#but then i started noticing it more and it just makes me so happy

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER FIVE ━━ Happy Halloween

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 6.8K

☆ ━ warnings: beau being a dick, vaping, dani’s still depressed as shit, like idk

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: i’m sorry this chapter is so messy and all over the place it’s lowkey my least favorite so far, but good things are coming i promise!!!!

HIS MOUTH presses against hers with an intensity that makes Dani stiffen. Beau kisses her with a hunger that she doesn’t feel, his hands cupping her face, fingers in her hair, deepening it. His lips are rough, insistent, like he’s trying to draw something out of her that she doesn’t want to give.

Dani kisses him back because she knows she should. She tries to match his urgency, his need. But it feels all wrong, like she’s wearing someone else’s skin. Her heart isn’t in the kiss, isn’t with Beau at all. It drifts to other places—another person—and she can’t shake the growing discomfort building in her chest.

Beau’s hands roam lower, sliding from her face to her waist, gripping her hips firmly as he presses closer. The position is uncomfortable in the small confines of his car, and she shifts slightly. She thinks he takes that as an invitation, because he moves closer, his mouth trailing from her lips to her neck, kissing a path down to her collarbone, closer to her chest. The top she’s wearing leaves little to the imagination there, and he seems to like that. Dani’s breath hitches, body tensing. She isn’t here. She doesn’t want this.

But Beau doesn’t pay attention to the way her body recoils. He doesn’t notice how she stiffens under his touch. He’s too focused on his own need, his mouth feverish against her skin as he starts fumbling with the button of her jeans, eager to go further.

“Beau, stop,” Dani says softly, voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t stop. His hands are moving too fast, his breath hot and uneven against her neck as he presses harder to her.

“Beau, stop,” she repeats, more forceful this time, her hands pushing at his chest.

He ignores her, his hand still tugging at her jeans, more urgent now. “You can’t just keep doing this. We haven’t—” He pulls back just enough to look at her, frustration written all over his face. “You barely even let me kiss you anymore. What’s the point of us if you’re just gonna shut down every time I try to get close?”

She slaps at his hand now, and he finally retracts it. “I said stop,” she mumbles, breath quickening.

Beau sits back in his seat, his face darkening slightly. He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Jesus Christ, Dani. What the hell is your problem? We haven’t fucked in weeks. You won’t even touch me, and now this? What, do you not even want me anymore?” His voice grows louder, harsher with each word.

Dani stares at him, her chest tight, her hands trembling in her lap. She doesn’t have the words to explain it to him, can’t tell him how disgusted she feels with herself every time they’re together. How she feels like she’s living a lie, forcing herself into a relationship she doesn’t want, creating a life that isn’t meant to be hers. But all she can manage is a weak, “I just… I don’t feel like it, okay? Can’t you respect that?”

“Respect that?” Beau’s eyes narrow, and he scoffs, shaking his head. “How the hell am I supposed to respect that when you don’t give me anything to work with? I’ve been patient, Dani. I’ve tried to give you space. But I’m not one of your fucking Catholic saints. I have needs, too.”

Dani winces at his words, feeling the sting of guilt and shame twist in her stomach. She hates this, hates the way he makes it sound like she’s failing him by not being able to give him what he wanted. But at the same time, she hates herself more for letting it get this far—for pretending she can be someone she’s not.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I’m sorry, okay? I just—”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” Beau snaps, cutting her off. “I’ve been dealing with your bullshit for weeks now, Dani. You’re distant, you’re cold, you won’t even look me in the eyes half the time. If this is how it’s gonna be, then maybe we shouldn’t go to the Halloween party together tomorrow. Hell, maybe you shouldn’t come at all.”

Dani’s throat tightens, and she feels the hot prickle of tears burning behind her eyes. “Beau, I—”

“No.” His voice is sharp, final. “You need to figure your shit out. Because I can’t keep doing this.” He unlocks the car doors, staring at her expectantly. “Get out.”

Dani blinks, stunned, thinking she may have misheard. “What?”

“Get out of the car.” His eyes are hard, cold. “If you’re gonna be like this, then just… go. Walk home. Maybe that’ll give you time to think about what you really want.”

“Are you serious?” Dani’s snaps, looking at him in disbelief. They’re parked in some random lot, miles away from her house. It’s dark, and she has no way of getting home except by walking. She can’t even call someone to come pick her up, because her phone died a little bit ago.

“I said get out,” Beau repeats, his voice like ice.

Dani swallows hard, before scoffing, opening the passenger door. She steps out into the chilly night air, and, immediately, she wishes she brought a jacket, the small cropped shirt she’s got on not doing anything to shield the cold.

Before she can say anything else, Beau reaches over and slams the door shut from the inside. He speeds off, leaving her standing alone in the dark parking lot, the distant sound of his car’s engine fading into the night.

The silence around her is deafening. Dani stands frozen for a moment, her arms wrapped around herself as the cold wind bites at her skin. She blinks back the tears that blur her vision, the ones she desperately tried to keep in so that he couldn’t see them, her mind racing with thoughts of everything that led her to this moment.

She wants to scream. To sob. To fall apart. But there’s no one here to see it, no one to hear her.

With a deep, shuddering breath, she starts walking.

PAIGE’S HANDS lazily hold the steering wheel as she drives down the empty, dim lit street, the hum of her car’s engine and the quiet voice of Drake the only sounds to keep her company. She’s just left Thaliah’s house after a low-key night spent playing Fortnite, and she’s thankful now that she finally has her license—no more relying on her friends or her dad for rides. The freedom is nice, the kind of feeling she’s been craving for a while.

As she continues driving along the road, something flickers at the edge of her vision, pulling her from her thoughts. A figure. A lone person walking down the sidewalk. Paige furrows her brows as she drives past, the figure just barely visible under the faint glow of the streetlamp. She turns her head a little, squinting as she stares at her side mirrors. All she really sees from that view is long hair blowing in the wind. A girl. It’s late—after midnight—and what girl would be stupid enough to be walking alone at this time?

Paige’s mind runs through the possibilities, but something gnaws at her. The silhouette looked familiar, like someone she knows. Someone with a very specific walk, a hunched posture, a familiar dip of the head, long hair…

No way. No fucking way.

She’s driven past already, but the doubt lingers in her mind, tugging at her. Paige’s hands hover over the wheel, her foot still on the gas as she debates with herself. But her gut is screaming—if it had vocal chords, they would be shredded by now. Because if it’s who she thinks it is, she can’t just leave it alone. She can’t ignore it.

With a frustrated groan, Paige quickly makes a sharp U-turn to go back the way she came. The street is dead silent, save for the crunch of her tires on the pavement. As she nears the figure again, her heart rate speeds up. Please don’t let it be her. Please don’t let it be Dani.

But as she slows down, pulling up alongside the sidewalk, her breath catches in her throat. She should’ve known all along, shouldn’t have even questioned herself. Because consciously, subconsciously, in any way possible—Paige always knows Dani. She can pick her out in any crowd, so doing it on a deserted street isn’t so hard. And she’s very right, because this is Dani. Walking alone. And it’s cold as hell out, too. She’s wearing nothing but ripped jeans and a cropped t-shirt. What the fuck is she doing?

Paige slows to a stop, rolling down the passenger window. Dani immediately stiffens, her head whipping toward the car, eyes wide. Paige leans over, her voice cutting through the silence.

“Dani, what’re you doing?” she asks, her voice sharp with concern and an edge of accusation.

Dani stares at her in disbelief, her brows knitting together in surprise. “Fuck, I thought you were some old man about to kidnap me,” she mutters, wrapping her arms around herself as a gust of wind whips through the air.

Paige rolls her eyes, the tension easing from her chest just a bit. “No, I’m not gonna kidnap you,” she says flatly. “But someone else fucking might. Get in the car.”

Dani hesitates, her gaze flicking between Paige and the road ahead. Her lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, Paige thinks she might refuse. There’s a tension in Dani’s stance, a stubbornness that Paige knows all too well.

“Dani, seriously,” Paige presses, her tone firm, leaving no room for argument. “It’s freezing out. I’m not leaving you out here alone.”

Dani sighs, a puff of visible breath in the chilly air, before muttering, “Fine.” She reaches for the door handle, and with a click, the door swings open, and Dani slides into the passenger seat.

Paige immediately turns the heat up, casting a quick glance at Dani. Her arms are crossed, her shoulders hunched, and Paige can see her shivering, despite the attempt to seem unbothered. Paige’s chest tightens with concern as she wonders what the hell could’ve happened to land Dani in this situation.

For a few moments, the car is filled with an awkward silence, broken only by the sound of the heater kicking in. Paige tries to focus on the road, but her mind races with a million questions on why Dani’s out here in the first place, why she was walking all alone in the dark as a teenager girl that most certainly could not defend herself should a kidnapper find her.

“What were you doing out there?” Paige finally asks, her voice more gentle this time, though still laced with concern. “Why are you out this late by yourself?”

Dani shakes her head, her eyes fixed on the dashboard in front of her. “It’s nothing,” she mumbles, her voice flat, detached.

Paige frowns, tightening her grip on the wheel. “It’s not nothing. It’s past midnight, and you’re walking around in the cold like it’s the middle of the day. What happened?” she presses, sending a glance at her ex-best friend.

Dani stays silent for a moment, then scoffs lightly, turning to look at Paige. “When’d you get your license? I thought you couldn’t drive?”

Paige rolls her eyes, biting back her frustration. “Don’t change the subject, Dani.”

Dani shifts in her seat, clearly uncomfortable, her arms tightening around her body like she’s trying to make herself smaller. “Just… drop it, Paige,” she replies, dismissive.

Paige exhales sharply, shifting her eyes over at her again. Dani’s walls are up, higher than ever. It isn’t like her to be this closed off with Paige. Or, at least, it hadn’t been like this before… before everything went sideways between them. No matter how much she hates it, Paige supposes she should get used to it—this is their new normal, after all.

“I’m not dropping it,” Paige shoots back, keeping her voice steady. “Not when I find you walking around alone at night looking like…” She trails off, unsure how to finish that sentence without pushing too far.

Dani’s jaw clenches. “Like what?” she snaps, her eyes flashing with an edge of anger.

“Like you’re not okay,” Paige says, softer now, her eyes darting between Dani and the road. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

Dani lets out a harsh breath, her fingers digging into her arms as she stares out the window. “I’m fine, Paige. Seriously.”

Paige doesn’t buy it for a second. Not with the way Dani’s sitting there, tense and cold and distant and—no matter how much she tries to hide it—vulnerable.

“Fine? Really? Because it sure doesn’t look like it,” Paige mutters. She knows she’s walking a fine line—at this point, Paige is probably the last person Dani wants to open up to right now, and pushing her too hard could make her shut down even more. But Paige can’t just sit there and pretend like everything is okay when it clearly isn’t.

Dani shakes her head again, more forcefully this time. “I’m fine. I just—” She cuts herself off, biting her lip, like she doesn’t even believe her own words.

Paige isn’t sure what it is, but something about Dani’s demeanor—the way she’s hunched over, trying to make herself disappear—makes her feel sick. Dani’s so different from the girl Paige used to know. Something’s wrong. Something’s been wrong for months now.

“Did Beau do something?” Paige asks quietly. It’s probably not the long term issue, the reason for the girl’s whole switch up, but Paige thinks it damn well could be the reason Dani’s in this situation tonight—and the thought makes the blonde’s stomach sick.

Dani stiffens immediately at the name. That reaction tells Paige everything she needs to know.

Nonetheless, Dani’s laugh is bitter, a sharp sound that cuts through the quiet car. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”

Paige’s heart drops, her pulse quickening. “Dani…”

But Dani turns her head away, staring out the window like she can’t bear to look at Paige anymore. “Just drive me home, okay?”

Paige hesitates, her throat tight, but eventually, she nods, pressing her foot down on the gas. The tension in the car is palpable, and Paige hates it—hates the silence, hates the distance between them. But she feels like she’s exhausted all she can do to try and repair it between them, so she leaves it be, and turns up the music just slightly.

The road stretches out ahead, leading them back toward their neighborhood, toward the familiarity of home. But as the houses grow closer, Paige can’t shake the feeling that something is just deeply wrong. And this isn’t just about tonight. It isn’t just about Dani walking alone in the dark.

This is about everything that’s happened between them—everything that’s changed since Dani was sent to that camp over the summer. Since Dani had come back different. Closed off. Dani hasn’t been the same since she returned, and even though Paige doesn’t know the full story—well, doesn’t even know an ounce of if, actually—she can still feel the weight of it.

Paige glances over at Dani once more, but Dani’s back to staring out the window, her arms still wrapped tightly around herself. In spite of everything, Dani’s still shivering, and Paige knows it’s not from the cold—the heat has surrounded her car by now. It’s about everything else.

They turn down their street, the familiar houses coming into view, bathed in the soft glow of porch lights. Paige can see her house up ahead, just a few doors down from Dani’s. Normally, this is where they’d share a goodbye, a see-you-later. But nothing is normal anymore.

Paige slows as they near Dani’s house, and for a moment, she considers just pulling into her own driveway, since their houses are right next to each other. But something stops her. Even if they live right next door, this still feels different. Dani needs more from her than just a quick drop-off. Paige needs to make sure Dani knows she’s not alone, even if she can’t fix whatever’s going on.

So, she pulls into Dani’s driveway instead, parking right next to Dani’s car. Paige’s car idles for a second, the engine’s soft hum the only sound between them. Paige shifts in her seat, looking over at Dani, who still hadn’t moved.

“You’re home,” Paige says quietly, breaking the silence.

Dani finally tears her eyes away from the window and sets her eyes on Paige, her expression guarded, tired. For a second, Paige thinks Dani’s just going to get out without a word, like every other time they’ve had one of these stilted, painful interactions. But then, Dani surprises her.

Dani shifts in her seat, turning slightly so she can look at Paige more directly. Her eyes soften, just for a moment, as she holds the blonde’s gaze. “Thank you,” she says quietly, her voice low but sincere. “For picking me up.”

Paige blinks, caught off guard by the sudden change in Dani’s tone. There’s no anger, no sarcasm, no bitterness in her voice. It’s raw, earnest. And for the first time in what feels like forever, Paige sees a glimpse of the old Dani—the one who didn’t have walls up between them. The one who trusted her.

Paige nods, unable to find her voice for a second. “Yeah. Of course,” she manages to say, her heart aching at how much she misses that side of Dani. The side that isn’t buried under layers of pain and fear.

Dani lingers for a moment, her eyes searching Paige’s face, like there’s something she wants to say but can’t find the words. Then, without another word, she reaches for the door handle and steps out of the car. Paige watches as Dani walks toward her front door, her shoulders hunched against the cold, but there’s something softer in her movements now. Something less defensive.

Paige stays in the car, watching as Dani unlocks her door and steps inside, the porch light flickering off as the door clicks shut behind her. The house swallows her up, and Paige is left sitting there in the quiet, her mind racing with everything that’s just happened.

It isn’t much. A simple thank you. But it’s the first real crack in the wall Dani’s built between them, and Paige can’t help but hold on to that. Maybe it’s a start.

She sighs softly, leaning back in her seat for a moment before putting the car in reverse and pulling out of the driveway. As she makes her way back to her own house, just a few yards away, Paige can’t shake the feeling that things are far from okay between them. But for the first time in a long time, she feels like maybe there’s hope.

And for now, that’s enough.

PAIGE SITS cross-legged on Thaliah’s bed, absentmindedly picking at the hem of her shirt, while Jalen lounges next to her, scrolling through his phone. Both of them are already dressed in their costumes, though neither put in much effort. Paige went the simple route—she’s wearing an old basketball jersey with some fake blood smeared across her face, playing the part of some sort of dead or zombie hooper—she doesn’t even really know herself, if she’s honest. Jalen wears a black hoodie and he’s got a plastic scythe, calling himself the Grim Reaper. Basic, but effective.

Thaliah, on the other hand, is still in front of her vanity, meticulously applying the finishing touches to her makeup. She’s going all out, dressed as a witch, complete with dramatic eye shadow, dark lipstick, and glitter cascading along her cheekbones. Her hair is done up in some complicated updo, and Paige is sure Thaliah will be the best dressed person at the party. As usual.

Paige leans back, resting on her hands, eyes distant as she vents, her voice low but agitated. “I just don’t get it. Like, why the hell would Dani even doing out there last night? Alone? She was walking by herself literally at twelve-thirty, J. She could’ve gotten kidnapped or murdered or—or something!” Her voice wavered with frustration and disbelief, and she glances at Jalen, hoping he’ll give some sort of input.

Jalen shrugs a little, tossing his phone aside and turning toward her. His brows are furrowed in the way they are only when he’s concerned. “Yeah, it’s fuckin’ weird, P. Did you ask her what happened?”

Paige lets out a sigh, her frustration evident. “Of course I did. She just brushed it off, said it was ‘nothing’—like that’s supposed to make me feel better about it.” She throws her hands up in the air, expressing the confusion she’s feeling. “And I swear, she looked like she hadn’t slept in days. She was, like, literally freezing and she looked so sad and I’m just like—what the hell happened?”

Thaliah, still working on her eyeliner, chimes in from the vanity, not looking up but clearly listening. “Dani’s been distant for months, Paige. It’s been off ever since she got back from camp. I don’t think it’s just about last night. Something’s been wrong for a while now.”

Paige nods, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her jersey. “I know. But last night just made it so much more real. I feel like—I don’t know—I feel like something happened. Maybe it was Beau. Maybe he did something to her.”

At that, Jalen’s eyes narrow slightly. He’s always quick to jump to conclusions when it comes to Beau Hudson, a guy that he’s had problems with for years now. “You think he hurt her? I mean, he is the type.”

Paige bites her lip, her mind racing with the possibilities. “I don’t know. Maybe? It’s not like Dani would tell me, though. She doesn’t talk to me anymore.”

There’s a long pause as all three of them sit in the heavy silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on them. They’s all thinking the same thing—what the hell happened to Dani? The girl they all knew so well has practically disappeared, replaced by someone colder, someone more distant, someone more shallow.

Thaliah finally puts down her eyeliner, spinning around in her chair to face them. “Something’s definitely up with her. But I don’t think it’s Beau that’s the main problem. I mean, she started acting like this before she and that bitch boy got together. Paige, I know you weren’t here when it happened, but she started dating Beau after she cut J and I off,” Thaliah points out, staring at the pair of her friend son the bed expectantly. But then she sighs, shaking her head, adding, “But if she’s not talking, what are we supposed to do? Just keep watching her spiral and probably ruin her life? Like, I don’t even know.”

Paige clenches her jaw, her mind racing with the memory of Dani walking along that dark sidewalk, looking so alone, so vulnerable. “I don’t want to just sit back and do nothing.” But she knows Thaliah is right—there’s really not much they can do if Dani won’t give them the light of day.

Thaliah shakes her head a little before standing up and moving toward her bed, where Paige and Jalen sit. She grabs her vape off the nightstand and takes a long drag, blowing the smoke out in a cloud that lingers in the air before dissipating. “Look, Dani’s been different for a while, but we can’t fix it tonight. We can’t fix her tonight.”

Paige frowns, her stomach sinking at those words. Fix her. It isn’t like Dani’s broken, but she isn’t herself either. Still, she understands what Thaliah is saying. She just doesn’t like it.

Thaliah hands the vape to Paige, raising her eyebrows when Paige hesitates before taking it. “C’mon, you need to relax. It’s Halloween. We’re supposed to be having fun, not stressing out over all this. Dani’s a tomorrow problem.”

Paige rolls her eyes but accepts the vape anyway, taking a small hit and handing it back. The familiar burn fills her lungs for a moment before she exhales, watching the smoke curl up toward the ceiling. “I just hate that we don’t know what’s going on with her.”

Jalen sits up straighter, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ll figure it out, P. We just have to give her time. Maybe tonight, she’ll show up at the party, and we can talk to her then.”

Thaliah shakes her head, leaning back against her vanity. “Doubt it. She’s been avoiding us for weeks. Even if she shows, it’ll be with Hudson and that prissy Serena girl, and it’ll end in shit like it did last time.”

Paige knows Thaliah’s probably right. They’ve gone to the same parties a couple times since school started, and each time, Dani stays closed to Beau Hudson and Serena Corren’s sides, not bothering to give any attention to Paige. The odds of her suddenly showing up and deciding to speak to them at tonight’s Halloween thing seems slim. Still, Paige can’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, Dani will surprise her.

Thaliah takes another drag from the vape before offering it back to Paige, who takes another hit, letting the smoke relax her nerves just a bit. “But seriously,” Thaliah says as she exhales, “tonight’s about us. Let’s just have fun, forget about all the drama, and worry about Dani tomorrow. It’s Halloween! We deserve a good night.”

Paige smiles faintly, nodding. Thaliah’s right. Tonight is supposed to be fun. Maybe she can take a break from worrying for one night. Maybe.

And, she thinks maybe she really actually can, because the party does turn out to be fun. It’s a lot different from the last party she went to, the one where she drank herself stupid and fought Beau Hudson. She doesn’t regret the second part… just thinks she could’ve found a better way to do it. But tonight, she’s the designated driver, meaning she’s sticking to her Sprite, laying off the alcohol. But it doesn’t really matter. She doesn’t need to drink to have fun with her friends—especially on Halloween.

The house is decked out for Halloween—fake spider webs hanging from the ceiling, carved pumpkins in every corner, and purple lights casting shadows along the walls. Most people are dressed in costumes, though a lot are half-assed like Paige and Jalen’s. Paige gets a laugh out of a guy dressed in a banana costume, dancing on a table, though.

Eventually, Paige, Jalen, and Thaliah settle in the living room, perching on the couches and standing with some of their other friends from school and basketball and such. It’s easy, it’s fun, the atmosphere is lively but not chaotic. Paige enjoys it.

That is, until out of the corner of her eye, she spots them.

Beau Hudson, Serena Corren, and the rest of that group Dani’s been hanging around with lately are clustered near the kitchen, laughing and talking amongst themselves. Paige’s stomach tightens, her eyes scanning the group for one specific person. Dani. But as she searches, she realizes with a sinking feeling that Dani isn’t here.

Paige narrows her eyes slightly, confused. Dani’s always with them—whenever Beau and his friends show up to a party, the girl’s practically glued to his side. But tonight, she’s nowhere around.

Paige glances over at Thaliah, who’s too busy chatting with some girls to notice her. So, the blonde taps Jalen on the shoulder, nodding toward Beau and his friends. “Hudson’s here,” she acknowledges.

Jalen follows her gaze, rolling his eyes. “Dick,” he mutters, his disdain for the quarterback evident. He stares at the group for a second longer before Paige watches a familiar flicker of confusion cross along his face. “Dani’s not with ‘em?”

Paige shakes her head, mind racing. It’s so weird. Ever since Dani started dating Beau, they‘be been almost inseparable, especially at parties like this. But now, Dani just… gone. And it doesn’t sit right with Paige. Especially not after what happened last night.

However, before she can dwell on it too long, nature calls. She needs to pee. Paige stands up, muttering something to Jalen about finding the bathroom. As she makes her way through the crowded house, her mind stays locked on the thought of the Callan girl. Maybe Paige is just being dramatic. Maybe Dani is here and she just hasn’t seen her and she’s worrying for no reason.

When she finally finds the hallway leading to the bathroom, she groans. There’s a line.

And the person standing at the back of the line? None other than Beau Hudson himself.

Paige’s eyes narrow as she approaches, trying to play it casual. She leans against the wall, taking Thaliah’s vape out of her pocket and bringing it to her lips. She inhales, letting the vapor fill her lungs as she stares at the back of Beau’s head. He hasn’t noticed her yet, so she waits a beat before speaking.

“Dani here?” she asks, her tone nonchalant.

Beau turns slightly, glancing over his shoulder at her. His expression is somewhere between annoyed and smug, like he can’t be bothered with her question. “Nope,” he replies shortly, turning back to face the bathroom door as if that’s the end of the conversation.

But Paige isn’t done. She presses, “How come?”

Beau scoffs, a low, bitter sound that grates on Paige’s nerves. “You’re fuckin’ nosy, Bueckers,” he mutters, barely looking at her.

Paige raises an eyebrow, not backing down. “Well, when it comes to Dani, yeah. I am.” Her voice is sharp, but controlled. She isn’t about to let him dismiss her like that.

Beau finally turns to face her fully, his expression twisted with irritation. “Why do you care, anyway? You’re not even friends anymore.”

Paige clenches her jaw, holding his gaze. “Doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

For a moment, there’s a tense silence between them, the music and chatter from the party seeming distant in comparison to the charged atmosphere in the hallway. Paige can feel her heart racing, could feel the anger bubbling under the surface.

Beau breaks the silence first, rolling his eyes as if he can’t be bothered with her anymore. “She’s probably rotting in her bedroom right now. I told her not to come.”

Paige blinks, caught off guard by the harshness in his voice. “What? Why?”

