxurious space you had ever occupied.

Your honeymoon was a weekend-long excursion aboard the aforementioned train. It would take you through the breathtaking Malaysian mountains, right through the heart of the country's culinary capital, and finally over to the coast, where you could spend the night on the beach.

You fiddled with your luggage as your husband left to speak with a steward about getting a cup of coffee. Nights ago, after much berating from your clan elders, Nanami discussed the plans of the trip with you. At the time, you had politely asked if there was a possibility you could have a joint cabin. Nanami told you he had already requested two suites, and that you did not have to worry.

When you arrived, however, giving the polite stewardess your last name, they insisted that there had only been one cabin under your now, shared name.

At this news, your husband seemed more distressed than you. For you though, in the back of your mind, you had almost expected it. Certainly, you would not have put it past your family.

Arriving to your room after some questioning from your husband, you found that the king bed, lavishly accessorized with pillows and throws, could actually become two twin XLs.

He had lifted your suitcase from your hands with one arm and set it on the luggage rack as if it weighed no more than the pillow he had simultaneously been extricating from the dual bed.

He ran his now free hand through his hair, he almost looked panicky, "I apologize. I should have called ahead to ensure your comfort. I can speak with them again and see if they have any other open cabins but for now-"

"Nanami, it's okay-" You move forward to help him de-fluff the mattress. "I should have anticipated this anyway..."

He stands up straight, "In any case, I can sleep in one of the scenic cars- I looked and there are couches and-"

You interrupt again, "Nanami, I am not going to have you sleep on the couch" You chuckle, knowing he really would. "I think I might have given you the impression that you make me uncomfortable."

His eyes raised at this, you continue, "I can assure you that you do not. And I don't mind sharing a room with you."

This whole interaction played through your mind as you waited for your husband to return. He had seemed so professional in that moment, so tense, eyes so wide. He had cleared his throat and asked if you were sure. All you had done was laugh, asking if he was hungry and would like for you to order refreshments.

Of course, he had insisted on going in your stead.

--

The train had fifteen carriages. Eight sleeping cars, two restaurant cars, a piano car bar, and an open-air observation car. After having shifted the bed around, you sat at the table overlooking the window in your room. Nanami had brought back coffee, afternoon tea, and a wide variety of treats. Tarts, fresh fruit, scones, and cookies.

There was a mildly awkward silence between you two as the breathtaking Malaysian jungle passed you by. Just as you were about to take a sip of your drink, Nanami pipes up.

"I wanted to make sure..." He says.

You turn to look at him but he's focused on the foliage just beyond the rails. "I need you to say if you're uncomfortable. I know you have a problem with pleasing people, but nothing would upset me more than your silent discomfort."

You choke down your tea quickly. It took you a moment, but you realize then that you hadn't even been trying to appease him or the staff when you suggested sharing the room, it had felt natural.

After having known the man hardly a week, you had come to view him almost as a friend. The notion, of course, might be due to the fact that you hadn't many friends to speak of, but nobody could deny how kind Nanami was.

"I'm not." You wave your hands in front of your face. "Uncomfortable, I mean."

He squinted at you in a funny way, attempting, you guess, to read your expression. Finally smiling, he takes a sip of his beverage and accompanies you in looking out the shared window. If only you could explain how much you appreciated every thought he gave you.

--

There were two restaurant cars on the train, and you would be swapping between them for meals your duration on board. There was a formal dress code at meal times, and as you spun in the mirror, you wondered if you would be able to fit in amongst all the opulence.

See, you had been trained in table manners, small talk, and most every other area of etiquette, even so, you had rarely strayed from clan meetings or school. It was not common for you to have an outing intended for pleasure.

Without the watchful eye of your family or higher-ups, you could do or say anything you wanted. You had a friend there to speak with.

You fiddled with the sleeve of your dress. Turned this way and that to get a look at every angle. Blurred your lip stain with a finger, then considered if you should reapply.

You ran a finger over the waist of your outfit, brushed off some imaginary dust, and pursed your lips.

Yes, you decided, and reached over for your lipstick once more.

A knock came at the bathroom door.

"Yes! Sorry!" You spun and unlatched the lock, pulled the door open. Hopefully you hadn't been hogging your shared lavatory. You took in the man before you.

On your wedding day, he had been dressed to the nines, hair quaffed, and likely just as striking to observe as he was now. However, you had been a tad bit occupied by your mind back then. And since that day, he had dressed comfortably around you. Smart casual, not too much, not too little either... he even appeared handsome in his pajamas, all this to say, before you now, it felt like you were seeing him for the first time.

He was adjusting his wristwatch when you opened the door. Seeing him like this, you almost wanted to hide behind the wall of the bathroom. You knew, based on what type of man he was, that he would likely feel obligated to spare you a compliment. Even the idea flustered your mind. For the first time since adolescence, you felt a sudden embarrassment at trying to look attractive. You wanted to wipe the lipstick off completely.

You tried to rush and tell him something nice before he got there first, but it seemed as though he was distracted by the image of you. His pupils looked huge in the light of the sconces on the wall and his head twitched ever so slightly to take in the whole image of you.

He didn't rake his eyes up and down in a lustful way, no, he kept his looks appropriate and gentlemanly. Even so, he looked wildly absorbed stepping forward to settle against the doorframe. He held out his free hand to help you step down.

"You look...great..." You beg yourself not to trip, holding his palm and settling to the floor. Shaking a little at your poor choice of words. He simply laughs.

"Me?" He keeps his eyes at the back of your neck, your shoulder, your embarrassed little smile, "You," He shakes his head, "you are the sight to behold."

It tickles your stomach, how genuine he sounds.

--

There was a table reserved specifically for you both, the window beside you painted tropical mountains that raced past at record speeds. The food came in courses and everything was delicious. There was wine and lit candles atop the intricate tablecloths in this car. Under close inspection, the wallpaper seemed to twirl in textured spirals of cream. You felt enlivened to be here.

Even happier still, dessert was coming.

"I think it might be time we try and practice." Nanami tilted his head, observing you.

"Practice what?" You asked, brows raised.

"Discovering you." He smiled.

You laugh, "Nanami. We have been talking all meal, what is there to discover?"

"We have been talking about me all meal." He mimics your tone. "That or the food...or the decor."

You roll your eyes dramatically, "I wanted to know about those things. And the food was good. And the decor is lovely."

"I agree," He nods, "but when I asked what type of refreshment you would like, I was hoping you would tell me, not simply go along with whatever I say."

You chuckle. He's a little too attentive, "I don't have much experience with wine, I preferred you picking."

"That may be true," He smiles goodnaturedly, "but you have been affirming every little thing I say. Did you know that? You know you don't have to avoid disagreements with me, right? I want to know who you are and what you think, not have a copy of myself."

No, you hadn't realized you had been doing that. As a child, you had made yourself small on purpose, it was an easy way to get people to like you. Now, it wasn't even a conscious effort. Nobody seemed to notice before, in fact, everyone prior to Nanami had seemed to appreciate how mailable you were.

"How's this," He started again, "What's your favorite dessert?"

You think and think, tapping your foot. You liked all kinds of desserts, earlier you had ordered the cheesecake alongside Nanami. And back in the cabin you had enjoyed the petit fours.

Nanami knocks a knuckle on the table. "See, this is something most everyone knows. Did you order the cheesecake because that's what I like?" He is grinning at you but his eyes seem discouraged at the thought.

"What? No!" You say, "I really do like cheesecake!"

Your husband grins, "Me too." He points to you now, speaking gently, "But what is your favorite?"

You're taking some time to answer but it really was because you didn't know. It's not as if you were granted allowance to every sweet the kitchens made growing up. You racked your brain trying to conjure a memory of a delicious custard you had eaten at a banquet once.

Just as Nanami was about to speak again, you nearly jump our of your seat, "Crème brûlée!" You recall the dish. Pleased that you could provide an answer. "That's my favorite."

As you reply, your hand comes down onto the table. Suddenly surprised by your force in response. Nanami, though, does not seem embarrassed by your show of joy.

"Very good!" He smiles as you awkwardly sip from your glass. "Crème brûlée," he considers, "very fancy, I've actually never had it."

You set your glass down, "Never? Really?" Once again, you assumed those who were not apart of a clan must be infinitely free. Free to eat whatever they crave.

"I've only had it once but it was so good. I wonder if it was because of the difference of texture... I believe that I would like it even without the caramelized sugar on top though, maybe now... since we live away I could make it sometime..." You taper off, pick up your glass and cover your face with it, had you said too much?

Since when were you such a loud-mouthed?

Nanami never once took his gaze from you. In fact, he might not have all evening, eye contact seemed to be a thing of his. "Well, that sounds delicious. I think it would be nice to share some at home."

He was so good at carrying a conversation, especially after you feel into a mood of humiliation from oversharing. At one point he had excused himself to the restroom and you allowed yourself a moment to breathe.

He was so focused on you. Not your clan, or your abilities, or your placement between the higher ups. No, he was purely focused on you. For the first time, a man had made your heart race.

Throughout all your life, at home, at school, in clan meetings, you had been viewed as a broodmare, a piece of meat that would carry on your clan name and ensure strong sorcerer children.

Knowing that, it was not difficult to become revolted by the seductive men who roamed their eyes over your body. Saw you how everyone else did. Wanted you for a prize.

Nanami Kento. You tightened your lips to keep your grin from showing. Did everyone feel this way about their friends? Maybe you are just weak to kindness.

The very man occupying your thoughts was at that moment leaned against the wall of the the locomotive, nowhere near the restrooms.

He had so much praise to speak but he did not want to embarrass you further. It seemed it was easy to do so.

He waited patiently for the steam engines attendant to return. When she had heard his request, she was more than happy to fulfill his wishes.

"Excuse me," He had asked, "I'm here to celebrate my honeymoon, you see, and my wife is very fond of Crème brûlée. You wouldn't happen to be able to specially make some?"

This must be a sign of luxury, he thought. To order something that was not on the menu and still have it presented to you.

Kento grinned like a child on Christmas as he passed between train cars. Two ramekins were tucked behind his back. He lived to see your smile, to hear you laugh, to admire this person, this strange woman he was hardly familiar with, yet craved to know. His wife.

--

When Nanami arrived from the bathroom, he had an oddly mischievous glint in his eye. He seemed to move something to his lap once he was seated. This grin of his was contagious.

"Well, you look suspicious." You chuckle. But it did not last long, no, because the man before you reached out to hand you a small chilled spoon.

"I suppose I cannot hide it." He said, placing two ramakins on the table. It only took a moment before you gasped, pointing at him as if to accuse him of a crime.

"You! Is that- w-when? Wait a moment." You placed both your palms facing him and coughed a laugh. "Did you really- I-" You could hardly believe him.

"Use your words." He hummed, placing the dessert in front of you, "I know you've got them."

The teasing forced you to breathe slowly. "Nanami." You whispered harshly.

"Quite the array of sweets in the bathroom, you wouldn't believe."

"No!" You laughed, Nanami swelled at the sound, "I daresay I wouldn't."

"Try it, is it as good as you remember?"

You take your spoon, look up to the man that had gone out of his way to bring you this small joy, crack the sugar, and scoop the custard into your mouth. It's hard not to make some obscene noise at the shuttering chill it brings you.

"It's even sweeter."

--

That night, after changing out of your dress, and he his suit, the two of you squeeze past partygoers in the bar car and walk your way to the very end where the open observation car was left vacant.

One might imagine the night air humid but only a warm breeze flies past you as you both take in the scenery. It seems impossible to suggest that you had only met this man a week or so prior. The fear you had felt being chained to him left almost as quickly as it had greeted you. How warm it feels to have a friend.

Never before had you been so free to speak of what you wished and to eat what you wished. You had three whole days ahead of you to explore this beautiful country, there were so many excursions to choose from and a man at your side who was very good at making decisions.

