#due to like poly counts and shit

[xxbomixx]

if u take reqs can u convert lamz saya af hair

hiii so i went ahead and gave it a shot but sadly it turns out looking like this :

im not really sure what causes this or how to fix it but im going ahead putting this here in case anyone knows how to fix this >.< sorry ;; hopefully i'll figure it out ^^

[novvabee]

could you do one where there’s a girl who is really good, like REALLY good at divination and stuff, and meets the mauraders

hi love! this is so cute, it is a tad bit different from your ask but, here it is ❤️ i hope it fits your vision

She's Divine

Summary: poly!marauders x divination loving reader cw: swearing like once, predetermined poly relationship word count: 1.8k

“Y/N!” you heard Sirius sing throughout the common room. You were cozied up in one of the corners with a book you’ve been dying to read on the works and uses of prophecies. You finally had a moment of time, and now it was being interrupted, great.

“Yes Sirius,” you sighed, closing your book and looking up at him from where he stood. He smiled down at you and you knew you were going to be pulled into whatever scheme he was planning.

He batted his eyes down at you, smiling sweetly as he asked “Would you do me a small, well, bigger than small favor?”

“What kind of favor?” you asked, narrowing your eyes in suspicion. 

“Well, remember that assignment that was due last week? The one for divination?” he recalled.

“Yes?” you say, becoming annoyed.

“Well…” He trailed off.

“You didn’t do it?” you guessed, it would be just like Sirius to ask you to do his homework, even a week later.

He cocked his head and smiled. “How did you know? You must be psychic or something.”

You rolled your eyes in answer. Of course you didn’t want to help him with this. It was on a topic you learned last week, palmistry, and you had already moved on to dream interpretations. 

“Oh come on,” he grovelled, “you know I’m shit at divination, and you’re the top of the class. Just think about it as if you’re tutoring me.”

You rolled your eyes yet again, your book will just have to wait until later. “Fine,” you said, “sit.”

He sat in the armchair next to yours, throwing off his bag full of textbooks. He looked at you intently, on his best behavior as not to piss you off and tell him to do the assignment himself.

“Ok,” you started, “give me your hand.”

He obeyed your command and gave you his right hand. You took it in both of yours, pulling him closer to get a better view. You twisted it around to get the perfect lighting and make sure you didn’t miss any marks.

“Ok well, these little marks are ‘witch marks’ indicating that magic runs through your bloodlines but… that’s obvious, almost everyone in this school has them. However, you have quite a lot of them, meaning you come from a long line of magic.”

He nodded along seeming interested in what you had to say.

“Then this one here,” you said pointing to a deep line slashing through the bottom of his hand, “this one is the lifeline, it is pretty average, meaning you will live to a normal age but, it’s split. This probably means that your life will change in a drastic way.” you explained.

Sirius was listening, but he wasn’t listening. He was just staring at you, smiling. His hands were warm, soft. You were beginning to feel his stare.

“Do you want me to keep going?” you asked, not knowing if he was really listening to what you were saying, not taking any of it in. He was definitely not going to do well on this project.

“Yes please!” He said, dreamily. “I could listen to you talk all day.”

You giggled, squeezing his hand in between yours. “Is this just another way of flirting or do you really need help with this assignment?” you asked with a grin.

“Why can’t it be both?” he replied.

You shook your head but continued on reading his palm. “This one is the heart line. It stops right before your middle finger, which means you have difficulty expressing your emotions to those you love. It feathers out quite a bit, I think this may mean you’ll have many lovers in your life.” you said jokingly. This was obvious to you of course, Sirius shared his love three ways already between you, James and Remus.

“Lucky me,” he muttered, smirking over at you and winking.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Hello sunshine.” you heard from beside you. Your attention snapped up to James making his way up to where you were sat under a shady oak tree in the gardens of the castle. It was a lovely day and you decided to take full advantage of the rare sunny weather. You were still on the book about the works and uses of prophecies, not finding the time to finish it.

“Hello James,” you said, smiling up at the tall, bespeckled figure. “What can I help you with?”

“Nothing at all!,” he answered. “Actually, I saw something in Hogsmeade and thought you would like it.”

“A present?” you asked, pretending to be shocked. In reality, it was very much like James to grab something for you while out in the town. He did it fairly often, always bringing you back candies or trinkets.

He chuckled and said “Close your eyes.”

You listened to him, shutting your eyes and holding out your hands for him to set the present in. You felt something hard and cold placed in your cupped hands. You didn’t peek until you heard him say you could look.

You opened your eyes to see a small amethyst tower laying on its side. You gasped and looked up at James. “Thank you!” you exclaimed. “I need to put one under my pillow! I’ve been sleeping awful lately.” you explained.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, sitting down next to you under the tree, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. He traced his fingers along your upper arm in a sweet and comforting way. “Bad dreams?”

“Sorta.” you answered, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Well, what are they about? Sometimes it’s good to talk about them and analyze them.” he explained.

You looked at him sideways “Yes James, I too take divination.” you answered him sarcastically.

“Exactly! You should know that better than anyone else!” he chuckled.

“Fine, fine,” you laughed. “They're mostly about interplanetary rivalries, you know, Venus and Jupiter. And all the placements growing closer to conjunction, causing all sorts of chaos and interesting events here on Earth. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

He blinked at you. “No idea. I know about half of the words you just said.”

You laughed and shoved him gently. “Well that was no help, Potter.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You were finally settling down, opening your book to the chapter you had left off on. You didn’t make it two seconds before you felt a presence beside you. You thought you would be safe in the library, you thought wrong.

You turned to see Remus setting up some parchment and his quill. He smiled at you and continued. You thought that maybe he would be engrossed in his work and maybe leave you to your reading. You were wrong.

“Hey Y/N, you have a moment?” he leaned over and whispered.

You shut your book yet again, looking over to him to continue.

“You read runes right?” he asked, still quiet as not to disturb the studying students around you both.

You nodded. “Yeah, I got an Outstanding in my OWLS.”

His face lit up as he said, “Great, well, I was wondering if you would be willing to tudor some students in my study group. There’s a few kids taking rune reading for the first time and they said they needed some help, so I wanted to ask the expert.” You suspected he was laying on the compliments to make you say yes to tutoring some younger years.

You laughed off his flattery, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, I am no expert, not yet at least,” you said, “But I can help any way I can.”

He sighed in relief. “Thank you so much, Y/N. I really will owe you.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

When you agreed to help tutor for Remus, you didn’t expect two of the pupils to be both James and Sirius. They sat there, textbooks open and puzzled looks smeared across their faces. You didn’t mind terribly, they were your boyfriends after all, perhaps they would thank you with more presents and sweets. 

You figured Remus roped you into tutoring them because he did not have the patience for teaching both boys with the shortest attention span in probably the while school..

You helped them with a few assignments that they couldn’t quite grasp. Both boys struggled with rune reading, tarot card reading, and naval chart reading. You did your best to help walk them through it, but after about an hour, you could tell they were becoming frustrated with it all.

“But I’m a Scorpio,” Sirius said, “I was born in November.”

“I know that Sirius, but that is your sun sign.” you tried to explain. “There are many more signs. For example, your moon sign which is in Taurus.” 

“Ugh, this is stupid!” Sirius said, frustrated and tired.

“Honestly, divination is pretty much useless nowadays, it’s not even reliable, there is no proof it’s real.” James chimed in.

You were taken back by their comments. “Just because you two don’t automatically excel in it, doesn’t mean that it is stupid or useless.” you said, hurt that they felt that way about something you were very passionate about, something you loved and were good at, something you wanted to make into a career. You knew that a lot of people didn’t take divination seriously, that it was considered somewhat of an old wives tale. But you didn’t think that the boys, the people you thought cared about you the most, would think your passions were so miniscule and not as important as their own. 

“W-we didn’t mean it like that,” James said, starting to back peddle. “We just mean, we’re not good at it so…”

“So you think it’s stupid?” you ask.