Beau shrugs, leaning casually against the wall as if what he’s saying is no big deal. Which, to him, it probably isn’t. “She’s been a bitch lately. Told her to stay home.”

Paige’s grip on the vape tightens as a rush of anger surges through her. She hates him. She hates how he talks about Dani like that, like she’s just some inconvenience instead of his girlfriend. The same girlfriend he’s never deserved.

The same girlfriend that Paige picked up in the middle of the night last night.

Her gaze slides to Beau, and before she can stop herself, the words are out of her mouth. “Did you do something to Dani last night?”

Beau’s head snaps toward her, his eyes narrowing. “What the fuck are you talking about?” His tone is defensive, a little too defensive for someone who’s supposedly innocent.

Paige doesn’t back down, her pulse quickening as the frustration bubbles to the surface. “Last night,” she repeats, her voice steady. “I found her walking home alone in the middle of the night. She wouldn’t even tell me what was going on. So I’m asking you, Beau—did you leave her out there?”

Beau’s expression shifts, his jaw tightening as he stands up straighter, his arms dropping to his sides. “Are you seriously accusing me of something?” he snaps, his voice low and threatening. “I didn’t leave her anywhere.”

Paige scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest as she stares him down. “Then why was she out there, alone? She looked like she’d been crying.”

Beau rolls his eyes, but there’s something uneasy in the way he shifts on his feet, something that makes Paige’s stomach twist. “I don’t know, Paige. Maybe she was crying because she’s a fucking mess lately.”

Paige’s eyes flash with anger. “She’s a mess? You’re her boyfriend. Aren’t you supposed to, I don’t know, give a shit?”

Beau’s lips curl into a sneer. “You don’t know anything about our relationship, so maybe you should keep your nose out of it.”

Paige takes a step closer, her voice lowering as she looks down on him ever so slightly—having those couple inches on him. “I know enough to know something’s wrong with her. She’s not herself, and you’re just standing here acting like you don’t care.”

Beau’s face hardens, and for a second, Paige thinks he might actually shove her away. They’ve had a physical fight before—what’s another one? But instead, he takes a step back, exhaling sharply as he glares at her. “You think this is my fault? You think I’m the one who’s making her act like this? You have no idea what she’s like, Bueckers. You only ever saw the good parts of her.”

Paige’s heart skips a beat, but she doesn’t flinch. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” she reports.

Beau huffs out a humorless laugh, his gaze flicking to the bathroom door as it remains stubbornly closed. “It means that she’s been a bitch lately, okay? Just like I said before. Moody as hell. I’m not her fuckin’ babysitter, like, Jesus Christ.”

Paige feels her hands clench into fists at her sides. “So you’re just going to leave her to deal with whatever’s going on by herself? Real classy, Hudson.”

Before Beau can respond, the bathroom door swings open, and a couple stumbles out, laughing drunkenly and clinging to each other. Paige shoots them a disgusted look—God only knows what they had been doing in there. Beau takes advantage of the distraction, slipping past her and heading straight for the open bathroom.

Before he disappears inside, he shoots Paige one last glance, his expression dark and full of resentment. “Stay out of it, Paige.”

The door slams shut behind him, leaving Paige standing in the hallway, her heart racing with anger and confusion. She leans against the wall, lifting Thaliah’s vape to her lips and taking another long drag, the vapor filling her lungs as she tries to calm herself down.

Stay out of it? He’s fucking stupid if he thinks that’ll stop her from doing anything.

She exhales slowly, her mind still spinning with everything that just happened. Beau’s words leave a bitter taste in her mouth, but more than that, they leave her with an even deeper sense of worry for Dani. There’s something wrong, and Beau either doesn’t know how to handle it or simply doesn’t care enough to try.

Paige closes her eyes for a moment, leaning her head back against the wall as the sound of the party buzzes around her. Halloween is Dani’s favorite holiday. Dani’s always, always loved it, always got excited about dressing up, about watching horror movies and going to parties with their friends. She and Paige have done coordinating costumes every year since forever. But this year? Dani’s sitting at home, probably miserable by the sound of things, and Paige wants to help. To do anything to help.

She takes another drag, and thinks.

DANI LAYS on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the silence in the room pressing down on her. Halloween has always been her favorite day of the year, the one she looks forward to the most. But tonight, it feels hollow. She glances around her bedroom—dimly lit, the shadows from her string lights casting a soft glow on the walls. It’s quiet, too quiet, and that’s the problem. Her friends are all probably at a party somewhere, dressed up in ridiculous costumes, laughing, drinking, having the time of their lives.

But she isn’t there. Not with Beau and Serena and everyone else she was meant to go out with tonight.

And certainly not with Paige and Thaliah and Jalen, who she’s spent every Halloween with for years.

The thought stings like an open wound. Halloween’s always been something she and Paige share—whether it was sneaking candy at sleepovers when they were younger or staying up late to watch horror movies that terrified them both, or—more recently—attending the dumbest parties and getting shit-faced. But this year, Dani’s alone, cut off from everything and everyone that once made her feel like herself.

She lets out a long sigh, sitting up in bed. She decides to be masochistic, and pulls one of her old scrapbooks from her the drawer in her bedside table. This is so stupid, she thought, thumbing through the pages. She hasn’t added to it in months, not since before everything changed. Not since her dad sent her to that place. She flips through the pages, her eyes scanning the scrawled handwriting, the cut photos, the scattered tape, reliving bits and pieces of her old life—laughing with Thaliah, playing (and losing) basketball with Jalen, sneaking out with Paige, pretending nothing could ever come between them.

Before camp. Before everything got fucked up.

Her heart clenches as she turns to an old picture tucked between the pages. It’s the two of them—her and Paige. Taken last Halloween, in matching costumes they’d thrown together at the last minute. Dani smiles faintly at the memory, the way Paige had made her laugh so hard that night she thought she’d never catch her breath. It had been one of the best nights of her life, but now it feels like a lifetime ago, like it belongs to a different version of her—a version of Dani that no longer exists.

Dani’s throat tightens as the memories overwhelmed her. She drops the scrapbook on the bed and covers her face with her hands, her shoulders trembling. I still love her. The realization hits her like a ton of bricks, the words echoing in her mind over and over. She loves Paige. She always has. But it feels so impossible now, so wrong, so tainted. After everything that’s happened, after the months apart, after the cold distance between them, after everything that’s been cemented into Dani’s head, how can they ever get back to what they used to be?

Tears blur Dani’s vision as she buries her face in her hands, her body shaking with quiet sobs. She wants to be the girl she used to be—the carefree, happy, whole version of herself that hadn’t been shattered by her father’s cruelty, by the camp, by the guilt that now consumes her every waking thought. She wants to go back to the way things were before her mind became warped and twisted by everything she‘a been forced to believe.

But she can’t. She doesn’t know how.

She cries until her chest aches, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. She feels like she’s drowning, and there’s no one there to pull her out of the deep end. She’s lost so much—her friends, her sense of self, her relationship with Paige. Who is she now? She doesn’t even know anymore.

Suddenly, the sound of the doorbell echoes through the empty house, pulling Dani out of her thoughts. She wipes at her tear-streaked face, frowning as she glances at the clock on her nightstand. It’s way too late for trick-or-treaters, and no one else os home. Her dad is out for the night, and the house has been dead quiet for hours.

Confused, Dani gets up from her bed, pulling on her hoodie as she makes her way downstairs. The doorbell rings again just as she reaches the bottom of the staircase, and she hesitates for a moment before opening the door.

The porch is empty.

Dani blinks, her heart racing as she stepped outside and glances around. There was no one in sight—just the dark, empty street in front of her house. She thinks maybe it’s just some stupid Halloween prank until she looks down. There’s a small basket sitting on the porch, filled with Twix and Sour Patch Kids and Snickers—all of her favorite candies. Her breath catches in her throat as she crouches down, her fingers trembling as she picks it up.

Sitting on top of the candy is a folded note.

Dani’s heart pounds in her chest as she opens the note, her eyes scanning the familiar handwriting:

Dan,

Please know that if you ever need to talk to anyone, I am always here for you. I hope this basket makes your Halloween a little better.

P <3

Dani’s vision blurs with tears again, but this time, they aren’t necessarily tears of sadness. They’re something else—something warmer, softer. Paige left this for her. Paige went out of her way to make sure Dani wasn’t completely alone tonight.

She clutches the note to her chest, her heart aching in a way that feels both painful and comforting all at once. Paige has always been there for her, even now, even when everything is so broken, so different. Dani stands on the porch for a long moment, the cool night air brushing against her skin as she stares down at the basket.

She lets herself be a little optimistic. She thinks that maybe not everything is lost.

[woozyvee]

hidden touch, secret message

seungmin x female reader

wc: ~2000

content: established relationship au, smut

synopsis: there's a telltale sign for when your boyfriend is horny.

an: just a result of my mushy hard thoughts about this guy because i've got a crush on him. a late happy birthday to seungminie!

It's when he touches your wrist that you know.

Seungmin isn't exactly opposed to a little bit of PDA, letting you squeeze his hand or even discreetly kiss his cheek in the presence of others without much fuss. But he's never the one who initiates it.

Well. Except for under some very specific circumstances.

The light touch almost tickles at first and you have to look down to realize that it's your boyfriend who's causing the sensation. You look up at his face with a questioning arch in your brows as his fingertips softly trace the inside of your wrist. But he's not looking at you, focusing on Chan where he's talking across the table, like the rest of his members. Or, pretending to focus, maybe.

Nobody notices the physical contact, as it's hidden beneath the dining table and perhaps that is why Seungmin's caresses become a bit firmer. Seeing as he still isn't looking at you, you also turn away from him to pretend as if nothing is happening, nodding along to whatever Chan is saying even though you've lost track by now.

Laughter breaks out around the table at a comment Jisung makes, mixing with the surrounding bustle of the restaurant and you instinctively join in, doing your best to ignore the shivers that run up your spine as Seungmin's nails drag along your skin. You half-expect his touch to disappear as he's suddenly addressed but it doesn't and by the time he's finished talking, his hand as fully wrapped around your wrist to hold it.

When his thumb starts rubbing against you in gentle circles, you chance another glance his way but are left hanging yet again. You're not sure why he chooses to ignore you. Because you know that he knows that you know what this means.

So your other hand comes over to grab his hand, stopping its movements. It works, as he finally meets your searching gaze. When you raise a quizzical brow at him he simply slides his hand off your wrist, letting it settle on your thigh instead, where he squeezes the clothed flesh softly. He then throws you a quick wink before turning away again.

But he can't hold back the small smile that grows across his lips and therefore, neither can you. Something excited swirls around in your belly, mixing nicely with the feeling of a full stomach after a delicious meal.

With every sip of beer, the anticipation in your abdomen grows in size. With every shift of Seungmin's hand, that same anticipation travels lower.

The only one who you think notices how Seungmin's hand stays hidden under the table for the rest of the evening, is Felix. Because he sends you this suspiciously happy grin which makes you wonder if he also knows what these secret touches mean. You're blushing from that point onward, Seungmin's hand steadfast in stroking your thigh. Either he doesn't notice that you've been caught or he doesn't care; with Seungmin, the latter is more plausible.

Whether Felix knows what this evening has in store for you or not, he's no longer in your thoughts by the time you and Seungmin enter your dim, compact apartment.

"Hey, you shouldn't touch me like that when we're with your members," you scold as you step out of your shoes.

"Why?" he asks plainly, shrugging off his jacket.

"It's mean," you sulk, half-heartedly.

"How so? You like it, don't you?" The look he gives you is knowing.

Your pout turns into a glare. "Exactly! It makes me horny."

"Well, then you're meaner. Because you do nothing and still make me horny."

You roll your eyes, ignoring the way his blunt admission makes you feel. "That doesn't make me meaner, if I'm not consciously doing anything. I can't control that."

"You could make an effort to look uglier."

He meets your squinted eyes with a mischievous grin. "You want me too look uglier, do you?"

"Not really. I don't mind that you're mean," he takes a step toward you and you squeeze the material of your long sleeves. "I don't mind that just looking at you makes me horny."

You raise an eyebrow as he comes closer, his touch hovering over your hips.

"And you," he emphasizes, tilting his head down to look at you from under his lashes, "don't mind when I let you know that I'm horny."

A shiver washes over you as Seungmin's fingers move under your shirt, slightly cold against the skin of your waist where they splay themselves out.

"Do you?" The question sounds more like a statement.

You inhale and exhale slowly, letting him guide you to lean against the wall behind you. He presses his front snugly into yours, the grip over your skin squeezing a little bit harder. By the way his thumbs all but dig into you, you can tell that he's still needy, despite the composed expression on his face. The tip of his nose barely brushes yours.

He raises his pretty eyebrows in question, apparently waiting for an answer.

A sigh. "No, I don't mind."

Your boyfriend smiles before he leans down to kiss you, pouty lips soft over yours.

It doesn't take long for your tongues to slip into each other's mouths, Seungmin's hands sliding up and down your skin with an occasional touch over your covered nipples. You exchange air with your heavy breaths, his hips sometimes jerking forward against his will to let you know how hard he's getting within his jeans. Your hands grab at his shirt, the back of his neck, anything to ground you as you nearly drown in the taste of him.

Seungmin pulls away to look down, lips swollen and breathing labored. His hands leave your skin to unbutton and unzip your pants and you press kisses along his jaw to occupy yourself.

You try not to flinch too hard when one of his hands slips into your panties and slides over your wet folds, whimper caught somewhere in the back of your throat. Seungmin sighs and presses himself harder against you, sandwiching you between himself and the wall.

"Were you already this wet back at the restaurant?"

You swallow. "Coulda put your hand down my pants and found out."

He chuckles but it's breathy, hot against your neck. "So you're just playing hard to get, huh? You scold me but really, you're a bigger perv than I am."

"Is that news to you?" Your voice is strained as he coats his fingers in your slick.

"Hm," he hums, burying his face in your neck to place kisses there. "Guess not."

The plush pads of Seungmin's fore- and middle finger draw delicate circles against your clit and your legs shake for a moment, choked sounds slipping past your lips as you muffle your voice with your tongue. He nips at the crook of your neck with his teeth before softly kissing it better. Both your hands are harshly grasping at strands of his hair, only faltering slightly as his middle finger moves down to dip inside you. You try not to moan but fail, whining into Seungmin's shoulder a bit high-pitched and shaky.

"Fuck," Seungmin sighs, his bite a little harder over your pulse and causing your brows to deeply furrow. He slowly pulls his finger in and out of you, drawing more and more warmth to pool between your legs.

He lifts his hand that's resting on your hip to grasp one of your elbows, dragging his palm along your forearm until it reaches your hand where he grasps it in his, pressing it against the wall next to your head. You no longer try to swallow your moans, letting them fall freely from your parted, glistening lips, into Seungmin's neck. He pulls out of you to focus on your clit again, knowing exactly how to caress it to make you buck your hips.

Your boyfriend turns his head, pecks your cheek. "Does it feel good, pretty?"

"Yes," you sigh, louder than you mean to.

Seungmin kisses your jaw, fingers reaching down to collect more of your arousal before coming back up. You're really sensitive now, squirming with his movements against you.

Before you know it, you feel your release building itself up, something warm and tight twisting in your abdomen. Your mewls become deeper, heavier as you curl into Seungmin's body, rocking your hips in time with his fingers.

He lifts his head to watch you, breath ticklish against your nose.

"Getting close?"

You can only nod, voice too busy whimpering to answer. Your fingers curl and flex under Seungmin's hold where he's pressing your hand into the wall, the feeling of being restrained shooting electricity straight down to your crotch.

"Hm. Should I stop?"

Your eyes shoot open, your view of Seungmin's face blurry from the close proximity. "What- no!" You furiously shake your head.

"Oh? But I thought you like it when I'm mean to you," he reminds you and grips your trapped hand a little harder.

Despite what he's saying, his fingers don't let up and you moan louder, head falling back against the wall with a thud. "Fuck, yeah, I do-"

Seungmin snickers but you cannot find it in yourself to care, cheeks burning as you draw closer to the edge and your free hand grasps his hair roughly. He rolls his hips into yours, a tight groan barely sounding from his throat.

"Since you like it so much" —Seungmin stutters over a grunt— "I can be meaner. I can leave you hanging right now and go jerk myself off in the bathroom."

"No no-"

"No?"

"No please-" Your voice breaks as your hips grind into his touch.

"Oh," Seungmin sighs into your ear. "So you like it when I'm a little nice too."

"Yeah-"

"Okay then." Seungmin kisses your earlobe. "I'll play nice tonight. Mostly because I like when you're already fucked out once I put my cock in you."

Your squirming gets stiffer, involuntarily fighting against Seungmin's hold on you as he works you toward your release. He bites your ear and you almost choke on your own spit, abs curling tightly in your stomach.

"Oh fuck fuck please-"

"Mhm," Seungmin hums, hot breath fanning the inside of your ear. "Let go, pretty. I'll help you through it."

You do and he does.

Strong, tingling waves of raw pleasure contract through your body, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as you writhe helplessly between your boyfriend and the wall he's pressing you into. He holds you as you squirm through your high, fingers gentle over your clit and kisses soft against your cheekbone.

"There you go," Seungmin exhales, digging his hard length into your hipbone through your clothes.

Only when you whine and flinch away from his touch does he let up, pulling out of your underwear to hold your waist with both his hands. He takes half a step away from you, only so he can get a good look at your slightly dazed and flushed face.

He's grinning, ear to ear, absolutely beaming from where he's staring down at you.

You huff, relying on the wall and Seungmin's hold to keep you from swaying. "What?"

"Nothing."

You scoff but can't help the curl at the corners of your lips. "Right."

He leans down and kisses you through his smile, tender and heartfelt. Until his movements turn just a bit rough. He pulls away, voice strained.

"Don't get me wrong, I'd love to stand here and keep making out but I really need to fuck you right now and I'm not doing it against this wall."

You giggle airily as he seizes the same wrist he was touching under the restaurant's table and drags you toward your bedroom.

This is why every time Seungmin initiates PDA, you know you are in for a good time.

copyright © 2024 woozyvee. all rights reserved.

[writersblog20]

Sick baby🍒

Neighbor!Joel Miller x reader 

Credits to the very talented : @a7estrellas 🫶🫶

Summary: When sickness catches you and you seemed to be doomed to take care of yourself, your hot older neighbor is going to make sure you get better.  (Lots of fluff and comfort)

Warnings: age-gap (Age of reader isn't classified but is in mid 20s). Mention of neglect and ptsd but NO details of traumatic events in itself. Sickness and hints to anxiety. Pet names like: baby girl, sweetheart, princess etc.  I'm sorry if I missed anything else.  

Words: 3.1K (I could've made this shorter, but I didn't) 

A/N: Hi.... So, I'm back? Sort of? Anyhow, here's a soft fic after 2 (or 3?) years of hiatus. I'm not dead just anxious and traumatized but I'm trying to get back to writing again! Please take it easy because I've been out of training. Anyway, I want to try to write about Hugh Jackman as well! So get ready for that, but also give me a second hahaha. I hope Youa'll are doing good!  

Sick baby 

It all started with a throbbing headache and the feeling of thorns in your throat. You groaned which made get an entire cough attack. You wiped the tears away from your eyes from coughing so violently. You felt exhausted and sick. It was in fact, that time of the year again for getting a cold.  

You made your way downstairs to make some tea. You looked into the cabinets for some honey but groaned when you remembered you had to do some grocery shopping today. The thought of having to go out of your house made you want to cry. You felt emotional, horrible, weak and sick. You just wanted to curl up in bed and someone to take care of you but that wasn't happening anytime soon.  

You heard the car door closing outside and it caught your attention, as it always would when he would arrive home. Your insanely hot, sweet and older neighbour, Joel Miller. You had a huge crush on him since you moved into your new home, and he helped you with your moving boxes as he saw you struggling. A couple of days later, when you got all settled, you made him some muffins as a toking of gratitude, and he invited you in to have a cup of tea.  

It didn't take much to get a crush on your older neighbour. He was incredibly handsome, sweet and you had a thing for older men, and he just made you turn into a complete puddle every time. He seemed to notice that you got flustered and shy around him and he absolutely loved it, which he made it now a mission to get you shy and flustered around him. It made his chest feel all warm and fluffy, something he hadn't felt in years that it turned him in a grumpy old man. Except, you made him feel happy and fuzzy inside. He would never admit it, but it was true. He was so very intrigued by you. For him, you were a sunshine even though you were alone a lot of the time, he saw you as someone very special for your age. He caught you more times, watching old movies. Like 1925 and 1950 old movies. Or when you caught you walking to your front door with new records in your arms. The times he caught you outside on your own porch, completely indulged in your book that you were reading at the time, a cup of tea next to you, a blanket over your lap as the rain hit the roof.  

He caught him staring at you so many times. Joel was a difficult and sometimes troubled man but when he looked at you, he found peace and serenity. The kind that he had been looking for his whole life, and now that it was in front of him, it scared him deeply. But no matter how hard he fought that feeling and wanted to keep a distance between the two of you, he found himself even closer to you. There was one thing he noticed, you were alone for most of the time, and it made him curious.  

One night, when the two of you had a beer on his front porch, he asked you why and how you were able to move into a home already at your age, hoping by asking you that question, he would get to know why you were alone a lot. You told him that you would tell the part of why another time and went straight to the how. He figured it wasn't a nice story and it wasn't. Let's just say for now that you didn't have a relationship with your parents and that it truly was for your own good. You had to leave your parents' home for your own safety.  

One evening, you stood in front of his door, soaking wet by the rain, and tears streaming down your cheeks. It left a hole in his chest seeing you like that and he felt instant rage, knowing that someone was the cause of how you felt. The moment he saw you, the features on his face showed deep concern as he pulled you into a tight hug as an impulse. When he opened the door and saw you like that, he had an overwhelming feeling to protect you. He pulled you inside carefully as he shushed you softly. His hand on the back of your head as he carefully tucked your head against his chest. He placed multiple kissed on the top of your head.  