"I always wanted to come to Malaysia." He suddenly spoke up.

As fantastical as this whole day had seemed, you couldn't help recognizing the illusion that was being hidden. The two of you were practically strangers. Polite acquaintances perhaps. Married or not, this was likely not how Nanami saw his life going. Without the looming responsibility of a clan on his shoulders, he probably felt less free than ever before. Had he even wanted to be married prior to the higher-ups enlisting him for this role?

"Really? I'm glad you're able to come...though-" you pause, "I am sorry the circumstances are a bit..." You tapper off, waggling your head, hoping he would pick up what you meant.

He, of course, did not follow, "What? No, don't be sorry, what do you mean, 'circumstances'?"

His focus, that was once so ardently on the countryside passing by, was now on you, attempting to read the hidden pages of your shameful smile without breaking your delectably closed spine.

"I just mean... I'm sure you didn't intend to come in this position." You make a show of your hands. Trying to make light and humor of the situation. He simply cocks his head. "Married. I mean, arranged to me. It's just probably not what you expected."

He doesn't speak for a long moment. But then he is bending down and meeting your eyes. You can feel his breath on the exposure of your neck and he still smells of the caramelized sugar he had sought out just for you.

"I'm glad you're with me. You haven't...don't say that." He sighs, looking at you closely and whispering your name, "Don't apologize. I wouldn't have it any other way."

The idea is so absurd, your shoulders tense with your laugh. "How could that be true? You-you barely know me?"

He stretches his hand down to your own, softly strokes it, "And I get to know you. How exciting is that? We can learn together."

And as the wind whips in your face, you feel grateful for the slightness of the moons reflection hiding your flush. He settles your hand down again and smirks at you. A world away from the higher-ups, it's hard to imagine any trouble or obligation coming your way. This weekend was the two of yours. And as your heart raced and mind dazed at your husbands gentle and warm touch, you hoped this feeling never departed.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

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[bonny-kookoo]

Hey Bonny!! I saw you wanted to play a game, so how does this sound for a drabble? Dragon! Yoongi (or Kookie since I know he's your guy) x Fairy! Reader?? Idk if you've written fairies before, but I know you've done dragons! 💜🤍

I have a dragon kook x fairy reader on my patreon as early access, so I'll make this one yoongi!

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

Yoongi

Hidden in the woods

Dragons are rather social creatures- but when a young Dragonblood named Yoongi fails to find a partner while all his friends and family have moved way past those events already, he isolates himself, believing he might just be destined to be a loner. But maybe, he was just impatient.

Tags/Warnings: Dragon hybrid!Yoongi, Fairy!Reader, strangers to ???, reader is described as short oops, SFW

Wordcount: 1.6k (it was supposed to be a Drabble... oops)

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

“You rarely visit these days.”

His mothers words still echo in his mind as he tries to find a new composition on his piano that doesn’t sound like everything he’s already put out. Of course he hasn’t visited- with his brother’s twins constantly around, he’s always reminded of how far ahead everyone around him is, while he’s yet to find his first real love. He’s thirty, for god’s sake- and yet all he has is his house, a stable career as a musician, and a lot on his mind.

All his friends are married. Some have kids, others are busy preparing for the day they’ll have them. He feels out of place.

Yoongi has made peace with the fact that he’ll be the uncle to all of them, the one guy who never really seems to be happy about anything, never has a family of his own. It’s alright.

He sighs, loudly, gripping his hair for a second in frustration. This is stupid- why is he having an artist’s block right now of all times? People are waiting for something new, especially after he’s already taken a break to help his creativity. And yet, it did nothing- except for giving him a little bit more room to breathe and most of all move out of his apartment and into his new house near the woods. It’s nice here- about half an hour away from the bustling neon city he’s used to after years of living there, and also a bit more distance from his family and friends. A newfound excuse for when they ask him once more where he’s been.

The doorbell rings, attracting his attention. He’s not awaiting any guests or packages- who could it be?

Via the camera installed he can see that there’s a person he doesn’t know at the door- you're rather short, but visibly curious, looking around for any signs of life inside his home, and for a short moment, he sees them;

Delicate little slightly translucent wings. Pointy ears, tilted a bit downwards.

A fairy.

As he opens the door, you seem startled for a second or two, taking a step back, before you speak. “Oh, hello!” You greet him. “I was just about to ask- do you have uh.. Jungkook’s number?” You wonder, and he becomes hostile, crossing his arms. “A coworker of mine, Jimin, said you have it. I’m sorry I’m just, you know, showing up here like that-”

The door closes. But despite what he was expecting, you just ring the doorbell again- and again, until he opens.

“Okay, as I was trying to explain before you so rudely interrupted me-” You tease a little, arms now crossed as well as your wings flap around a bit. “-tell him at least that I need his help fixing my washing machine. He broke it and left the crime scene for me to find, and that’s, pardon my language-” You lean in a bit as if you’re about to tell Yoongi something secret, “-pretty crappy behavior.”

Yoongi stares you down for a moment, before he speaks.

“That’s it?” He asks, and you nod. “Why don’t you ask Jimin for Jungkook’s number?” He wonders, not entirely convinced. Jungkook is pretty much a magnet for people no matter what gender, and the worst part about it is that many if not most always try and get to him through Yoongi.

No one’s ever interested in him. Only his friends, or the things he can provide.

“Cause Jimin doesn’t have it either!” You whine, stomping your leg on the ground in agony. “Listen, I don’t know how to fix it and my bathroom smells like a laundromat already, my coffee machine is also broken and my script has been rejected for the third time, I really need some good news. Please?” You ask, and Yoongi contemplates.

“What if I fix it?” He asks, and your eyes begin to sparkle, wings lifting to flutter in excitement. It’s like in this very moment, he can hear the keys of his piano chime, creating a new piece in his mind.

“You can?!” You ask, stepping closer.

“Probably. Where do you even live?” He asks, before you point towards the woods.

“I live in the woods, pretty much. It’s not that far.” You say, and Yoongi sighs, looking back inside his house. It’s not like he’s going to get anything done either way, so who cares? It might take his mind off of things for a moment or two-

So a few hours later, he’s in your house, enjoying some hot coffee from your machine, which he’d fixed as well while he was at it. Well, fixed is a strong word- he pretty much just explained how it properly worked to you. It was working just fine- you just lost the manual and couldn’t figure it out on your own.

“I always thought dragons were scarier.” You say suddenly, opening a pack of cookies to put in the middle of your wooden coffee table. “You’re really nice. Tall, and a bit gloomy looking, but very nice.” You say, sitting down on the couch next to him, legs pulled up towards you.

He’s noticed something glittering all over the small house- like sparkling glitter, but much finer, and barely noticeable. Looking closer to his pants, he notices it there as well- and even after a brush with his hand, it sticks to his fingers now.

“Oh- I’m sorry! It keeps getting everywhere, especially now.. Wait- I have like, a plastic thing-” You hurry, getting up to search for something in a drawer close by your TV. “Ah, there!” You say, giving him the lint-roller. “It’s one designed for fairy dust. I’m sorry, I should’ve thought about that..” You say, but for some odd reason, he declines.

“It’s fine.” He denies. “Doesn’t bother me.” he tells you, and again, you look at him like he’s just told you the earth is flat after all.

but it truly doesn’t bother him. It would, technically, if he was anywhere else. But right now, in this moment, he couldn’t be any more indifferent towards the ‘mess’ you leave sticking to his clothes and skin.

As soon as he’s back home, the sight of your sparkling smile is still in his mind, as his feet almost automatically move towards his piano, where he sits down, and presses a record button to play something new. The melody has been stuck on repeat in his head the entire way back home through the thick snow, like his imagination was finally finding color again.

But it’s different from what he usually creates.

This piece is playful almost, intriguing. It’s a little hesitant, like someone holding back a thought itself just to not indulge too much in a fantasy they’re already creating in their mind. Fluttering notes interrupt these parts however, sneaking in with excitement and curiosity, trying their best to convince the player to let themselves go.

And Yoongi does, as he finishes the piece, and leans back in his chair, recording finished before his phone chimes with a message.

“You left your scarf at my place!” Is what you tell him.

“I’ll get it tomorrow.” He texts you back.

“I could make us dinner?” You question.

He contemplates, finger hovering over the virtual keyboard of his phone, before he begins to write his answer. Fluttering touches of his fingers moving with a hint of excitement, fine fairy dust on the skin of his hands shimmering in the setting sun dipping everything in a golden glow.

“I’d love that.”

[inazuman]

"he does love you, you know."

you tell rin this one night, a family dinner half laid out on the table.

you knew, somehow, when you met rin half a year ago, much earlier in you and sae's relationship. you know because you have it, too. that addiction to sae's validation. but you also know how he holds back his words so only himself and the dead can hear.

"he thinks you're good at what you do." you think that might matter to him more, with the way it seems to run his life. "he just doesn't say it because he thinks it's obvious, because he thinks you already know."

rin turns away. "it doesn't mean anything, coming from you."

"i know." you do know, that nothing is sweeter than sae's own words, his attention on you. "but i wanted to tell you anyways. want to give you something, even if it's not the same. even if it wouldn't be enough."

"you make him look." it's said sharply, with a twinge of envy, but you don't react. he almost wants to put his hand against your throat.

it's a realization, fast and hot like the cutting edge of a sword. he approaches you, hands on either side of you against the kitchen counter. maybe that'll do it. maybe that will-

"rin."

sae's voice rings clear as a bell as he enters the kitchen. "what are you doing?"

rin's eyes flit between yours, then to sae's. he pushes himself off the counter.

"i was just asking rin to help me find something," you smile sweetly towards sae, voice airy and easy. "i was having a brain blank, forgot where the whisk was. he was trying to tell me it was in the drawer behind me the whole time." you wave your hand, reaching for the utensil. "i think i annoyed him. you guys are pretty similar in that regard, huh?"

sae's silence is nothing if not frightening. he only interrupts it when he looms over you, squeezing your shoulder.

"yeah." he pushes you gently towards the dining room. "why don't you go sit down. i'll take over from here."

[tigersharkapologist]

Look at this face.

Look at how genuinely distressed Geta looks.

Not only does he have to deal with the very present reality that Caracalla—his only real family and friend—is suffering from an incurable disease, but he’s woken with a start to discover that his most trusted and prized general was plotting a coup against him. I don’t think Acacius has the heart to actually kill the young emperors—to dethrone them and put them in prison seems more his speed. But Geta doesn’t know that. For all he knows Acacius just conspired murder against his brother, as coups usually result in the murder of the head.

Geta is stressed out of his mind. He can’t trust his military, he can’t trust his senate, he can’t even feel safe in his high tower without armed Gladiators nearly killing him. He can’t even really trust the Praetorian either since their loyalty is literally based off of if they think you’re a good emperor or not, and from what we know that remains up in the air. So threats are coming at him from all sides and he feels as though he’s the only one who can truly protect his brother. There’s nothing he can really do against the conspirers, there’s nothing he can do about Caracalla’s mental descent, there’s no one he can ask for help, no one who can fix this for him. He’s on his own completely. And just when he thinks he’s received a warm helping hand, that same hand grabs his brother’s wrist and “guides” Caracalla’s knife into his jugular. Imagine how heartbroken he was in those final moments. Your new friend who you thought you could actually trust, turns the most important person in your life against you in order to brutally murder you. Wow.

Even with all the power, with all the might of Rome, Geta was powerless. Powerless against his father, powerless against his brother’s aggressive disease, powerless against the people of Rome, powerless against his own gluttony and poor choices. This man has probably never felt less safe, if he’s ever truly felt safe and at peace at all since he’s been crowned.