“No!” James says, becoming pink in the face, not enjoying the outcome of this conversation at all.

“Don't listen to them,” you heard Remus say, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his side, seeing that you were hurt and wanting to comfort you a little. “They’re just upset that they have to finally work hard at a form of magic.”

It’s true, James and Sirius both were incredible wizards, it came easy to them. You often thought that they were just made of magic, that they didn’t ever have to try in any of their classes. 

“I might not be able to transfigure a barrel into a slipper on my first try, but you definitely couldn’t explain the difference between quartz and tigers eye and their respective uses.” you say to them.

“That’s why we want your help, Y/N. You know this doesn’t come easy to us. And to you, you're just so in tune with it, it’s like you have this rare, secret talent for it.” Sirius says. You’re still offended, but the compliments were helping.

“We don’t know how you do it, honestly.” Added James.

“Fine… I’ll still help you,” you said, they smiled apologetically at you. “But you have to do all my history of magic papers for the rest of the month.”

Sirius groaned but agreed, saying that it wouldn’t be too hard, just take a lot of time.

“Ok fine, but you have to teach us ovomancy and capnomancy too.” James bargained.

“Deal,” you said happily, excited to share your knowledge with the boys.

[buttdumplin]

The sweet, lovely poly 141 boys and their Spanish-speaking latine partner.

This was meant to be a quick little thing, but boy did this get away from me lmao. This is the fluffiest shit I've ever indulged in and I love it. Big thank you to @mikichko for inspiring and helping with this!!!

cw: poly 141, gn!reader, latine reader, mexican slang, hint of d/s dynamics in Johnny's word count: 2.1K

Price, god love the man, is the one who seems to stumble the most. It's almost comical, considering the fact that Spanish and Arabic are so similar due to their histories. But there's a big difference between the Spanish he's learned to recognize and what you throw at him on the daily. He truly thinks it's because of his age, window of acquisition and all that. John does not expect to be able to speak fluently with you, but he does at least want to understand you. What he really wants, though, is to make you feel more fully at home with him, and he is forever grateful that you feel comfortable and safe enough with them to embrace all parts of your identity.

"Hola, amor mío. How was your day?" you greet him from the couch, eyeing him from tip to toe and almost whistling at seeing him in uniform. "Sigues rechulo, mi güerito, so I assume all went well?"

John swings down to kiss you, gripping the back of your neck to prolongue the kiss, trying to soak in as much of the affection as he can while also disguising the fact that he still doesn't fully recognize what came after.

"Yours was good too, I trust?"

"Yeah, but my brother called. El güey still con sus pinches mamadas and asking for my help. Aguas, in case he shows up this week."

"I... will keep an eye out, dove."

"Call me si les arma pedo and I'm not around."

He just nods sagely and squishes up against you on the couch, letting your warmth seep into his tired bones.

Later that evening, he rounds up the boys while you're in the shower and pulls out a small notebook where he's written things out phonetically. John may not have all the knowledge he needs, but he sure as hell is good at getting it.

"'Güey,' that's the brother's nickname?"

"No, that's like 'man/guy.' But it's also an insult. But not always," Johnny supplies.

"Fuck me, okay. 'Rechulo' is... I got nothing for that one."

"The 're' is for heavy emphasis, 'chulo' is 'cute/handsome/pretty.' 'Re' can go on practically any adjective," Simon steps in.

"'Aguas' and 'pedo' CANNOT be what they are, right?"

Kyle takes his hand and chuckles, "No, sweetheart. The first is like a warning, the second a fight or scene or scandal. In this context."

John's shoulders finally relax and he lets out a heavy sigh, putting the final touches on his notes of the day.

"Thank you, boys, for your patience and your kindness. And your secrecy," John huffs a little laughter and gives them his sweetest smile, the one where you can see the dimples poking out through the beard.

They all reach over to gently caress him, taking turns kissing the parts of him they can reach.

"Thank you, John, for trying so hard."

~

Beautiful, wonderful Kyle, the delight of a man that he is, is the one giving it as good as he gets. He's the one crooning in your ear, showering you with the most decadent terms of endearment, knowing full well they make your knees much weaker in Spanish. He'll use the advantage every single chance he has, don't doubt that for a second. But truly, it's the soft seclusion of those moments that he cherishes most, when you're looking up at him with big bright eyes, knowing you fully trust him to take care of you.

You're grumbling away as you wash dishes after dinner when Kyle comes up behind you, arms making the way slowly around your waist, chin dropping onto your shoulder.

"Oh, tesoro mío, look at you working away, working so hard for us."

You refuse to look at him and give a fussy pout. He knows it's your least favorite of the house duties. So much so that you're always willing to do almost anything as long as you don't have to touch wet food.

"It looks like you've done enough, cariño. Come join us in bed."

"No. None of you wanted to trade with me so se aguantan," you try to wiggle and bump his head away from yours.

"Come on, cosa hermosa, we need you with us to settle for the night," he pulls your hands from the water, drying them and turning you towards him.

You immediately bury your face into his chest. Can't look him in the eye, he'll win you over the moment you do.

"So they send in the smooth talker, huh?"

Kyle laughs, clear and bright, and he wraps you back up in his arms, gently cradling your head until you give in and look up at him.

"Or," he says, making you both rock gently, "I'm trying to sneak in a little solo time."

Your body melts against his as the words sink in, big eyes blinking softly up at him, "Besito?"

"As many as you want, mi vida. Until you grow bored of me," and you're letting out a sweet sigh as those soft lips meet yours.

His hands move to bring your body closer to his, to milk this quiet moment for as much contact as possible, to sear it all into his memory.

"You two are awfully quiet out there," Simon calls from the bedroom and it makes you break apart with a little jump.

You hear frantic rustling that has to be Johnny, "Hold on, what happened to doing the dishes!"

A chuckle escapes the two of you, sparkling eyes meeting in the low light from the stove hood. The sound of John huffing to get comfortable floats in from the bedroom.

"Just a minute more, hermosura," he mutters against your hair. "Wanna stay here a bit longer."

"Really liking all those pet names, aren't you?"

Kyle laughs again and gives you a squeeze, "Mean every single one of them."

And you happily linger, not pointing out that you've noticed an endearing pattern of Kyle wrapping up nights in the kitchen with you in his arms and a faint love song echoing down the hall for you two to sway to.

~

Beloved, darling Simon, he hides his own understanding of the language. He understands it nearly perfectly, with just the tiniest margin of error, nothing too big to bring attention to it. Overall, he's able to catch almost everything you mumble. It's not to be sneaky or anything like that, Simon would never do anything to compromise your privacy. It's more that he doesn't quite see the need to verbalize it. To him it's nothing special, no need to make a spectacle. Instead, he lets it seep into his actions, ever the acts of service lover that he is.

You're spread out on the couch, on the phone with your mother, complaining, "Como chingan los del trabajo. Me pidieron un reporte para el viernes y ahora me reclaman que todavía no se los he dado y apenas es miércoles."

There was a tension in your shoulders when you came home from work, he didn't miss that. Caught you jolting to a stop mid-stretch. And as the call goes on longer, Simon picks up on more.

"No he tenido chance de lavar ropa, ni una putisima pijama... Traigo un pinche antojo de mole, pero es un chingo de trabajo y ahorita no le puedo dedicar el tiempo..."

He quietly moves to gather the boys as you continue ranting and pace around the room. You're too caught up in your call to see them forming a massive huddle and their nodding at Simon right as the break and throw their joined hands in the air.

By the time you're off the phone, it's dark out and you notice the house is quieter than usual. You move to look for the boys (they can't have left without telling you, right?) when Simon pops out from the hall, crooked smile you love so much adorning his face, and he simply takes your hand to pull you into the bathroom. A hot bath greets you, some honeyed bath bomb already dissolving in the water and your laptop set up on a bucket besides the bath, your comfort show already pulled up and ready to play. Simon then points to your softest pajamas washed and set out on the counter for you.