You told him about the altercation that you had with your father. That was the moment you told him everything. You babbled so much that you struggled to get through your own words. “C'me here sweetheart.” he told you, held your hand and let you to the kitchen. He lifted you up on the counter and set you down while he quickly made some tea. Your make-up was all over your face and he got a soft cloth, made it wet and gently wiped it over your face to get the remains of your make-up and tears away. The soft look that was on his face, made your lip wobble again and gave you new tears on your cheeks. Joel looked into your eyes and his eyes softened even more as his heart broke for you. “Oh, baby girl...” The softness by a man and the feeling of safety and how secure and taken care of you felt, was new to you and it brought you to a completely new breakdown. Joel pulled you in a hug again and tucked your face into his neck. Even though you were on the counter, Joel was still taller than you. It was at that point that you've started to became emotionally attached to Joel.  

~~~~~~~`~~ 

You looked out of the window and thought about asking Joel if he could go to the store for you, but you felt so fatigue that you couldn't master up the courage to ask him, knowing that you would be too shy right now. Yes, you've shared that intimate moment together but since that night, your crush turned into love. You were head over heels for your neighbour.  

You sighed, which got you into another coughing attack. “Fine” You grumbled and heard that you had almost no voice left. You nose started to run and you knew that it would be better if you went to the store now before it got worse. 

You quickly went upstairs and got your oversized hoodie and sweatpants, throwing them on, brushed your teeth, cleaned your face and quickly did your hair. You noticed that you looked horrible, and a wave of warmth came over you. “A fever? Already?” you sighed and quickly got your stuff to go to the store.  

You got all the groceries you needed and headed home. You got so many extra things to make this cold disappear as soon as possible.  Once you got home you tried to get your bags out of the car, but you felt a hot wave go over you again, started to get dizzy and felt so weak that you couldn't even lift the stupid bags out of the car. You were already out of breath, and you started to mutter curse words in yourself.  Your vision started to get warry and black and you had to hold yourself to the car 

“Woa, take it easy baby girl.” Joel ran to your aid and held you, looking worryingly at your face. You held onto Joel now and slowly started to get your vision back but with a major headache... A migraine. “God fucking dammit...” you muttered, and Joel looked a bit in surprise at you. He never heard you curse before. “You okay there baby doll?” You held your palm to your head and groaned. “I'm sick” you spoke up louder and he was finally able to hear your voice correctly. Without saying anything he held his hand to your forehead, feeling how warm you were.  

“Let's put your things inside and get what you need but you're coming with me after. You're burning up.” he told you and got your stuff out of your car. You felt your heart skip a beat from nerves. “I ehm...” Joel ignored you and got your stuff. You wanted to get one bag out of his hands to help but he shot daggers at you for even thinking about getting a bag out of his hands.... ever.  You quickly looked down as if you were in trouble and Joels look softened and got your hand in his. “You're too good for this world princess.” he remarked and helped you towards your house.  

You unlocked the door and Joel hinted for you to get in first. He made his way to your kitchen and unpacked your stuff, putting it away and keeping the things, he figured were for the cold, in the bag so he could take it with him to his house and nurse you back to health. You were shuffling on your feet and Joel looked up. It was pretty clear that you felt uncomfortable and not really knowing what to do. It wasn't Joel that made you feel uncomfortable but more because you weren't allowed to help and you felt like a burden.  

“Why don't you get the stuff that you want ready, and we can head back to mine in a minute.” he proposed softly. You nodded, giving in silently. You made your way upstairs and gathered some stuff, but you felt so exhausted and out of breath that you sat down for a moment. You felt so terrible that the tears started to gather in your eyes. Your head and mind were so preoccupied that you didn't hear Joel. He softly knocked at your door, scaring you a bit. You quickly wiped away your tears, even though he'd seen you cry before.  

Joels gaze was so full of care and gentleness at that point that you couldn't stop crying right now. “What's wrong sweetheart?” he carefully kneeled before you, holding your hand and his other hand stroked your hair. “I don't want to burden you, Joel. Or take up too much space, change your schedule and stuff. I’ll be alright by myself.” you told him, but you couldn't even convince yourself of that right now.  Joels hand that stroked your hair, went gently over your cheek and his thumb and finger held your chin and made you look at him. “Princess, you will never be a burden to me, at all. I like your presence around me. Sick or not. You'll never take up too much space and you are allowed to be yourself around me. I want you to feel safe, secure, comfortable, loved and adored enough to be yourself around me. I know it's difficult for you, with what you've been through, but I promise you, I'll never let anyone hurt you again. Let me teach you what it's like to be cared about and loved.  I want you to be with me so I can take care of you, and I promise you, you'll never be a burden to me. Let me take care of you right now baby girl. You deserve it. And secretly I know that you really want to right now.” he playfully told you and gently poked your side.  

You couldn't help but smile a bit. “Okay...” was all could say right now, and it was more than enough for Joel as he got a big grin. “Let me help you pack up sweetheart. And if you need more stuff, I can always walk back.” he told you and kissed your forehead. He asked you where your pj's were and put it in your bag, with your toothbrush and all the necessities for now. Joel already chose to give you his hoodies for when you got cold. It was easier, so he didn't have to take much with him but the biggest reason was so he could see you in a hoodie and sweatpants that were his. He saw your book at your night cabinet and got it in the bag as well. “You need anything else princess? If we forgot something, I could get it in a second, that's no problem.” He told you convincingly. “I think we're good.” Joel hummed in satisfaction and gently helped you stand up and helped you down the stairs.  

He got your grocery bag, your keys and locked your door. When you got into his house, he placed the grocery bag on the floor for a second and helped you up the stairs towards his bedroom. You felt butterflies in your stomach seen you've never been upstairs before. 

“Don't worry, I changed the sheets this morning.” he told you but honestly, you wouldn't have mind if he didn't. He placed you gently on his bed and you looked around for a bit. “Why don't you take a shower to freshen up a bit and I'll get you some tea and fruit when you're done, hmh?”  You nodded and he showed you the bathroom. “I'll get you some towels and your pjs.” he told you and you nodded, looking around for a bit and feeling out of place.  

When Joel came back, he flashed you a comforting smile “Yell if you need anything or when you need help sweetheart.” he told you and you smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Joel.” you told him and he smiled, closing the door.  

After your warm shower, you felt exhausted and wanted to sleep. You got into your pj's and crawled into Joels bed. You snuggled into the pillows and pulled the sheets up to your chin, getting comfortable. It still smelled like Joel, giving a comforting and safe feeling. Like you were finally able to relax and be taken care of for once. You closed your eyes and gave into the tired feeling. 

You didn't know how much time had passed but you were awakened by Joel stroking your hair softly. “Hi baby girl, I made you some tea and some fresh fruit. You can continue sleeping if you eat and drink something.” he told you softly and sweetly as he sat beside you on the bed. You nodded, getting up. Joel adjusted the pillows behind you and walked around the other side of the bed and sat next to you, handing the tray with the fruit, tea, water and painkillers. “Thank you, Joel. I mean it. This means a lot to me.” Joel couldn't help but smile almost proudly. He gave you a kiss on your forehead. “Thank YOU, for letting me take care of you, and trusting me. That means a lot to me as well.”  

You started to feel a bit more comfortable and slowly finished the food he gave you. Joel handed you the tv remote with a wink and you searched something to watch on it. Joel got up to put the tray away but you were quick to take his arm. “Please, stay with me.” Joel melted by your big puppy eyes and smiled “I'll be right back baby girl.” you were content with his reaction and let go of him.  

Joel was as fast as lightning at that moment because he was back in a blink of an eye. He got next to you again and made himself comfortable before hinting to cuddle with him. Your heart was filled to the brink with love. Your head was on his chest and you grabbed onto his shirt before making yourself comfortable. Your eyes started to feel heavy while Joel softly massaged your head. His breathing and heartbeat calmed you down “It's okay baby girl, you're safe here. Get some sleep.” He whispered and in response you snuggled even closer to him and gave into the much-needed sleep.  

~~~~~ 

When you woke up, Joel was gone and with that, it left a sort of emptiness in your heart for a second. The tv was still on with the sound softly echoing through the room. You heard some pans clink together downstairs and you felt at ease, knowing Joel was close by. You sniffled your nose and hid underneath the blankets again from the cold. You heard the rain violently hitting the roof as it covered the sound coming from the tv.  

30 minutes later, Joel came upstairs and you peeked a bit from the covers, looking at him. He smiled warmly at you. “I made you some soup. I promise you, this will get you back on your feet.” he told you with a proud smile on his face as he gave you the tray with the soup. You saw that he had, once again, cut some fresh fruit for you, had a bottle of water and some lemon tea with honey. You smiled shyly “Thank you Joel.” He sat down next to you. “I missed you when I woke up.” you told him honestly without really thinking. Joel smiled proudly again and his cheeks changed in a pink color. “Well, I'm glad you did” the realization of what you had said, kicked in and you felt your cheeks heat up and immediately turned shy again. Joel noticed, and knew it wasn't the time to joke around right now. “But don't worry, I won't go anywhere, princess.” He interlinked your fingers through his and placed a kiss on the back of your hand. You leaned more against Joel in response, not really knowing what to say, so you tried to show his through getting closer and luckily, Joel picked up immediately on them and let out a gravel chuckle.  

“You stay here as long as you need. Even when you're better. Or when you feel like shit, you can always come here. See it as your second home, doll. You're always welcome here, and.... I really like you here.” He looked at you and for the first time, you could see Joel a bit nervous as he confessed to you. “I really like it here too. But only because of you...” You shyly admit, hoping he would catch on what you said, which, of course he did. “Same here, princess.” he gave you lingering kiss on your forehead, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable. “I'll make sure you're better soon, baby girl. But for now, what old classic movie do you want to watch?” he asked you with a smile, making you giggle.  

You were down bad for this man but in the end, you were very glad and happy that it was this man.  

[starogeorgina]

𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

Paring: Jacaerys Targaryen x reader

Warnings: Swearing, smut

1.02

Your fingers grip the loose fabric of your shift that was bunched up to your stomach while desperately biting down on your lip to stop any unwanted noises from slipping out.

Jacaerys had returned to his own quarters before you woke, but he came back while you were breaking fast alone in your bedchamber. He offered to teach you the basics of sword fighting later in the day, which you found exciting because you’d never held a sword before. Being a woman, you were expected to remain a spectator, but the prince was more than happy to help you learn.

You meant to give him a simple kiss on the cheek to thank him, but it quickly became heated.

“Oh.”

You slide down the chair ever so slightly as Jacaerys tightens his grip around your legs, his fingernails lightly grazing the flesh of your thighs. He was rubbing circles on your clit again to bring you pleasure as he did the night before, except now he was using his tongue.

“Princess!” Elinda gasps, her voice filled with surprise and embarrassment. “Prince Jacaerys. What are you doing?!”

Jace falls back on his heels, cheeks flushed red. He remains frozen for a few seconds, then gets to his feet. The prince was at a loss for words; what could either of you say?

Elinda keeps her head low. “The queen has sent someone to the training yard to inform you to go join the queen's council immediately, my prince.”

You swallow thickly as Jace leaves the room. Elinda closes the door behind him and, without saying anything else about what she just witnessed, goes over to the bed where you have multiple dresses laid out. “Have you chosen one to wear today?”

“The crimson one.” Your fingers tangle together. “Forgive me, I... I’m sorry for what you just saw.”

“Once you're dressed, you are to join the Queen's Council princess.”

Elinda was known for her gentleness and would have been shocked by what she just witnessed, but there was a sadness in her eyes that you didn’t understand. “Why is the meeting urgent? Has something happened?”

—

You stand in the chamber of the painted table, listening to various knights and lords as they inform Rhaenyra of the heinous acts committed against your sister and her children the night before. With the little information Elinda shared with you, you had expected to be told ill news, but nothing could have prepared you to learn of blood and cheese. At first, you hadn’t reacted, but anger was now bubbling inside you.

“But it's a lie,” Rhaenyra says, defending herself against the accusations she was behind the assassination. “Having lost my own son, that I would inflict such a thing on Helaena, of all people, an innocent.”

“The death of Prince Lucerys was a shock and an insult,” Ser Alfred, one of the men on the queen’s council, says. “A mother so aggrieved might, naturally, seek relief in retribution. I merely thought an action taken in haste may have led to the death of the child.”

“Jaehaerys.”

Ser Alfred shifts angrily where he stands. “What?”

“That is the third time you have referred to my nephew as ‘the child;’ his name is Jaehaerys,” you say, glaring at him. “The queen has already said she wasn’t behind this, and to even suggest she would order the decapitation of her own kin is dangerously close to treason.”

Rhaenyra avoids making eye contact with anyone, saying, “I do not know who would order such a thing.”

Daemon, who had remained stone-faced while everyone else was horrified, starts to smirk when Princess Rhaenys shoots him a look, and it suddenly dawns on you that he was behind this. Rhaenyra notices this as well and orders everyone to leave.

You go to walk towards Jace, who was waiting on you by the doorway, but your queen calls you back, “A moment y/n.”

“Your grace.”

Daemon remains seated with a smug look on his face while Rhaenyra gives you an apologetic look. “I truly hope you believe I had naught to do with what happened to Helaena and Jaehaerys.”

“I do not think of you as cruel, my queen.”

“There is another important matter we need to discuss,” she says in a more authoritative tone.

Oh gods, she knows what Elinda saw.

Rhaenyra toys with the rings on her slender fingers, obviously uncomfortable. “It’s regarding Midnight.”

“What of my dragon?”

Rhaenyra opens her mouth, but Daemon speaks before her. “Will you fight for your queen and burn the usurper cunts when the time comes?”

“I would fight for my queen, for Prince Jacaerys, but I would not fight for you, uncle.”

He chuckles, “You speak of Ser Alfred’s treason, yet you are openly saying you’ll not fight for your king.”

“Why should I do anything for the king consort, who is so weak that he has a child struck down?”

“Sister,” Rhaenyra’s tone wasn’t authoritative like a queen’s, but more like a mother warning her child to start behaving.

“It was a mistake. I paid them to bring me the head of Aemond Targaryen.”

Tears glisten in your eyes. Daemon smiles at you; he didn’t even seem remorseful for what he had done. In that moment, you wanted to make him hurt and make him suffer for what he had done. Your fingers curl around the edges of the table as you stand across from him; you know what threads to pull. “I was the closest to my father in his final years; I’d read out loud from his favorite history books while he was abed, and when lucid, he’d tell me stories of his youth. Of your parents, of Balerion. He’d always speak so highly of Rhaenyra and Queen Aemma, but with you it was different. He never forgave you.”

“Forgive me?”

“He never forgave you for making a mockery of his wife’s death.”

“You girl, speak nothing but lies.”

“Was the heir for the day comment made in jest?”

Daemon slams his fist against the table and abruptly knocks his chair backwards, causing it to land on the ground. Startling Rhaenyra, her kingsguard hands move to the hilts of their swords. He storms towards you and attempts to intimidate you by towering over you, but you don’t flinch. “Do not speak of things that happened before your whore of mother even married my brother.”

“Daemon!”

He glances at Rhaenyra, then back at you, “I have always protected my family.”

You laugh in his face. “You had to pay someone to kill a defenseless six-year-old boy because you weren’t man enough to go after my brother yourself.”

“I’ll have your tongue cut from your mouth and you thrown into a cell till the end of this war.”

Shaking your head, you walk away from him, “You’re pathetic.”

—

Your finger traces over the spine of the book in your hand. This version was older than the copy you had in the red keep; it was a favorite of yours. Without looking back, you ask, “How long do you intend to stand in the doorway?”

“What’s the story about?”

“It’s a fairytale; I used to read it to Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. A princess is taken prisoner, but the daring prince swoops in on his dragon and saves her, but it seems foolish now.” You hold the book closer to your chest, trying to hold back from crying. “I let them believe our dragons keep us safe.”

“I think it's better that way,” he says. “Keeps them innocent for longer.”

“I spoke out of turn during your mother's council.”

“Ser Alfred needed to be reminded of his place.” Jace sits on the edge of your bed, facing you. “I know the feeling of wanting to lash out while grieving those we’ve lost.”

“I don’t understand why he thought it was okay to question your mother like that.”

“To put it plainly, men get stupid when a woman has authority over them.”

“You don’t.”

“No, but my queen is my mother,” he smiles. Seeking comfort, he holds onto the side of your skirt in a non-sexual manner. “I admire your spirit; it pleases me to know you will defend her when needed. I spoke with my mother before I came here; Daemon has gone to Harrenhal.”

You suspect they discussed more than what happened in the council chamber, and that was why there was a guard waiting at the bedchamber door, which had remained open.

“A dragon should know when to show its teeth.” Sighing, you toss the book down onto the bed and take Jace’s hand. “I will apologize to the queen; I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the better of me.”

[froggiewrites]

Hello! I was wondering if i could request a Zoro or a Law x gn! or m!reader with angst? They are in a fight and reader kinda ignores them and hides from them and Zoro or Law realize how in love they are with the reader? Can end however you want!

Sorry I've been so slow on requests, writer's block hit me pretty hard this week! I chose Zoro with a gn!reader for this one, it just seemed to fit him pretty well (man is not good with his emotions). I hope you enjoy it!

A Bridge Too Far

Pairing: Zoro x Reader

SFW

Summary: Zoro is terrible at handling his frustrations, and you're tired of being his punching bag. He doesn't realize what he's lost until it's gone. Warnings: Angst, Zoro being a bad boyfriend, not a happy but possibly a hopeful ending? Word Count: 2.3k

Like most of your arguments with Zoro, he started it.

He always starts it, even when he doesn’t want to. When his frustrations start to bubble, he can’t help but lash out at whoever’s closest, and that’s normally you. You’re always there, waiting for him, and you never hold it against him once he calms down. Frankly, they’re less arguments and more one-sided furious rants, as you never rise to the provocation. So he doesn’t think much of it when he snaps at you again after a particularly tough battle, one that left a buzzing under his skin and a strain in his muscles that he couldn’t shake. You wouldn’t mind. You never did.

A few minutes after you follow him to the training room, sitting quietly in the corner while he readies his swords, he finally snaps. “Will you just leave me alone for once? How am I supposed to relax with you trailing after me like this?”

You don’t just sit there and take it like you always do. You don’t just get up and leave, ready to come back when he’s calmer. You stare at him a moment, not radiating fury or indignation, simply…disappointment. Weariness. “Again?”

“What?” He snaps.

“We’re doing this again? Really?” You seem completely composed and calm. It infuriates him more than snapping ever could.

“What do you mean, doing this again? You following me around like a lovesick puppy? Yeah, I guess we are.” He hits the target in front of him harder, sending splintering wood everywhere. The sound of it pierces his brain, rattling around, making him feel even worse.

You sigh, sounding horribly burdened and beaten down. “You know what? Sure. Whatever. I’ll leave you alone, Zoro, if that’s what you want. But this is the last time. I’m not putting up with this anymore.”

He grits his teeth. “Won’t put up with this? Shouldn’t that be my line?”

Your eye twitches, finally a show of emotion, a show that he’s affecting you. “I’m not your punching bag, Zoro. I’m not here for you to use to work off your adrenaline instead of learning to deal with your emotions like an adult. I’m supposed to be someone you care about.” You finally stand, gathering your things and turning to leave. You don’t look back at him as you call, “You’re going to regret this, but I won’t.”

The door slamming echoes through the room, sounding horribly…final.

He ignores it.

It takes a few hours for him to finally wind down, for the buzzing to quiet and leave nothing but a blissful silence. He doesn’t bother cleaning up the wood all over the floor, or taking a shower to rid himself off all of the sweat. He has only one thought: his bed, warm and soft and welcoming. If he’s lucky, you’ll be in it, waiting for him to hold you close and kiss your face, the closest thing he’s ever given to an apology. He eagerly makes his way to the Sunny’s sleeping quarters, opening the door slowly to the cacophony of snores coming from Luffy and Franky, accompanied by Sanji, Chopper, and Usopp’s quiet breathing. Brook is still on deck, on watch for the night, so it makes sense his bunk is empty, but Zoro notices your bed is also suspiciously clear. Even your pillow and blanket are gone, the sheets not even wrinkled, as though no one had ever slept there at all.

A small part of him tells him he should check on you, make sure you’re alright. But a much larger, louder part is crying out for rest, and he cannot help but give in, falling face first onto his mattress without even changing clothes. He’s asleep within seconds.

He’s alone when he wakes up. He doesn’t typically sleep very long, instead napping in short bursts throughout the day, but he can see the light pouring in under the door and he realizes he must have slept at least until noon. He’s shivering, still on top of his blanket. Usually when he falls asleep like this, you throw one of the extras in your locker over him, tucking him in like a child. You must not have come back in at all last night.

He ignores the uncomfortable feeling nipping at him, something he will not name. You’re fine. You’re an adult, and one night away from your bed doesn’t mean anything.

But then you aren’t at lunch.

Sanji is giving him dirty looks, and Nami is giving him the most foul side-eye he’s ever had the displeasure of receiving. The rest of the crew are trying to act normal, but Franky is suspiciously absent and Usopp is so nervous he keeps dropping everything he tries to pick up, ending in him spilling water all over himself and taking the excuse to “take a second to go change” and never come back.

He finally breaks after Sanji brings Nami another drink, takes an obvious glance at him, and they start to whisper to each other. He makes out the words idiot, asshole, and loser (the first two from Nami and the latter from Sanji), before he slams his fork down. “What? What is it?”

Nami turns to him, filled with the sort of righteous fury she only saved for those who dare hurt her friends. “God, Zoro, you don’t even know? What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? You’re all acting weird as hell!”

Sanji jumps in. “Because you’re acting like a jerk and have the gall to pretend everything is normal, asshole! What the hell did you say to them yesterday?”

What he said to…oh. That feeling comes back again, and he furiously clamps down on it, replacing it with a significantly more comfortable and familiar indignance. “That’s none of your business, cook.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, I think I deserve to know why I had to find them sleeping in the goddamn kitchen this morning, actually.”

In the kitchen? Of course. It’s the one place you knew he would never find you. He never went there other than mealtimes, avoiding the possibility of another stupid fight with Sanji when he wasn’t up for it. “How the hell should I know?”

“Are you still pretending you don’t know it’s your fault? They were bawling their eyes out after leaving the training room.” Nami’s even angrier than Sanji is, and Zoro genuinely thinks she might hit him. The smaller, more tender part of himself, the one he’s ignoring, wouldn’t even blame her.

But that part isn’t in charge today. “My relationship isn’t your goddamn business.”

“Relationship? You seriously think you still have one of those?”

His blood runs cold, but he forces the feeling away, standing up from the table and stalking off. “I don’t have to take this.”

Nami calls after him, “I hope they dump you!”

Sanji cries out soon after. “I hope you fall into the sea, asshole!”

Zoro could go look for you. Should, even. But he instead makes the trek to the crow’s nest, cherishing the quiet, the solitude, the safety of it.

But as he sits in what is usually his sanctuary, he begins to feel that itch beneath his skin. Quiet turns to unbearable silence, solitude turns to loneliness, safety turns to suffocation. He tries to close his eyes, to center himself, take control as he loves to do, but the moment he does he can see nothing but your face. He can almost feel your hands on his back, rubbing soothing circles while your voice gently shushes him. You were so good at that, calming him down right when he needed you. Giving him a patience he simply didn’t deserve.

A patience he had been taking for granted.

What would he do, if another man had made you cry? If someone else had raised their voice at you as he had, time and again?

Part of him tried to justify it. But I don’t mean it, some petulant part of himself cried. They know I don’t mean it.

But do you? And would it matter, anyway? He’s still shouting. You’re still taking it. How long can you perform the same song and dance before it stops being a performance?

He needs to apologize.

He just needs to find you first. You aren’t in the kitchen, though Sanji is, and he doesn’t even speak with him this time, just giving him a mean glare that would send a lesser man running. Zoro hates to admit he deserves it. You aren’t in your bed, and your things are still missing. Not in Chopper’s office. Not in the library. Not in the bathroom, though Robin is, and he has to take a moment to furiously apologize for not knocking while she laughs at him.

He can only think of a few more places to check when he remembers who was missing this morning.

Franky’s workshop is quieter than he’s ever heard it, only filled with the quiet clanking of a small hammer against an even smaller piece of metal. Franky is using his second set of hands to put together some clockwork trinket, a significantly more delicate project that he usually takes on. Zoro is confused only for a moment, then he sees you, eyes intensely watching, and he realizes what’s going on. Franky has taken you in today, chosen something simple and small to distract you, to allow you to participate in some way. He’s always been great at small comforts like this, allowing someone the peace of his presence without worrying about being a burden.

Zoro could learn a lot from him.

Franky clearly knows he’s there, shoulders tensing slightly, but he doesn’t speak, waiting for one of you to take the first step. You don’t seem to notice either, too enraptured by the small metal bird in Franky’s hands, a look of wonder on your face that makes Zoro’s heart skip despite himself.

“Hi.” He cringes the moment he speaks, the peace shattering instantly. Franky doesn’t turn to acknowledge him, but he can practically feel the wince that must be on his face from the lame opener. Your head shoots up like a frightened rabbit, every part of you tense and ready to run. You pull in on yourself, making yourself smaller, like if you’re lucky he might miss you entirely, move on to the next prey. He puts up his hands, the first and only act of surrender he has ever performed, before continuing. “Can we talk? In private?”

You look to Franky, and Zoro doesn’t know what the look you two exchange means, but it makes you get up and approach. You give him a wide berth, not even coming within a foot of him, but you nod at him briefly to indicate he should follow. However small of a gesture it is, you’ve finally acknowledged him. That’s something.

You lead him back down to the training room, still covered in splintered wood and reeking of sweat. He can’t help but notice you didn’t pick a neutral location. You lead him somewhere he feels safe.

You turn to him. “Talk.”

He hesitates a moment, trying not to trip over himself and somehow make this work, but he can see that he’s finally reached the end of your apparently not-quite-infinite patience. “I’m…sorry.” He says the words through gritted teeth, feeling as though they burn his mouth as they leave. He doesn’t like to apologize in words, but in action. In gentle hands, in small acts he could deny later. He doesn’t know why it embarrasses him, to admit he was wrong. He is pretty often. But something about it makes him feel so small, so weak. But he can be small and weak for you, right now. No matter how much it hurts.

Your eyes widen, and you take the smallest step backwards. Shocked by him admitting for once he’s at fault. “You’re…sorry?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

You narrow your eyes at him, searching for some kind of trick, some hidden knife ready to plunge into your back. “For what?”

“For…for what? You know for what.” He winces at how defensive he sounds, at how you start to pull in on yourself again. “Sorry. Um. For yelling at you. For taking my anger out on you when you did nothing wrong. For how I always do that. I…I don’t know why I snap at you. And it’s wrong.”

“Yes, it is.” You close your eyes for a moment, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “It isn’t fair of you to keep doing this. I tried letting it slide, because I know you just don’t know how to handle your feelings, that you aren’t coming from a place of malice. But that doesn’t make it okay. And you never stopped.” You turn your back to him, approaching a nearby window, staring out at the sea.

“I’m going to stop now. I swear it.”

“I won’t be with someone who speaks to me like that. I deserve better. You know I deserve better.” You’re trying to play tough, but he can hear the shake in your voice, and he realizes that just like yesterday you’ve only turned around so he can’t see the tears on your lashes.

He wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your hair. “You do. I swear I’ll treat you like you deserve. If I ever talk to you like that again, I’ll fall on my own sword.”

“...Swords.”

“Huh?”

“Swords. All three.”

He chuckles despite himself. “Alright. I’ll fall on all three at the same time.”

“Good. …You deserve it.”

“I know.” A silence hangs in the air. “I love you.”

You don’t answer.

You don’t hug him back, and you’re still sniffling, but you let him hold you. That has to be enough for now.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece (if you saw I forgot the taglist when I first posted this no you didn't)

[lazycats-stuff]

Hiiii! I was wondering if u could so a batfam x deaf male reader? Where everyone in the family knows sign language and all that. But during one of Bruce's galas the reader gets kidnapped and no one's knows until Damian notices that his younger brothers not there anymore? U can decide how u wanna finish it and its completely if Ur not comfortable writing it. Also I love Ur writing 😙

Oh hell yeah. Thank you for loving my questionable writing though.