What a tragic character

[lunaandco]

guys my age; part two

pairing: alexia putellas x ofc

summary: claudia is getting on alexia's nerves. a punishment was long coming

warnings: smut, spanking, age difference, power imbalance, angst

author's note: many wanted a part 2, and i usually deny any request, but after i had this idea i kinda had to... there will be a final 3rd part and that will be it!

masterlist // part one // series masterlist // I do not take requests

Claudia was doing it on purpose. Alexia watched her as she sat on Salma's lap, giggling about something she was showing her on her phone, her pretty smile directed towards someone other than herself.

Alexia knew she was being punished, in a childish petty way. Claudia was pissed at being denied more of their illicit activities, since Alexia insisted their one off in the hotel room had been a unique mistake that would not happen again.

She should be happy Claudia was finding someone else to be with, but jealousy was blinding her completely.

Alexia needed a full intervention, if she wanted to keep her dignity and reputation. A twenty year old starlet could not be the end of her.

The worst thing was, it was starting to be obvious. The night before, Irene had looked at her with an arched eyebrow and the knowing curl in her lips of a woman that was being lied to her face, when Alexia said nothing was going on with Claudia.

She obviously ended up caving. Irene was not necessarily approving, but she didn't blow off at her either.

"Sometimes we want thing that we can't have," she told her. "Be wise, capi."

Alexia hated how much that nickname reminded her of Claudia and what happened between them.

"Capi?" Alexia shot her gaze back to Claudia, who had left Salma's lap to approach her silently. "Can you take me home, please?"

"Can't Salma do it?" Alexia didn't mean to be rude, but as they got closer, Claudia started to get lifts almost exclusively from Salma.

"She's got family stuff she can't be late for."

"Ah."

Alexia should come up with an excuse. Say she also had something with her family or a dentist appointment. But just as it was unprofessional to sleep with her players as a captain, it was to avoid them at all costs.

So she ended up leading Claudia to her car, heart risen to her throat as she watched the youngster buckle up her seat belt. They had been in this situation cuntless times, but this was the first since they had... well, Alexia did not want to think about it too hard.

It would get her in trouble.

Claudia didn't seem to care about the tension—or percieve it at all—as she connected her phone to the Bluetooth to put her own playlist, humming one song or another.

"You've been avoiding me," she stated calmly.

"I—" Alexia didn't want to deny it, it would only add gasloghting to the list of crimen she had committed up until now. "We should keep a profesional distance. That is what I'm trying to do."

"Bullshit."

"I'm sorry?"

"I said bullshit."

Claudia's eyes were blazing with emotion.

"You want me. I can see it." Claudia's whole body was turned towards Alexia.

"Claudia we..."

"No. You. All our issues are actually your fears." Fire started filling Alexia's veins. "You're just a coward. You don't have the balls to take what you wan—"

Alexia took the wrong turn, and began driving in direction to her home, not Claudia's. It was closer and it had private parking. And her bed was there, if things escalated. Which theye were going to.

"What—"

"Silence."

Claudia gulped, the fight gone from her body. Alexia might have skipped a few traffic laws in order to get them there sooner, parking in her garden and exiting the car immediately. She swung open the passengers door, grabbing Claudia by the arm and quite literally dragging her inside.

The girl had very little time to stare at her surroundings and drink in Alexia's living space, before they reached the bedroom. She was not going to cower under Alexia's wrath, though. With a quick turn, that drove rival players insane, Claudia got on her tip toes and kissed Alexia, relishing in the way the captain returned the kiss.

But a sharp slap hit her ass.

"You need to be taught a lesson on repeat," decided Alexia. "I am your captain. For better or for worse. You will address me as such."

"Yes, capi," she breathed. Alexia gasped. She was still not used to that fucking nickname coming out of Claudia's pretty pink lips.

Still, she was not deterred. Alexia helped Claudia strip, who obeyed without protest, too enthralled by Alexia's sudden burst of passion. It was what she had been hoping for, by being a little more touchy with Salma than was necessary.

Once she was completely nude, Alexia sat on her bed, still dressed. She palmed her lap a clear non-verbal order. Claudia draped herself across her thighs, her ass right in front of Alexia, who squeezed one cheek.

"I presume you already know what is going to happen, you've been hoping for it, haven't you?"

"Yes, capi."

"You wanted this?" A harsh slap fell on the cheek she had been groping.

"Yes, capi."

"You understand this is a punishment, not a reward?"

"Yes, capi."

Another harsh slap on the other thigh.

"I would give you a count, but I don't want you to know how much is left."

Claudia gasped. It was as if Alexia already knew what she needed. The onslaught on her ass was non stopping. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, as she cried out. Claudia loved it.

Once her vision was blurry, and her throat was dry, Alexia's hand returned to gently squeeze the reddened skin.

"You were good, baby," she praised.

"Thank you, capi."

💙❤️

Claudia woke up later that evening. The sun was long gone, there was a dull throb on her backside, that had been clearly treated for the bruises with cream. A blanket was thrown over her body, and Alexia was sitting in silence by the foot of the bed.

"Capi?" she called with a stuttering voice.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you sure?"

Alexia's face was lined with worry. Claudia's body tensed, as if she could feel the thoughts swirling through her captain's head.

"Yeah," she whispered. "I really liked it, earlier. I—"

"It should not happen again."

Ah.

Claudia knew this would happen, in the back of her mind. Alexia clearly wanted her, there were already two instances of her doing exactly what she said they shouldn't, but the rejection still stung.

"Oh, c'mon. It's not a bad thing, I know you're hungry up with the age difference, and the captain thing, but I'm sure there is a way for HR to—"

"I said no, Claudia."

"Alright."

Furiously, Claudia got up from the bed, quickly finding her clothes and putting them on, even if it ached in the bruised areas of her ass. If Alexia still insisted she didn't want her, then Caludia would not beg forever.

"Wait, let me wash you up and make you some dinner at le—"

"No!" Interrupted Cludia with tears of frustration streaming down her face. "You don't get to reject me and then have aftercare. If you want to be all sweet and attentive, then fucking date me!"

Alexia looked hurt, but Caludia didn't care, storming off the house.

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule Season 2: VII

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which he lost his latibule.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: I cannot believe we made it to 2025! Konti nalang and we'll finally have our bangtan back <3

Masterlist,Latibule 2.VI

“This is…” Kim Taehyung started as he looked at the toddler that was bravely meeting his emotionless eyes.

“Problematic?” Jungkook supplied when he noticed that his hyung was grappling for word to describe the child that was now bouncing on Jimin’s lap.

Jimin gasped and covered the said child’s ears. He shook his head at him with a pout. “Don’t listen to your ugly uncles. You’re so precious! Look at your little hands and feet! So cute!”

Taehyung scoffed before returning his bored eyes on his phone. “I was gonna say interesting, but sure, that works, too.”

Kim Namjoon, who all called for an emergency meeting without Yoongi, massaged his temples. He couldn’t fathom how nonchalant the maknae line was about all of this. For fuck’s sake, they were all under the impression that Jung Hoseok perished in that fire! They had mourned him, gone through all the grief, the questions, the pain of losing someone they thought was gone forever. Yet here he was, standing in front of them like nothing had ever happened, as if that fire hadn’t nearly killed him — or worse, hadn't been part of a plot to end one of their own.

Yet when they walked in the room, they greeted Hoseok like he was merely away for a trip, completely unbothered by the fact that he had once tried to kill one of their own. Well, all except Jungkook, who had hopped over to Hoseok like a happy bunny and pulled him into a quick hug before declaring he was hungry.

Hoseok was whistling when he returned to the room, holding a bottle of milk that he had heated for Yoongi’s son. He looked so annoyingly calm, so normal, that even the calm façade that Namjoon was putting could not hold up any longer.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to. Because just as he was about to open his mouth, the door swung open with a soft creak.

The atmosphere shifted in an instant.

The moment Kim Seokjin stepped into the room, the air seemed to freeze. Silence descended like a heavy fog, and the once lively chatter of the maknae line came to a sudden halt. Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin, who had been acting so carefree, now sat up straighter, their faces momentarily void of expression. Even Hoseok, who had been so at ease moments before, paused, his eyes flicking toward the door.

Kim Seokjin entered with his trademark aura of danger. He didn’t say a word, but his mere presence was enough to command attention. Dressed in head-to-toe black, his face was as unreadable as a stone mask, as if his emotions had been sealed behind it for years. The sharp angles of his jawline, the coldness in his eyes, and the sheer stillness with which he moved only added to the mafia prince vibe that seemed to pour off him in waves.

Namjoon’s breath caught in his chest. The maknae line might have been able to brush off Hoseok’s return with a shrug, but Seokjin was a different story. The tension in the room doubled. There was a weight to the silence now, a suffocating thickness that no one dared break. It certainly did not help that he was carrying a gun in his right hand.

Hoseok, ever the calm one, moved slowly in front of the child, shielding him with his body. The toddler, blissfully unaware of the danger surrounding him, stared up at Seokjin with wide, innocent eyes. Jimin instinctively tightened his hold on the baby, though he, too, could feel the shift in the air. His expression faltered, a flicker of fear crossing his face for the briefest of moments before he masked it with forced calm.

"Hyung," Hoseok said, his voice steady, but there was a steel edge to it that betrayed his focus. His eyes never left Seokjin as he continued to shield the child.

Steadily, Seokjin pointed the gun at him and without any preamble, he pulled the trigger.

Jimin jerked back instinctively, his arms tightening around the child as if to protect him from the impact that never came. Taehyung and Jungkook both lunged forward, their eyes wide in a shared moment of panic. Taehyung’s hand shot out to shove Jimin further away, while Jungkook’s hand reached for the gun, but stopped just short. They couldn’t process it. The shot had been so fast, so sudden.

And then it hit them — Hoseok was still standing.

There was a pause, a beat too long, before the confusion started to lift. Hoseok, still calm, didn’t move. He wasn’t even wounded.

Seokjin chuckled darkly, his voice low and amused. “It’s not your day to die, I guess.”

He lifted his right hand and displayed the bullet, holding it between his fingers like a trophy. It was still intact, unspent. Namjoon’s blood ran cold as he realized what had just happened

Russian roulette.

The gun had been loaded with one live round, but it had chosen to be a dud this time.

“Lucky,” he murmured as he tucked the gun back into his waistband with a casual motion, as if the threat had been nothing more than a fleeting thought. "We’ll see how long your luck holds," he said, his voice cold and final.

The air was thick, saturated with the remnants of tension, but then — as if nothing had happened at all — Seokjin straightened, his face suddenly shifting back into something more neutral, almost... cheerful.

“Anyway,” Seokjin said, clapping his hands together with an exaggerated cheer, the shift in his demeanor as abrupt as the tension had been moments before. “I brought dinner!”

Jungkook, who had been frozen for a heartbeat too long, blinked, his face lighting up as if he hadn’t just witnessed the life-and-death moment play out before him. “Yey!” he exclaimed, bouncing on his heels. “Food! Finally!”

The tension from earlier still lingered in the room, but for the moment, it was buried beneath the surface. They were all gathered around the table now, the same group of men who had just been at the brink of chaos, but now, a strange kind of calm had settled over them. Even Seokjin, who had moments ago held their lives in his hands with the coldness of a seasoned killer, seemed... human. The mafia prince had brought a highchair for Yoongi’s son, placing it carefully beside him at the table. Along with the chair, he had brought a selection of colorful toys, almost as if to soften the edge of his own dangerous persona. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had so casually played Russian roulette with Hoseok’s life just minutes before.

“How was the vigilante life, Hoseok?” he asked, his tone light but laced with something deeper — curiosity, maybe, or amusement.

Hoseok chuckled, a sound that seemed at odds with the darkness of his past. His eyes twinkled slightly, though there was a touch of sadness buried in them, a residue from everything he had been through. “It was… interesting, hyung,” he answered, taking a slow breath before continuing. He didn’t shy away from the complexity of the question. It was difficult, of course. He did not have the usual advantages seeing as he had to leave his belongings behind, but he did gain something meaningful. He glanced at the baby, who was now happily gnawing on a colorful plastic ring, oblivious to the world around him. Hoseok’s lips curled into a soft smile as his eyes lingered on the child.