"And you'll help me with my lotion too?"

He kisses your forehead, "When do I not?"

"The boys?"

"Setting up dinner. Kyle and I are making your favorite."

You whip around to face him, eyes wide and excited, "With fresh tortillas?"

With a low, affirmative hum Simon pulls you in closer and just holds you. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't need to. But he lends you his strength, which is all he can really hope for. The steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his arms around you help release the tightness in your body. Letting out your own little hum, you give him a squeeze and he squeezes back harder, crushing you in the way he knows you find comforting. There's a soft devotion in his tenderness with you, an unshakable support in every single thing you do.

"So you gonna undress me too, or...?"

A peal of laughter escapes you as he playfully swats at your butt, "Undress yourself. I've got cooking to do."

A day without hearing your laughter is a day poorly spent to Simon.

He's almost to the door when you pull him back into you, hands tugging on his shirt to bring him down to your height. His own laughter rumbles in his chest as you cover his face in loud kisses, and he stays locked in place. He will for as long as you need him to, never mind his back. If it's gonna go out eventually, he'd rather it go out from his time spent like this.

~

Johnny, bless the boy, is desperate to hear it, to have you address him directly. You speak plenty around the house, on phone calls with friends, talking back at the tv (some shows have been put on temporary bans, or at the very least you're not supposed to watch them alone), at the lovely crooked cat yall adopted. You shower them with pet names with every breath you take. And he loves it all! Loves that you so willingly share so much of yourself with them. But Johnny boy is dying for something specific- "Love, why don't you call me papi?"

When he voices it, it's a complete surprise. Simon and Kyle both laugh so hard so suddenly that they find themselves choking on their own spit. Price himself is caught so off-guard that he fully looks up from the dinner he's prepping in the kitchen, raw chicken slipping out of his hands and plopping back into the flour bowl. You at first laugh it off lightly, thinking it was one of his cutesy jokes he makes to get a giggle out of everyone. That would have made the most sense, honestly. But when he looks away, big blue eyes shining with the softest hint of embarrassment, it sinks in.

You shift in your seat a fraction, "Johnny, I don't even call any of you that in English. You know it's not exactly the same thing, right?"

"I know but the little old lady from the corner shop calls me "papi" and so does the older man who brings the water and other people too and it's always so affectionate and so I thought..."

He spares a glance at you, hoping he hasn't completely overstepped.

"Where did this come from?"

"Ale let it slip last time we grabbed coffee and the joy on Rudy's face was so blinding that I thought maybe we should try it."

"Honey--"

"Please, just once."

"But I--"

"It doesn't have to be a title! It can be soft and casual, no expectations."

"You don't--"

"I promise I'll be good for it."

Oh.

Your gaze meets the other boys' and you all take a good look at your Johnny. At some point during his pleading he brought himself down to kneel in front of you. His broad shoulders are slumped forward in submission, his hands clenched together so tightly his fingertips are completely white. Price nods at you, the other two eagerly nodding along as well.

Leaning forward, you grab him by the jaw, gently bringing his head to rest against your thigh.

Running your fingers through his hair, you utter out a low, "Sweet little thing like you just wants to be good, don't you papi?"

Johnny's eyes glaze over slightly, a shy, dazed smile growing on his face. There's not an ounce of hesitation in him as he nuzzles his face into your thigh, just sweet elation. Pleased grumbles escape the others, making Johnny's smile grow bigger.

You make sure to add it into your regular circulation.

[davnittbraes]

Teleportation and Blue Whiskey

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (eventually)

Word Count: 1500

Warnings, etc.: descriptions of a panic attack, claustrophobia, annoying coworkers, brief description of desire for self-amputation due to shitty footwear, mention of cotton-poly blend clothing

Reader-insert physical descriptors: nothing in this chapter but hair long enough to tangle fingers in/comb fingers through in future chapters, just in case that’s not your jam

Notes: this is for @burntheedges Roll-A-Trope Challenge, I got Stuck in an Elevator with Dieter Bravo (something I wish I could actually say happened to me irl 😅) It was only supposed to be a couple thousand words for a fun writing challenge but here I am, splitting it into multiple parts, because as with everything I write it’s taken on a life of its own and has become impossible to control. Everyone hang on, I have no idea where this ride will end. Let’s go 💃🥳

There’s a headache forming at the back of your head - no, right between your eyes - nope, it’s both.

A band of pain slowly throbbing to life, wrapping your skull in the weight of ten consecutive hours of socializing with people you’d just met two days ago.

Fucking. Perfect.

This conference is going to kill you.

It’s the first time you’ve attended, and you’re definitely not coming back next year. Despite what looked like a robust presentation itinerary, the whole vibe seems to be less of an educational event and more of an excuse to spread gossip, get intoxicated to the point of obliteration, and rack up charges on company credit cards.

Who knew clinical pharmacists were such party animals.

It’s just not your scene. You’d rather be back in the hospital, consulting with other medical practitioners, patients, generally helping people, instead of shooting tequila at 3am in the VIP section of some poorly lit club you’ve never heard of.

Sighing, you shift your feet as you wait for the elevator. This pant suit feels stuffy, the cotton-poly blend scratching your skin. The shoes that look so good with your outfit are pinching your pinky toes in a way that makes you want to cut them off and be done with it. If it wasn’t for those damn pinky toes, you’d be taking the stairs - much more preferable anyway, elevators made you uncomfortable.

You’ve never liked them, always hated the inability to just get out whenever you wanted to, the need to rely on something out of your control to give you a chance to escape. And there was always the threat, the possibility that everything would fail, that the elevator would fall, plummet down and you’d be shattered into a dozen pieces.

But your feet might just rebel and call a mutiny if you try to force them up five stories.

So, elevator death-trap it is.

The hotel lobby is starting to fill up with people heading out for a night on the town, including some of your colleagues. They haven’t looked your way yet, but if they see you, they’ll definitely try to rope you into whatever shenanigans they’ve got planned for tonight.

Shit.

You push the elevator call button again, and once more for good measure.

Come on, come on, please -

The ding of the elevator pulls your attention, your aching feet moving even before the doors start sliding open, and you duck inside and out of view of the lobby.

Muzak and a soft golden light fills the small space. It’s welcome, quiet and soothing.

Leaning against the wall, you take a deep breath and let it out, eyes half closing with weariness as the doors start to slide shut. Almost there, a few floors and a dozen steps and then you can flop face forward on the double mattress your company had paid for.

The elevator stutters to a halt, doors sliding open again.

A groan almost slips out and you have to bite it back.

Fucking. Perfect.

The last thing you want right now is social interaction.

A man shuffles onto the elevator.

Your exhausted mind notes tiny details about him - the way his dark green crocs catch on the elevator door track, the frayed hem of his navy and red checked pajama pants, the bulky dark grey hoodie with the hood pulled low over his eyes so all you catch is a glimpse of plush lips twisted into a downturn. He’s carrying a couple reusable bags, well-used and wrinkled, whatever is in them clinking softly together.

He moves to the far corner and slumps against the wall, keeping his head down so you can’t even see his face anymore.

A curl of apprehension mingles with relief in the pit of your stomach.

Okay, well, you didn’t want someone who would talk your ear off on your way to your floor but you’re also not particular on sharing an elevator ride with someone obviously attempting to hide their features.

Whatever. It’s less than a minute to the floor.

The elevator doors slide shut. And nothing happens.

What -

Shit.

The elevator’s broken, you’re stuck in here -

No no no -

Your chest tightens instantly, every muscle in your body drawing up in panic.

This is it, exactly what you’ve been dreading, this elevator has stopped, and there is no escape, and -

Oh.

You didn’t push the button for your floor.

Embarrassment prickles along your skin and you lean forward, punch the number six with your thumb, probably a little too forcefully.

The man in the corner doesn’t move, but social convention prompts you to ask anyway. “What floor?”