Summary: (Y/N) is deaf. That doesn't help him when he gets kidnapped.

Warnings: kidnapping, protective family, fluff I guess...

Bruce was protective of all of his children. But he was more protective of (Y/N), his youngest child. Why? The reason is very simple. (Y/N) has been deaf since birth and that made Bruce beyond protective. (Y/N)'s brothers were no better than Bruce. Of course, they knew that deaf people could function normally in society. They knew that very well.

However, problem lies in two points.

First one being that they live in Gotham City. Crime is rampant, criminals are absolutely everywhere and the fact is that you get mugged at any point during the day or night. Although most of criminal life in Gotham operates during the night, no one wants to take any chances.

And even though (Y/N) doesn't go on patrol, Bruce still worried about his youngest son. Always has and always been.

The four birds shared the same sentiment. Everyone made sure to learn sign language and how to live with a deaf person. Rules were determined, such as, if entering (Y/N)'s room, just push your hand in and then flicker the lights on and off to signalize that you are entering. Don't approach (Y/N) from behind because he would often get spooked.

(Y/N)'s own words.

The second problem lies in the last name Wayne. Bruce Wayne is a well known businessman in the world. And the world of business is like a sea full of sharks. Bruce knew that very well. One drop of blood and they would be out for you and your weaknesses. And one of those is your public image.

Bruce was a proud father, attending anything that his children might have. Anything there is. He wants to be there for his kids, sue him. He would never allow work to take him away from his children. And the way he presents himself in the public is the way he is. More often than not, he hates how many people can be ignorant about deafness.

Sure, some may be genuinely curious about it and the questions come from a genuine place of interest. Unfortunately, such people are far few in between. Bruce can sniff them out rather quickly. More often then not, they often look condescending. Which is a rather judgmental way of looking at people, yes, but it's obvious.

Whenever they had a gall, one of the boys would be with (Y/N) to translate. And despite the fact that (Y/N) can read lips, he's not a fan of that. If someone turns their head and he can't see their lips, it gets more complicated.

Even now, as they are at the gala full of people, (Y/N) stuck close to his brothers, needing a translator. Bruce and others often rotated, to make sure that (Y/N) knows what's going on and that he's in the loop. (Y/N) was happy with that he wasn't out of the loop. It's not a good feeling to be out of the loop. Hearing or not.

He signed to Jason that he was going to go to the bathroom, who nodded, sipping his drink.

Jason signed back. " Sure, go ahead. I'll be moving around so don't expect to find me here. "

(Y/N) nodded and started walking to the bathroom. Jason glanced at him for the last time before moving to the table with food, ready for a snack. He was hungry and the catering at galas is just great since rich people pay for it. AKA Bruce Wayne pays for it and he also loves good food.

As Jason went to the food table, (Y/N) was on his way to the bathroom. He was about to enter when someone grabbed him from behind, putting a cloth over his mouth. (Y/N) panicked and tried to remember the self defense that he was taught. He tried to break free from the person, but the smell of the cloth made him go out cold.

Something was off. Damian glanced around the room, trying to spot what that something could have been bothering him so much. His eyes moved around the room, trained to find anything out of the normal. Then it hit him.

Where is (Y/N)?

Damian moved around the room discreetly, trying to figure out where he went. He talked to Jason about it and Jason told him about (Y/N) going to the bathroom. But that was far too long ago... Damian now became more suspicious and worried. He was on edge. He could feel himself getting more and more restless, his mind screaming at him that something is wrong.

He quickly walked over to his family as they all took a chance to breathe on the balcony. Damian made sure that they had some sort of privacy.

" Are you alright Damian? " Bruce asked, glancing over Damian. He could feel that something is wrong with Damian.

" I'm not alright father. I can't seem to find (Y/N) anywhere. " He crossed his arms as he leaned on the railing of the balcony. Everyone tensed up at that.

" Hold on, he went to the bathroom the last time I talked to him, " Jason declared and Damian nodded.

" But it's been far too long though, " Damian countered the point.

" Did he come to anyone, at all? " Bruce asked and everyone shook their heads.

" Okay, maybe he went to his room, " Tim said, trying to provide a logical explanation. " But he would have told one of us where he would go. He would find one of us and he would tell us... " Tim muttered, now worried himself.

" Should we check the security cameras? " Dick asked, worried, but trying not to show it.

" I'll check the cameras near the bathroom. " Bruce took his phone out of his pocket and going into his security feed.

Jason remained silent, feeling guilty that he didn't notice sooner. Bruce noticed and put his hand on his shoulder. " Do not blame yourself Jason. Please. You couldn't have known. This is our home and none of us should be on guard in our own home, " Bruce murmured and Jason sighed.

Bruce brought Jason into a hug. " (Y/N)'s going to be fine. We are going to find him quickly. "

Dick and Tim furrowed their brows. " What do you mean? " Dick asked.

" You 4 have to swear to me that you won't tell (Y/N), " Bruce stepped away from Jason and everyone muttered that they won't tell.

" I put a tracker on his suit. It's a small one, " Bruce admitted and everyone was shocked by it. They knew that their suits that they wear for their vigilante activities have trackers on them, but a normal suit, for galas and other events...

" It's only when we are at galas and such. There's no tracker on him 24/7, " Bruce elaborated before his sons could accuse him of something.

" Well, we can't tell (Y/N). But lets go get (Y/N) please, " Tim said and everyone nodded.

" I'll have Alfred make something up and we'll make a story so it doesn't seem suspicious about why we didn't know (Y/N) was taken. "

And that's what happened. They concocted a story about it and once Batman dropped him off at GCPD, Bruce came in as a worried father. Media had a field day with the story, a father and son reuniting after a such traumatic event. Bruce couldn't care less about them, his sons are his priority. Screw the media.

Understandably, (Y/N) was shaken up by the entire ordeal. Anyone would be shaken up after being kidnapped in their own home, but with (Y/N) being deaf, he couldn't hear anyone walking up to him. Not to mention, they put a bag over his head. Being in the dark, not being able to hear...

It tugged at Bruce's heartstrings. The other 4 weren't immune either. Damian, the normally stoic one, was affected by that aspect. Even he saw how scary it was. Not being able to see due to the bag over your head and not being able to hear because you are deaf sounds like hell. Damian saw it as a form of torture. And in a way it is. Sensory depravation. Only being able to feel with your touch or feel vibrations, but still...

Damian still shuddered as he tried to envision it.

The other 3 shared the very same sentiment.

And even now, as (Y/N) was with them, on the couch, bundled up in blankets, sipping some herbal tea that Alfred made to calm him down. Both Bruce and Alfred were trying to calm him down too. Bruce was going to find a therapist for (Y/N), that much is sure. It would have to be someone who can sign though...

Well, he'll make sure to find one. For now, he'll focus on making sure that (Y/N) is calm enough to try and sleep. Buce knew that adrenaline was still pumping, but that it will stop soon and (Y/N) would essentially crash.

Everyone sat around (Y/N), trying to calm him and make him feel safe again. Bruce and Tim were going to see how in God's name they managed to get into the manor. This place is more safer than Pentagon, designed to keep any intruder out. And he was going to find out why they wanted to kidnap him.

The best bet was probably money, but then again, you never know. And Bruce was going to make sure that he knew why. You have to nip the problem in the bud.

[r6eduss]

Would you do a jealous daryl fic? Im pretty open to whatever, I just like it when he gets all riled up.

Play Date.

•Summary: You confess to Daryl, but he doesn’t take it serious, leaving you heartbroken. But when he sees you with Spencer the next day, it sparks jealousy in him he didn’t know he had. (Fem reader)

•Warnings: 18+, No established relationship, angst, fluff

•Word Count: 3.5k

•Setting: Alexandria

•A/N: thank you for the request anon! I’m sorry if you aren’t happy with the results. It took me awhile to write this 🫶🏼 I think if Daryl were actually in a relationship with you, he’d be more trusting so he wouldn’t be as jealous.

The walls of Alexandria were a stark contrast to the world outside. It wasn’t just the literal separation between life and death, safety and chaos; it was the reminder of what life had been before everything fell apart. It wasn’t long ago that the world had been buzzing with electricity, the hum of cities, and the simple luxuries they all took for granted. But now? Now, the very idea of safety felt alien.

You glanced over at the furniture as you walked around the home you had been given, the group clustered around you like a protective herd. You all had been in Alexandria for only a day or two, and even though everyone was supposed to be settling in, there was an air of distrust hanging over the group. Rick, in particular, was on edge, his eyes scanning every corner of the street for unseen threats.

Daryl, meanwhile, looked as out of place as he felt. His clothes were worn and dirty, his hair hanging down over his face, but it wasn’t just his appearance that set him apart from the clean-cut Alexandrians. It was the way he held himself, like a caged animal, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

You’d known Daryl long enough to recognize the signs. He didn’t belong in a place like this, and he knew it. Hell, none of them did. But Daryl? He was different. He’d always been more comfortable in the wild even before the fall, so here, with their pristine houses and manicured lawns, he felt suffocated.

When Deanna invited everyone to the party, Daryl’s reaction was immediate and expected.

“I ain’t goin’,” he grunted, not even looking at you as he adjusted the strap on his crossbow. He was standing on the porch of the house you were all sharing, still on edge about sleeping inside, feeling a need to stay outside and keep watch to protect them from any and all possible dangers.

“Daryl…” you started, your voice soft, knowing that reasoning with him required patience. “It’s just for a little while. We’ve been out there so long, and Deanna’s trying to make us feel at home. I know it’s not what you want, but could you come? For me?”

Daryl stopped, his fingers stilling on the strap, and he turned to look at you, his blue eyes piercing through the shadows of his messy hair. You saw the hesitation in him, the way he always struggled with doing things for others when they weren’t strictly necessary for survival. But you weren’t asking for much—just his presence.

“Fine,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes. “‘But I ain’t puttin’ on no tie.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Deal.”

The party was already in full swing by the time you had arrived. People were mingling, drinks in hand, laughter filling the air in a way that felt foreign to the group that had spent so long fighting for their lives. It was strange, surreal even, to see people acting as though the world outside wasn’t in ruins. You noticed how uncomfortable Daryl looked almost immediately, his broad shoulders hunched in his black button up shirt while his eyes scanned the crowd as if he were looking for an escape route.

Daryl didn’t say much, hovering behind you like a shadow, his discomfort evident in every tense movement. People from Alexandria approached you, eager to learn about the new arrivals. They asked questions—about where your group had came from, how long they’d been on the road, and how you were all adjusting. You answered politely, but there was always a part of you that held back, a part that still didn’t fully trust this place.

Daryl, meanwhile, was grateful that no one spoke to him, even if the reason they didn’t was because they feared him. He stayed quiet, following you from conversation to conversation, his eyes flicking between you and the people who approached. He felt out of place, like he didn’t belong among these clean, well-fed people who seemed oblivious to the horrors faced outside those walls. But he stayed because you, the person he loved, asked him to.

Eventually, Deanna approached, her smile warm as she introduced you and Daryl to her husband, Reg.

“It’s so nice to meet you both.” Reg began, glancing between the two of them with a kind smile. “So, how long have you two been together?”

Your cheeks flushed instantly, and you quickly corrected him, laughing nervously. “Oh, no, we’re not… we’re not together.”

Daryl stayed silent, his heart was racing but he said nothing. He wasn’t sure what to say, anyway. The awkwardness of the moment hung in the air for a second too long before Deanna’s smile widened knowingly.

“Well, you make a good team,” she said before moving on, leaving them both standing there in the midst of the party.

You felt a strange mix of emotions swirl inside you—embarrassment, confusion, and something else you couldn’t quite name. You glanced at Daryl, but his expression was unreadable, his eyes fixed on the floor.

Before you could say anything, Spencer appeared, smiling that easy, charming smile of his as he greeted you. Daryl tensed immediately, his eyes narrowing as Spencer completely ignored his presence and focused all his attention on you, like everyone at this party had done.

“Glad to see you’re fitting in,” Spencer said, his tone just a little too smooth. He leaned in slightly, his body language relaxed but… suggestive. You noticed it, but tried to push the thought aside, assuming you were reading too much into it.

You both made small talk for a few minutes, Spencer doing most of the talking while you nodded politely, trying not to let your discomfort show. Daryl, on the other hand, could see right through Spencer’s act. He recognized the way Spencer’s eyes lingered a little too long, the way his smile was just a little too practiced.

His jaw tightened as he watched Spencer flirt with you right in front of him. It wasn’t that he thought you were his—but the way Spencer looked at you, like you were a conquest, made him feel frustrated, made him feel emotions he’s never felt for anyone before, feelings he didn’t think he was capable of feeling.

“I’m gon’ get a drink.” Daryl muttered under his breath, though he had no intention of actually getting one. Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed for the door, needing to get away before he did something stupid. You barely noticed as he walked away, too caught up in Spencer’s conversation. It wasn’t until Spencer asked, “So, do you have a boyfriend?” that your mind shifted to Daryl.

You paused, your heart skipping a beat as you thought about your feelings for Daryl. You weren’t together, but you couldn’t deny that your heart had long since gravitated toward him.

“No,” you finally answered, voice quiet.

Spencer’s smile widened, and before you could say anything else, he asked, “Then how about we go out sometime?” The question caught you off guard, but you recovered quickly, offering him a polite smile as you shook your head. “I’m not really interested, I’m sorry.” You couldn’t really handle the awkwardness of the conversation, so you began to walk away, but Spencer wasn’t one to take no for an answer. His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist a little too tightly, his smile fading into something harder. “Come on,” he said, his tone insistent. “It’s just a date.”

You tensed immediately, your eyes narrowing as you tried to pull your wrist free. “Let go,” you said firmly, your voice was low enough that no one else at the party noticed.

For a moment, Spencer hesitated, his grip tightening. But then he seemed to remember where they were—surrounded by both Alexandrians and people

of Rick’s group—and he released you, his expression shifting back into a smooth, apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that,” he said quickly, but the red mark on your wrist told a different story.

Without another word, you turned and walked away, heading toward the table with the drinks to look for Daryl. But when you got there, he was nowhere to be found. What you did see, though, was Spencer already chatting up Sasha, his flirtatious smile back in full force.

You sighed, feeling a wave of disappointment wash over you. The night wasn’t turning out the way you had hoped. You wanted to enjoy it, to maybe have a quiet moment with Daryl, but instead, it felt like everything was falling apart.

Needing some air, you stepped outside, the cool night breeze brushing against your skin. It didn’t take long to spot Daryl, leaning against a nearby fence, a cigarette between his lips as he stared out into the darkness.

You approached him slowly, your heart still racing from the interaction with Spencer. As you got closer, Daryl’s eyes shifted to you, and the moment he saw the red mark on your wrist, his entire demeanor changed.

“Wha’ happened?” he asked, his voice rough but laced with concern.

You hesitated for a moment, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, but you knew there was no point in lying to him. “Spencer grabbed me when I tried to leave,” you really didn’t want to already start problems. “It’s fine. He let go.”

Daryl’s expression darkened instantly, his jaw clenching as he tossed the cigarette to the ground, already turning to head back toward the house. “I’m gon’ kill ‘im.”

“Daryl, wait,” quickly, you stepped in front of him and placed a hand on his chest to stop him. “It’s fine. I just… I want to spend the night with you. Not dealing with that. Please.”

He stopped, his fists still clenched, his eyes blazing with barely contained anger. But something about the way you said it—the way you asked him to stay with you—made him pause. He looked down at you, his chest rising and falling as he tried to calm the storm inside him.

“If he gets near ya again, I swear…”

You smiled softly, touched by his protectiveness. “I know. But you don’t have to worry. I’ve got you—and the rest of the group—watching out for me. I’m fine.”

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping to the ground as he struggled with the emotions swirling inside him. He wanted to protect you, wanted to make sure no one ever laid a hand on you, but there was something else gnawing at him—something he didn’t quite know how to deal with.

Jealousy.

He didn’t think he had a right to feel it, but it was there, a bitter taste in his mouth. Spencer was younger, cleaner, probably the kind of guy you deserved. And him? He was older, rough around the edges, scarred in more ways than one.

He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, you spoke again, voice steady. “Daryl… you don’t have to worry about Spencer or anyone else. My heart… it already belongs to you.”

For a moment, Daryl froze, his mind going blank as your words sank in. He looked down at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. You couldn’t be serious. There was no way someone like you—someone strong, kind, beautiful—could feel that way about him.

A defensive scoff escaped his lips as he shook his head while giving your shoulder a playful nudge.

Your smile faltered, and you felt the sting of his actions deep in your chest. You’d laid your heart bare, and he’d brushed it off like it was nothing. But you didn’t let the hurt show. Instead, you forced a small laugh, playing it off like it was a joke.

But inside, your heart was breaking.

Without another word, you turned and began walking back in the direction toward your shared home with the others, your chest tight with the weight of his rejection. You felt like you had taken a leap, only to be pushed away, and now all you wanted to do was disappear.

Daryl watched you go as he lit another cigarette, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t untangle. His jealously, his feelings for you, things he’d never discuss out loud.

After arriving, you realized you were alone in the house. Everyone was still at the party and the silence was too deafening, leaving you unable to shake the pit in your stomach. The night stretched on endlessly as you rested on the worn-out couch, staring at the ceiling, the events of what happened playing on a loop in your mind.

Rejection. The taste of it still burned in your chest. You had put your heart on the line, and Daryl didn’t seem to notice. It had felt like a punch to the gut, leaving you winded and second-guessing everything. He hadn’t even said anything real—just brushed it off like you were joking, and now, the quiet gnawed at you, making you feel smaller by the minute. Maybe he didn’t feel the same, and that thought consumed you throughout the night.

The next day passed in a blur. You barely caught a glimpse of Daryl, knowing he was out with Aaron, who had given him a new job as a recruiting partner after he had invited him over for dinner. Every step he took away from you felt like another brick in the wall that was forming between you two. You wrestled with your feelings, considering maybe it was time to let loose.

And maybe it was time to open your options with someone else.

That afternoon, while you sat on the porch, a warm breeze brushing against your skin, Spencer appeared, looking sheepish. “Hey, about yesterday...” His voice was shaky, unsure. He shifted on his feet, his gaze darting to the ground before he finally met your eyes. “I’m really sorry for grabbing your wrist like that. I had too much to drink and I was way out of line.”

You remembered the incident from the party—the way he had grabbed you, too rough, too desperate. But now, seeing the guilt in his eyes, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pity.

“It’s fine,” you forced a small smile. “You were buzzed. I totally get it.”

Relief washed over his face, and he grinned, more confident now. “So... what about that date?”

You hesitated for a moment, your heart still aching for someone else, but the thought of moving on, of trying to distract yourself from the pain, seemed tempting. Maybe you could use Spencer to forget Daryl. “Sure,” you replied, surprising yourself with the ease in your voice.

The date was... fine. That was the best word to describe it. Spencer talked a lot about himself—his job before the fall, his family, the world he missed. He asked you questions too, seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say, but as much as you tried, you couldn’t really care. His words barely made a dent in your thoughts, because they were always somewhere else—on Daryl.

But Spencer, oblivious to your disinterest, seemed to think it was a success. He walked you home afterward, his arm brushing yours every now and then. You found yourself laughing at some of the things he said, more out of politeness than anything else, but for a moment, it almost felt normal. Almost.

As you approached the front porch, you failed to notice Daryl.

He stood there, not far from the house, just returning from his run with Aaron. He froze, his eyes locked on you and Spencer, his face hardening into something unreadable. Daryl just watched, hands clenched at his sides with his jaw tight.

By the time you reached the porch, you felt tired in more ways than one. As Spencer gave you a final, confident smirk, promising to see you again soon, he finally left. You were lost in thought. The silence wrapped around you, and for a while, you almost forgot about the strange encounter—until you spotted Daryl walking right towards you.

“Hey, Dary—”

Before you could finish, Daryl’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist—not rough, but firm enough to pull you toward him. His face was a storm of anger, jealousy, and something else you couldn’t quite place. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, like he was barely keeping it together. He dragged you into the house, slamming the door behind him with a force that rattled the frame. “The hell ya doin’ with tha’ asshole?” he spat, his voice low and accent thick, filled with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean? We were just talking.”

Daryl scoffed, pacing like a caged animal. “Talkin’? That son’of a bitch touched ya, now yer walkin’ ‘round with him like it didn’t mean nothin’.”

You crossed your arms, defensiveness rising in your chest. “He apologized. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

His eyes flashed, and you could see the fury bubbling just beneath the surface. “Not a big deal? He hurt ya!” His voice was louder now, frustration pouring out of him.

And then it hit you—why he was acting this way. Was he... jealous? The realization made your blood boil. After he brushed you off, now he wanted to care? Now he wanted to feel something?

You snapped, your voice laced with anger. “So what? It wasn’t nearly as bad as you hurt me! So stop acting like we’re together when you clearly don’t care!”

Your words hung in the air, cutting through him like a knife. You watched as Daryl’s expression shifted from anger to confusion. “What?” His voice was quieter now, unsure.

Your heart clenched, the weight of everything you’d been holding in finally crashing down on you. “Last night,” you began, your voice was softer now, but still trembling with emotion. “When I told you my heart belonged to you... you acted like it was a joke.”

His breath caught in his throat. He remembered. The way he had shrugged it off, laughed it away, thinking you were just messing around. He had never thought, not in a million years, that you could feel that way about him. A girl like you? Loving a guy like him? It was laughable.

But now, seeing the pain in your eyes, it wasn’t funny at all.

“I... I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice thick with regret. “Thought ya were just messin’ ‘round.” He trailed off, unable to find the right words.

You sighed, the tension slowly ebbing away as you took in the sight of him—this man who had built up walls so high, he couldn’t even see when someone was trying to climb them. “Why would I joke about something like that, Daryl?” you asked, almost pleading. Maybe he was used to Carol’s humor, or maybe he didn’t think he deserved you.

He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Dunno,” he muttered. “Didn’t think redneck trash would be worth yer time.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. The way he saw himself, the way he spoke of himself—it hurt. But in this moment, the vulnerability in his voice, the way he couldn’t even look at you... it was endearing.

“Daryl...” you called softly, stepping closer, your heart pounding in your chest. You reached out, gently placing your index finger and your thumb under his chin, tilting his face up until his eyes met yours. The closeness between you made the air crackle with anticipation.

His eyes flickered between your gaze and your lips, nervous, unsure. He bit the inside of his lip, fidgeting with his fingers, and you knew—he was waiting for your next move.

With a steady breath, you leaned in, closing the distance between you, and pressed your lips to his. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but as his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, it deepened. When you finally pulled away, you stayed close, your lips brushing his as you whispered, “Of course you’re worth my time.”

Daryl’s eyes were wide, his breath shallow. For a long moment, he just stared at you, as if trying to convince himself that this was real. Then, in a quiet manner, he cleared his throat. “I love ya.” The words left his mouth in a very subtle whisper as you felt his breath against your lips.

Your heart stopped, the world seeming to freeze for just a second. He... loved you?

“I love you too, Daryl,” you whispered back, smiling before leaning in to kiss him again.

After a long, tender moment, you pulled back, and Daryl glanced away, embarrassed. “Ya still gon’ hang out with tha’ guy?” he asked, his voice gruff but his tone soft.

You laughed, completely forgetting about Spencer. “No,” you cupped Daryl’s cheek gently, making him revert his gaze back to you. “I have you. That’s all I need.”

@vampiresluv

[juustokaku]

Confidentiality - Chapter 2. - yandere!ATEEZ OT8 x f!reader

Introduction: Joining a peer support group for mentally ill was a good idea for the last two times you were there. Then it's only natural for the third time to go well too, right?

Pairings: yandere!Hongjoong x reader, yandere!Seonghwa x reader, yandere!Yunho x reader, yandere!Yeosang x reader, yandere!San x reader, yandere!Mingi x reader, yandere!Wooyoung x reader, yandere!Jongho x reader

T/W: This story will include talk about mental health struggles such as body dysmorphia, paranoid thoughts and more. Dark themes are to be expected.

A/N: Big thank you to everyone who read the first chapter and reads this one! This chapter has a lot of focus on Jongho. I'm honestly not happy how this turned out, but I hope at least someone will find it enjoyable! I appreciate feedback, so if the story feels too slow for example, please tell me. Also, don't worry; there will be more about the other members later on in the story! I just don't want to make the pace or character development too fast or overwhelming. Please, forgive me; English isn't my first language.

Word count: 3 477

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

Sometimes you really wished you had a car. If you just had the nerves to drive you wouldn’t have to wait for the bus in the icy air. 

There was nothing wrong with the waiting itself. At least you usually had time for your own thoughts and breathing to settle down, when you waited for the bus, for your psychiatrist to invite you in, or for work to start. You always arrived to your work place an hour too early to minimize the risk of being late. 