Seokjin’s gaze softened, his expression almost imperceptibly shifting as he followed Hoseok’s line of sight. For a brief moment, there was no air of threat about him, no hard edge to his demeanor. Just a quiet understanding. The silence stretched for a beat before Seokjin nodded slightly, as if acknowledging something unspoken.

It was clear enough — since Yoongi’s son had come into Hoseok’s life, the darkness that had once swirled so heavily in his eyes since the only woman he loved died had lessened, the demons no longer clawing at him with the same intensity. It wasn’t a perfect peace, but it was something. And for Hoseok, it was enough.

Seokjin leaned back in his chair, his posture casual, but the sharpness in his eyes betrayed his focus. He was quiet for a moment, swirling the drink in his hand as he observed Hoseok. There was a reason why the man, who had been living in the shadows for so long, was suddenly back in their midst — Seokjin wasn’t one to miss the details. He exhaled slowly, his voice carrying a certain nonchalance as he spoke, but there was an underlying edge to it.

“There’s a reason why you’re suddenly back,” Seokjin remarked, eyeing Hoseok with calculated calm. “What is it?”

Hoseok’s expression shifted instantly, the casual demeanor he had earlier slipping away as he turned serious. His lips thinned, his eyes narrowing slightly as he spoke, his voice steady but filled with urgency. “I need your help. Someone’s been following us, and I know it’s not Yoongi’s men. He doesn’t even know I’m alive. Just last night, someone broke into my safehouse with a gun.” He paused, eyes meeting Seokjin’s as if weighing the gravity of his words. “We all know he wasn’t there for a meet and greet.”

Seokjin looked thoughtful for a moment, the gears in his brain turning as he turned to Namjoon. “One of our enemies.”

Namjoon nodded, his jaw clenched, the weight of the situation clear in his stance. His voice was low, serious. “One that is powerful enough to know you’re still alive and who has the resources to trace your location.”

The air in the room thickened, the tension rising once more as the implications set in. Seokjin’s expression didn’t shift, but there was an intensity to his gaze now, a quiet readiness that signaled he was fully engaged in the conversation.

But Hoseok wasn’t done yet.

“It wasn’t only me that person is after,” Hoseok continued, his voice hardening further. “It seems like he was also after Yoongi’s son.”

Seokjin’s face darkened, his eyes flicking momentarily to the baby before returning to Hoseok. His voice was low, measured. “Whoever this is, they’re not playing games.” He shifted in his chair, fingers drumming lightly on the armrest, his mind already calculating their next steps.

“That’s why I’m here.” Hoseok’s gaze was intense, his seriousness unwavering. “I need to know who’s after us and what they want. I can’t risk it anymore. Not when they’re going after him.” He nodded toward the child, his eyes softening just for a moment before hardening again

Jungkook, who had been quiet until now, leaned forward, his eyes flashing with a steely determination. “Give me details, hyung. I’ll look into it.” His voice was sharper than usual, the intensity behind it undeniable. “You know I won’t let anyone hurt our family.”

There was a quiet confidence in his words. Jungkook was the tech genius, the one who could track down anything, anyone, with the right tools. He didn’t need much more than a name and a hint of a trail to start pulling at the strands that would eventually unravel their enemy.

Hoseok gave a sharp nod, appreciative but still focused. “I’ll send you everything I have — anything that can help. But I need to move fast. This is bigger than me, and I won’t let it touch Yoongi’s son.”

It was late when the men called it a night, their plans were solidifying. This was not the first time someone was stupid enough to make an enemy out of the Bangtan, but it sure was the first time that they involved a child.

What a fucking mistake.

Hoseok stood from his chair, moving toward the door where Seokjin was about to step out. His expression was somber, but there was something in his eyes — a weight that had been there for a while but was more apparent now than ever before.

“Hyung,” he called, his voice quieter than usual. Seokjin paused in the doorway, glancing back at him.

Hoseok’s eyes softened, his lips curling into a faint smile. “Thank you.”

Seokjin, still leaning against the doorframe, gave a small chuckle, his posture relaxed as he regarded his younger brother. "For not killing you?" he teased, an easy smirk tugging at his lips.

Hoseok laughed lightly, though there was no real humor in it. It was the kind of laugh that came when one was trying to find some levity in a dark situation. “That, and for helping us.”

Seokjin’s smirk faded into something more sincere, and he stepped back into the room, closing the door behind him. His voice was soft but firm, carrying the weight of unspoken loyalty. “We’re family. That’s what we do.”

He placed a hand on Hoseok’s shoulder, the gesture light, but the meaning behind it heavy. “Don’t worry. No one will dare hurt either of you in this safe house. You’re safe here. Well…until Yoongi learns that he has a son. Even I cannot guarantee your safety, then,” he teased before smiling at Namjoon who had been oddly quiet now. “Joonie will tell Yoongi, won’t you?”

Namjoon looked at Hoseok before slowly meeting his hyung’s eyes. He knew. It was foolish to think otherwise.

Of course, he knew. Namjoon was not sure when Seokjin figured it all out. But now. he knew of Namjoon’s involvement in hiding Hoseok and Yoongi’s angel, except that he didn’t know she was pregnant that time. Nothing could move past his hyung’s attention. It was idiotic of him to assume that he or anyone of them for that matter could move without Seokjin knowing. The man had eyes everywhere, ears in every corner of the city, and a mind that could anticipate everything.

He was not the mafia prince for nothing.

Seokjin’s eyes narrowed, and the playful smile he had been wearing faded. "That’s enough of your twisted justice, Namjoon," he said, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "Don’t you think Yoongi paid his dues?" His voice took on a sharper tone, more biting. "The two of you think Yoongi killed Hoseok’s girl, and you thought it was only just for Hoseok to also take away Yoongi’s angel. You’re both idiots."

 “Hyung…you knew? Why didn’t you tell Yoongi?”

Seokjin shrugged, “For the plot,” he replied casually, as if his reasoning were something trivial.

“Wha-“

"Tell him," Seokjin demanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. There was no softness in his voice anymore, only the raw, unwavering certainty of a leader who had seen too much to tolerate any more lies.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but for the first time since that fire, you slept without experiencing any crippling nightmare. You felt rested. It was like your body knew it was safe. For the first time, you woke up without feeling that heavy brick pressing down on your heart, restricting your very breath and

Yesterday’s confrontation had done you good– regardless of whether you accepted it or not.

You weren’t even fully awake yet, when you felt an arm tightened around your waist. Yoongi’s face burrowed on your neck, inhaling your scent as he completely plastered his front on your back.

Warmth. You realized that what you were feeling was warmth. His scent was all too familiar. It was like coming home to a place you never thought you could ever return to. Slowly, ever so slowly, you touched his large hand that was resting on your stomach. It was the first time you ever willingly touched him since he returned in your life. He did bare himself to you last night, and you were only too cowardly to do this when he was awake. You noticed new callouses and scars on his hand. The callouses were rougher than you remembered, and there were scars now, marks of pain he’d suffered, perhaps even inflicted, in the time he’d been away. He got hurt, something deep enough that it left marks. Gently, you brushed your thumb across them, your breath catching in your throat.

“What happened, Suga?” you whispered softly, careful not to wake the slumbering man up. You wondered if he still suffered from insomnia like he did before, when every hour of the night seemed to stretch endlessly, leaving him lost in a cycle of waking nightmares of his own.

“I made the men that had anything to do with your accident bleed, angel,” he whispered hoarsely. He was awake. “I made sure to triple the pain they gave you.”

You froze, your thumb pausing in its movement across his hand. The weight of his words settled over you, but it wasn’t anger you felt. It was something else. Something softer. A strange sort of relief. Your chest tightened, the guilt creeping in slowly like a poison, too slow to stop. You had hurt him. You had taken so much from him over the years. The lies you had believed, the things you had said.

“You got hurt… because of me,” you muttered, the words barely leaving your lips. You couldn’t even face him, couldn’t bring yourself to look at him because it hit you all at once—the gravity of what you had done. You had taken from him. You had taken his trust, his peace, his family. For heaven’s sake, you had taken his son away from him. His chance at a future that was never meant to be stolen.

You felt his lips press gently against your shoulder, soft as a prayer. His voice was quiet, but there was a tenderness to it that you could feel seeping into your skin, warming you from the inside out.

“I don’t mind bleeding for you, my angel,” Yoongi murmured, his words settling into the deepest part of your heart. They held no bitterness, no resentment, just raw devotion.

“I-I’m so sorry-“ your lips tremble and before you knew it, he was facing you, taking your tears in, taking the way you weren’t leaning away from his touch.

“Shh,” he consoled as he wiped away your tears. He would willingly leave the past behind because you were here now, and you were never going to leave him again. His arm was supporting his weight as he gazed down at the only person he would ever love in this life and after. “It’s all in the past now, angel. We will do better, okay?”

You nodded, feeling the weight lift from your chest just a little. He was right. The past couldn’t be changed, but you had the chance to do things differently now. To make it right.

Without another word, Yoongi leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. His lips lingered, and you could feel the heat of them seeping into your skin, a promise of the future you could still build together. He kissed the tip of your nose, then trailed down your cheek, slowly, deliberately. Every kiss was an unspoken declaration of love, of regret, of forgiveness. “I love you.”

His lips found yours then, soft but insistent, as though he was telling you everything he had never said. His hand moved to the back of your neck, holding you close as he deepened the kiss. And when he pulled back just enough to whisper against your skin, his voice was gentle, but his words were firm.

“Say you love me,” Yoongi ordered, his breath warm on your neck, his lips brushing against your skin. His arms were around you, pulling you in, as though there was no place in the world for you to be but with him.

The command, simple and sweet, sent a wave of warmth through you. But for a moment, you hesitated, unsure of how to put all the emotions into one sentence. You wanted to say it—needed to—but your heart was still catching up with the flood of everything you’d just realized.

Yoongi, ever patient, waited. But when you took just a little too long, a mischievous spark lit in his eyes, and he bit down on your neck, just lightly enough to make you gasp, the sensation sending a shiver through you. “I love you, Min Yoongi. I never stopped,” you confessed.

Yoongi’s face softened, his expression brighter than you’d ever seen it before. It was as though all the pain and suffering he had endured in this life meant nothing anymore. The world had been cruel to him, but in this moment, with you in his arms, everything was finally okay.

And maybe, this was the right time to come clean and admit that the two of you had a son.

“Yoongi, I…I have to tell you something.”

“What is it, angel?”

“We have a –”

But before you could even begin to confess, something shifted. There was a sudden sound—an all-too-familiar voice coming from the other side of the apartment.

“Hyung! Where are you?” Jeon Jungkook’s sing-song voice echoed through the penthouse, breaking the intimate silence between you and Yoongi.

Yoongi’s face twisted in irritation. He groaned in frustration, his shoulders tensing as though he were ready to throw something at the door. “For fuck’s sake,” he muttered under his breath. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for months.”

But then the sound of Jimin’s voice followed, much too cheerful for Yoongi’s liking. “We brought you and noona food!”

“And we brought you someone you’d like to see!” Taehyung added, his voice laced with playful mischief.

“I highly doubt that,” Yoongi grumbled, resting his face against your neck in an exaggerated pout. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his stubbornness, at how he still refused to let go of the moment you were sharing. But then, with a light laugh, you kissed his temple, trying to calm his growing frustration.

“Come out, hyung!” Namjoon’s voice joined in.

“I also have my ever-trusty medical bag just in case!” Kim Seokjin added.