“Hmm?” His voice is low, smooth, slightly detached as if he’s lost in his own thoughts. “Oh, yeah. I -“

He shifts the bags in his hands, digs into the pocket of his hoodie and pulls out a hotel room key card. Fingers fumbling, he steps toward the elevator buttons, hesitating just a moment before he holds the card up to the reader at the top of the keypad while pressing the button for the penthouse. The button illuminates and he quickly steps back into the corner, shoving the card back in his pocket.

His free hand tugs his hood lower over his face. “Hate those things, radio frequency waves or whatever. What’s wrong with old-fashioned keys?”

The last word clips off hard, as if he just realized he was speaking and regretted it.

Confusion blooms, and you keep your gaze forward, your expression blank.

Who is this man?

Dressed like he had just rolled out of bed, huddling in the corner of the elevator, trying not to be seen while rambling about radio frequency waves on his way to the penthouse suite?

Mentally shaking yourself, you focus on watching the numbers flash on the floor indicator above the elevator door.

Doesn’t matter who this weirdo is. Just get back to your room and try to forget about this entire day.

The steady, rhythmic white glow of the numbers is comforting, in some way. A reliable beat, marking the path to the solitude you’ve been craving all day.

2.

3.

4.

The elevator shudders to a stop.

Silence.

You wait.

The door doesn’t budge. Nothing moves.

Above your head, the lights flicker, then steady. Still.

The silence is too heavy, too much, it’s not right.

It’s actually happened, now.

The elevator has stalled, and you’re stuck in it.

Panic, hot and sharp, wells up in the back of your throat, and it takes effort to swallow it down.

Breathe. Deep breaths.

It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.

These things happen all the time.

Think it through. Use that technique from therapy - work through the next steps instead of focusing on the panic threatening to overwhelm you.

The hotel will have someone on staff to fix it - they must, a five star hotel this size? For sure they do. They have to.

They have to.

It won’t be long, maybe a bit longer if the - what are they called? - elevator maintenance person, whatever, is on a break.

But it’s nowhere near a meal time, the Whatever Person is probably not on a full break, maybe just a fifteen or something.

Yeah, okay. So once they get done their break they’ll -

“Are you freaking out? Because you look like you’re freaking out.”

The question whips through your anxiety, yanks you out of your thoughts and you sway a little, dizziness making the elevator tip as it comes back into view.

Trapped trapped you’re never getting out

“Whoa hey you - hold on -“

A hand grasps your shoulder, presses your back against the wall of the elevator.

The air is thin, it’s hard to fill your lungs and you can’t -

breathe -

“Breathe -“

Muffled voice, deep, speaking quickly, syllables skimming the surface swells of panic, pulsing in your mind with the same rhythm as your heartbeat.

It’s too fast, too loud, can’t breathe -

The world slants suddenly, your feet stumble to adjust. Heart pounding, hard, it hurts -

It’s happening, the elevator is dropping -

Too fast too loud -

It’s falling -

No you’re falling -

Crashing -

Landing on something solid but yielding -

Warm -

Your fingers grip, squeeze, hold tight. Time blinks, once, twice.

Panic freezes.

Hands. You feel hands on your body.

Large hands, soothing, gentle.

One on your back, resting between your shoulderblades, warmth seeping through your clothing and into constricted lungs, loosening tension. The ache there lessens, lungs filling.

The other hand cups the back of your head, thumb stroking small circles over your scalp. A tiny, almost insignificant motion, and it pulls your focus immediately.

Again and again, soft and soothing circles.

Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

The white-heat of panic subsides, slowly pulling off of your senses and your thoughts run an inner monologue, a mantra, grounding you back into your own body.

In. Out. Good, just like that. How are your elbows so sharp? Ow.

Wait. It’s not an inner monologue, it’s -

The man. In the elevator with you.

It’s his words drawing you out of your panic, his hands on your body.

Fresh panic washes over you, your eyes flying open to see -

The stranger’s gaze, watching you closely, a rich, deep brown that makes your pulse skip.

Tousled brown curls falling over a brow creased with concern.

Full lips, drawn down at the corners, soft and plush and only inches from yours, parting slightly, and that voice, so beautifully comforting -

“Oh thank fuck you’re not dead.”

[azsazz]

Dead by Dawn

Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Summary: Zombie!AU: It’s been a while since the end of the world.

Warnings: Blood, gore, injury, graphic depictions of violence, eventual poly!relationship, undead.

Word Count: 3,811

Notes: Mother knows I don’t need another AU but frankly idc 💅🏻

_________________________________________

Day 189

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Fuck me, you think, digging your tattered sneakers deeper into the ground. You’re hoping to gain better traction on the dirty road as you run–sprint away from the creature at your back. Gravel gives way, making the asphalt slippery as you try to maneuver through the barren streets or the abandoned town and away from the monster trailing behind you.

You don’t need to be bolting at full speed, but any form of running is tough due to your injured knee. You’d twinged it the other day as you ran through the forest with a horde of undead lazing after you, locked in on the stench of your blood.

You’d tripped over an upturned root and fell harshly, landing directly onto a stone. The crack of your knee smashing into the rock cracked through the forest and the zoms had grunted loudly in response, almost gleefully, like they knew you’d been downed.

It truly is just your luck.

Something always seemed to go wrong in your presence. If it wasn’t dropping your last can of food into the river while you were crossing it was attracting a group of undead while you were grumbling loudly about just how shit your luck really was. It was the man you’d trusted who’d ended up robbing and abandoning you while you slept, leaving you only with the short knife tucked into your boot at the time.

Hell, you were probably somehow connected to the apocalypse happening.

You chance a look over your shoulder, and for a split second your heart calms and you slow your pace, the road clear behind you.

Hunched over with your hands on your knees you gulp down the arid summer air. The stifling heat chokes you and you cough loudly to clear your airway, sucking in a large breath just as a bead of sweat rolls down your mouth. You wheeze, coughing harder as the tiny offender slips its way down the wrong pipe. 

Like you said, bad luck.

Pounding on your chest, you wince. Your hacking will attract more. You need to stop.

Scanning your surroundings, you try to gather your bearings of where you are in this small, rundown town. You were just supposed to be passing through for the usual runs of searching shops for food and unused supplies. Your backpack is a little too light for your comfort.

You’d convinced your comrade to split up, and now you're regretting it more than ever. The town is small enough, quiet enough with the rustling leaves and sounds of birds chirping nearby. There are no human sounds, no scuffing of shredded shoes dragging across the pavement, no snick of safety switches clicking off. 

It’s silent.

You cut off your coughing abruptly and straighten, swallowing uncomfortably. Your tongue is thick in your mouth and your throat is dry from lack of water. You’re down to your last bottle, and choking on your own sweat has only made you thirstier. Your heart pounds in your chest, too loud for you to make out the sound around you but it’s then that you realize–

It’s silent.

The wildlife has gone completely still, birds sensing the threats lingering nearby, falling quiet in their nests. Not only do zoms lure for tasty human flesh, but they’re known to trap any living creatures they can.

A low inhuman growl drags your attention away from the trees. It grates against your skull like it always does, a cry for help, a cry for flesh. Your head snaps around back the way you came. 

You curse.

Really, really unlucky.

Not one, but three undead come stumbling out from behind the building you’d passed. It’s an old laundromat, and one of the zoms is clad in a half-torn dirty t-shirt that you think could use a good washing. Or burning. They’re tripping over their own stupidly clumsy feet, and when they catch sight of you, pick up your sweaty, delicious scent over the soft breeze, their milky white eyes zero in on you.

Grunting softly, you begin jogging away from them. Running has never been your favorite hobby, but it’s imperative to your survival now. Doesn’t matter that your lungs feel like they’re on fire with every step, your knee sending sharp shockwaves of pain up your leg with each step. 

At least it isn’t broken.