So sure, there was nothing wrong with waiting. The problem was that Jongho was standing next to you. 

You had wished to not meet anyone from the peer support group before the inevitable. Life was already hard enough, and you didn’t need any more stress by seeing one of the madmen from the group on your free time. Although Jongho was seemingly less insane than Yunho for example, he was in the group for a reason. 

You noticed how Jongho’s breathing was much calmer compared to yours. It would have seemed like he wasn’t breathing at all, if the soft fog didn’t form in the air near his mouth. That’s how silent he was. 

The little glances you took in his direction weren’t probably as secretive as you thought, but you didn’t care that much at the moment. He looked mesmerizing as the sun was soon to set in the horizon, casting light on his handsome features. 

Although he looked irritated that the Sun was shining directly in his face, you didn’t turn to look away. He narrowed his eyes, and you took advantage of the fact that he was blinded by the Sun and its rays reflecting from snow. 

“Stop staring at me.” 

You turned your gaze away quicker than it was humanly possible. How was Jongho able to see you looking at him? There was no way you could explain your actions without embarrassing yourself even more, so you just hung your head in shame. Maybe it would hide the blush on your cheeks. At least you could lie that it was just the cold air making your cheeks red, if Jongho happened to notice. 

It felt like the silence would never end. A few cars passed by occasionally, and you almost wished one of them would have picked you up and saved you from this uncomfortable situation. 

Suddenly you felt Jongho moving closer to you. A woman had squeezed in the bus shelter Jongho and you were already in. The small bus stop was getting way too crowded to your liking, although only three people were seeking shelter from the cold under it. 

Jongho stood so close to you. You noticed his breath had quickened. His gaze was directed straight forward strictly. Even if you exploded next to him without warning, he probably wouldn’t move his eyes. He was clearly determined not to look at you. 

The woman who just arrived could probably sense the awkward atmosphere too. 

“Why didn’t you tell your last name?” 

You didn’t know whether to be startled by his question, by the fact that he talked or that he even remembered that situation a whole week after it happened. 

Jongho wasn’t as suspicious as Yunho but something about him made a shiver run down your spine. Even his way of standing was enough to make you think he was untrustworthy. 

But it was possible – unlikely, but possible – that he was nothing more than socially anxious just like you. You knew at some point of your life you would have to trust people. Even the ones you had just met for the first time. Your whole life so far had been wasted by no-one else but yourself, because you were too afraid. 

“I’m worried that people will use my personal information against me,” you answered, already preparing yourself to be laughed at. 

It was so stupid. But it was inevitable for Jongho and the others to know about your condition and thoughts at some point. There was no use of a peer support group if you never opened up. 

Against your expectations, Jongho just nodded thoughtfully. 

“I see. It’s true that many people might do exactly that.” 

Your eyes widened a bit. Getting confirmation that you were in possible danger was new to you. Your psychiatrist and therapist always told you to believe good about people unless they proved you wrong, but Jongho was telling you otherwise. 

“You have to choose wisely who to trust. If anyone.” 

“Do you trust anyone?” you asked Jongho before you could stop yourself. 

Jongho was able to surprise you many times that day. You had expected him to get irritated by your question, to push you into the snowbank or under a car. Actually no, that was something Yunho would do. 

Jongho’s face was stable and emotionless, but his voice betrayed him miraculously during the one word he said. 

“No.” 

“Can I ask you a question as well?”  

“I wish I could say no,” Jongho replied to your nervous question. 

You raised a confused brow. It’s not like you were some tyrant, so why didn’t he refuse if he so wanted to? You asked your question anyways. 

“Are you going to the same bus as I am?” 

“Yes,” Jongho put his hands in his pockets. 

Before he could hide them inside the long, beige jacket, you noticed how red they were from the cold. He must have been freezing but played it off cool. 

“Do you want my other mitten?” you asked. 

Jongho couldn’t hide his surprise, and you were shocked at your own words as well. It was not like you to offer something of your own for a practically stranger to borrow. There was always a risk of him running off with your precious glove. He took a glance at your mittens. 

“They’re really warm,” you hoped your attempt to persuade him would turn out successful. 

A hint of something soft flashed in Jongho’s eyes before disappearing like it had never been there. He just put his other hand out, gesturing you to give the other mitten to him. 

As you gave the glove to him, your fingers brushed against his cold skin. 

“How did you know which bus I am taking?” you realized to ask. 

There was a possibility that you couldn’t ignore; Jongho could be stalking you. In just a week after the first session, he could have found out everything about you, including what bus you always took! 

“You already used your turn to ask a question.” 

Why was he avoiding answering? It made you even more suspicious. 

You made sure to sit as far away from him as possible on the bus. 

When you arrived to the therapy room, you had sincerely hoped you and Jongho would be the first ones there. The thought of someone, especially Yunho, looking at you as you walked in through the door made anxious, acid bubbles pop in your chest. 

“Y/N! Sit next to me and San today!” Wooyoung practically ran to you the moment you pushed the heavy door open to enter. 

Glancing at San who was sitting on one of the chairs already, you noticed him flash a smile in your direction. It was a bit reserved yet kind unlike Yunho’s almost smothering, intrusive one. 

Speaking of Yunho, you felt a tall presence looming behind you. Who else could it be? That rapper “Mingus Dingus” didn’t seem interested in tormenting you, and the others weren’t that tall. You could almost see Yunho’s shadow in front of you as he stood behind you. 

“We should keep our original seat arrangements, don’t you think?” 

Someone could have mistaken Yunho’s voice as gentle but it had a sprinkle of tension. 

You flinched as Yunho put his hand on your shoulder to turn you to look at him. His grip was squeezing you almost like he was trying to control himself. 

To Wooyoung and San’s disappointment, you nodded nervously to Yunho’s suggestion. Oh, how you wished you could have run off to hide from him behind San’s muscles, but you didn’t know how he would react to that if he was this irritated already. 

“She’s just too afraid to say no to you,” Wooyoung pouted, “And I don’t blame her.” 

Apparently, you weren’t the only one to notice Yunho’s scary antics. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The atmosphere felt suddenly freezing as Yunho’s usually cheerful voice dropped to a low, icy one. 

“You’re hogging her all to yourself,” San chimed in. 

Everyone in the peer support group had arrived and was watching your conversation intently. Luckily, the realization of that made Yunho back off. With one last glare sent to Wooyoung and San, he retreated back to his chair. 

You sat between San and Wooyoung as the session started. 

“Let’s start the meeting by telling everyone how we’re feeling right now.” 

At Charlotte’s directive, the first turn was given – more like forced on – to Jongho. 

“I feel neutral. Too calm, even. My thoughts, goals and wants are clear.” 

“Do you think that’s a good thing?” Charlotte inquired. 

“No.” 

Charlotte looked intrigued by Jongho’s answer but gestured the person next to him to reveal their mood. 

Yeosang cleared this throat nervously before speaking, “Nothing that different from the usual. I feel scared. The only thing different is that I feel hopeful.” 

“Could you tell us why you’re hopeful?” 

“There’s a person I’d like to get to know. But I’m afraid I’ll make a fool out of myself in front of them.” 

If you had to choose someone who to trust in the group, it would be Yeosang. He was open about his feelings, which you knew isn’t easy, but seemed like he wouldn’t be dangerous. 

You wouldn’t let him fool you into thinking he was completely harmless though. Any of these men could outpower you easily but you wouldn’t let them outsmart you. 

“Okay, next is Mingus Ding- I mean Mingi,” Charlotte corrected herself quickly but already managed to earn a few chuckles. 

You knew the stage name was silly, but still felt a pang of sympathy in your chest at how embarrassed Mingi looked, when people found the name humorous. It wasn’t an unknown feeling to you to get ridiculed, so you could relate. 

“I was feeling pretty excited first but now I’m embarrassed.” 

“What made you feel excited?” Charlotte asked curiously. 

“I’m releasing a new single tomorrow.” 

Wooyoung’s interest piqued, "How many listeners do you have on Spotify?” 

Mingi’s face flushed red, “I’m a SoundCloud rapper.” 

Yunho pat Mingi on the shoulder comfortingly and started describing his own mood next. 

“I feel happy. I had a nice day at work!” 

It was hard to figure out what to feel about his revelation. Just a few minutes ago he had been fuming, and now he sat there with his beaming smile. Had his mood really changed that quickly or was he tricking everyone as usual? 

“Oh, great! What happened at work?” 

“That’s a secret. We have a professional confidentiality agreement at work.” 

“Just like here,” Charlotte smiled. 

You could barely focus as Seonghwa started talking about his frustrating work day at a game store, because of Yunho looking at you. 

Well, at least now you knew that his happy mood had been just a skillful act. His intense stare served as a reminder that you had made the wrong choice to sit next to Wooyoung and San. 

“I feel stressed out. There’s still so much I have to do at work,” Hongjoong’s tense voice brought you back down to Earth. 

“Did you relax during weekend?” 

“No. I worked. I have to keep my company relevant in the eyes of the customers.” 

It seemed to you like Hongjoong was some kind of workaholic. You shouldn’t have felt ashamed because workaholism was a real, possibly life-ruining condition, but you couldn’t help the feelings of embarrassment. Hongjoong was so successful while you had your ordinary work and no ambitious goals other than to feel better someday. 

It was San’s turn to speak, “I’m sad and insecure. Some people at the gym looked at me weird again.” 

You couldn’t understand why someone would look at San weirdly. Sure, you were intimidated by how handsome he was but when he smiled at you today, your heart was about to melt. His eyes were so pretty. 

“What do you mean by weird?” 

“Like they thought I was scary or would hurt them,” San answered Charlotte. 

His sad tone broke your heart. He seemed shameful for making some people afraid of him, but was it really his fault since he didn’t act threateningly? 

Before the pause got awkward, you realized it was your turn. 

What could you tell? If you spoke the truth and said you were a little scared, would Yunho realize it was thanks to him? 

But it was about time to start opening up. All these people were here because of their own problems. All of them had been mentally unwell for years probably, and now focused on only getting better, not planning to murder you. Even Yunho. At least you hoped so, because you were about to reveal your feelings for the first time. 

“I’m feeling...” you looked around the room, trying to analyze everyone’s faces but your sight was getting blurry, “scared.” 

“And why is that, Y/N?” 

“Everything makes me scared. But I recognize it’s just my overthinking. There’s no real threat.” 

Convincing others was much easier than convincing yourself. You could see other people nodding in sympathy at your words. 

“I don’t think that’s just overthinking,” Jongho suddenly spoke up. 

Charlotte turned to look at Jongho with warning eyes. You were already such a mess with your paranoid thoughts that there was no need for Jongho to fuel the fire. 

“Everyone is a possible threat. There is possibly one even among us,” he continued. 

“Jongho, stop.” 

But Jongho didn’t care about Charlotte’s demand. 

“Someone who presents themselves as a leader of justice may as well be a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” 

Your heartbeat accelerated by every word Jongho let fall from his lips. Did he know something you didn’t? 

Eyeing the room, you could see thoughtful, worried looks on everyone’s face. Everyone, including Yunho himself, knew who Jongho meant by “a leader of justice”. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. Still, no-one dared to speak. An unwritten agreement of silence hung thick in the air, crushing you under its weight. 

“Let’s move on to the next section,” Charlotte informed after a few moments. 

“No! I haven’t had my turn yet,” Wooyoung whined, and for a good reason. 

Soon enough, Wooyoung was describing his mood and past week, paying attention to the important details like what color the car that passed by was and how long he brushed his teeth. 

The story continued for many minutes, and you were sure you’d be listening to him talk for the rest of eternity. Wooyoung’s next comment suddenly woke you up from your slumber. 

“I also saw you, Y/N. You were so beautiful on your evening walk.” 

A bit creepy, to be honest, but his intention was probably just to be sweet. You gave him a sheepish smile in response. 

“Oh! I almost forgot to mention; someone was following you.” 

Your smile dropped as you heard Wooyoung’s words. Feeling like you were being watched had always been a thing you suffered from, but that was just work of your “wild imagination” based on what your psychiatrist always told you. But despite all the medication he had prescribed you, the feeling had stayed. 

Maybe you weren’t as crazy as you had thought. 

“Oh, come on. Don’t scare Y/N like that,” Charlotte scolded Wooyoung. 

“But it’s true!” 

“Stop. We are moving on to the next section.” 

You had never seen Charlotte so tense. But she masked her frustration well and changed the topic skillfully, like she had probably had to do many times before with difficult patients. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about Wooyoung’s revelation during the other section as well. Yeosang was your partner in the next section, but your focus was completely on different things while he was talking. 

“A-Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” Yeosang’s sad voice finally pulled you back from your anxious thoughts. 

An instant regretful feeling filled you, and you hurried to apologize, “I’m so sorry, Yeosang. I’m... still thinking about the fact that someone had been following me.” 

Yeosang’s body seemed to relax a bit, but his hands were still wrapped around his stomach as usual. He stole a glance at your face before staring at his shoes again. 

“Okay, I understand. I would be worried too. Well, I am worried for you as well. It’s not like I don’t care about your well-being. I mean, I’m not in love with you! But people can still care although they don’t love each other, you know? But that’s not to say I would never be able to love you. I think you’re lovable. Everyone is. Well, maybe not everyone, but you definitely are!” 

Wow. You did not expect that logorrhea to escape his pretty lips. 

Your shock was clearly evident because Yeosang hid his face immediately and murmured almost inaudibly, “I’m sorry. Did I make you uncomfortable?” 

It was official. Yeosang was the one you trusted the most. Even his rambling had been cute, but his sincere, caring apology made your heart ache in a way that wasn’t sadness. 

You were surprised by your own attitude as well. It wasn’t like you to consider trusting someone after a second meeting. Although you’d be careful, you felt more at ease with Yeosang’s presence already. 

“No worries. I think it was funny – in a good way.” 

Yeosang smiled shyly in response and even managed to meet your eyes for a split second. 

You two continued chatting away, at least tried to, although it was hard with both of you being so shy. Despite the moments of silence, you didn’t feel awkward. Anxious, yes, but that was because you genuinely hoped for your potential friendship to bloom. The instant connection between you two was as clear as day. 

Sadly, everyone did not appreciate the fact that Yeosang had gotten closer to you than anyone had so far. 

The house was starting to get void of people after the session finally ended. Your boots and jacket were on, your hand on the doorknob, ready to open the front door and freeze in the breeze of a winter night. 

“There you are. I thought Yeosang had snatched you away.” 

You turned around to see Jongho standing at the top of a staircase. His face wasn’t visible due to the low lighting in the room, but you recognized his stable voice. 

“I’ve been waiting to get you alone,” he started descending the stairs by taking one step down. 

“Why?” 

Your ever so slightly trembling voice didn’t faze Jongho. 

The stairs creaked a little as he took two steps down, “Do I make you nervous?” 

“A little, to be honest...” 

Jongho didn’t answer you. Only after he had taken three steps down, you gathered the courage to repeat your question. 

“Why did you want to get me alone?” 

“Make a guess.” 

It wasn’t that you couldn’t come up with any reasons. You just couldn’t make any sense of the mess inside your head. 

You saw Jongho taking more and more steps, getting closer. Like frozen in place, you could just watch him approach you. His blank expression left you clueless, having no idea what he could possibly want from you. 

And soon enough, Jongho stood in front of you, looking in your eyes. You had felt much more comfortable with Yeosang’s avoiding eyes than the intense yet emotionless gaze Jongho was forcing on you. 

The room was dimly lit and the lights formed shadows on his face. Earlier today, you had seen him at the bus stop with the sunlight shining on his face. It had been a beautiful sight. Now, the light was completely different. It was artificial, and although warm, it made Jongho look like a different person. 

He reached for your hand before you could flinch away, and placed something in it. 

It was the mitten you had lent him. 

“Next time, sit beside me,” he said. 

You were left alone, standing like a fool, as Jongho disappeared into the night. Millions of thoughts raced in your head, but eventually you pulled the mittens in your hands. 

Just as you slipped your hand inside the warm mitten Jongho had given back to you, something fell out of it. 

Your winter jacket rustled quietly as you reached down and picked up the object from the floor. 

It was a small piece of paper. There was a handwritten sentence on it. 

“You’re not as observant as you think you are.” 

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Previously... "How you wished your phone hadn't died few days ago"

Me: Gentlemen,Ladies and Enby's. I have an solution >:)

OKAY OKAY SO,The party fights Yellow Loong and after defeat,they get their thunder staff,yeah? Reader thinks it's so cool and then it clicks to them to CHARGE their phone by the use of the staff!!! Which does work HAHA instantly goes %100 in span of 5 seconds lmao

And reader shows the destined one some photos (like their family,friends of school/college,time they went to zoo and hold finger monkey,yes. It's a thing,look at it up hehe)

At last,reader takes selfie with The destined one and Zhu Baige cuz they don't want to forget them c:

Also drink water,gotta stay hydrated! 💜🫵🏻

"This will never work."

"And if it works, you'll be so sorry you had doubted me, old man!"

Bajie, sighing, Just pointed out the destined one, who was holding that small black tablet in his right hand with the nail of his pinky in the small hole at the base of the same object.

"Kid, stop indulge her! Be the rational one here!"

"What can I say?" He said, shrugging his shoulders, "I'm quite curious too about this phone thing."

"Oooh, yes, of course! Cuuurious, he said. Well, if it's turned out to burn at a crisp, do not come cry to me, young lady!"

You just laugh it out; even if it were true, you knew that the old pig was a soft heart for you and would surely comfort you.

"Ok so," you started to explain for the last time, "go really low on the voltage, enough to the cilinder with the green liquid to appear. Once Is full and made a sound, stop!"

"It seems simple; sure, is it going to work?"

"Well, maybe? ... Anyway, it doesn't matter! Just go!"

So, what were you up to this time?

A few days after your arrival, your phone, as you suspected would have happened, had died since the lack of electricity.

Between a deadly danger and another being eaten attempt, your mind completely forgotten about the device's lost usage until, after the fight against Yellowbrow, the idea of using that newfound power struck you.

You weren't sure that it could work; you were prepared to lose forever your phone, to be fair, but a small try never hurt anyone, right?

And fortune favorite, the bold!

After the small sound front the phone, you started to jump in happiness, finally with the last connection of your original world in your hands.

"AH! YES! IT WORK IT WORK! AHAH!"

The other two laughed a little, noticing how your fingers were able to move in the device with knowledge and security.

"All right, all right," said Bajie, sitting next to you when you decided to calm down. "Now, what does this little thing do?"

"Okay! Basically, we use It tò call people, message them...communication in general!"

"Oh so..." Yuán Fèn seemed startled when, after touching one of the apps on the screen, the color changed "is like... a bird or... and Messanger?"

"Well yes? Everything happens in seconds instead of hours or days! Unfortunately, without connection, it's useless for that part."

"Ah! So I was right! "

"Buuuut It can do something more intriguing for you!"

Once you shot the camera, your two friends, after a brief moment of surprise from their own faces showing up inside that small box, seemed more interested than before.

"Is that a mirror?"

"Nope! It's a camera! We use it to make photos!"

"What's a pho-u-toh?"

"Photo! Or photograph!" You laugh after Bajie misspells "it's like a panting, but far more precise. Using light, you can press the image on paper. Now, a phone camera doesn't exactly work like that, but you get the idea."

You stod up and put the device in front of the pigface.

"Now smile! I'll show you!"

After you took the picture, with the image of a still confused Bajie on it, you showed it to him. After a moment of silence, he started to laugh about it.

"You are surely full of surprises!"

///

"HEY! Is that a baby?!"

"Baby, aren't you that small, you dork!"

"Yes, they are! They smal like your brain!"

Once again, you have to save yourself and your phone from another monkey's fist fight between the children. Now that you had shown them your small magic box, like they like to call it, they were always eager to make one with you or ask you to make one for them, only to laugh about their own faces or what was happening. You even make a few videos of them, which just make them go more crazy than before. 

But then they discovered your other photos.

They seemed to enjoy, especially the ones that you had taken the day you had decided to help your auntie in her school trip at the Zoo. They loved the ones that you had taken at the monkey enclosure; they loved to see that you were familiar with their kind even before the change of world!

Well, they weren't the only ones that enjoyed the device. Once, you decided to show it to the youngest of the spider sisters, showing her the video that you took of her while dancing, and she laughed all the time, enjoying it to see her own performance.

You even took the chance to use it to make ohotos of every place that you and the Destined one were able to visit. Yellow ridge, the snowy fields, the mountains...every place was a new set for one of your photos, and every time he was inside too.

He had never shown quite the interest like everyone, but he seemed still happy to know that you wanted to cherish the memories that you had there with him. But what he really loved were your own memories, the photos of your past, and your family. He loved sharing them with you, knowing you deeper.

"This is your..."

"Cousin. My cousin."

"Oh yes, yes...and this is your cat, right?"

"Sorta, it shows up now and then. I like to leave it some food for it, so it doesn't starve."

"Ah, got it..." then another photo, that you tried to pass fastly, had passed under his eyes of you near someone.

"And that one? The one with the guy?"

"Ah, it was nothing." Your tone seemed almost off, like to avoid the discussion.

"Nothing?" He raised his eyebrows. "I saw you smiling! How was it nothing?"

And soon, you get back on the photo and delete it.

"As I said, nothing."

It seemed that he still needed to know you better.

@sun-jglim @crimsonflameproxy @everlastingmoonlightsworld @biankanoir

@miraclecherryblossomsblog @certifiedsimpinggalore @sleepingdramaqueen @cromboloni @masksandfeathers

@cinnamonroll-anon @justrandomlypassing @cute-angi @luckyangelballoon @dressycobra7

@naarra @virtualexpertanchor @phoenixeclipse-lmkau @szynkaaa @kirax-the-lazy-girl

@sleepydang @weaverworks @kishimiest @marcu-bug @thepoweroffiction

@riolu4 @angryvampire @s0rr3l @rootin-tootin-morgan @lightlumi

@cleverfeststarlight

[bellysoupset]

Posting this and running away

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

"What is this?" Jonah chuckled, gesturing vaguely to the image in front of him. This was easily the weirdest thing he had seen in a while.

Leo was inside the bathtub, with no water, in the middle of the day, wearing just his boxers, head leaning back and scrolling in his ipad.

"Hey," the blonde turned his head slightly, voice all soft, "missed you."

How could Jon not melt around this man? He entered further in the bathroom, crouching down to kiss his fiancé and Leo grimaced and pulled back, causing Jonah to whine, "what the hell?"

"You don't wanna kiss me," Leo cringed, "I ate something weird and it messed with me. I just puked," he gestured vaguely to the closed toilet with his head. Jonah raised his eyebrows, surprised.

Leo didn't look sick... But now that Jon looked closer he could tell the sweat clinging to his temples and over his lip. Instead of pale, he was flushed in a slightly unnatural way, specially given how cold their bathroom was.

"Is that why you're in the tub?"

"Yeah, still feel pukey," Leo groaned and slid down in the tub, resting his feet on the opposite end and dropping his ipad to the side. Now that it was no longer blocking Jonah's view, he could tell his fiance's abs were slightly bloated, the usual line separating its quadrants all but faded, "I don't know what's wrong with my office, you'd think such a fancy building would have a decent catering."

Jonah grinned, collapsing down on his ass instead of staying crouched down and leaned in to push Leo's hair back, away from his sweaty forehead. The blonde let out a happy noise at the hair pet, "why don't you come to bed? You can feel sick in the bedroom, where it's comfy."

Leo snorted at that, turning his head so his cheek was pressed to the cold rim of the tub and going boneless as Jonah petted his hair, "bedroom feels too warm, was making me claustrophobic."

"And the bathtub is not?"

"You may question my methods, but not my results," Leo smiled, looking up at him and grabbing the ditched iPad, "I want a March wedding."

"Okay?" Jon moved on the bathroom floor, stripping the thick wool vest he was wearing over his shirt and removing his belt so he was more comfortable, throwing them on top of the sink, "why March?"

"Because I don't wanna wait until October next year," Leo pouted, turning on the screen. Before Jon could question why March and October were the only options, Leo said, "I made a pinterest board."

Jonah couldn't stop smiling, it was embarrassing and hurting his cheek muscles, "you made a pinterest board," he echoed, amused and endeared to hell and back. Leo glared at him, pushing the iPad in his hands.

"Stop looking at me with this stupid smile and look at the board," he tapped the screen, then curled up with a grimace and planted a hand on his stomach, pressing slightly and bringing up a sick burp, "god..."

"Should I move from the line of fire?" Jonah squinted at Leo, noticing the way he was gulping down.

The man shook his head, taking another gulp, "swallowing air," he cleared up, "not gagging."

"Counter intuitive if your stomach hurts, no?"

"Trying to burp," Leo cleared up with a strained voice, digging his fingers in his tummy, until another little sickly burp came up, "urgh, it's stuck."

"My husband, the romantic," Jonah teased him with an eyeroll, then scooted closer, "sit up, let me thump your back."