“What do you mean just in case?” Yoongi muttered, but you could feel him finally relenting. His arms loosened around you, but he didn’t let go completely. He still kept you close, as if the outside world couldn’t reach you while he held you there.

With a sigh, Yoongi finally pulled away, but his eyes never left yours. “I swear, if they ruin this moment…” His words trailed off as the two of you walked out of the bedroom.

As you stepped into the living room, you couldn’t see much, but you could feel the wide, shit-eating grins from the guys. They were all looking at you both, clearly enjoying the playful tension in the air. Yoongi, however, didn’t seem to be paying them any mind at all. He kept you tucked into his side, his arm around your waist as he guided you toward the group.

And then, his eyes caught something, or rather, someone—someone he hadn’t expected to see.

There, in the corner, stood Jung Hoseok, holding a baby strapped to his chest. The baby was giggling, reaching out with tiny arms toward you, and your heart skipped a beat when you heard his giggles. You knew you ran out of time.

“Long time no see, hyung,” Jung Hoseok greeted him.

Yoongi froze for a second, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. And then they turned murderous as he pushed you behind him, standing in front of you as though protecting you from the person who took you away from Yoongi. The veins in his arms protruded as calmly walked to the table and pulled the gun strapped under the table.

Seokjin, who had been lounging comfortably on the couch as if the world around him wasn’t about to implode, didn’t seem phased at all by the tension crackling in the air. He was flipping through the movie options with an air of complete nonchalance, one leg lazily draped over the other. But then, he glanced up at Yoongi, a knowing look passing between them. His voice was completely unfazed when he spoke, as though this whole situation were nothing more than an ordinary day.

“Before you kill him, you should know that that’s your baby,” Seokjin said, the words rolling off his tongue like he was discussing the weather.

Yoongi’s heart skipped a beat. He froze, his eyes narrowing as his mind scrambled to process the words. “What do you mean, my baby?” His voice was hoarse, a dangerous edge to it as if his brain hadn’t quite caught up with the weight of the revelation.

And just as the words left his mouth, a soft giggle echoed through the room, like a sweet, innocent chime. The baby’s arms shot up toward you in a gesture so familiar, so natural, that it made Yoongi’s heart clench in his chest. The little voice called out to you, a word that sent a shockwave through his entire being.

“Eomma!”

The sound of it hit Yoongi like a thunderclap. His breath caught in his throat as everything seemed to fall into place all at once. His eyes widened, disbelief warring with something more primal.

He had a son.

You and he had a son.

You made all his dreams come true.

You gave him a family.

Family.

It was everything he had wanted, everything he had longed for, and it had been torn away from him. He’d wanted to build something real with you, but it had been ripped from him before he could even hold it. Hoseok had stolen his latibule, his sanctuary, out of spite and revenge for things he didn’t even understand.

Yoongi clenched his jaw, the familiar ache of anger twisting in his chest. His eyes never left Hoseok, the man who had caused him so much pain, even though the rest of the room felt like it was spinning out of control. His gaze was sharp, calculating.

“Y-Yoongi, listen. I I- was about to tell you. Believe me. I j-just wasn’t sure what the truth was. But n-now, I know. You have to believe me,” you begged as you forced him to face you. “I..I’m sorry, Suga.”

“Namjoon,” Yoongi’s voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of a thousand unsaid things. He called out, his tone emotionless, as if he were giving an order rather than asking for clarification. “The license I asked of you.”

Namjoon, who had been watching the unfolding scene with a tired but resigned look, sighed deeply. He walked over to Yoongi, a folder in his hand, the kind of folder that held paperwork that would change everything.

“Just needs you and her signatures,” Namjoon said quietly, his eyes flicking between Yoongi and you, sensing the turmoil in the room.

Yoongi didn’t hesitate. He opened the folder and saw the papers inside. His signature was swift, precise, the ink dark and final on the page. His movements were calculated, his expression stoic, but his eyes—his eyes were locked onto yours with an intensity that left no room for ambiguity.

“You want my forgiveness?" Yoongi's voice was low, cutting through the air with a sharpness that made your chest tighten. His gaze never wavered from you, and the weight of his words felt like a weight pressing on your ribs. "Sign this.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, your hands trembling as the truth of what he was asking sank in. "W-what’s that?" you stammered, your voice betraying the fear you felt, the confusion swirling inside you.

“Marriage license, dear,” Namjoon answered, his voice as tired as his expression. He was no stranger to Yoongi’s intensity, but this? This felt different. The stakes felt higher than they had ever been. “If you sign this, we can start over again with our son. We will be complete. And the two of you will be completely, irrevocably mine. You can do that for me, right?”

Yoongi’s hand was already reaching for you, holding out a pen—just a simple pen—but to you, it felt like a lifeline and a leash all at once. His eyes were filled with something fierce, something that made your pulse race, but beneath that fierce exterior, you could see something else: vulnerability.

The hand that offered you the pen was steady, “Sign this, angel.”

Your heart was pounding. The room seemed to shrink, your mind racing with fear and uncertainty, but deep down, something else was stirring. Love. It was still there. It had never really left. Despite everything, you still felt it for him.

You took a shaky breath, your hands trembling as they reached for the pen. For a moment, you hesitated, your mind filled with doubts, but then you looked at Yoongi—really looked at him with what was left of your eyesight—and you knew this was the only way forward.

You wanted this. You wanted him. You wanted your son to have the family you both had always dreamed of.

With a hand that trembled just slightly, you took the pen from Yoongi’s outstretched hand. Your fingers brushed his, and for the briefest moment, you felt the weight of everything settle in. Your hand moved without hesitation now as he guided your hand to where you would sign. The ink met the paper.

And with that, you made the choice that would change everything.

The room seemed to hold its breath as you signed your name.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice breaking under the weight of the word.

[nerdygirlramblings]

Off to See the Wizard (4)

previous | next

It was nearly midnight, but Price felt they had a solid plan for the next few days. They needed to establish some things: they were each individually interested in you, they were together, and they were collectively interested in you.

Price wasn't sure how you would react to the latter two of those revelations, but he was quite sure getting involved with them individually was something you were amenable to given your recent reactions. He didn't forget how flustered you were at staying in their barracks and how you looked at lunch earlier that day. Ghost admitted he'd told you how pretty he thought you were, which checked with the dumbfounded look on your face when Price and the others finally brought the food over. Then there was what Ghost and Soap said about how you acted when Soap complimented you.

All signs pointed to someone as smitten with each of them as they were with you. It was valuable intel, and Price was nothing if not a good soldier. He planned to leverage that to his every advantage.

The next morning you're surprised by the knock on your door at 6:30. You heard the boys leave around 5:00, so you have no clue who might be at your door. The idea that a soldier you don't know has access to the barracks is a little disconcerting.

You call out a muffled greeting and quickly pull some clothes on. You open the door to find John standing there with another soldier. "Oz, this is Corporal Avery," he says, putting a hand on the soldier's shoulder. "She'll be your liaison on base while we're gone. Anything ya need, ya find Avery, and she'll do what she can. She's under my direct orders to help look after ya."

You scoff at him. "I'm not a child, John. I appreciate this, but I'm fine. And I'm sure the Corporal has better things to do than babysit me."

He rolls his eyes. "Need I remind you, Oz, while yer 'ere, yer my responsibility. An' ya know I take my responsibility seriously." He gives you a knowing look and drops his voice to just above a whisper. The corporal takes half a step back and averts her eyes. "I take care a' mine, dove, you know that."

You can't keep yourself from dropping your gaze to his lips before looking away. You miss the smirk that quickly crosses Price's face. "Fine," you huff. You shift to look at Corporal Avery and say, "Thank you, Corporal. I don't plan to be any trouble, but I appreciate knowing who I can turn to for help while the task force is gone." She only nods and acknowledges you with a polite "ma'am" before John sends her off.

"The first step in takin' care a mine," John says, taking a step into your space, "is makin' sure ya eat. I'll give ya til half seven ta get ready, then I'll take ya ta the mess."

You sigh and roll your eyes. "Again, John, I'm a big girl. I appreciate this, but I'm sure I can find the mess."

He grabs your wrist gently as you make to turn away. He brings your hand to his lips and kisses the back of it, eyes never leaving your face. "Lemme take care 'a ya, dove, yeah?"

You splutter trying to respond. He kisses your hand again and reminds you, "Thirty minutes."

It takes you a solid five minutes to calm your racing heart and try to forget the heat in John's voice when he said he takes care of his own. After that, you shower and dress quickly. You decide if you're up, you'll fully start your day, so you pull on one of the cotton dresses you brought and a cardigan as you were chilly in your office yesterday.

You walk into the rec room and hear the audible intake John makes when he sees you. The look in his eyes is unreadable. You're not sure what's going on, but your gut tells you he's not behaving the way another captain would. You're not ready to address what might be going on. You fear hope he'll simply tell you what it is.

He walks you to the mess, arm around your waist like Kyle had at lunch yesterday. You walk in, expecting to see the rest of the task force. John must read your confusion in how you look around the room. He leans over, whispering right into your hear. "The boys aren't here, dove. They've got trainings to oversee this mornin'. 'S just us." His voice is low and almost growling, the warm breath across your skin sending shivers down your spine.

He walks you through the line, one hand always on you somewhere: on your hip directing you through the crowd, on your arm to get your attention. You watch him add one food after another to your heavily-leaden tray and tell him, "John, it's too much! I can't possibly eat all this. I usually have fruit and a yogurt."

He gives you a look that has your argument dying in your throat. "I need to make sure yer eatin' well, dove." You nod meekly and vow to at least try a bit of everything despite knowing you can't finish everything.

As you eat, John talks to you about his life. You learn more from his conversation than you'd known from all the little previous snippets. He talks about his childhood and what made him join the military. He shares what it's like being in command. He mentions how lonely he used to be. Throughout it all, he's watching your reactions. Your curiosity at his childhood and enlistment, the appreciation for his leadership, but it's when you stiffen, ever so briefly, when he says he used to be lonely that makes him perk up.

"Used to think I knew what I wanted. Nice girl at home, house full 'a babies. Don't think that's what I want anymore." He looks directly at you as he says it, and you choke on the coffee you were drinking. "Think I found something better than a missus keepin' house." He watches you, unblinkingly, before adding, "Kinda want a missus with a little spunk, someone who can make a place feel homey, and who's gonna look out fer me the same way I look out fer 'em."

You think you've stopped breathing. You feel John's eyes boring into you as he asks, "Know anyone like 'at?"

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 5 part 6

~~

Taglist: @blackhawkfanatic @starriestarlight @grayskel @mxtokko @imjustheretofightforlove @miss-vanta-likes-to-write @thriving-n-jiving @madsothree @silly-starfish @danielle143 @beelzebee @nova-willow-541 @alchemyfreak321

[3amfanfiction]

Father MacTavish

Johnny MacTavish x you Synopsis: Nothing but religious vibes (gross) sorry guys. Father MacTavish is fed up with you flaunting yourself at every opportunity. He decides it's time for you to be shown how to be properly pious. Cw: power imbalance, religion, corporal punishment, dubcon, oral, shoe humping. This is definitely a case of another cake so thank you to everyone who's written lecherous priests before me.

Father MacTavish was a handsome sort. With his bright blue eyes and the way he filled out his dark vestments he knew he drew the eye of his followers—men and women alike. He both welcomed it and tried not to take advantage at the same time.

Even still, he had been known to slip. He was only human after all but as the Good Lord said, we are all worthy of forgiveness for our sins. We must simply ask.

He tried to remember his own mortal failings and to be gentle on his parishioners when they inevitably fell to temptation. Whether that be envying a neighbor's sudden windfall or taking the Lord's name in vain, he tried to be lenient when they told him of their sins. Tried not to lose his temper on his flock that was his to lead.