Ignoring the throb in your leg, you reach for the holster wrapped tightly around your waist. You’d had to punch another hole into the leather to keep it tight enough not to slip down your rapidly slimming hips. You know you won’t find anything there, that dick had stolen your gun long ago. These days, the worn leather belt housed a knife, but you’d dropped it in the initial scuffle with the leader of the small zom pack chasing after you.

You’d laughed, thought it was your comrade and had shoved the creature off of you. But when your fingers had torn through the delicate flesh on the zombies arm, rotting veins and thin skin spilled out over your hand you were quick to your senses. Reaching for the knife, hand slicked with thick, chunky blood. Your grip slipped once, twice, and the zombie was up in an instant, pushing against the hand you’d planted across its chest.

Finally tugging the knife loose from where it was nestled in your holster was a relief that turned sour as the zombie swiped out. Dumb luck had the flailing limb striking true, knocking the weapon from your unsteady hold. It landed with a soft thump, a small cloud of dust puffing up and clinging to the black blood coated hilt.

Time froze as you stared at the zombie, letting out an unamused puff of air as your heart kicked into gear. It’s head jerked forward on fractured bones, the clacking of it reverberated up your spine like a hot knife, and you winced. The zoms mouth parted and its rotting gray tongue rolled out, lapped at the air, tasting your scent.

It shoved harder against your hold.

You’d managed to wrestle the undead away, pushing it to the ground, but you hadn’t had the time to grab your trusty knife that you’d carried with you since the beginning of the end. You climbed to your feet and side stepped the cracked hand reaching for you, the bony tips of fingers free from dead skin, sprinting away.

Unsure of which way to go, you raced up the road away from where you had last seen your friend. You wouldn’t let her get caught because of your stupidity.

You try to outrun them, weaving in and out of the few buildings in town, but they’re locked on your scent, although you’re pretty sure you smell like one of them by now, you can’t even remember the last time you’d showered.

Rounding the corner of an old bar, you debate stopping for a drink. You pray that there’s an unopened bottle of vodka, or tequila inside. Hell, you’d take just about anything right now.

Making a mental note to come back around and search the bar, you trip. You use your hands to catch you, cursing as your palms scrape against the pebbles and dirt. You hope that there’s no blood, muttering beneath your breath as you survey the alley. There’s a tall chain link fence blocking your path.

Well fuck.

There’s no way you’ll make it up in time, and the drop from the other side is a long way. Plus, you don’t know if your aching knee will be able to support your weight against the flimsy metal, having just fallen on it again.

Your day really can’t get any worse.

Your limbs slide against the dusty ground as you flip over. Your fingertips dig down for purchase. The three zoms are approaching quickly, limping closer to you, keen on getting a taste of your flesh. One of them even looks like it’s smiling, peeling lips torn and curled around blackened rotting teeth, grinning at you sadistically.

Your heart stutters in your chest.

This is it.

You search the alley frantically, hoping that there’s at least a broken bottle from the tavern you can use in defense against the looming creatures. There’s nothing but pebbles and litter, not a single potential weapon in sight. You swallow hard, gaze flitting back to the zombies who moan softly, making grabby hands at you like babies do their mothers.

Your back hits the fence and you squeeze your eyes shut tight, the sun blaring hot across your skin.

You’ve had a pretty good run, you think, for someone who’s luck is as shit as yours. 189 days.

You send a silent prayer up above – although you’re pretty sure whoever is supposed to be watching over Earth has taken a break long ago – and hope that your comrade will be okay.

The zoms are almost on you and you curl tighter around yourself, refusing to open your eyes. If you’re going to go, the last thing you want to see is yourself being eaten. No thanks.

There’s a loud war cry just as the long, overgrown, brittle nails scrape against your cheek. You shudder and a shadow crosses your vision for a millisecond, and your eyes snap open. Squinting against the harsh sun you watch as the zombies arms are lobbed off, falling right onto your lap.

Black blood drips thickly and your empty stomach curdles. With a grimace you shove the limp limbs off of your legs and pull yourself to your feet, the zombies attention turning to the new person in the alley with you.

You loose a sigh of relief at the shaky laugh and taunts thrown at the undead, “Come here, you fuckers!”

It’s your comrade. She’s armed with a landscape scythe in one hand and your knife in the other. The sunlight casts over her sharp cheekbones and her gray eyes are almost as pale as the zoms. It’s unnerving sometimes but right now your chest swells with relief. Her menacing (and slightly crazed) smile has her looking like an angel of death.

“Feyre,” you exhale, head falling back against the chain link fence in solace.

The armless zombie struggles, trying to stagger to its feet, but it ends up inchworming its way towards you and your savior. With one quick jab of your knife to its head, the creature goes still.

Feyre jerks the blade from the body and dances around the other two zoms, swiftly moving behind them. You catch one of their attention, beating your hand against the fence, rattling the metal with your hands. Before one can turn around to face Feyre, she uses her scythe, the curved blade protruding from the stomach of the zombie. She grabs the handle with both hands and lifts with a grunt. The body's decomposed muscle and bone give way as she slices from stomach to head, splitting the damn thing in two. When it falls away it reveals a grinning Feyre.

You grimace at the sight. She’d found that gardening scythe a few weeks ago and now it’s her new favorite weapon.

“Gimme,” you gesture to your knife with a nod of your head, the last zombie still slowly making its way towards you.

“You sure?” Feyre cocks an eyebrow. She’s still on a high from her last kill, “I don’t mind.”

You shrug your shoulders in response, “Be my guest.”

You let Feyre take the last one, sliding the knife easily into the base of its neck. It’s a more humane kill than the last one, and you’re just glad it’s over quickly.

“Don’t drop this again,” Feyre says seriously, striding over the dead bodies and firmly placing the knife back in your hand. Her fingers wrap around yours tightly, making sure you understand the importance of the weapon.

“Not like I was trying to,” you mumble, looking away from her in shame. Your gaze settles on your hands and your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You hadn’t even known the girl long but here she is, saving your life and sticking by your side even though she doesn’t have to.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she admits softly, looking at you with sad eyes. If she’s saying this because she doesn’t want to be out all alone in the shit world or because she feels a kinship with you from what you’ve both been through, you can’t say.

You sigh, frustrated. “I’m no good for you, Fey. You’d be better off without me.” You wipe the blood from your blade onto your already dirty pants and nestle it back in its rightful spot on your belt.

“Stop with that, (Y/N).” Feyre places her hands firmly on your shoulders and stares into your eyes. Her gray iris’ are piercing, similar and yet different than the undead, like she can see all of your deepest secrets and fears, all of the things you’ve had to do to get here, to stay alive.

You’re vaguely aware of the zombie blood dripping from her blade onto your shoulder and you try not to cringe. “Like hell you’re leaving me in this shit hole alone.”

You chuckle softly, ignoring the pang of guilt you feel. Once she finds what she’s looking for, she will absolutely abandon you, your mind supplies.

“Sorry,” you offer quietly.

“Just don’t scare me like that again,” she responds, waving off your apology. There are no ‘sorry’s’ in the apocalypse, no need to ask forgiveness for the evils you’ve committed. You trail Feyre out of the alley, “Use your words next time.”

“Didn’t want to attract more,” you admit, knowing that if you had screamed for help it would only put the both of you in more danger, “Ended up doing that just fine anyway.”

Feyre doesn’t respond to that. She can see that you’re already kicking yourself for what’s happened, even though the both of you are okay. You have a habit of that, blaming yourself for most things that go wrong. You always have.

“You’re limping,” she points out instead, “You hurt?”

“Nah, just fell on it weird,” you try to smile but it looks more like a grimace. “It’ll be fine tomorrow.”

“We should find somewhere to stop. You can rest and I’ll check out the other stores. Maybe we can find you some painkillers.”

The odds are highly unlikely, but you don’t mention it. Not all of the stores in this tiny town have smashed windows and ransacked shelves.

“We’re not splitting up again,” you demand, following Feyre through the broken window of a nearby store. You wince when you lift your leg and pain shoots up it.