"Like a baby?" Leo snorted, but obeyed and let out a pleased noise as Jonah started doing exactly that. A couple pats in and he brought up a large, brassy belch.

"UUruorup- Fuck, that felt nice," he hung his head between his knees, breathing out in relief, "look at the board."

"Bossy," Jonah glared at the side of his head, then actually looked at the board. It was a collection of farmhouse weddings and hotels and event-centers... None of it looked very Leo, "uhm- these are the ones you liked?"

"You hate them," Leo sighed, "I don't know, everything I'm able to find is either those ultra girly things that only Wendy could like or, if I search for gay-wedding, it's like they're competing to see who can be more cringy."

Jonah cackled at the bitchiness, earning himself a smile, "this is nice," he leaned against the tub, all but sprawled on the bathroom floor and pointing a picture of a tall, reflective ballroom. Leo draped himself over the edge, squinting at the screen.

"That's a cathedral, Jonah," Leo said dryly, "I'm not gonna get married in a church, thanks."

Jon let out a scoff, "it's in your board!"

"As inspiration! Because I like-" he cut himself off with a nauseated gulp, "the-the tall ceilings..." Leo's voice trailed off and he raised a hand to his mouth, the other one darting up so Jonah could help him up.

Jon was up in a flash, grabbing Leo's hand to hoist him up and leaving the iPad on top of their sink, while the blonde fell to his knees before the toilet and gagged weakly over the water.

He cringed in sympathy as Leo retched and a thin dribble of colored in spit fell in the water, causing him to say in a thick, nauseated voice, "Oh god..." then gag once more, bringing up a mouthful of frothy, beige vomit. Jonah gulped down against the knot in his throat, forcing his gaze away and planted a hand on Leo's naked back. He was covered in cold sweat, muscles seizing under Jon's hand as he continued to heave for another five minutes.

Leo let another sickly burp, the groaned and collapsed forward, causing Jonah to scramble to grab him by the shoulter, "don't split your head open, Leo!"

"Uhhmm, wasn't gonna..." He scoffed, pressing his forehead to the cold porcelain, "I still feel so queasy..."

Jonah hit the flush, then combed his fingers through Leo's sweaty bangs, touching his cheek and forehead inconspicuously. He wasn't feverish and Leo let out a little snort, "I know what you're doing, Dr. Banks..." he blew out another soft burp, "I wanna go to bed but I'm all sweaty..."

"Couch?" Jonah suggested and Leo lifted up his head, considering it for a minute before nodding.

"Yeah okay, help me up..."

It was a bigger hassle than expected, as Leo washed his face and brushed his teeth, only for the toothbrush to send him into another gagging fit, but eventually they managed to move into the living room and Leo collapsed down on the cushions with a sigh, "Jon..."

"I know, I know," he grinned, sitting next to the man and planting his hand on his boyfriend's bloated belly, "tummy rub."

"You're the love of my life," Leo said in a pleased tone, eyes slipping closed as Jonah started rubbing his hand in a soft, gentle circle over his distended abs. It wasn't much of a massage, but he was afraid of putting too much pressure, with all the angry gurgling going on inside.

JD, who had been very busy chasing her toy mice, perked up at the sudden company and jumped on the couch as well, meowing and stepping on Leo's thigh in order to headbutt Jonah's chin.

"She's ignoring me," Leo groaned, pressing a hand on his stomach, "I stepped on her tail earlier."

"Well, I can't blame her," Jonah scoffed, kissing the top of JD's head, "Leo didn't mean it, baby."

As if she understood him, JD crawled on Jon's lap, nuzzling the inside of his arm and letting out a happy meow. Leo opened his eyes to glare at the cat, pouting.

"It was an accident! I was rushing in," his stomach let out a loud growl and he squirmed, gulping down, "Jon..."

"Shit, give me a second," Jonah sprung up, taking JD with him, and rushed to their kitchen, in order to grab a bowl. By the time he made it back, ten seconds later, Leo had his eyes squeezed shut and was breathing slowly through his mouth as if he was giving birth.

"Here, here, here-" Jon pushed the bowl under his chin and Leo grabbed it with sweaty fingers, but didn't immediately retch. Jonah cringed, planting JD down and moving so he wasn't directly looking at the bowl, but could help Leo hold it up, "baby?"

A nauseated hiccup shook the blonde's frame and he let out a moan, leaning forward and drooling over the bowl, "fuck..." he cleared his throat, taking a deep breath, "my stomach hurts."

Jonah frowned, not liking this one bit. He hated the strong feeling of concern, over something so dumb like food poisoning, but he couldn't help it. Leo worried him always.

"Leo, no, don't do that!" Jonah groaned, as he realized his fiancee was shoving a finger down his throat to trigger his gag reflex, "don't force it-"

Leo shook his head, pulling back his hand and burping wetly over the bowl, "I can feel it in my stomach..." his voice was thick with queasiness and he hiccupped again, his belly letting out a disgusting wet sound, "Urgh, fuck..."

"Can I h-" he never finished that sentence, as there was a sudden wet noise in the back of Leo's throat and the blonde folded in half, projectile vomiting in the bowl.

He hung over it, panting as if he had just ran a marathon, before letting out a dainty little burp and another impressive stream of sick fell from his lips. Leo let out a whimper, coughing, then sighed, "Holy fuck... I feel tons better," he said hoarsely, causing Jonah to let out a disbelieving snort.

"Are you sure?" Jon scoffed, biting down a gag of his own, his mouth watering like crazy at the gruesome sight. Leo nodded, forcing up another burp.

"Yeah... Like crazy better," he rolled his shoulders, then let out a whine, "aw angel, you look grey. Sit down, I can clean this up-"

"No, I'm o-Oo-" Jonah interrupted himself with a retch and Leo let out a little giggle, planting a kiss in the inside of his wrist, since his boyfriend was sitting on the couch's arm, and slowly getting up.

"You're fine, uh?" He chuckled quietly, grabbing the bowl and gingerly walking to the bathroom to empty it out. Jon let out a humiliated sigh, sitting down on the couch and staring at his feet. He thought he was over this, he hated when Leo was feeling sick and his body decided to attention seek.

His belly clenched and he brought up a little sickly burp, breathing out slowly against the prickles of nausea... "Hey," Leo crouched in front of him, between Jon's knees, "you're okay? Are you sure it's just sympathy sickness?"

"Yep," Jon gulped down, nodding, "are you-"

"Really, I'm fine. That's on me for being too lazy to cross the street to go to the restaurant that I know won't make me ill," Leo rolled his eyes, leaning in and hugging Jonah by the waist.

In this weird position, with his boyfriend down to his knees in the rug, it was easy for Leo to drop his face to his lap and Jonah leaned back, starting to pet the golden waves of hair, "don't take this badly," he said slowly, while Leo sat down on the ground, leaning his head back to keep getting his hair petted, "but you suck at event planning."

Leo let out an offended huff, but didn't say anything and Jonah folded in half to kiss his forehead upside down, "I'm gonna take this from you and I'll scout for a location, okay? You worry about the damn flowers or what not."

"Anything more inconsequential you wanna hand me?" Leo pouted, causing Jon to grin and kiss the tip of his nose.

"Test me and I'll put you on water duty," he teased, before falling back against the couch, "so March?"

"Yeah, March," Leo smiled, then let out a little pleased sigh as JD sniffled his hand and came to sit on his lap.

[karlachismylife]

Wrote the intro the day I started this work and decided to leave it since it reflects the shitstorm in my head quite well, eh.

Okay Idk what it is with me today (I actually do know, I'm having a bad fucking night as a consequence of my own actions but I prefer not to think about it), but I just thought about task force 141 and reader that has such a bad withdrawal after their orgasm that they actually cry and not in a fun way (cue my lack of understanding how crying in bed can ever be fun, but i'm not here to kinkshame)

CW: NSFW (so minors and ageless blogs DNI, I'll block you), but there's barely any sex, hurt/comfort, body image issues, low self-esteem, chubby/fat!reader, written with afab!reader in mind (but most parts can be read as gn), potential mental health issues (?), thoughts of selfloathing and selfharm, smoking mentioned once at the end. Very self-indulgent and I'm definitely unwell, so yeah. It's also more focused on reader's inner shitstorm than the guys in many places so idk if this even really is enjoyable...

Starts as a single piece, then splits into individual blurbs/drabbles/oneshots + some polyamory cuz I'm spoiling myself today having done nothing to deserve it, lol.

They vary in size and tone since I've been writing them through several ups and downs in my own mental state, so please don't take this as a sign of which characher/combo is my favourite. I'm greedy, I like everything.

This is unfair.

Like, you just had wonderful sex, probably came more than once in a short period of time, ears stuffed with cotton, limbs weak, head spinning... and it keeps spinning, sweet tingling on the skin turning into nasty rushes of cold, muscles too tense, but it's not a cramp.

You feel like shit, every possible hormonal and neuromediator crash downing on you, a hollow, depressing weight in your chest instead of a sweet afterglow. Sweat and cum feel disgusting on you skin, your skin feels disgusting, strangling, your whole body seems revolting, too heavy, too sluggish. A sticky, suffocating heatwave on your nape, but your chest is cold and covered in goosebumps, a feverish feeling clogging every pore. Nausea wrenches into your stomach and stops just before you can relievingly barf and get rid of this parasite inside.

You simply want to dig your nails into your own shoulders instead of his and rip the skin and meat off, free yourself from this burden (you're the burden). Each second as he stays blissfully unaware, holding you tightly with his big hands and panting into the crook of your neck, drags on like a hundred hours of pure torture - the torture of being yourself.

Throwing up feels like an appropriate reaction to how unappealing and ugly you feel.

You're spiraling. You couldn't fucking keep your own messed up emotional outburst - completely unreasonable and unprovoked, by the way - to yourself, and now it's going to be noticed. You'll ruin someone else's fun. Make it all about yourself when you've already been nothing but doted on, cared and provided for. Fucked so good that your body is still clenching around that magnificent cock deep inside you.

And you're fucking crying, like an ungrateful, egotistical brat. Never having enough, unable to provide something as simple as a hole to make someone else happy without fucking it up.

Ghost notices immediately. There's nothing that can escape this man, and definitely not his love's distress. He's not reacting immediately for a sole reason: he's frozen in fear, horrified that he made you cry. How - he's not sure, he always takes great care to stay within limits, never allows himself to push you further than you both agree on. But what if he slipped up? What if he got carried away? Did he cause pain? Did he say something hurtful in the heat of the moment?

"Fuck. Hey, hey, lovie... look at me... wha's wrong? Did I... did I hurt ya?" Good thing you're hiding your face and your red eyes so desperately that you can't see how distressed and downright terrified Simon looks, lost at the sight of your tears. When you shake your head and attempt to push him away to hide your pathetic sobbing, he somewhat calms down and brings his big calloused hands to cradle your face, gently prying your own palms away and holding your puffy cheeks tenderly. His thumbs brush your tears away as he holds you, holds you through the growing rage fit of touch aversion, through the shudders and actual wailing. At some point he moves his palm to cover your eyes, a dry, dark blinder to keep the world around you shut out, help you concentrate on his voice.

He's not talking, just humming, a familiar, deep, grumbling noise that soothes all the flashes of anger, hate and disgust in your brain. You're tired now, like you're always are after such an intense outburst, and as you go limp, he finally pulls away, only to pick you up - barely a strain, a direct spit in the face of your own insecurity - and bring you to the bathroom. A warm shower evens your distorted body temperature out, his hands running over your body and cleaning all the stickiness away bring back peace with your own skin. After a quick rinse Simon holds you, your head cradled against his chest, until you make a weak attempt to help him wash too - he lets you trace his body, that perfection you adore with all its old wounds, sores and scars, for a bit, and then finishes himelf.

Gives you fresh cotton underwear and his hige T-shirt, still holding you around your shoulders and keeping the comfortable pressure even while he changes the bedsheets, kissing your temple as you find it in yourself to help.

It's only after you settle on top of him, nice, clean comforter protecting your back against the world, head on his chest right next to his heart beating in a steady rythm, he finally breaks silence.

"Need anything else, lovie?" Just like that. No prying, no occusations, nothing that would put you on the spot. You can ask him to bring you the moon soaked in unicorn's milk, and he'll just nod, kiss your hand and start dressing up, already calling Johnny to ask where the fuck did Scots hide their last horned horse and if he happens to know where they enlist astronauts.

"Just you."

His grip on the small of your back tightens and you feel his uneven, scarred lips graze the top of your head.

"Ya've got me. Always."

Soap is running hot like a furnace, still shivering and panting after what he considers the best sex he has ever had (every time with you is). He lifts his face, buried into the crease of your neck previously, and starts peppering you with slightly sloppy, grateful kisses - your neck, your jaw, your lips, your...

When he tastes your tears and opens his unbelievably blue eyes to see your expression contorted in disgust, he panics. Pulls away immediately, hands both itching to grab you and shake a reason for that look on your face out of you and too scared to touch you in case this hatred is directed at him.

"Whit's wrong, leannan? Are ye a'right? Ye didnae lik' it? Shite, lass, Ah'm so sorry, Ah didnae mean tae-" He stops yapping only when he notices the way your lips tremble as you try to plead with him, sobbing that it's not his fault.

"'M sorry, I ruined it... I'm so sorry, sushine, I just... fuck I wish I wasn't so bloody sick in the head and ugly..." Speaking out loud only worsens your anger, directed solely at yourself, and you try to wipe your eyes furiously. As the tears keep rolling, your frustration only grows - maybe if you yanked your own hair really good or slapped the disgusting pudgy cheek you've despised ever since chidhood as everyone kept pointing out how big they were...

"Ye didnae just call the love of mah fucking life ugly." Johnny's voice is a mix of a harsh order to cut your bullshit and pure disbelief. His huge paws wrap themselves around your wrists, stopping you both from harming yourself and covering your face. You're forced to look at him, and as you do, you see his handsome face flushed with a passionate anger at the intrusive thoughts in your head, heavy frown in his thick eyebrows and the sea in his eyes dark and deep enough to drown a whole fleet. You'd be scared if it wasn't obvious how hurt he is underneath it all - like a kid whose favourite plushie just got mocked by his classmates.

"It's just a toy," adults would say, and they would be bloody wrong.

"Tis not a toy, tis mah friend."

You're his friend. His love. His heart, his soul, his everything - he whispers that frantically, kissing you over and over, hot palms running over your body, wiping the cold, the stickiness, the goosebumps away. You don't have time to think, to spiral again, you're drowning in that exact sea that's spilling from his eyes, staring at you with pure devotion - a sea of affection, admiration, love, love, love.

Johnny nuzzles up to you like an animal seeking comfort, hides into your chest, right after he kisses your sweaty double chin, breathes in deeply, lets go of your soft shoulders only to grab two handfuls of your tummy, kneading it, warming up the stale blood, squeezing your big thighs between his and getting lost in the frenzy - he honestly doesn't even remember already that he was comforting you, he's fully in the worshipping mode, leaving you no chance to dip even a single toe into the self-conscious thoughts again.

You'll just have to stay there, every single tear lapped up from your face, and accept every greedy touch and word of a man utterly in love with you. Even the messed up parts.

Gaz keeps his cool despite how distraught even the thought of your sadness makes him. First of all he moves aside to give you space, makes sure you're not hurt, asking in his usual kind - unbelievably kind, so much that you burst into tears again, feeling undeserving of such unapologetically soft treatement, tone.

"Shh, shush, gorgeous, you're not hurt, are you? It's okay, c'mere, jus-st like tha', very good, love," praises keep spilling from his tender lips as he carefully helps you sit up, simply dragging you away from the damp from sweat and everything else spot on the sheets. He ends up balancing half his bare ass off the edge of the bed, but it doesn't bother him in the slightest as he feels you already coming back from that hopeless place as soon as your body gets stuck between clean, dry and a bit cool sheet and Kyle's firm lean body of a litearal god - or a prince, at least.

His deft fingers are already at work, massaging your scalp, chasing the tension away, but the second he feels you grow uncomfortable with the repetitive movement, he stops and retreats to simply holding you in a steady, reliant embrace. You know he's good with his words, that's how he got you, swept off your feet completely and made you swoon with sweet compliments, hilarious snark and smart talk.

You just don't expect him to do it all over again in the face of your burdened mind crumbling in the paradise.

"Talk to me, angel. Let me inside that pretty head, hm?"

It takes this sweettalker just a couple of words to coax whatever that ugly, slimy knot in your throat is, out. You sob, retelling Kyle every single thought that has been stuck in that coagulated mess in your head, spill the bile that has been burning your retching throat, out in the open, for him to see the disgusting ugliness of your insides - matching your outside.

Somehow throughout your choking trade his soft, careful hand never leaves your back, rubbing circles of different radius and intensity into your skin to keep the aggression at monotonous touch at bay.

"Must've been some terrible person to overbear your spirit and plant all those lies in your mind, angel." You don't catch the meaning of his words at first, glancing at him confused and whoozy after you exploded with self-deprication. Those dark, calm eyes look at you no different than before: quiet, calm reverence and determination. A thread of spider's silk, thin as a hair, but stronger than steel, his love does not waver. Were you in the right state to actually pay attention, you would've seen it only grow.

"Well, beautiful, this isn't how I planned to start writing poetry, but since you insisted... maybe I can think of a diss track about you."

"A diss track?.." Poor you, so upset that you can't catch onto the mischievous glint in his eyes and that silly smooth sarcasm slipping into his words. You're actually half a step away from believing he would diss you, destroying that already non-existent self-esteem once and for all.

"Yup. Gotta diss-tract you from all that bullshit in your head for good. Unless you'd rather me fuck it out of you instead?"

You cannot not smile at that, even if it's a weak, timid smile. Kyle's face still lights up as if he sees an actual angel, bringing the good grace or whatever.

"There ya go. First step of the mission? Success. Permission to continue? I repeat, permission to continue?"

"You spend too much time with Simon. Permission granted..."

Price undrstands what's going on before he even hears your first sob, the tension in your body and the change in your breath telling him all he needs to know. There's enough experience in this man for the both of you, he has learnt to read people and immediately accomodate them in a way that serves a common goal so long ago that it's a secong nature already.

Your comfort is that common goal.

With a grunt, he rolls you over, planting you firmly on top of his warm, burly body. Untucking your head from his hairy chest, he holds your face and does not let you concentrate on anything but his stern, focued gaze under those bushy eyebrows - but there's still that undeniable tenderness in his eyes that's always there whenever John looks at you.

His voice sounds usual too: a calm, commanding, but not harsh tone, not a loud bark any of his subordinates would hear, yet still an order. "Look at me, darling. Tha's right, look at me, look at your John. You shut whatever's going through that troubled mind of yours out and let me take care of the rest, a'right? Can you do that for me, darling? I know you can. I'll do all the thinking for ya, eh?"

Giving control over to him feels natural at any other moment, but right now you're too deep in the trenches of the war with your own mind, hissing at you with pure disgust for being so selfish. Really, now? Had to use this sweet, caring man for your own needs, and now you're dumping all your perverted, fucked up baggage on him too?

"Nuh-huh, ya're still thinking. Told ya to cut if off. You know that's not you thinking right now, dontcha? You're a smart one, love, ya know shit like this happens. And when shit happens, who are you going to to deal with it, huh?" His deep voice rumbles in his chest, seeps into your clogged ears, fills your skull with the unyielding determination and leaves no room for your own dark thoughts.

When you hesitate to answer, John slides his rough palms over your back, tracing your soft rolls and landing onto the pudge of your hips, squeezing lightly to remind you who's in charge and what your task is. "Who is there for ya to deal with shit that happens, hm, darling? Need ya to tell me."

You want to hide, escape his demand for an answer, but he keeps you firmly in his embrace, a gaze of steel unmoving from you. It almost makes you tear up again, almost feels mean of him to put you on the spot, when all you want to do is curl up in a dark corner and stay there for all eternity. But the love you have for this man overpowers even the seething hatred you bear for yourself, so you give up and murmur meekly: "You..."

"Tha's right, darling, it's your John. I'm here to deal with everything that bothers ya. Everything, ya hear? Tha's me job. Your job is to stay wit' me 'n' not overthink, eh? Especially not when it's just hormons making ya feel bad." You have nothing else left to do, other than sniffle into his chest and melt under a warm kiss he plants on your crown. "How about a cuppa, eh, darling? And something just as sweet as ya for a bite. Ya'll feel better in no time, I promise."

Ghost and Soap cancel each other's panicking out. As soon as both you and Simon slip out of the sweet afterglow, falling backwards each into your own pit of self-doubt and spiraling, Johnny starts babbling, terrified at the thought of both his beloved people feeling worse after being with him. His slurred, panting words and frantic kisses help Simon shake of his own horror - in return, he squeezes Johnny's shoulder to slow the worried mutt down and redirect his energy into helping you. Soap tenses up under the firm touch of his Lieutenant, then relaxes again, leaning into him for a moment to collect himself - they charge from each other, mere seconds of feeding off each other's energies in the middle of a time-limited mission with the highest stakes: your well-being.

They exchange glances, no words needed after the way their work together almost makes them mindreaders to each other, and turn back to you as you lay there, face painfully contorted in an attempt to keep the black foamy bile you feel rising in your throat from spilling. Slow, sticky, angry tears run down your flabby cheeks, and with each millimetre they go, your scalding wish to gouge your eyes out with your bare hands grows, just to punish yourself for being ungrateful after two perfect men spent so much of their time making you feel good.

"Dinnae cry, bonnie. Ye're a'right, ye're 'ere, wit' us. Right, LT? We're nae gonnae let ye marinate in whitevur got ye so upset." The pressure from inside your body that threatened to burst you open into a messy explosion of bile and rot, gets evened out from outside by Johnny's tight hug. He squeezes you up to the painful point, cradling against his broad chest, holding the fort while Simon leaves the bed, but not without kissing both your palms and holding them against his lips until he feels the cold leave your fingertips.

"Oi, Johnny. Help lovie get in 'ere," he calls out several minutes later out of the bathroom. Soap, who has been holding you and allowing you to sob against his heart this whole time, stroking your sweaty hair and murmuring every word of love he knows, scoops you up immediately. He pads over with you in his arms to where a warm bath is already filled thanks to Simon, and when you react to the temperature with another wave of tears, they both reach out to the tap simultaneously.

"Is tha' a'right, bonnie?" You make a strangled noise as Johnny finally sets you down into much cooler now water. It soothes you, makes you feel instantly cleaner, smaller, lighter. Breathing gets easier, that swollen blob of anger and disgust shrinking down in your chest and allowing you to inhale bathroom's damp air normally. You open your mouth to apologize and get cut off before even a single syllable leaves your mouth.

"Don't," Simon's voice sounds gruff, but even his murky reflection in the rippling water looks genuinely soft towards you. They're both perched on the cold bath edge, naked and seemingly not caring about that at all. "Jus' let us take care of you, yeah, love? Tha's what we're here for. Tha's what we want to do."

"Well, actually, there's one more thing," Johnny interjects, causing you to finally lift your sullenly lowered head and look at him, Simon's big palm using this moment of distraction to press onto your back in silent support. "Can Ah make ye a foam beard? Please, bonnie? Ye jus' 'ave the prettiest sweetest cheeks fur tha'."

Soap and Gaz feel like their world is sinking into a whirlwind of stormy clouds, the kind that sucks all light out of sky in mere seconds and can't be cut through even by blinding flashes of lightnings. There is no sun in their skies if you're not smiling, and the sound of your muffled sniffles hits their eardrums harder than thunder or explosions. The frowns distorting their faces only make you more self-aware of the fact that you ruined things between you - the initial hysteria starts rapidly flowing into complete shutdown, threatening to turn you into an emotionless shell for unknown period of time, when several warm, big hands intervene and cut the depressing trajectory down at its root.

"Damn, we did a shit job fucking all your thoughts out, didn't we, angel?" Kyle's joke sounds soft, teasing, but empathetic, ready to be met with sobs or silence instead of the usual laughter that flashes your teeth at him and makes his own smile grow brighter.

"Aye, we did. If anythin', Ah think we put more thoughts intae 'er instead," Johnny scratches his head dramatically, and then you feel his big, hot palm on you sweaty forehead, as if he's trying to get a feel of the thoughts inside your skull. It doesn't linger there for long, though, rough fidgety fingers digging into your hair and tugging at the roots. This makes the hot-and-cold collar around your nape unclench, uncouth and chaotic massage confidently pulling every ounce of anger out of your brain. From time to time his calloused palm slips lower, squeezing your scruff, wiping the cool sweat away and taking control over what seems to have escaped your own.

"How does it feel to be the first person to get knocked up mentally, love? Having any cravings yet? Feeling your brainworms kick yet?" Dry cotton comforter suddenly covers your exposed to be looked at with disdain body, and before you can choke out a protest and something about you being sweaty and sticky and disgusting, Kyle grips your shoulders firmly, rubbing up and down as he slowly helps you sit up a bit.