That all went out the window when someone had temerity to throw themselves at him though. Him, a man of the cloth, and some trollop wanted to be lewd in his presence? Wanted to flash an unseemly amount of thigh when they crouched down to pick up a fallen piece of paper, their breasts pushed up to their neckline in an effort to entrance him?

No. He wouldn't abide by it.

Some things simply went too far.

He drew you aside one day after the sermon, ostensibly to speak about an upcoming program the church would be putting on in the coming months. You had always been eager to help with any functions the church hosted and this time was no exception.

"Father, how can I help you?" Temptation is the sign of the devil.

"If you're not too busy my dear, I was hoping you could come by tomorrow evening? There's some logistical help I need and I know you'd be just the person for the job."

"Of course, Father MacTavish. You know I'm always available for anything you might need."

You smiled up at him, eyelashes fluttering around your pretty eyes. Even now you worked to entrance him. Temptation and lust rolled into a single pretty package attempting to sharpen your teeth on him.

"Wonderful, come find me when you get here and we'll get this all straightened out properly. Enjoy the rest of your day, my dear."

That night he prayed for the Lord's guidance as in all things. He knew he was prone to mortal failings like the rest of his flock and so looked to the Lord for assurance.

He thought back on the way your plump hips had pressed against the thin fabric of your skirt, the line of your panties showing you had forgone your slip when dressing for the day. Such immoralness filled him with emotion and he was reassured he was on the correct path.

It was his job to guide his flock out of the darkness and into the light. Satan was clearly digging his fingers into you if this was how you acted in a house of God. He wouldn't let your soul suffer eternal damnation when he could save you with a bit of discomfort now. Ending his prayer he was filled with a sense of resolution.

It was settled then.

The next evening saw you walking into the empty church in another tantalizing dress. The flowing skirt ended right at your knees, giving glimpses of your thighs with each step, a siren call of harlotry. Had you no shame? Flaunting yourself in front of a priest. It was another sign that you needed him. Needed him to guide you.

"Father MacTavish, I'm here as you requested," you chirped. "How can I help?"

Guiding you towards the alter he watched as you took in the rice spread across the ground, generous handfuls thrown against the shining wooden floor, laying in wait.

"It's how I can help you, my lamb. You've fallen to perversion and as the shepherd of your immortal soul, it is my responsibility to guide you back to the light. Now, now," he hushed you with a raised hand as you started to protest, "I know the truth of it and I care not for how it came to be. My only concern is where we go from here."

He watched you struggle, clearly wanting to argue but too cognizant of your respective standings to put up much fuss. There were glimpses of a true, pure spirit under the cover of your prurience. He would soon have it shining for all to see.

He watched as you acquiesced, having mentally run through all the arguments you could make and his likely rebuttals. This was his duty to you and he would see it through, no vacillation would change his mind.

Finally, you sank to your knees, kneeling on the grains of rice with a wince.

"You may begin your prayers, my child. I'll be here with you."

As you clasped your hands and began your recitation, he watched you. He watched the way your chest rose and fell with each breath, the way you shifted on your bed of rice, trying to find a comfortable position but each shift only making it worse, the way your face crinkled in discomfort, voice hitching with a shuddering exhalation of your words.

Even now you maintained your aura of enticement.

He began to have a reaction of the body, his cock thickening and pressing against the placket of his pants. He widened his stance, giving himself some relief from the pressure. The church was silent aside from your words, the cadence of them lulling him into a familiar headspace.

It was jarring when it was broken.

"Father, how much longer am I to pray?" you pleaded, looking up at him with watery eyes from the continuous pain of the hard grains pressing into your delicate skin, voice slightly raspy after your lengthy prayers.

"Even now you try to beguile your way out of a required lesson." Disappointing. He had had higher hopes for you. "I had prayed this would be enough for you to see the wickedness of your ways but if I must go further then I will. I won't shirk in my duty to your soul, my child."

With a world-weary sigh he moved behind you, fiddling with the front of his pants as he went. He dropped to his knees, chest to your back, and placed heavy palms on your shoulders holding you steady.

Pressing firmly into your back, he said, "Just know this doesn't bring me any joy. This is the Lord's decree and I carry it out as I carry out all my tasks. With surety that my actions will ensure your place in our Father's home when the time comes."

Sliding his hands down he came to a stop along the outsides of your thighs. Grabbing fistfuls of your skirt he began to lift.

"Father MacTavish!" you yelped, hands dropping to try and keep the fabric in place.

"Continue your prayers, child," he dropped his gathered handfuls and reached out, encircling your wrists with warm, thick fingers before moving your hands back to your front to be clasped again. "The sooner you properly repent, the sooner your lesson will end."

He pressed his palms to your hips, waiting until you shakily restarted up your prayers before tugging your skirt upwards once more, pausing each time you did. He looked down as the soft fabric raised above your backside, smooth skin covered by a thin pair of panties—all that was keeping you from him.

Your voice stuttered to a stop as he dipped his hand between your thighs, stroking from your clit through your dampening slit, your underwear slowly darkening as he pressed it ever so slightly inside of you before withdrawing. You squealed in shock as he pulled back to swat a quick palm to your swelling clit.

"Why must I keep repeating myself? What is it I told you to do?"

"Y—you told me to keep praying. Father." you stuttered, tongue tripping over your words in your shock.

"And did you forget the words to your prayers?"

"No, Father."

"Then continue."

As you once more began to recite your orisons he returned to his stroking—a steady draw from clit through slit, the gusset of your panties all that separated him from your skin. Your warmth radiated through the fabric now dark with slick. A wet rasp heard during the lulls of your speech as he dragged his strong fingers over the cloth.

You were soaked by the time he deigned to pull them to the side and repeat his actions, this time dragging through damp curls before your plump lips spread around the tip of his fingers—nothing to shield your most intimate place from him.

He restrained himself at first—never pushing inside, just a slow drag of skin against skin as he spread your wetness across your folds. You squirmed in place, caught between the pain of kneeling and the pleasure he was providing. A hitching of your hips before a shuffling of your knees.

Your gasped protests as he eventually sunk his finger in to the knuckle did nothing to deter him. If anything, the resultant wave of heat that made its way through his body confirmed he was on the right path. He must show you the sins of the life you were leading.

It was his duty.

One finger quickly became two became three. He pressed and caressed, stroking along the delicate skin of your insides, fingers catching on a sensitive spongy bit that had a strangled gasp slipping from your lips. He played you like a harp—never ceasing, never faltering.

Your slick dripped down to his wrist by the time he deemed you suitably prepared. Holding your panties to the side he notched his tip against your opening and pressed inward, his fingers clenching and tugging at your dress where they were clutched at your hips. He struggled to maintain his composure at the feel of your wet heat. The slick press of you stroked along the sensitive skin of his cockhead, stirring him to greater heights with every centimeter gained.

"I cant, Father MacTavish it's too mu-ch!" you ended on a yelp as he took your distraction to push in another inch, drawing back and pressing forward in a sawing motion, teasing you with the possibility that he might seat himself fully each time. Your slick covered his cock, allowing each subsequent stroke to glide more smoothly than the last.

"This is to be your lesson. When you act like a whore you will be treated like a whore. You worked so hard to draw my eye and now you have it," he asserted with a curled lip.

Pushing firmly one last time he pressed his hips to your backside, sliding deeply inside you as he kissed your cervix. Tears fell from your eyes in sheets, a constant outpouring at the overwhelming sensations as you scrambled for purchase.

"I do this to save your soul, child, now be a good lamb and take it," he snarled and snapped his hips into you with force, a smack sounding with each meeting between the fat of your backside and his pelvis. He maintained his rhythm for a few moments before coming to a standstill, pressed deeply inside of you.

"I don't believe I told you to stop your prayers," he sighed. "This reminding is becoming quite tedious."

He reached down and pinched harshly at your clit causing you to squeal and attempt to buck up, away from his grip. He followed along with you, keeping an unyielding grip on the sensitive bundle of nerves. If you'd been crying before you were downright sobbing now.

"I'm sorry Father, it's just . . . it hurts. The rice hurts."

"If your dress wasn't the length of a whore's then this wouldn't hurt nearly as much. You would've had a soft layer between you and the rice but you wanted to flaunt yourself in God's house."

Sniffling, you started up once more—a hitching recitation echoing off the ornate walls of the church, the only sound beside the rasp and clap of skin on skin.

He made a game of it. He knew he shouldn't, that this was a lesson for his one of his flock and not something he should be using to entertain himself but he found himself falling into a pattern. He would pick up a steady rhythm of thrusts—allowing you to catch your breath and for your speech to take on a steady cadence before driving forward with vigor, punching into you with sharp, biting thrusts causing you to lose your breath and your place. He wanted to see if you could maintain your composure through your trials.

You hadn't yet.

It was during one of these stretches that you began to tense up, pushing back to meet him with each drive of his hips as if you were chasing something of your own. With a reedy cry you came, squeezing around him rhythmically as you stuttered to a stop, too caught up in the sensations to continue speaking.

He froze—a thunderous look crossing his face.

"Did you just find release around my cock?" he hissed in shock. "And I thought we had reached the end of your depravity."

He didn't give you time to plead your case, resuming his thrusting and ignoring your pleading as he pressed through your over-stimulation and built you back up towards another release. He clenched his hands on your hips, your dress crinkling between his fingers.

With each firm pull back onto his cock the fabric of along your chest pulled taut, inching downward towards where it was being tugged. You choked as the fabric finally gave way, sinking down below your breasts to allow them to spill out of the low neckline. Your lack of bra ensured they swung madly to his tempo.

You were just beginning to flutter around his length, muscles dancing to a beat only they knew, when he stopped completely and pulled out, ignoring the breathy what? you squeaked out.

Pulling back, his thick cock fell to the side, smearing your wetness against his furred thigh and trousers as a heavy plap was heard. Rising with a grunt he moved around to your front, looking down at you kneeling on your bed of rice. What a picture you made. Your breasts spilled over the top of your dress and your face was shiny with tears, eyes red-rimmed and glossy.

Beautiful.

"Oh my child, look at what a mess you've made of yourself." He reached out to wipe away a tear, "I know this must be difficult but we must preserver through our trials in order to find the Lord's grace. Now—open," he commanded, tapping the tip of his cock against your tear stained lips, "and put that provoking tongue out."

You sniffled and opened your mouth, hesitantly sticking out your tongue as he'd commanded. He waited and watched as drool collected and then dropped off the tip. Pressing forwards he dragged his sensitive head along the muscle. He sighed in relief at the sensation, teasing himself with a side-to-side caress before he slid into your heat.

He bit back a groan as the wet sensation swallowed him, watching as you made a slight face at the combined taste of you. He rocked himself forward gently, allowing you to get used to the sensation before slowly deepening his strokes.

Slowly sliding down to the back of your mouth, he held there for a moment, letting the drool gather as you fought not to gag around his length. Your lips were smooth where they had stretched wide around his girth, jaw mostly likely already aching.

Pulling back he let you catch your breath, swallowing and coughing as you received unobstructed access to air. He caressed the side of your face gently.

"You look so beautiful like this," he hummed, "practically angelic. Do you feel you have learned your lesson? Have you come to understand God's will?"

When you nodded furiously he smiled fondly and slid his foot forward, shiny black shoe coming to rest comfortably between your spread thighs.

"I am not completely without compassion, my child. Go ahead, you may use my foot to bring yourself to release while you continue."

It wasn't surprising how quickly you shifted to rest your covered center over the tip of his shoe, mouth opening as you leaned towards him, looking to have him in your mouth once more.

He reached out to hold onto the sides of your head, guiding you to his preferred tempo as you humped shamelessly on his foot. He knew his shoe would be shined slick by the time you were done.

After having teased himself for so long it was no shock how quickly his own release was on him. He held onto it with gritted teeth as he watched you climb towards your own high once more, waiting out your convulsions before pulling back to paint your breasts with his spend. He watched them glisten, dripping white as he caught his breath.