You look around the dinghy shop and make a face. It’s a mattress store, and you have no idea how long it’s been since it’s been broken into, but by the looks of the stained and matted mattresses, you can tell it’s been awhile.

Feyre hums in agreement, scythe poised and ready for anything that might pop up and surprise the both of you. You keep your knife tucked tightly in your hand, ready to back her up without a second thought.

“There’s a clothing shop a few stores down. Untouched. Thought we could drag a mattress down there for a night. Sleep on a real bed for once,” Feyre suggests and throws a grin over her shoulder towards you, “Maybe go on a little shopping spree.”

And that’s another thing that differentiates you from Feyre. While she was scoping out for supplies that might actually help you survive in this undead world, you were thinking about booze.

“It would be nice to get some new clothes,” you comment, pulling at the dirty shirt clinging to your sweaty skin. You frown, looking around at all of the mattresses, “And sleep on something comfortable, if we can find one that’s decent, that is.”

Feyre rolls her eyes, “Oh, come on (Y/N). Everyone knows they keep the nice ones in the back. All wrapped up and ready to go.” She raises her eyebrows at you in a silent question, and you nod, silently telling her that you’ve got her back.

Feyre shoves open the door to the storage room and you’re surrounded by stacked mattresses lining the walls. 

“Jackpot!”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The both of you had managed to drag a twin sized bed two stores over into the clothing shop with little trouble. You’d ignored the twinge of pain in your leg at the weight. It grows worse the longer you stand on it, but you really do want to sleep in a real bed.

You shove it as far away as you can from the window at the front of the store and tear the plastic wrap off of it. Your heart stumbles as you think that this is what it must feel like for the zombies to tear through flesh. You shudder.

Instead of falling onto the fresh mattress like you want to, you’d gone back out to search for more supplies before the sun sets. You need water, but it’s scarce to come by these days. You each have one bottle left in your bags from when you’d found a pack of unopened water bottles sitting out in the sun in front of a gas station. It probably wasn’t the best thing to be drinking from a plastic bottle that had been sitting in the sun for who knows how long, but you didn’t have the luxury of being picky these days.

You’d seen one more zombie in the drugstore you were hoping to find some painkillers in, but if the spilled pills surrounding the trapped zombie were anything to go by, it looked like they had gotten to them first.

You whistle to yourself as you walk through the aisles, a slight limp in your step. You kick an open bag of chips out of your way, searching for anything that is still usable to eat for the night.

You’d gotten used to the constant hunger pains, the feeling of your stomach trying to eat itself, contorting in pain when you thought about shoveling a thick and juicy cheeseburger into your mouth. As long as your stomach still jumps at the thought of food instead of flesh, you can manage.

Feyre was built for the apocalypse. She’s figured out how to ration, and she’s always planning, not knowing when you’d find your next meal.

Another reason you were so lucky to have her.

You’re frustrated, having walked down the food aisle three times but still coming up with nothing. The only food left was opened or had rotted out a long time ago, and you don’t need to be getting sick over spoiled food.

“Find anything?” Feyre asks, returning from checking the back room and moving over to where you stand.

“A few bandages, but no food,” you sigh, holstering your weapon. “You?”

She shakes her head, “No food either, but I found these,” she tosses you a bottle of painkillers and you smile gratefully. “Fucker didn’t get to those ones.”

“Thanks, Fey.” You immediately tug off the cap and down two. They catch against your dry throat but eventually work their way down.

You tug your backpack off of your shoulder, stuffing the canister inside. It rattles and you remind yourself to stuff a clean sock into it so they don’t move around as much.

The both of you search up and down the rest of the aisles of the small store just in case. Feyre becomes fascinated over a rubix cube you’d found, still in its package. You smile softly at her as she tears open the plastic and mixes the colors. You both need something that reminds you of the simple life before.

You find some chains and padlocks still handing in their spots in the hardware store and you’re both incredibly thankful. Even though you haven’t found more food, you still have a can of beans you can share, and you have clean clothes and a comfortable place to sleep for the night, so today isn’t as much of a bust as you thought.

“Fuck,” Feyre sighs are she settles down onto the mattress next to you. “Been a rough day, hasn’t it?”

You hum in agreement, passing her the can of beans. You’ve both changed, opting for plain t-shirts and new jeans. You’d almost cried when you found a package of unopened socks, shouting for Feyre like you’d found a cure.

“S’just socks, (Y/N). Calm down,” she’d replied, but the relief shone in her eyes as well.

You share the beans, passing it back and forth in silence, the both of you lost in your thoughts. You’d packed up what you could into your bags. They sit at the foot of the mattress, ready and close just in case something happens. Your new running shoes sit neatly next to them on your respective side of the bed.

“Go to sleep, I’ll take the first watch,” you offer, and who is Feyre to argue?

She settles into the soft bed and is out as soon as she’s comfortable, exhausted from today’s events. You’re constantly worn out. There’s just something about the end of the world that is so very tiring.

You hum to yourself, checking the exits for the third time in two hours. You need something to do or you’ll fall asleep. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. Feyre knows it’s because of your slight paranoia that something terrible could happen if you don’t continually check your surroundings. But you’re not wrong.

Checking the lock and chain on the front door, your attention is caught by something moving outside.

You immediately crouch out of sight, peeking out the grimy window into the darkness to see what it is. 

Three figures, too fast to be zombies.

Your heart pounds. You can hardly make them out in the dark, but it looks like two people dragging another along between them. They’re tall, you can tell. Must be men. They hurry down the street as you watch on. Your gaze flickers up the street, searching for zombies, your knife gripped in a firm hand, but you don’t see anything.

You wonder if the person they’re dragging with them is injured. They must be, otherwise they’d be running alongside the other two. You wonder how much blood they’re leaving behind as the three of them find an open shop across the street and down a few from where you and Feyre are hiding out for the night. An old cafe of sorts. You’d checked it over earlier, but you suppose it’s as good of a place as any to take shelter in for the night, the window and door still intact.

They’ll be away from monsters, at least.

Everything in the new world is a lot scarier in the dark.

_________________________________________

(Part 2)

[writingforstraykids]

Hii, can you write something Minchan x reader where Minho gets out of an abusive relationship and ends up at Chan's/your place? 🥺

A/N: Hey there, this started as a short drabble before I edited it and turned this into a fic. I hope this is what you wanted and you like it. Thank you for the request💕🥰

Second Chance

Word Count: 4725

Summary: Chan and you help Minho the night he gets out of his abusive relationship. Due to your shared past Minho seems anxious to intrude. A year later things seem to be going well until a situation escalates and triggers a panic attack.

Warnings/Tags: angst, fluff, tw!physical abuse, tw!emotional abuse, tw!panic attack, bruises, emotional hurt/comfort, hurt/comfort, poly!skz

You hum softly against your boyfriend's lips, indulging the warmth of his body against yours. You feel calm and loved here with him in the safety of your home. Smiling, you brush back his curls and nudge his nose with yours. "Come on now, you promised Min that dinner ages ago." 

"Didn't I tell you? He texted me half an hour ago that he can't make it tonight," Chan says and kisses you lovingly. "That means I have time for you tonight, baby." 

You frown softly as Chan starts kissing down your neck. "You think he's okay?" 

"He didn't say anything else," Chan mumbles against your skin. 

"Yeah, but-," you start and stop as he pulls back with a groan. 

"Please, I don't want to think about our ex when I'm kissing you," he tells you. 

"You mean our best friend, dummy," you giggle and Chan laughs, giving in. "I'm just worried. It isn't like him to cancel plans last minute without a reason." 

"I don't know, maybe his boyfriend had plans?" he asks and you huff softly. "I know you don't like that guy, but-." 

"You've seen the bruises, Channie, something's off," you say firmly, thinking of the last time Minho visited. He looked tired, sad even, and there had been a heavy bruise on his wrist that looked like someone grabbed him too hard. Chan asked him about it of course, but dropped it at how defensive Minho became. 

"Listen, doll, he'll let us know if something's off," Chan says. 