"Ye eejit, how dae ye think thay can kick? They're brainworms, thay dinnae hae any legs!" The sheer passion in Johnny's heated counterarguement does the impossible - makes the corners of your deeply upset mouth twitch against all the weight the sadness put on them. Your knights in shining (from all the sweat your lovemaking covered them with) armor of their own warm skin seem to not notice the slightest twitch of your lips - there's no excessive attention drawn to you, none of them puts you on the spot. Their touch isn't going anywhere, but it almost seems mindless, simply their need to have something soft and pleasant to squeeze in their restless hands. "'N' wasnae Mary th' first lassie tae get up th' duff through th' heid?"

"That wasn't mentally, that was spiritually, read your books, Soap," scoffs Kyle, as if it was the most obvious thing, and ducks just in time to avoid a pillow thrown at him with sniper's precision.

"Oi, ye sayin' Ah cannae read now?!" Whatever snarky retort Kyle was ready to shoot, gets wiped out as Johnny tackles him, barely avoiding pushing all three of you off the bed. Their scuffle consists of chokeholds and sneaky kisses, legs getting caught in the sheets and somehow tangling you into the mess too.

Until you laugh, finding yourself squished into Johnny's hairy chest with Kyle in a gently headlock somewhere under your arm.

"Hey, hey, careful, mate, our lovie's expecting, we can't just throw 'her 'em around!" However obvious that deflection is, Johnny reacts as if you were actually with child and grabs your face, boring his eyes into yours, slowly widening his two blue lochs in pretend horror.

"Och naw! Ah think we lost 'em, Ah cannae see nothin' there now!" Flushed after the playfight, you avert your gaze, still a trace of self-consciousness about yout outburst somewhere deep inside, but none of the "brainworms" that clogged your insides in sight indeed. Johnny's little drama earns him a soft nip on his thumb from you, and he smiles at you, clearly satisfied with the effect their little scheme had.

"Aw, damn, and here I was, ready to hear the pitter-patter of 'em little feet," Kyle's warm lips somehow find their way to kiss your temple, eliciting another shy giggle.

A pillow crashes onto both of you with the force of a small bombshell.

"THAY DINNAE HAE FEET, GARRICK, THAY'RE WORMS!"

Price and Gaz fall into their usual ways seamlessly, responsibilities and tasks split between the two seemingly without even any verbal communication. Clearing out the space around you with the same quick efficiency they clear out enemies with, they prop you up on some pillows, assess your condition in case they got carried away and hurt you, and finally settle on both sides of you, warm hands on your knees squeezing softly.

"Are ya gonna talk to us now, lovie? Or will we have to use interrogation tactics to learn what made our love so upset?" John's voice bears no trace of threat, but it still makes you cower and try to take up even less space that your curled up body already has, which earns you a sigh from the Captain. "I see. Take over from here, Sergeant. I expect results once I return."

The matress sighs with relief a Price's weight leaves it, bare feet padding a few steps before he reaches his slippers and leaves the room. The pit that the sound of your bedroom's door closing opens in your chest is crushing your ribcage with the iron fist of vacum. You can't blame John for not willing to deal with your bullshit, but the hearbreak only reenforces the choking smog in your head that's rasping in a hundred different voices that the only thing you deserve is pure repulsion.

Kyle's soft thumb pads wipe the tears teetering on the arrows of your lashes, and in a smooth movement you find your face cupped and pulled close to his shoulder. His smooth skin sticks to your wet cheek and you find yourself crying like a little kid, the unbearable pain of the revolting dark knots inside somehow replaced with surprisingly more bearable grief over what you consider an ending reltionship. Perhaps John leaving our bed finally shattered your heart, letting the ungodly pressure out and allowing it to beat - and bleed - again.

"We'd really like if ya talked to us, angel. Don't think Captain can stand there bare-ass naked much longer, might catch rheumatism at this point, he's not getting younger, you know..."

"I hope you know I can hear you perfecrly clear, Garrick." You stop mid-sniffle, eyes snapping to the closed door. You can finally see the shadow of a man standing just outside, and the air slowly feels with some flavour you can't distinguish through all the snot yet, but seem to like a lot...

"Good, so your hearing's still intact, sir. You're in good shape," Kyle's cheeky remark must've broken John's famous patience and restraint, because the bedroom door finally opens, and you see him there. With a tray with a whole bunch of tea mugs and little plates of treats balanced in his hands.

"Still not talking? Well, we'll try another method then, lovie. Sandwich for your thoughts, eh?"

His cheeks are round with a kind smile, confusing your tortured mind even further - Kyle uses your stupor to fetch John's big, slightly scratchy bathrobe, successfully wrapping you into a cocoon of grounding stimulation all over your feverish skin. With a huff and a grumble about staying butt-naked a bit longer, John puts a pleasantly warm mug into your hands and looks at you, arms crossed and tucked into his armpits now that he got rid of the tray.

Expecting an answer.

"'M sorry..." seems appropriate right up to the moment when a little finger-sandwich gets shoved into your mouth. The bread is soft, nice, salty ham and crunchy cucumber filling your senses and cracking a bit fat line of light right in the middle of the dense cloud in your thoughts.

"Try again, love," Kyle gives a hint and wipes a crumb off your lips, licking it off his thumb. "We don't need an apology, we just want to know what's troubling ya. John, tell 'em."

"Already did," grumbles Price in response and clears his throat, sitting back down on the creaking bed. "Food's working though. Eat up, darling, get your energy. Then we'll talk properly, a'right?"

You chew slowly, still stiff in your own body, but regaining control gradually. Yes. Then you'll talk.

Ghost and Price exchange a single glance over your from, choking on the self-destructive rage, and John shakes his head so slightly that one can barely notice, but it's clear enough to stop Simon from tumbling down the traumatic spiral staircase of his own. Grounded by his Captain's presence, he shrugs his broad shoulders, shaking off the creeping up feeling of his own monsterous nature, and rolls onto his back, pulling you out of the miserable wet ball of wrinkled sheets and onto his firm lap, sideways, his big palms resting comfortably around your hips; he's not squeezing or digging his fingers into the fat like he usually does, but it's a secure hug you can't really escape.

Exposed held too far away from his chest you could hide on, you shrink, rising your shoulders protectively and trying to cover up your soft belly, spilling over your pelvis in a shapless manner - that's when John's arms come from behind, catching yours and instead of pulling away forcefully, simply repeating your own safety cocoon, hiding your body from your distorted sight and keeping you warm.

"You're not thinking straight right now, darling," every phrase he murmurs gently, calmly, convincingly into your ear is accompanied by a little kiss, beard tickling and burning your already irritated by tears skin. "So good for us, so kind. Can you spare some of that kindness for yourself?"

Even though it doesn't sound like a rhethorical question, Simon cups your cheek and shushes you tenderly, pressing his thumb to your lips, allowing John to continue with his little speech aimed to dispel the storm coagulated in your chest.

"'Cos if not, it's a'right, love. We know it's hard, and ya're doing good already. Ya 'ave us, eh? To love ya, to cherish ya. No need to overthink, jus' let us hold you, a'right?"

He finally pushes you onto Simon's chest, his big heart stuttering with worry as you seek shelter among his many scars that paint a horrifying picture once you put all the fragments together.

"How'd you do that, sir?" Simon's voice sounds vulnerable - so much that it strikes through all the layers of your egocentric self-hatred and shifts you almost immeditely into a completely different mindset; one where you throw your whole self into loving your scarred and battle-worn men in such abundance that it's ought to compensate for all the unfairness they've gone through.

There's no need for it now, you realize a little too late: Price is there, keeping Simon away from the darkness. They're fine. Better than ever. It's a distraction, a trick, a play to make your bleeding heart stop the internal self-destruction and turn to healing.

A sly little switch you're not sure they were planning to flip, but it worked.

"Hm?" As if emerging from the depths of his thoughts in response to Simon's question, John caresses your cheek as gently as his rough thumb can and then smiles, maybe catching onto the change in your mood or simply remembering all the times he pulled Ghost out of the same gloom and darkness. "Jus' taking care of me own, Simon. Tha's what a Captain does, no? Now, love, how about a shower? I reckon we can squeeze in all together and papmer you really good, what do ya say, eh?"

Ghost and Gaz manage to keep their cool. Kyle's confident and gentle presence serves to reassure any doubts Simon has about hurting you, he shoots a single glance at his sergeant and recieves support immediately. Two pair of hands cradle you with all the tenderness two soldiers are capable of, which is always enough to drown you in fully. It's a tight hug, a hot mess of limbs, too much skin on skin contact that makes your brain flare with undirected rage, but as seconds trickle by and you're still trapped between two firm bodies, you have no choice but to slip into the exhaustion phase of your outburst.

It's not pleasant, nor could you say you feel calm; if anything, you just petrify, a permanent frown on your face and blindly staring forward glass eyes. You're tired, you'd still rather be anywhere but inside your own body that still feels like a useless deformed bag that should be gutted and emptied to lighten up, inner layer of your skin scrubbed with a knife to peel off the suffocating thickness of fat trapping this heated rage inside...

Instead, you get a kiss.

It's Kyle, soft, full lips touching your wet with tears cheekbone, then again - your temple, your cheek, the overheated spot behind your ear. They're light, soft kisses, too gentle to be playful or arousing. Calming. They do not demand anything in return - he allows you to stay in your inner world where you feel secure, even pauses to kiss Simon the same way right in front of your eyes. A silent demonstrationg of the love and reverence these pecks carry, Simon's hooded eyes fluttering shut as if his own compartmentalized demons get exorcised by Garrick's touch.

"Wanna talk about it, angel?" Kyle's voice rumbles at a nice, grounding, smooth timbre, and your still-too-slow mind struggles to grasp how is it possible that he's talking and you're still getting kisses - until you recognize the uneven texture of Simon's scarred lips, trailing along your skin tenderly. "Whenever you're ready, love. But we would love to know what's going through your head right now."

It feels strange to say it out lound when you're held and caressed like this, but their kisses and solid embrace cleared your windpipe enough of the mental gunk for you to be able to speak.

"I hate myself... 'M disgusting, and-" A displeased grumbling kiss from Simon interrupts you, and even Kyle pushes his huge shoulder to reprimand his own Lieutenant for the interference. Kisses his temple immediately to make amends, though, and turns back to you, prompting you to continue.

"Wot? Don't like when someone talks shit 'bout mine," grumbles Simon like a dog that got flicked on the nose for growling at welcome guests.

"Let 'em talk, mate, it's good to get things off your chest." At least their little bickering coaxes a tiniest hint of smile out of you, and Simon, noticing it immediately, stares back at Kyle with such pride, as if he just did something great.

The thing is, in the way his arms squeeze you a tad bit tighter, pressing into his firm body, you can read that for him - your smile is the greatest achievement.

"Don't tell me you prefer his silent treatement, angel, I'm trying to be the attentive boyfriend here, and for what?" Your smile grows a little braver. A little brighter. You would've kept talking if you could remember what it was that hurt so fucking much in your chest.

"Shower. Then a cuppa. Then we have the talk." No one dares to argue with the Ghost and his gruff commands. You feel the sheet sticking to your skin as he lifts you up, Kyle already sneaking off to prepare towels and clean clothes for you three. He'll stay with you and help you wash the remaints of the mind attack off. Simon will make fresh tea.

You're going to be alright.

Price and Soap take quite an intense approach the second they notice your distress. You feel Johnny's weight disappear from you after the first strangled sob that escapes you, and if you could open your eyes glued shut by the hot, messy tears, you would see John practically dragging the poor Sergeant away by his scruff. It's easy to suspect that Johnny couldn't contain himself and went too hard, too rough on you - with no malice, but pure passion that's spilling from his big, hot heart every time he gets to be close to you.

But it's not Johnny's fault, neither is it John's. It's all you, a useless, pathetic thing, good for nothing and holding two gorgeous men to yourself like a greedy glutton hoarding delicious food.

"Ah'm sorry, bonnie- ow, Ah got it, Ah got it, Ah'm not touchin'!"

"Did we hurt ya, love? Was Johnny boy too rough wit' ya? Wha's wrong?"

You feel big warm hands gliding over your skin, quick assessment of your state in search of potential harm caused. This immediate care only makes you feel worse, every cold sweaty patch of your disgusting hide shivering and twitching under Captain's careful touch. You struggle against your own spiraling anger, fight it with what's left of your exhausted resilience - and lose, curling up with another burst of tears, shoving the loving hands away and dusting the lingering warmth off your body.

After all, you do not deserve to be treated with such kindness after the fit you just threw.

"No, no, no, it's not his fault, it's not Johnny's... it's me, it's my fault, it's all my fault, I ruin everything, I'm- I'm disgusting!"

The silence that follows you blowing up on them is heavy. Just as bad as the knot in your chest.

"Johnny."

When you open your eyes to find a way out, run away, scatter and hide in the furthest corner of the apartment until everyone who tried caring for you leaves again, you're met with Johnny's bright blue eyes, glistening with unshed tears.

It's a shocking sight, pushing you out of the muffled misery into an alerted worry - his face is red with unexplainable pained anger, fists clenched as John holds him tightly by hunched shouders, seemingly trying to prevent a violent outburst.

"Ah wanntae ken names of th' bastarts who made ye feelin' tis wa'. Ah swear Ah will mak' thaim fuckin' choke oan thair ain tongues, Ah'll rip thair spines oot 'n' shove thaim up thair-" - "Enough, Johnny. Stand down. This won't solve anythin'. Ya calm down and help our lovie feel better, a'right?"

Still a bit shells-hocked, you stir on the bedsheets and push yourself up to sit upright, stretching your arms hesitantly to the men in a weak attempt to remedy whatever shitstorm you caused in their minds.

"Don't get mad, please," you whisper sheepishly, and the shy sound of your still choked voice seems to wash Johnny's explosive anger away better than the firm grip of his handler's (Price's) hands. With a look of a beaten dog, Johnny huffs loudly, cuddlng up to you and hiding his face in your lap. His heavy jaw sinks in the plush of your thighs, accomodated nicely with the softness of your body.

"'M nae mad at ye, leannan. Jus' dinnae say tha' again, a'right, bonnie? If ye need me tae prove ye-"

"No..." your hand finds it place in his damp mohawk and brushes through, while you glance at John. His eyes are shimmering with love and love only as he looks at you and Johnny, and you feel a wave of shyness - the good, giddy, warm kind - replacing the paralyzing shame. "I'm fine already. With you."

"Maybe we should 'ave a little chat 'bout it, love," John's hand meets yours on the sad mutt's head in your lap, intertwinig fingers with you through Johnny's soft hair. "When ya feel better. Jus' so we know what we're dealing with, eh?"

"Yeah. A bit later. Thank you."

All four of your men get frozen witnessing your reaction, struck with a horrifying sense of helplessness - it feels like the biggest failure among many unsuccessful missions, operations where lives were lost and enemies missed, to have you curling up and crying in misery between all the love they've been pouring onto you just mere seconds ago. As if everything they touch is bound to go up in flames, drown in blood and rot, be it on the outside or from the inside.

They're lost, and as always, they turn to the Captain, giving themselves up for him to direct, trusting that he knows better what use they can be of.

And, frankly, he does.

They're barely talking, but the commotion around you is decipherable even through the red mind fog and closed eyes - it honestly only makes you feel worse, unsafe, exposed, despite that simply being Soap, sent off to fill a bath ("Ye want it hot or a tad bit cool, bonnie?" - Silence. Your nails dig into your scalp, the soud of someone simply breathing, even more so talking to you, sending you into a new fit of rage. "Make it warm, Johnny, we'll adjust later."), and Simon, leaving for tea duty - silently, your favourite way to have it attentively observed in the first two weeks you've been together and memorized ever since.

It's Kyle whose voice, murmuring into your ear sweet, reassuring nothings as he keeps you caged in a tight embrace, your back pressed against his warm chest, forces you out of the highly irritable state. You have no choice between his short, chaste kisses on the crown of your overloaded head, and John's calloused hands massaging your calves, soft flesh dipping under the firm pressure.

"Ya jus' focus on fighting tha' storm off, a'right, darling? We'll take care of th' rest. It happens, we know it does, 's not your fault. Jus' a funny lil' thing your mind does, eh? Yeah, love, we know wha' it's like when your mind does funny things. Don't we, Kyle?"

"That we do." Maybe it's just your own depressive state rubbing off on them or distorting your perception, but Kyle's voice sounds almost solemn. You would turn to look into the smoky quartz of his eyes, but either he holds you too tight, or you have barely any strength left in your upset body - you simply can't.

Maybe it's alright. Maybe tonight they don't need you ripping your heart out to tend to their restless minds, and you can just allow them to take care of you.

Allow Kyle to carry you to the bathroom.

Allow John to stay there and help you wash yourself with a nice, scrubby loofah.

Allow Johnny to bring in his huge, baggy loungewear that doesn't hug your curves too snugly and allows you to simply forget what you were so angry about for a while.

Allow Simon to serve you perfect temperature tea in your favourite mug and keep you quiet company on the balcony, night air cooling your wet and clean now skin and hair further and blowing all thoughts out of your troubled head away.

As you share a cigarette with rich clove aftertaste, breathing ironically becomes easier. Behind your back the bedsheets are being changed, proper meal is being cooked, a good movie you won't be upset falling asleep to is being chosen.

"Simon." - "Hm." - "You sure you're okay with me being like that?" - "Standin' in the wind with your hair wet, tryin' to catch a cold?"

You grunt, not appreciating him taking the piss while you're tryig to be vulnerable, but allow him to pull the hood of Johnny's hoodie onto your head.

"No. I mean, fucked up in the head?"

You don't actually know what answer you expect. With an unreadable expression, Simon turns his head, looking through the glass door at the men crowded in the living room and waiting for you, and then stares back at you with a smirk, a permanent scowl carved into it by someone's cruel hand.

"Nah. Tha's how I like 'em."

He throws the cigarette butt away and chuckles, cupping the back of your head and pulling you inside, into the warmth of home.

"Oi, bonnie! C'mere, As saved ye a spot." There is no spot as you look at the two-story cuddle pile on the sofa and the blanket nest in front of it, unless of course... ah, yes, Johnny's patting his lap. "Ah promise Ah'll behave. Mostly."

And as his warmth envelops you through a big hug, his hands clenched humbly on your belly and behaving indeed, you feel stupidly happy.

Because you're enjoying touch again.

[rosenclaws]

Rewatching Someone Like You and here to ask for any thoughts you may have on giggly sex with Eddie 🥰🥰

Giggly sex with Eddie

warnings: MINORS DNI!! fem!reader.

a/n: Just thinking about this as he me all warm and fuzzy inside lol

I think once you and Eddie have established your relationship not much changes other than him being more open to getting close to you. To being intimate.

But he's still the sweet and slighty cocky guy you've always known. He's a tease but he can have fun too. He's not always super serious with sex and the most important thing for him is that you're comfortable.

So maybe it starts out with you guys being flirty and slightly tipsy. He's taken you to his favorite bar, you know the one with bras hanging on the wall. You gave him a look when you first walked in and he just shrugged. Telling you that if you want he can hang one of your bras on the his wall too.

Anyways you're drinking a little and he's ramping up the flirting even though you're already together, he just can't help it. He loves seeing you smile and get all flustered.

He pulls the cheesy line of "Wanna get out of here?" and you roll your eyes. As if you don't live together.

The walk back to your apartment is all him sneaking kisses and grabbing your ass playfully. When you finally get back to your place he's already undressing you. Kissing you as he strips yours and his clothes off.

Your laughing and kissing and you can barely make it to the bed. Its fun and sweet and Eddie is just all smiles.

He slips his fingers into you, grinning as your laughs get caught in your throat, moans replacing them and they sound even sweeter. Your arms are wrapped around him.

He's making teasing comments until he makes you come hard around his fingers. He wastes no time in sliding his cock into you. Kissing your shoulder as he pounds into you.

Look he's pretty wrapped up in what he's doing and you're mind is pretty much melted by then that neither of you really notice that you're slowly moving off the bed. Until you fall off.

Eddie turns to take the fall and you fall right on top of him. The first thing he does is make sure your okay and then the laughs come. I mean how could you not laugh. You rest your forehead against your chest as the giggles take over.

Tangled in the sheets and in each others arms. You're just happy. Eddie's happy. You're both just happy. He presses a kiss to your forehead and whispers that he loves you.

Eventually you get back on the bed and finish what you started. Giggles and all.

[tinytinyblogs]

Welcome To The Team!

Skz has a new member and they trying to get close to you, too.

Hyung line, Maknae line

💬Thank you for taking the time to read this and provide feedback. It truly makes me happy!

Stray kids masterlist

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Han

When you first met Han, he didn’t reveal much of himself—just a casual, polite greeting that didn’t give away much about his personality. He seemed quiet, reserved, and someone who doesn’t speak unless he really feels comfortable. It became clear that he’s the kind of person who only really opens up to people he’s close with, which made your initial conversations a bit limited. He didn’t talk much, but even so, there was something about his presence that told you he was trying. You could sense that despite the awkwardness, he genuinely wanted to connect with you, even if words didn’t come easily at first. It was subtle—small efforts, little glances, or brief comments that let you know he was pushing himself to bridge that gap. With time, that initial awkwardness began to fade, and your interactions started to flow more naturally. Slowly but surely, Han’s quiet exterior gave way to a different side of him. He casually asked, "That's pretty cool, where did you get it?" Though his comment seemed unnecessary at first, it somehow sparked a longer conversation.

Before you knew it, the two of you had fallen into a comfortable back-and-forth, and the initial awkwardness disappeared as you got more relaxed. As he grew more comfortable, his personality started to shine through. He became more open, and what once felt like small talk evolved into real conversations. You noticed him becoming more bubbly, playful, and even a little cute around you. It was as though his walls were coming down, and in place of the quiet, reserved Han you first met, was someone who felt at ease with you, allowing his true self to emerge. The transformation was subtle yet undeniable, and it made the connection between you feel even more special. Once the two of you became close, he wasn’t shy about giving you that adorable, warm smile of his. It was something you began to look forward to, as if it was his way of letting you know he felt comfortable around you. He had this ease about him, the way he could talk for hours about anything and everything, just because he genuinely enjoyed being in your company.

He often said that your presence made him feel at peace, like he didn’t have to put up any walls, and in return, he did his best to make you feel just as at ease when he was around. One thing you noticed about him was that he was always considerate in his own playful way. It wasn’t just the words he said but how he said them, with that lighthearted tone that put you at ease. Like that one time when the weather turned chilly, and he noticed you rubbing your arms to keep warm. Without a second thought, he took off his jacket, holding it out to you with that same playful grin you’d come to adore. "Here, wear my jacket—I don't want you freezing to death," he joked, his tone teasing but his actions showing how much he cared. He wasn’t just looking after you; he was trying to make sure you felt as comfortable and safe with him as he did with you, creating this effortless sense of connection that seemed to deepen each time you were together.

Felix

From the very first moment you meet Felix, there's an undeniable warmth in the air, making the encounter feel comfortable and inviting. Felix, with his naturally kind and gentle demeanor, immediately exudes a sweetness that draws you in, making you feel at ease from the start. His friendly smile and genuine interest in getting to know you create a welcoming environment where conversation seems to flow effortlessly. Rather than simply exchanging pleasantries, Felix takes the time to ask thoughtful questions, clearly curious and eager to learn more about you, the new person he's just met. His curiosity is both sincere and endearing, as he engages deeply with every response you give, showing a real interest in what you have to say. There's an ease in the way he interacts, almost as if he's trying to find those little details that will help form a connection. He’s incredibly perceptive, so if he sensed even a hint of discomfort or shyness, he’d make sure to gently guide the interaction to help the new member feel more relaxed. He’d ask them about themselves—not in an overwhelming way, but with genuine curiosity—wanting to know about their interests, what brought them to the group, and how they were adjusting to everything so far.

As you grow closer to Felix, everything about him seems even more endearing. The little things he does that might have gone unnoticed before now feel irresistibly cute. One of the moments that never fails to make your heart flutter is when he spots you from afar. His face lights up the moment he sees you, and without hesitation, he flashes that beautiful, genuine smile of his, the one that seems to light up everything around him. He waves enthusiastically, his happiness at seeing you completely unfiltered, like a burst of joy that radiates from him "How's my favorite person doing today?" he asks playfully as he gently pokes your nose. It’s not just the way he greets you that makes him special, but also the way he opens up as you get to know each other better. Felix becomes more expressive, sharing stories, thoughts, and little details about his life with an infectious energy. It's as if, with you, he feels completely at ease, able to let down any guard and reveal his softer, more vulnerable side.

He talks non-stop, eagerly sharing his passions, dreams, and even his quirks, as if you’ve become someone he can trust implicitly. The way he shares so openly and honestly makes you feel like you’re seeing a side of him that not everyone gets to see—his softer, more delicate side that makes him all the more lovable. His openness is a clear reflection of how special your bond has become, a silent acknowledgment of the trust that’s blossomed between you. With each passing moment spent together, Felix has a way of making you feel not just cherished, but truly valued in a way that feels effortless and sincere. Whether it’s the way his eyes soften when he looks at you, as if you’re the only person in the room, or the way he constantly shares his thoughts, emotions, and stories without hesitation, there's something deeply intimate about his presence. Everything he does seems to radiate with a certain warmth, as though being around you brings out a softer, more open version of himself.