Tucking himself away he helped you to your feet, tweaking your nipples before he pulled the fabric of your dress up over them once more, covering the evidence of his release with the cloth.

He wiped your tear-stained cheeks with fondness, "There, there, no need for further tears. It's over and done with, my child, nothing further to worry about."

He guided you to the entrance of the church after you had composed yourself, eyes still puffy and red-rimmed but clear. He kept a hand placed low on your back to steady you.

"I trust you've learned the errors of your ways?" When you nodded firmly he smiled warmly. "Good. Then be at peace in the Lord's forgiveness."

He ushered you out of the church and closed the door behind you, never knowing you were mentally going through your dress options, already planning on a shorter length for this Sunday's service.

|||

All Stories || Main Repository

[cognitiveoverload]

Bambi (Spencer Reid x reader)

summary: You joined the BAU to prepare for an upcoming role, but your time with the team gives you a new career path and a new lover.

note: It's short, but that's how far I wanted to take this now. Takes place before 11x01.

“Special Agent Bambi stole my coffee 😩”

This is a message meant for your best friend, but Derek sadly leans over your shoulder just in time to catch it. You only notice when you hear his laughter in your ear, and soon you see him sitting on the edge of the desk in front of you. “I saw Spencer with a cup of coffee that had your name on it. Oh, if only someone told him you called him Bambi,” he says with a teasing grin.

Mortified, you open your mouth to protest, or rather to beg him to keep this to himself, but no word leaves your throat. Maybe a deal could work, maybe you could offer something he wants, and considering he mentioned his girlfriend loves your work, that could be the key to your secret’s safety. So, with a sweet smile, you put your phone on the desk and fold your arms as you look at him.

Derek instinctively mirrors your movement, watching you with a slightly raised eyebrow. “I’ll take you and Savannah to a fancy restaurant on an evening that’s good for the both of you, and she can join me on the first days of shooting when we finally get there,” you offer. 

“All of this to stop me from telling the kid?” When you nod, he lets out a thoughtful hum. “Damn it, you know that’s an offer I can’t turn down. I’ll keep your secret.”

“What secret?” 

You see as the agent in front of you whistles quietly, then walks past you as if there was nothing to see. The question came from Penelope, who stands right next to the very man you’ve exchanged a few words about. At first, you open your mouth to respond, but then you realize there’s no way you could improvise without being busted by them. Telling part of the truth could be useful, though.

So, without much hesitation, you put an award-winning smile on your face and point in the direction where Derek went. “I invited Savannah to the set of the movie,” you explain. You quickly realize there has to be a continuation for this sentence, otherwise you would have to start explaining yourself. “I was thinking about a girls’ weekend if you’re in too.”

Penelope claps her hands in excitement as she looks at Spencer. “I might not even return to you,” she jokes with a wide smile. “It’s so exciting, of course I’m in!” 

When she hugs you, you immediately become enveloped in that warm aura of hers, the one everyone on the team mentioned after you arrived. You’ve only been with the team for three weeks in preparation for a new role, but surprisingly, they all welcomed you kindly despite being short of a few people, and even among them, Penelope was the one who grew the closest to you in a matter of days.

While each and every one of them became important to you for a different reason, it’s Spencer you can’t quite place anywhere. He’s so different from the guys you are used to, and you can’t decide if this oddity is the reason why you don’t know what to think about him. A part of you thinks he’s an adorable dork, which brings out your protective side, while another believes he’s charming and handsome, the kind of guy you want to do certain things with behind closed doors. 

You’re like a Victorian man when he sees a woman’s ankle, you can’t help yourself when he’s around. It’s hard to recall the last time you were so desperate for someone’s attention, maybe it was back in high school, but you’re not sure. 

Behind her, Spencer takes a sip of coffee from the paper cup, and your eyes meet as you let go of Penelope and take a step back. He doesn’t say anything, and the silence is deafening, but you wait, secretly hoping he would change his mind and tell you something, even if it’s nothing more than some random fact about movies. But he remains silent, and eventually he moves to sit behind his desk without sparing you a second look.

Penelope also leaves, and since you don’t have paperwork to do like the others, you pull out the book that’s part of your curriculum and continue reading it, highlighting the pages where you find interesting details with a narrow post-it. It was Spencer and Dave who wrote you a list of books you could learn a lot from, and they both promised to talk with you about them once you finished reading them.

You have no idea how much time passed exactly, but your quiet reading session is interrupted by the announcement that there’s a new case and briefing starts now in the conference room. You pick up your phone and head after the rest of the team, sitting in the back as usual to be out of the way, but to your surprise, Spencer decides to sit next to you this time. When you turn to him with a surprised look, he flashes a smile at you, then takes another sip of the coffee cup with your name visible to you.

As most cases they work on, these were also gruesome murders, and the more details you hear, the harder you grip your thighs to bear it. But then you feel a hand cover yours, slowly but confidently lacing your fingers. You know whose hand it is, yet you don’t dare to look his way, you don’t feel like taking his attention away from the case that’s being presented. He joins the conversation every now and then, but whenever there’s a break, you can feel his eyes on you.

The team’s dismissed, and you’re heading to the plane that takes off half an hour later. The plane where Spencer once again opts to sit next to you, although this time he finally talks to you. “It gets better with time,” he notes quietly, flashing a small smile at you. You return it, but before you can say anything, he goes on. “I know that you were asking about joining the academy to become one of us.”

The surprised look you give him is followed by a groan. “Penelope?” you wonder, and he nods in response. “It’s just… I love acting, don’t get me wrong, but this would actually mean something, you know?” 

“But are you ready to work on such cases every day?”

You lean your head back as you consider what to say to that. The idea of joining the FBI came to you a week ago, after you entered the rented apartment you stayed in following an emotionally tough case. At first, you briefly considered quitting this little crash-course before it could leave a permanent scar on you, but then you realized that at the end of the day, it was all about saving lives. And this made you wonder if there was anything acting helped you achieve aside from promoting good causes. 

Preaching about the importance of fighting for the environment, or children’s rights didn’t mean people would actually do something too. But a job at the FBI? That would have results. You could put bad guys behind bars, even if it wouldn’t be so cheerful all the time. Considering you were in your late twenties, maybe you still had enough time to make such a big career change. 

With a sigh, you turn your head to look at him. “You said it yourself, it gets better with time,” you reply, but a doubtful look crosses his face. “Look, I know it sounds crazy, but I want to see if I would be good enough,” you tell him. 

Spencer turns in his seat, watching you with a barely visible smile at first. “You’ll need an intensive course,” he points out as he reaches out, once again lacing your fingers. “How about this? We meet outside of work and go through some old cases. I’ll teach you everything you need to know about profiling.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure you need your free time, I wouldn’t want you to–” But he doesn’t let you finish, instead he ignores the curious eyes watching the two of you and leans in to give you a soft kiss. “Oh,” you say when he pulls back. 

“You don’t even notice how many times you stare at me, do you?” he asks with a teasing smile, his hand moving to your cheek. “And please, don’t call me Bambi behind my back.”

With wide eyes, you stand up and turn around to find a certain member of the team that’s gonna be kicked in the ass for sure. “Derek, god dammit!” you yell, but before you could go there to confront him, Spencer takes your hand and gently pulls you back into the seat. You flash an apologetic smile at him, then rest your head on his shoulder as you think about how things would be for the two of you now.

Maybe with him on your side, it will be easier to handle these cases. 

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 52!

can you believe that this is the last rec list of 2024? because wow i can't. time flies... anyway, have a fairly holiday-heavy rec list to end the year with <3

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

benefits | rororowyourboat/@rosieposiepuddingnpie | 4.9k | E

When Eddie is crashing at Buck's place during the COVID shutdown, they start hooking up and... just keep going, even though they both insist to themselves and others that it doesn't mean anything. Unless... it does? literally nothing will ever hit as hard as buddie being friends with benefits but then being so dumb about it for being in love reasons <3 this captures that perfectly!

caffeine high | JessicaMDawn/@jessicamdawn | 13.9k | T

Before Buck was Buck, he was Stefan Everhart, member of a boyband called Caffeine High. His career as a celebrity lasted for only five years, and Buck has done his best to put it behind him, but those experiences still bleed into his daily life. It just so happens that there are some Caffeine High fans among the 118. i love the little peeks into buck's boyband days and how he grew up and turned into the buck we know and love in this au!!

cherry chocolate goodness on a gray day | the_milky_way | 1.3k | GA

Eddie has not a so nice day and all he wants is to snuggle up on his couch with a big tub of ice cream. Buck simply joins him. With his own tub of course. this fic makes me wish i liked cherries. so soft so buddie <3

dreams like a podcast (downloading truth in my ears) | iphigenias/@oatflatwhite | 1.3k | GA

Eddie chucks the tea towel over his shoulder and turns so his hip’s pressed against the counter and he’s facing Buck, who is wrist-deep in lukewarm dishwater and no doubt as bright red as he feels. “I think you’re cool, and smart, and hot, and I love you.” “Okay,” Buck says, stupidly. His fingers are starting to prune. “You know I—me too.” they're so cute <3 one of my favourite domestic fics!!

grief stays outside your house (until you let it in) | justhockey | 2.3k | not rated

Eddie is falling, falling, falling. His legs buckle underneath the weight of all this grief, and when he collapses to the floor the impact causes him to shatter into a thousand tiny pieces. He grips the bat tighter still, even though the guilt of it is burning his palms now - even though the only thing in this room either of them need to be frightened of is him. i'm not a massive angst reader, but every now and then i browse for something in the angst and feels tag because i'm just in the mood for it, and this hit the spot perfectly the other day. so beautifully written <3

if we could be serious we wouldn't be us | BekkaChaos/@bekkachaos | 1.2k | GA

Buck gives Eddie baking lessons. Flour fight leads to laughter and kissing in Eddie’s kitchen. they get a little silly and soft and it's just so good!!

i'll be home for christmas | lecornergirl/@clusterbuck | 1.5k | GA

Christopher had messaged, two weeks ago, and said he didn’t want to spend Christmas in Texas. He’d said his grandmother doesn’t decorate the house right, that she won’t let him put popcorn garlands on the tree, that she’s trying to tell him snickerdoodles aren’t Christmas cookies. He’d said he wants to come home. Or— What he’d said was, can i come and spend christmas with you? the family feels are real <3 i love the hopefulness in this one!!

into it (you've got me tied up) | Snacks_4life | 7k | E

Eddie finds BDSM gear in Buck’s closet, leading to them discussing rope bondage. When Buck suggests they try it out together, Eddie can’t do anything other than agree, even if it’s supposed to be platonic. In the end though, it seems it’s not only Eddie who can’t keep his dirty thoughts to himself. buddie + bondage + getting together = one excellent excellent fic <3

like a dog with a bird at your door | fleetinghearts/@shitouttabuck | 51.2k | E

evan “i love you like a dog” buckley has only ever known how to love like, well, a dog, but maybe eddie diaz is the kinda guy to give a flea-bitten mongrel a forever home. this is so beautifully written!! fantastic characterisation, gorgeous prose... truly all a girl (me) could want. i love the sequel as well!

my true love gave to me | scarmaddiewrites | 10.6k | T

Eddie’s plan to woo Buck at Christmas time. eddie spoiling buck around christmas time is just <3<3 so fluffy so good

rearview blues | clytemnestra/@clytemnestraaa | 16.5k | E

Eddie Diaz is not having a great time in El Paso. eddie might not be having a great time but i sure am <3 the torment nexus is real and i love it so much. beautiful fic!!

see the lights, and hang the stockings | wafflesofdoom/@capseycartwright | 2.6k | GA

Eddie finds out that Buck has never ever had a Christmas stocking of his own. He's very determined to change that and share a few Diaz family traditions. eddie going all in to make sure buck has a good christmas and feels included and loved and only good things my most beloved <3 exactly what i needed this holiday season!!

welcome back to the basement | songbvrd/@songbvrd | 18.4k | E

Buddie as The Basement Yard boys. the pet names!! i love their dynamic here, the dialogue feels so very them. it's just so so good!