"Not when it's what I think it is," you shake your head. "What if he's being manipulated into thinking it's his fault? Or if he's too embarrassed to tell you? You know how hard it is for him to open up and-." 

"Fucks sake," he climbs off the bed and searches for his phone. "I'm sure he's…," he starts and his face falls looking at his screen. 

"Please don't tell me I was right," you whisper. 

"I'm…Minho called. Ten times in the last twenty minutes," he says worriedly. 

"Shit, you think they got into a fight?" you ask shocked. 

"I don't know," he says and quickly puts on his sneakers, searching for his keys. His phone goes off, loudly this time as Chan had unmuted it. "Minho, what's wrong?" he asks worriedly and puts him on speaker. 

"Chan, hyung, can I stay at yours? Just for tonight," Minho says shakily, glancing across his shoulder as he walks down the street to your apartment. "I'm so sorry about this but it's kind of an emergency," he rambles on. 

"Yeah, sure, do you need me to pick you up?" he asks worriedly. 

"Uh, I don't think that's a good idea," Minho shakes his head and quickens his steps as someone walks down the street behind him, getting closer. "I'll be there in a minute anyways." 

"You're driving here?" Chan asks. 

"No," Minho swallows. "Don't know where my drivers license is. Or my keys. You know me, I tend to misplace my stuff," he laughs it off, almost choking on it. 

Chan exchanges a meaningful glance with you. Minho did not misplace his stuff often. "Okay, just ring the bell when you're here, Y/N will buzz you in," he says. 

"Chan," Minho bursts out panicked, closing his eyes for a second to remind himself to stay calm. "Please don't hang up yet," he pleads and looks back once more realizing the guy behind him is his boyfriend. "Fuck, no," he whispers. 

"What's wrong?" Chan asks, eyes widening as Minho doesn't answer before yelping in pain. Chan drops his phone and races off, leaving your front door open. 

You grab Chan's phone and rush to the door, waiting there anxiously. "Min?" you ask worriedly and only hear something crash to the ground, suspecting it was his phone. 

Minho winces in pain as his boyfriend grabs his hair forcefully and tries to get away from him. "Please, stop," he begs, hot tears already filling his eyes again and spilling down his cheeks. 

"Who the fuck allowed you to leave, huh? You have nowhere to go, you need me to function because you're too dumb to do it on your own," he shouts at him and punches him into the stomach. "Why the fuck would you run off?" 

He groans surprised, fresh tears shooting into his eyes. "Please, I'm so sorry," he begs. Minho bends over in pain but doesn't get far due to the harsh tug at his hair. He chokes on his sobs and braces himself for the next hit. 

"Let go of him!" Chan snaps as soon as he reaches them. 

"Channie," Minho whimpers in fear, wincing as his boyfriend grabs his chin forcefully. 

"Seriously? You're still not over him?" he asks darkly and Minho's eyes flicker anxiously. "Out of everyone you call him. I knew you'd cheat on me." 

"I didn't-," Minho starts weakly and flinches heavily when Chan's suddenly next to him, one hand on his lower back. 

"I won't say it again, let go of him," Chan says firmly. 

"I won't do shit," he tells him sharply. "This is my boyfriend, Chan, back off." 

"Alright then," Chan says and with a swift move he punches him right into the face, delivering another forceful hit into his stomach. 

Minho backs away as soon as his hold on him lessens and hides behind Chan, anxiously grabbing the hem of Chan's shirt. "Chan," he whispers. "Chan, we should leave." 

"Get inside, I'll be there in a minute," Chan tells him. 

"Channie he has a knife," Minho begs him through tears. 

Chan reaches back for him and takes his hand, eyeing the man in front of him. "Minho, run," he says and pulls him with him. Chan pulls the front door closed behind them and follows Minho, who's already stumbling up the stairs to your apartment. 

Your eyes widen as you see him rushing up the stairs, tears streaming down his face. "Minho," you say shocked as he gets closer and you notice how hard he's shaking. 

Chan reaches the door only seconds later and gently shoves Minho inside. "Come on, let's get inside and close that door." 

Minho doesn't get far, sliding down against a wall in your hallway as soon as the door's closed. He pulls his legs to his chest, whimpering as he rocks himself, trying to calm down. Heavy sobs shake his body as he tries to hold them back and his breathing quickens. 

You subconsciously grab Chan's hand, too shocked to move for a moment as you watch him breaking down. That's a very rare side of Minho. You squint your eyes as Minho messily wipes his cheeks and you can see the bruised skin beneath the makeup he put on to hide them. Your heart sinks to your stomach as you take a few steps forward and crouch down in front of him, keeping your distance. "Minnie?" you ask softly and after the third time he snaps out of his state and stares at you with wide eyes. "Minnie, what happened?" you ask gently, barely noticing Chan sitting on the floor next to you. 

"Please don't tell anyone," he presses out, glancing from you to Chan. "You can't," he whimpers. 

"Don't tell anyone what?" Chan asks calmly. He knows what he saw out there but did Minho? 

"That we had a fight. No one can know," he says desperately. 

"Why?" Chan asks patiently and fear flickers in Minho's eyes. "What happens if someone knows?" 

Minho shakes his head rapidly, backing further away against the wall. "Please don't."

"What?" Chan asks and reaches out for him, placing his hand on his knee. 

Minho whimpers in fear, flinching heavily, and pushes himself up. "This was a mistake," he says and stumbles toward your door. "Sorry for bothering you two." 

"No, Min, you're not bothering us," you try to get up but Chan holds you back, reading the situation better than you. 

"Kitten?" he asks and Minho stops in his tracks at that old term of endearment. "Please stay? You're safe here, we don't have to talk about it today, I promise." 

Minho hugs himself and glances at the door, torn between his options. "I-uhm-I don't know if…," he trails off meeting your worried eyes. 

"It's okay, you can stay," you assure him gently. "We have all the time you need."

"It's fine, I'll just go back home," he chokes on the last word, his eyes betraying him. 

"I don't think that's a good idea," Chan tells him gently. 

"Listen, Chan, just because things with you were different doesn't mean it's all bad," Minho grows defensive. 

"Different? You mean because I didn't hit you in the middle of the street?" he asks and you contort your face, unsure of how Minho would take that. "Come on, you know better than that. You don't deserve to be treated this way." 

"Yes, I do," Minho whispers. "I deserve every little bit of it because it's my own fault I gave up on something good. I gave up on you."

"Sometimes things don't work the way we want them to…but you didn't give up on us. And we won't give up on you now," Chan says firmly. 

Minho's face falls in a sob as he gives in. "Channie," he whimpers and Chan gets up slowly. 

"Can I give you a hug?" he asks caringly and Minho nods anxiously. "Okay, deep breaths," he says as he steps closer and Minho subconsciously takes a step back. "I'm here, it's okay," he promises softly, holding his hand out for him. "It's Channie, remember?" he asks soothingly and Minho nods, seeming as if he has to process that information first. Chan very gently places his hands on Minho's shoulders first before fondling down his arms. "Easy there," he whispers and takes another step forward, carefully wrapping his arms around him. "That's okay, kitten?" 

Minho nods weakly and buries his face in his shoulder, hugging him back hesitantly. "I can't breathe," he whispers, clutching his shirt as he feels the panic still boiling deep inside of him. 

"Y/N, come here," Chan tells you, still keeping his volume down. "Is it okay if Y/N hugs you too?" he asks, soothingly rubbing his back. "You need to feel some kind of weight or pressure to calm down right?" 

Minho bites back a sob, hearing that Chan still remembers that. "Yeah," he answers shakily and sucks in a sharp breath. 

You follow Chan's instructions, stepping behind Minho and hugging him as well. You and Chan trap him between your bodies and hug him tightly. "Okay, Minnie, now breathe in deep through your nose…and out through the mouth. Deep breaths," you tell him, guiding him through it. You have witnessed him panicking once before after their video shoot high up on that helicopter landing platform. It feels like ages ago. 