Seungmin

Seungmin might initially come across as a bit reserved when meeting the new member for the first time. He’s the type of person who prefers to observe from a distance, taking his time to assess how someone fits into the group dynamic before fully engaging. His cautious nature doesn’t stem from being cold or uninterested; rather, Seungmin is thoughtful and meticulous, wanting to ensure he understands the new member's personality and how they might gel with everyone else before diving in. He watches interactions closely, paying attention to the subtle ways they navigate conversations and how they handle the newness of the situation. During this initial period, Seungmin wouldn’t be the one to immediately rush over with jokes or questions. Instead, he’d offer a polite greeting, maybe exchange a few casual words, and then step back to observe. It might seem like he’s holding back, but in reality, Seungmin is taking mental notes, figuring out how to approach the new member in a way that feels genuine and natural for both of them.

He’s not one to force interactions or engage in small talk unless he truly feels comfortable, and he gives others the space to adjust at their own pace, just as he does. However, once Seungmin begins to get a better sense of who the new member is, especially if he notices that they have a good sense of humor or a playful side, his more fun-loving personality would start to emerge. Seungmin is known for his dry wit and clever remarks, and he enjoys a good laugh, particularly when someone can match his humor. If the new member shows that they can keep up with his banter, Seungmin would quickly become more open, gradually showing his playful and teasing side. His jokes might start off subtle, but as he gets more comfortable, you’ll notice that he’s got a sharp sense of humor, often slipping in witty comments or playful teasing when you least expect it. If the new member engages with his humor, Seungmin would be more than happy to continue the back-and-forth, forming a bond through this shared sense of playfulness. His jokes might sometimes catch you off guard, delivered with a straight face that makes you question whether he’s being serious or not, but that’s part of the fun with Seungmin.

Seungmin wasn’t exaggerating when he mentioned how carefully he takes notes on everything. His memory is sharp, and he effortlessly recalls even the smallest details, whether about himself or those around him. He has a quiet, observant nature that allows him to notice things others might miss, especially when it comes to you. While he may not always show it outwardly, Seungmin silently watches you with a careful eye, picking up on your habits and quirks, even the ones you aren’t aware of. He knows you tend to misplace things often, so he’s already mentally prepared to help when something goes missing. He’s also aware of the tasks you frequently forget to complete, remembering them without needing reminders. It’s almost like he’s keeping a quiet checklist in the back of his mind, not because he wants to point out your flaws, but because he genuinely cares and wants to support you. "I might need to start attaching your phone to you soon," he says with a playful smile as he hands you the phone you left on the kitchen table.

Jeongin

Jeongin tends to be a little shy when you first meet him, often keeping to himself. He’s not the type to initiate conversation right away, usually offering just a soft "hi" or a quick greeting before retreating into quiet observation. It's not that he’s unfriendly, but rather that he prefers to take his time before engaging with people, feeling out the atmosphere. As he sits back and watches, you might catch his gaze drifting towards you more often than not. His eyes will linger, almost as if he's studying you, scanning you in his mind. It’s subtle, not in an intimidating way, but more because he’s genuinely curious about you. He wants to understand who you are before he opens up fully, and watching from a distance helps him piece together the details. His quiet demeanor, coupled with those frequent glances, makes you wonder what exactly he's thinking, as he takes everything in with quiet interest. Though he may not say much at first, his curiosity is clear, and you get the feeling that once he feels more comfortable, he’ll have a lot more to say.

As time passes, Jeongin's curiosity about you only grows deeper with each passing day. At first, he remains quietly observant, content with listening to the things you talk about, the way you express your thoughts, and the subjects that seem to occupy your mind. He becomes increasingly attuned to the details of your conversations, noting what excites or intrigues you, and the subtle emotions behind your words. It's as if he's slowly piecing together a more complete picture of who you are. Then, at just the right moment, when he feels the timing is perfect, he finally steps in to join the conversation. It’s subtle at first—he’ll start with a small comment, carefully weaving his way into the discussion, showing that he’s been paying close attention all along. As the days go by, his contributions become more frequent and thoughtful, revealing the depth of his growing interest in who you are and what you care about. His once quiet presence turns into something more meaningful, as he becomes increasingly eager to engage with you on a deeper level, no longer content with simply watching from the sidelines.

As you and Jeongin grow closer, his thoughtful nature becomes increasingly apparent. He always seems to be looking out for you in subtle but meaningful ways. Whenever he gets something to eat or drink, his eyes naturally land on you first, checking if you’re comfortable "Want some? It's not too spicy, you should eat something. Let's share," he said with a gentle smile.. Without fail, he’ll ask if you want something as well, or sometimes, he’ll even offer you a bite, gently feeding you with a playful smile. His attentiveness feels effortless, as if caring for you has become second nature. What makes these moments even more special is the way he looks at you. His gaze is soft and full of warmth, like you’re the most important person in the room. It’s clear that he’s always aware of you, even in the smallest details. And when you catch his eye and smile back, he smiles too, his expression lighting up as if your happiness brings him joy. Through these little acts of care, it’s clear that Jeongin’s affection for you runs deep, showing just how much you truly mean to him.

[shirayuricky]

(oh you sound so busy 😓 and a month is so close omg may uni be take it easy with you, fighting!! i'll look foward to it then I'm sure it will be so good 🥹)

fluff but hard thoughts (???)

this one is REALLY long .. i'm sorry !!

well, it's so embarrassing and a bit weird / cringey actually but i thought about it out of sudden and can't get it off my head pls help (pleasee ignore this if u don't like it im so embarrassed so i apologize if u think it's too weird 😅

rlly ah why i thought abt it 🫠

this is abt gunwookie btw i love him smmm

for reference i wanted to add those pictures of him wearing that snorlax onesie but i don't know why i can't add images here

reader lives alone on her apartment so she's always spending her free time doing the things that makes her happy. she rlly enjoys having these self-healing times but still feels kinda lonely sometimes, that's when she ends up falling asleep cuddling her GIANT teddy bear she got on one of that big claw machines. only when she feels lonely, she tells herself. she is good on her own... but who is she lying to? she hugs that bear so tightly every single night, that's her best friend. she didn't got close to anybody at college and the routine is tough, that fluffy bear is the only one that always hear the feelings she holds deep down her heart and she feels comforted by that she even named him and takes it all around the house, when she's watching movies, cooking and baking or just being. one night she got so worked up after watching a romance movie with unexpected hot scenes that she just couldn't sleep thinking about it. suddenly she felt her body heat up while still holding tight to her bear cause she thought hugging him again would help her sleep faster even tho it didn't. instead, she started slowing grinding on it searching for some kind of relief. when she realized she was whimpering against the bear's soft cheeks and couldn't stop riding it so she started crying she felt so needy, sad and hopeless at the same time. she felt asleep bc of all the crying and her heart breaking she just wished her teddy bear could hug her back and take care of her.

deep in her sleep she felt a really soft touch, caressing her thighs, her waist and then hear face. she tought it was a dream, but when she felt a small kiss on her cheek she woke up to the sight of the prettiest guy she's ever seen and he was smiling so prettily and sweet but still he was a stranger, obviously she would scream. her high pitched scream almost broke the cute boy's heart. why was she screaming like this after telling him i love you every night. he was teary-eyed.

"WHO TF ARE YOU? HOW DID YOU GOT IN MY ROOM YOU PERV?" she was freaking out, who wouldn't though? she was so disturbed by the vision of a unknown -tall as hell- man IN HER BED wearing fcking bear pajamas. who is tryna prank her?

he tilted his head to the side in confusion and said "it's me gunwookie"

she blinked like five times before widening her eyes and again asking herself if this is a prank, how could it be, no one knows about her shameful friendship with a teddy bear, so how could he knows the name of it? he must be a stalker.

"what are your intentions? why are you... stalking me? how do you know me?"

and he looked even more confused than her

"i just wanna take care of you, i love you so much too, it was you who brought me here and I'm so thankful that you treat me so well" he smiled again

something sparked on her brain and she looked around her room searching for the giant teddy bear until she noticed he was there anymore... it can't be...?

"wait... are you my wookie bear? what am i saying? that's impossible..."

he just nodded his head and smiled again

"are you for real??" and gunwook confirmed but seconds later his smile dropped

"why were you crying earlier? i got so worried" and he pouted sadly

oh so he is really my bear, she thought

"I was feeling too sad and lonely gunwookie :( that's why"

"is there something i can do to make you better?" he asked and she just jumped on him giving the biggest hug ever, she needed that

"just stay here with me please gunwookie"

"okay i won't go anywhere" and he hugged her back

after a moment he speaked up again "I'm so sorry"

"why are you saying that, wookie?"

"did i hurt you? you were near me doing those sounds and then you started crying, i don't really understand what happened.. it sounded like you were in pain.. did i do something wrong? please explain me and i promised i will apologize properly to you and repair any mistake"

oh this is gonna be a really long night

(oh 🍄 anon my tests for this week has ended and now i'm back to this. and i got your back! i found some pics of gunwook in a snorlax hoodie. if you're in anon, you can't share images, just links!)

so continuing on from where we left, you explained that you are not in pain, just desperate for pleasure. gunwook seems a bit clueless but when he gets what you're trying to mean, his cheeks blush in pink. he lets you take the lead, he doesn't want to hurt you. he just wanted you to feel satisfied in your sleep.

you ride his cock, bouncing up and down, as you interlocked both of your hands together with his hands. and his blush just gets more pink. he's getting flustered from the pleasure, sweet and soft moans spilling out of his lips.

after the both of you cummed, you tidied yourself up and gave gunwook a simple aftercare, solely made of cuddles. "sorry for that, i was just...needy." you apologised. "y/n, that's alright, at least you're...happy now." gunwook responded, wrapping his arms around you.

[oliversrarebooks]

a good grade in being brainwashed: the perfect pet

tw: pet whump, bbu, dehumanization, brainwashing, memory wipe

Previous > Masterlist

"You need more than good looks to get the lead part, you know," said Toby, casually coming up behind Vinay and leaning against his chair. "That's why they'll undoubtedly go with me. No hard feelings. If you're very lucky, though, you'll get to play a supporting role in helping my star shine that much brighter."

Vinay suppressed the urge to point out that it was Toby who convinced him to sign up for theater in the first place, knowing full well that he was the idiot who let Toby talk him into things. "I'll have you know I've been practicing for this audition all week. You shouldn't assume it will be easy."

Toby sighed and rolled his eyes. "You've been practicing all week and yet you're still so stiff. Stiff as a board!" He shook Vinay lightly as if to make a point. "The lead role isn't stiff. He's adventurous. Dashing! Charismatic! And right now you look like a tired accountant three years from retiring, whose idea of adventure is to buy medium salsa instead of mild."

He scowled, because unfortunately Toby was probably right. He wasn't sure he was cut out for acting at all, and the thought of going up on the stage and delivering his monologue before a judging panel… "What do you suggest, then?"

"Here, I've got it." Toby circled around behind him and put his hands on Vinay's shoulders. "You have to let your muscles relax."

"What are you doing?" said Vinay with considerable alarm.

"I'm helping with your stiffness, obviously." Toby was kneading at his shoulders, and unfortunately for Vinay's resolve, it felt amazing.

"You're just trying to get a rise out of me."

"And even though you know that, it's still working."

Of course it was. Vinay never knew what Toby was thinking, giving him a massage in front of everyone gathered for the audition, not that anyone was really noticing.

Actually, no. Vinay knew exactly what Toby was thinking, because it was what Toby was always thinking. He wanted attention, and as usual, Vinay was a convenient source for it.

"Let all that tension out of those muscles," said Toby in a tone that might have been soothing if it weren't Toby. "Just let your mind go blank. And think about what it would be like if you weren't terminally boring."

"Thanks," said Vinay, dripping with sarcasm. "I'll do my best."

"You're so very welcome. I'm always happy to help a fellow thespian!"

Vinay knew he had to do something to take his mind off of warm hands on his shoulders, lest he start to get uncomfortable feelings for his irritating roommate. "I wanted to ask you, have you studied for organic chem yet?"

"Eh, nah. I don't need to. I see organic chem as more of an art than a science really."

"…It's very literally a science."

"So I can probably intuit all the answers. I'll be fine."

That's right, Vinay needed this reminder of how absolutely infuriating Toby could be. He didn't take anything seriously but acting and inflating his ego -- although Vinay suspected there was more going on there, a lot more.

Ever since the very first day they'd been paired together in the dorms, he had an uncanny knack for getting on Vinay's nerves. He seemed to have a supernatural ability for pushing Vinay's buttons just enough to drive him up the wall, but never quite enough that Vinay could truly dislike him. Whenever Vinay wanted peace and quiet, there he'd be, demanding attention. And whenever Vinay was lonely… well, he'd usually be there too. And perhaps that wasn't so terrible.

"You should really study after this. I'll help you."

"Hmm… I suppose I could help you study, if you really want me to. But only if we order Chinese. I can't study on an empty stomach, you know."

"Fine. Deal."

The auditorium went quiet as the director got up on stage. "All right, we're going to begin auditions. Everyone auditioning for the male lead, please head backstage now. When your name is called, you'll have five minutes to deliver your monologue."

"Oh, here we go!" said Toby, cracking his knuckles and grinning. "Time to shine!"

"Right." Vinay tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach as he followed Toby backstage. He probably wasn't going first, so at least he'd have five minutes to take some deep breaths and calm down before --

"Vinay? You're up first."

Shit.

"Knock 'em dead," said Toby, clapping him on the back. "Break a leg. Break both your legs."

"What?"

"Shatter your collarbone. Suffer third degree burns to over sixty percent of your body."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Well, if breaking your leg is lucky, more injuries must be extra luck."

Vinay groaned and brushed Toby off as he walked out onto stage with a stride he hoped was confident. He turned to the front and looked at the director.

And his mind went immediately blank.

---

Vinay's mind went immediately blank when he saw the discount pet in the case in the corner, B211.

Toby. It was Toby. But that wasn't possible.

He looked so different from the last time Vinay had seen him. His hair was neatly done and he was wearing a tailored uniform, nothing at all like the tousled hair and loud colors he'd normally preferred. But the most striking thing about him was the smile. It was no longer that cocky grin he always wore when he'd gotten your attention. It was a customer service smile, a meek and submissive smile, a smile tinged with desperation.

But it was Toby. Even though that didn't seem possible, there was no mistake.

"Oh, I wouldn't recommend that one," said the salesman. "He's a bit more high maintenance than our other Romantics, and you're looking for a pet that's very independent, right?"

Vinay nodded and let the salesman lead him away to a different pet on display, but his mind remained behind.

How the hell did Toby end up as a pet? Vinay had spent so much time with him in college and never suspected that he might be a pet. Sure, he struggled with his grades, and was a bit on the unstable side, but surely that didn't mean he was a pet. Had he signed up voluntarily? Had he gotten himself in trouble, the sort of trouble that got him designated a risk to himself? Did he have a nervous breakdown?

And did he remember Vinay? No, he couldn't possibly. Pets all had their former memories erased through what was said to be a very humane process, to ease their transition into a better life. Toby likely didn't remember anything at all about him.

And that thought made him slightly ill.

"I can tell this one's not to your liking," said the salesman, and Vinay realized he'd been making a disgusted look in the vague direction of the pet the salesman was showing off. "Well, I think you're going to like this pet. He's low maintenance and is trained to cook…"

"That sounds interesting," said Vinay, trying to regain his focus.

He'd come here to find a companion pet on the recommendation of his therapist. His job left him with plenty of money but even more stress, he'd had little luck with making friends or dating, and he'd been getting desperately lonely and touch-starved. His therapist quite reasonably pointed out that that was one of the primary functions of pets, to ease loneliness.

Vinay had never considered it before. He'd never been fond of his family's Domestics. His father had preferred them unseen and unheard, so they tended to flit around the house like ghosts. Vinay certainly didn't want a pet like that. He wanted a pet with some personality, who could brighten his days and give him something to do other than work and sleep.

And he absolutely could not buy Toby, not that he would even consider it. However Toby had ended up as a pet, it was not his business, and Vinay was a stranger to him now anyway. Even if he didn't have his memory cleaned, Toby would no doubt hate being stuck with Vinay again. Most importantly, there was a rule in the Pet Owners' Handbook warning against keeping pets that the owner knew before they were pets. After all, pets had their memories erased so that their training would take well and so they wouldn't experience any unnecessary duress. Digging up those memories could cause psychological harm.

There was another customer in front of Toby now. Vinay had no reason to worry about him - he probably made a great pet, and would be bought up quickly.

That thought didn't make Vinay feel better at all.

The salesman directed him to the largest case at the end of the show floor. "And I've saved the best for last. This is a premium model, one of the finest we've had in this showroom. He does it all, and does it in style."

The premium pet was perfectly coiffed and very handsome. His smile looked much more natural than some of the other pets', warm and inviting, as though he truly wanted to be your companion. The salesman eagerly listed his attributes: independent, intelligent, capable of being a personal assistant, eager to please…

This one was everything he had wanted in a pet, just the sort of thing he'd been looking for. The pet was expensive, but Vinay could easily afford this indulgence. He'd be the perfect addition to Vinay's lonely condo, one he'd be proud to have.

"If this pet is within your budget, I think he'd be best suited to your needs, sir."

"He does seem like an ideal fit…" said Vinay with a lack of enthusiasm that surprised even him. After all, wasn't this exactly what he wanted? An ideal pet, perfectly trained, quiet, obedient, affectionate.

Just the right boring, corporate addition to his boring, corporate life.

"Would you like to spend a little time with him? I'm sure once you do, you won't be leaving this showroom alone."

Who was this premium pet before he was a pet? He wasn't meant to worry about that. They were all supposed to be volunteers or those who otherwise couldn't live a normal life, and the pet process was supposed to be humane and gentle. It was good for them, and good for pet owners.

But when he glanced over at Toby's blank and docile face…

"Maybe, but I'm still interested in that one. The one I saw when I first came in."

What was he doing? He couldn't buy Toby. That pet wasn't even Toby any more. He wasn't the roommate that drove Vinay up the wall at every given opportunity. He no longer knew any of Vinay's secrets, shared with him in late night conversations. He was a pet, now, and this premium pet was much better suited to Vinay's needs, just like the salesman said.

His needs. How often did he really think about his needs? What were they? Was a premium pet really what he needed?

Every rational part of his mind was screaming "bad idea" as he walked back to Toby's case. As he approached, a tiny spark of light appeared in Toby's dull eyes, and Vinay knew, against all of his sensible judgement, that he wasn't going to leave here without his old frenemy.

It had to be delusional, leftover feelings from his college years, all the time spent tutoring Toby and trying to get him to take his work seriously, all those times they'd spent laughing and talking about subjects both deep and ridiculous…

Vinay didn't really know what he needed, but he couldn't help but feel that Toby needed him.

"Are you sure?" said the salesman, clearly confused as to why Vinay had gone back here after being shown the premium model. "This one's a refurb. That's why he's on a discount."

A refurb. Someone had previously owned and sold Toby. He'd had his memories wiped at least twice now.

"Do you know why he was returned?"

"Ah, his original owner simply found a new relationship, and was displeased with the amount of attention this Romantic required. He's been wiped of those memories, and we've done our best to train out his unfortunate need for attention, of course…"

Vinay made a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a choke. Of course Toby was attention-seeking as a pet. If there was one thing Toby couldn't stand, it was being ignored or bored.

And his previous owner hadn't appreciated that. He could imagine Toby's desperation as his bids for affection were rebuked by a busy owner. Lonely. Rejected. They surely didn't know how to handle him. Vinay knew, though. He always had.

"I want to buy this one."

The salesman was as surprised as Vinay was, going on about how they don't accept returns on refurbished pets. That hardly mattered. Vinay wasn't going to be returning him.

He was actually going to go through with this. He was going to own Toby.

No, he was going to own the pet that was once Toby. He wasn't the same, and Vinay couldn't treat him that way, lest he damage his new pet.

It would be fine. He'd stick to the rules in the Pet Owners' Handbook, the thick tome he'd already read half a dozen times, and it would be fine. He wouldn't bring up old memories. He'd give this pet a good life and all of the attention he deserved, at least when he was off work. It'd be fine.

And so he'd ended up in the sales office, signing mountains of paperwork to make him the legal owner of B211.

"We'd be happy to offer you any of our very affordable add-on packages," said the salesman. "We have additional skill training, discipline courses, and a wide variety of modifications we can make to your new pet before he goes home with you. For this particular pet, I would strongly recommend additional obedience and docility courses, to make sure he's well suited to your busy lifestyle."

"No, that won't be necessary," said Vinay, thinking of Toby's -- no, B211's -- eyes. Vinay had never seen him so quiet and docile. More obedience training seemed like the last thing he needed.

"Very well. If you change your mind, you can always give him discipline and obedience refreshers as necessary, although it might be more difficult for the pet once he becomes attached to you."

"I understand," said Vinay, signing another packet of papers. His brain was already swimming with how best he should welcome his new pet into his home. He'd planned for it extensively, read all the books, and of course Toby -- no, no, B211, damn it -- had to throw a wrench in his plans.

He was sure of one thing, though. B112 would be safe and happy with him if it was the last thing he did.

Previous > Masterlist

I'm sure this will go well.

@there-will-always-be-blood @kisa-writes @andithewhumper @handsinmotion @whumperhive

@eventide-triptych @pumpkinsncoffee

[moonsceptre]

What is your opinion on the Beetlejuice 2 Dream Theory?

This theory?

My opinion is that it's very likely to be true. I walked away from the cinema extremely happy with all of the shippy moments—so happy I hadn't even considered theorising anything yet, however my first thought about the ending was, So it was all Lydia's dream?

I read through the post and was blown away by how much sense it made, but I think it helped push me to believe it when my friend sent me this

My friend is not interested in theorising or shipping, and has no connection to the BJ fandom, he's just a horror fan. Yet his interpretation of the movie's ending was a summarised version of the whole dream theory. Isn't it far more romantic to imagine Lydia having spent her life with Betelgeuse, and he's indulging her with a dream of her own child? Considering they both have a 'psychic connection', I'm not convinced that Lydia hasn't been thinking about BJ just as much as he's been thinking about her.

This user pointed out both of Betelgeuse's love songs are by artists named Richard, conveniently the name of Lydia's previous partner. The same partner who was described as a horror fan that loved playing pranks, and dressed as a Beetlejuice lookalike for Halloween.

Looks like Beetlejuice, acts like Beetlejuice—either Lydia is equally obsessed, or it's BJ projecting himself onto Lydia's human lover within the dream. Watching the movie with new eyes, I noticed in the "Later, fucker" scene that BJ is sitting in the same place Richard sat while working at the border control. "Astrid" herself has a name related to the celestial bodies, much like "Betelgeuse". You can either take this as a romantic parallel, or Tim is trying to show us that Richard's creation is based on Lydia's fixation with Beetlejuice.

Dream sequences often use characters to represent something within the dreamer's psyche. It's like an abstract analysis of the way that character thinks and feels. Astrid's sequence within the dream shows Lydia's material desires—it confirms everything was based off of what Lydia wanted, which included getting married to a 'monster' (in the sequence of events, Astrid marries a guy dressed as a vampire), and then gives birth to the Beetlebaby. I know in the first movie there is a reference to the horror movie "The Fly", so I imagine this was too.

Did anyone notice the dream sequence watching Astrid didn't actually have a clear indication for when it began? It transitioned from the movie as if everything was a dream right from the start.

Let's not forget BJ straight up looking into the camera and saying "I love a good dream sequence". Lol.

My other reasoning for believing the dream theory is what Winona said about Lydia. Winona and Tim are close friends. Winona pitched the idea of having Betelgeuse and Lydia be the endgame ship in her words, and she happily took part in this movie. If Tim had rejected the idea, why would Winona reprise her role for a story she didn't agree with? Winona knows that Lydia is Tim's self insert (Tim has said many times he relates the most to Lydia), so why would Tim approve of all the shippy moments if he opposed Winona's pitch? No one knows Lydia like him!

Winona said in this interview that she hadn't imagined Lydia ever becoming a mother, but that after a while it started to make sense. She does not elaborate on that, but explains her idea for Lydia was that she would end up a spinster in the attic. If you read the dream theory, it highlights how the movie begins with Lydia in the attic, and then transitions to Lydia's TV show, but the background is still the attic. I found the whole film very dreamlike in this way, and I think the fact that Tim has said Wizard of Oz (a movie where the girl wakes up after a dream, in which those she knew acted as characters within the sequence) is one of his favourite movies helps to put it into effect.

And finally...

It's Lydia Deetz. Lydia loves the strange and unusual.. do you really think she wasn't curious enough to contact Beej again?