[lexirosewrites]

I was bored so I wrote another one :)

They’ve defeated the UD and everyone came out of it okay. A!Eddie has to use a cane some days and O!Steve gets migraines but otherwise they’re fine. Steve helps everyone through their recovery but especially Eddie. This results in them spending a lot of time together and getting closer. Eddie would wish nothing more than to court the shit out of Steve. He’s kind and cute and perfect and adorable and… you get the point. But after about two weeks of Eddie laying in a hospital bed Steve actually told him why him and A!Nancy broke up and how he’s been a little hesitant to get into anything real since then, he just doesn’t want to get his heart broken like that again. 

Once Eddie learns this he has to stop himself from growling every time he sees Nancy (it has only happened twice so far, contrary to popular belief he can actually behave thank you very much). He also realises that if he wants to court Steve he might have to do the dating version of gentle parenting. So. They take things slow. Really slow. Eddie basically just gets to know Steve like a good friend. 

Suddenly nine months have passed, Christmas is over and they’re getting ready to celebrate New Years at the new Byers-Hopper house. Everyone is there and they’re all celebrating that the UD is gone and that they’ll all (hopefully) get a normal year for once. Midnight is getting closer and so is Steve and Eddie. 

While they’re eating dinner they sit next to each other. Bumping shoulders while they clean up. Holding pinkies while they sit on the sofa and Joyce put “1987!” hats on them. Eddie with an arm around Steve’s waist while they’re talking to Robin. Whispering and giggling at each other's jokes. 

Then it’s time to count down until midnight and they’re standing at the back of the room (Eddie still has his arm around Steve’s waist). It’s 10 seconds til the new year when Steve looks at Eddie and says

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

Cheering starts up around them. 

“Happy New Year” and Steve kisses Eddie for the first time while their family celebrates around them. When they pull back both of them are blushing. Eddie is a bit shell shocked but once he gets his wits about him he pulls Steve in for another much longer kiss.

Maybe 1987 will be their year

soft slow loving steddie makes me mushy🥺

[cutielando]

ma meilleure ennemie | r.c.

synopsis: in which you don’t know how to feel about him

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

The golden light of the Outer Banks sunset filtered through the trees, casting a warm glow over the tangled chaos of the marsh.

You were perched on the dock behind the chateau, skipping stones into the water, trying to pretend the world wasn’t crashing down around you.

But Rafe never let you pretend for too long.

He stood only a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his khakis, the embodiment of Kook arrogance. You didn’t even need to look at him to know he had that infuriating smirk on his face.

The one that made your blood boil.

“Didn’t know the Routledge princess spent her nights sulking. Thought you were out with your Pogues planning another heist” Rafe taunted, his voice sharp.

You clenched your jaw and tossed another stone into the water, harder than before this time around.

“Did you want something? Don’t you have better things to do?” you snapped, turning to face him.

Rafe’s smirk fell for a split second, but he recovered quickly. He didn’t want to let his guard down around you.

“Maybe I just wanted to see you” he said, his tone laced with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, refusing to let his words have any kind of effect on you. Rafe didn’t want to see you, not really. You were just another means to an end in his eyes.

“Yeah, sure. You’re not exactly known for your heart of gold or love for my crowd, Rafe” you said, turning away and splashing the water again.

He chuckled, his voice low and bitter.

“And you’re not exactly the sweet Pogue everyone things you are” he said, making you stop in your tracks.

His words hit you harder and deeper than you wanted to admit. You had spent your entire life trying to hold your family together, trying to glue everything and make it stick so nothing would happen to the ones you loved.

But Rafe had a way with his words that would get under your skin, peeling off layer by layer and exposing the cracks you had desperate tried to hide your entire life.

“You don’t know anything about me” you finally said, your voice small and wavering.

Rafe stepped closer to you, which made you look up at him for the first time ever since he came. You came eyes to eye with his charming blue eyes, seeing the storm brewing behind them.

“I know you’re tired of pretending. I see it in the way you look at everyone, especially your friends. You’re carrying the weight of holding everyone together, but who’s left carrying you?” he asked, his voice incredibly soft.

Your breath caught in your throat for a moment. You hated how easily he could read you, how his words cut through every single layer of thick skin you had spent years building.

“Don’t act like you care about me. You’re just as selfish and destructive as you’ve always been. You don’t care about anyone else other than yourself, don’t preach to me” you said, taking a step back and turning away.

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and for a split second, you thought he might snap at you and prove your point. But he didn’t.

Instead, he took a deep breath, his expression softening.

Something that was very rare for him.

“Maybe I don’t, and maybe you’re right with everything you’re saying. But maybe, just maybe, you make me want to try and care about someone else” he confessed, his voice soft.

The words hung in the air around you, heavy with unspoken truths and impossible realities. You wanted to laugh, to scream in his face that he was crazy, that you could never even phantom trusting him or letting him in.

But a small, very small and traitorous part of you wondered if he could be telling the truth.

And that was the most dangerous thought of all.

The only sounds that could be heard were the waves crashing around you. His words replayed in your mind over and over again, chipping away at your resolve with each passing second.

“Maybe you should figure yourself out before you drag someone else into your mess” you said, your voice quieter and softer now.

Rafe’s lips twitched into a small, bitter smile. He knew how hard you were trying to hold your ground, he could tell. Because he always did the exact same thing as you.

“Maybe I already know what I want. I’m tired of being the guy everyone expects me to be” he said.

You folded your arms over your chest, more for your own comfort than anything else.

“And what, are you expecting me to save you or something?” you asked.

“No” Rafe said quickly. “I’m not asking you to save me. I just, I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted to talk to someone who doesn’t expect anything from me” he confessed, his tone almost vulnerable.

His confession took you completely by surprise.

This wasn’t the Rafe Cameron that you knew. The one who had tormented you and your friends for years, manipulated and assaulted Sarah, stolen from your family; that Rafe Cameron wasn’t capable of having feelings or being vulnerable.

But the way his eyes were holding your gaze in these moments, the emotions swimming around in his eyes, they made you question everything about him.

“This doesn’t change anything, Rafe” you said, taking a step back again. “You’ve done too much to me, to my family. I can’t just forget about it and pretend nothing ever happened” you explained.

“I know, and I’m not asking you to forget” he said, taking a step forward. “I know I’ve messed up, I know I’ve hurt you more times than I can count. But you make me feel like I could truly be better, than I could be more than what my dad made me” he said.

The mention of his father sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine. Everyone on the island knew about Ward’s influence over Rafe, but that wasn’t an excuse for Rafe’s behavior.

It was, however, a reason. A crack into his perfect Kook facade, a crack that made him human.

“I don’t know if I can fix you, Rafe” you whispered, your voice tired and broken.

“I’m not asking you to fix me. I just, I don’t want to feel like this anymore. Like I’m always one step away from falling apart. When I’m around you, you make it stop, just for a little while you make everything stop and I can just… be myself for once” he confessed, completely breaking through your walls.

You wanted to scream at him, to hit him and push him away for even daring to come here and beg you for your forgiveness and mercy.

But you couldn’t.

Your heart wouldn’t let you send him away, because he was right. You did understand him, and you knew what he was going through.

Because just like he said, he made everything quiet when you were around him.

He made it stop.

“You have one shot at this” you whispered, closing your eyes as you finally give in.

Rafe’s lips curl up into a small smile, his stomach erupting with anticipation.

“You won’t regret it. I’ll be better” he said, stepping closer to you.

You nodded, giving him a small, tentative smile.

As you two stood there on the dock, you looked out at the horizon, wondering about what had just happened.

Wondering if you had just made the biggest mistake of your life.

Or maybe, wondering if you had just made the best decision ever.

Wondering.

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I’m scrolling through your blog like a creeeeeeperrrr just yeah and I saw the autism Kate and motorbike Rudy and can we get more?

AUTISM KATE WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Okay, I'm calm and collected.

Like it is for a lot of women, Kate's autism goes unnoticed by anyone who doesn't know her closely. She prefers it that way. hell, Shepherd doesn't know and she works far too closely with him.

But some of the others know.

John had never really considered it until the porridge incident years back, Kate had stayed at his and he made them both porridge for breakfast [at 11am, they'd been drinking the night before]. Kate had taken one spoonful of it and looked positively revolted but she'd swallowed it down without complaint. John asked her at the time what the issue was and if she preferred it sweeter or had a specific taste. She had insisted it was fine. He'd watched her force down two more spoonfuls before thieving it back from her until she fessed up that it was a texture issue.

John stared at her blankly for a solid forty seconds and she mentally prepared for some lecture about how she was too old to be complaining about things like that. The Englishman simply responded with "Toast?"

He didn't care, he was more offended that she didn't feel like she could tell him. He'll never judge and he has thrown a punch at a man once while drunk in a pub because the guy had been casually throwing around an ableist slur while talking about autism and other things.

Will get her started talking about birds when they're drunk and will leave remembering none of it, they have the same conversation every time and it's great fun for both of them.

When Simon learns she's autistic he says nothing, and then when John lets it slip that Kate's birthday is coming up he perks up but says nothing. That year she gets a weighted blanket in a nice blue with no note. Eventually, Simon lets it slip to John that it was him. Joseph had been autistic and he's always liked the soft texture with the weight to keep him calm and comfortable. He thought Kate might like the same but he wasn't sure if they were close enough to give it to her so he sent it anonymously.

John tells Kate and a while later Simon receives a thank-you note with no name and a picture of several cats lying on top of a blue weighted blanket. He keeps them both.

Soap learns Kate has autism and it's a very short interaction.

"Is this why you know so much about The Muppets?"

"Maybe."

"Who was the first every guest st-"

"Juliet Prowse."

"Cool."

Gaz doesn't care, working with an autistic lesbian is just casual to him given that he works with a man in a skull mask, a man with the gayest haircut of all time and a man with the gayest facial hair of all time. Kate is the most competent of all of them, nothing changes that.

Motorbike Rudy, I'm so glad you asked.

He buys an old one second-hand from someone he knew growing up, the man is getting older and can't go out on his bike anymore. He tries to give it to Rudy for free, but Rudy pays him the asking price only doubled. He replaces a few parts just because they're older and he can, he likes the work. It gives him something to do when he isn't working and he likes manual labour. If he sits around aimlessly for too long it makes his skin crawl.

When he finishes fixing the bike, he decides he'll take her for a spin. He'll only be gone for maybe twenty minutes and it's just to get used to her so he doesn't need to tell anyone he's leaving.

Five hours later when he comes home, Alejandro smacks him over the back of the head.

He loves going out in the morning when the sun has just risen and the sky is a picture of oranges and yellows. It's his favourite thing to do outside of the job.

Whenever he gets on the bike [Salma, her name is Salma] Alejandro glares at him until he puts on his helmet. he'd never ride without it, he likes his skull intact, thank you very much. But until the helmet is actually on his head, Alejandro is standing with his arms crossed, glowering at him.

At one point the 141 are back in Las Almas, for casual reasons this time and they see him on the bike. John asks him about the make and model, any work he's done to it and how he takes care of it. Gaz asks him if two people can ride or only one, he isn't jumping for the chance to but he's curious. Soap checks out the bike but he's more curious about Rudy's opinion of it, how he got into bikes as a whole and how he learned to ride.

Ghost turns towards Alejandro but his eyes are glued to Rudy as he stands next to the motorbike.

"Your man looks good on the bike."

"Watch your tongue, hermano."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Ghost likes men on bikes, sue him. It helps that it's Rudy and there's no denying that Rudy is hot.