Minho grows calmer in your hold after a while, his breathing calms and his body stops shaking. Instead he's shivering with exhaustion and the adrenaline leaving his body. "I promise I'll be gone tomorrow," he tells you quietly. 

"We'll talk about that tomorrow. One step at a time, okay?" Chan says soothingly and exchanges a worried look with you. "Let's go and sit down?" 

"That sounds like a good idea," you nod, gently nudging Minho forward into your apartment. You don't have to tell him the directions, this has been his home before after all. You go to grab some warm blankets and Chan takes his laptop and headphones from the sofa to make some room. Minho stands still in the middle of your living room, anxiously fidgeting with the sleeve of his sweater. "Chan, why don't you go and help Min put on some comfy clothes?" 

Chan turns to look at you and glancing at Minho makes him realize your intention. "Sure, come on," he says and carefully takes his hand pulling him with him. Minho follows him until they reach your bedroom and he comes to a sudden stop. "Min?" he asks. 

"I-uh-I'm sorry," he shakes his head, following him inside. The amount of memories crashing down on him steals his breath for a moment. It's still the same bed, curtains and even the pictures of his cats are still on your desk in the corner. He remembers the many intimate moments he spent here with both you and Chan, the many nights and lazy mornings. "It's too much," he whispers. 

Chan closes the closet and tilts his head at him. "What is?" 

"This here," he says, vaguely waving through the room. "I can't go back to his place, because that's not home. This isn't either because it was before I fucked it all up. I have nowhere to go and-," tears brim his eyes all over again and he huffs at himself in utter frustration. "God, I'm so stupid." 

Chan sits down at the edge of the bed and pats the space next to him. "Come here," he says and after a moment of hesitation he does. "I know you're going through shit right now, your feelings are all over the place and you're scared and confused. But you're not alone, you don't have to be." 

Minho chews on his lower lip and stares down as Chan carefully takes his hand again. "He was right."

"About what?" he asks calmly. 

"I am still in love with the two of you. I do think about what I lost here a lot…but I never told him that," he confesses quietly. "I was so scared that things wouldn't work out or our fans wouldn't accept us the way we were that I freaked out, destroying the thing I was so scared of losing." 

Chan swallows softly and fondles his knuckles as he listens. "How long has this been going on?" 

"What? The screaming? The hitting? The hairpulling?" Minho asks sarcastically before exhaling loudly. "A month into the relationship." 

"A-Minho that's been five months," Chan exclaims in shock. 

"I know," he nods and stares into the distance. "I felt like I deserved it. He encouraged that and I got stuck in this shitty cycle of wanting to be useful for that person you fear but strangely still love." 

"What did he do?" Chan asks and a shadow travels over Minho's face. 

"Not tonight," he shakes his head and gives him a sad smile. "If that's okay." 

"Okay, yeah, of course," Chan nods quickly. "You don't have to say anything but…we love you too. And we miss you, we miss your dumb jokes and sassy comments. We miss your adorable laugh and Y/N misses you every time she has to glam up all on her own. So, we think about you a lot as well. What I'm trying to say is that if you'd ever feel ready, we're there. If not, we'll always be your friends and this means you can stay with us for as long as you want to, no matter what you choose. It's your choice, okay?"

"Okay," he whispers and drops his head, burying his face in his shoulder. 

"But that's also not something to discuss tonight," Chan says, planting a tiny kiss on his hair. "Just wanted you to know you're always welcome here." 

Minho squeezes his hand tightly. "Thank you." 

Chan stays there with him for another while, mindlessly rubbing his knuckles and whispering soothing nonsense to him from time to time. He doesn't know how long they stay there like this but it seems to help Minho's body calm down. You come to look for them after a while, your expression softening seeing them. 

You sit down at Minho's other side and gently pat his thigh. "Hey there, doing a little better?" 

He hums gently and blindly reaches out for your hand, squeezing it as he finds it. "I love you, you know that right?" he asks and you're too stunned to answer for a second. 

"I-uh-yeah, I guess I do," you stammer and Chan flashes you a compassionate smile. 

Minho pulls away from Chan's shoulder and turns to look at. "I know I fucked up, Y/N, even if you say I didn't. I didn't hurt you on purpose." 

"I know," you say quietly. 

"I just…I was scared," Minho says and lets go of Chan's and your hands. "And now I'm back here and I've never been more scared in my life before," he admits shakily and rubs his thighs, trying to steady himself. 

"He can't hurt you here, I promise," you try to soothe him. 

"I'm scared of what that shit did to me," he shakes his head. "I'm scared of him. I'm scared to lose you because I'll be a burden now…and it fucking terrifies me that I'm so open and honest about my feelings right now," he adds at the end making you all laugh. 

"That means you're making progress," you say and a weak smile tugs at the corners of his lips. 

"We can work this all out together…and if there are things we can't deal with we'll find someone who can," Chan adds and Minho nods thankfully. 

"I want you to keep that up and be very clear about your boundaries with us, okay?" you ask. "We don't want to trigger anything or make you feel uncomfortable." 

"I can try," Minho promises bravely. 

"And don't hesitate asking us if you need anything," Chan continues. 

"I will," he nods. 

You pull him into a hug and bury your face in his hair, tears brimming your eyes as he hugs you back tightly. "We got you, Minnie." 

One year later 

Chan paces your shared apartment, phone clutched in his hand, as he tries to stay calm. You can tell he has trouble doing so, noticing the way his hands shake, his chest heaves with irregular breaths, and the worry clouding his usually soft brown eyes. Your boyfriend checks the time once again, a low groan slipping from his lips as he realizes only five minutes have passed since he last checked. 

“Channie,” you say very gently, and he stops, staring at you with wide eyes. “Come here, sit down for a minute.”

“Can’t,” he shakes his head and continues the reckless pace from before.

“I’m sure he’s alright,” you say, trying to convince yourself at the same time. 

“You don’t know that,” he shakes his head firmly. “What if that asshole met him somewhere and-” his voice breaks, and he quickly shuts his mouth again. 

“Chan,” you say firmly. “We can’t keep on expecting the worst. Nothing has happened in a year. Min’s an adult, he can do what he wants. If he decides to stay away for a whole day, then that’s his choice.”

“He’s not thinking straight at the moment, you know that. Now that he's been with us for a whole year everything comes up again. He’s emotional; he keeps on seeking our help, trying not to bother us, and I need to keep him safe, I-” he breaks off again as he meets your eyes.

“Stop making what happened to him your fault,” you tell him. “I know he means a lot to you, I know you want to keep him safe, but stop blaming yourself for what his ex did.”

“He called me Y/N. Repeatedly. I was busy making out with you as this asshole hurt him,” he says, getting more emotional with every passing minute. “And still, he came here as soon as he could.”

You have enough and slip off your chair, making your way over to him. “That’s because he trusts you…and sometimes you have to trust him too,” you say and offer him a hug. 

Chan pulls you into his arms and buries his face in your hair. He can feel your heart racing against his chest and snorts. “So much to staying calm.”

“It’s not that I’m not worried myself, Channie,” you remind him calmly. 

You still remember the night one year ago as if it was yesterday. Not a night has passed since then without him joining the two of you in your bed at night, first as your friend, then in search for the love he thought he lost. Time healed the bruises, the split lip but not the scars left on his heart, and the fear that was still deep in his bones. By now you were finding your routine as a throuple but there was still a lot to figure out. So, of course, Chan gets worried when Minho doesn’t show up for a whole day and doesn’t answer his phone.

The front door to your apartment opens, and you look up surprised as Minho strolls in calmly, two bags in his hand, keys in the other. He frowns softly as he spots the two of you and tilts his head at you, meeting your eyes. "You're okay?" 

Chan lets go of you, and you can tell his worries get replaced by anger, which is also a very familiar part of him worrying to you. “Where the fuck have you been?” he asks firmly.

“What?” Minho asks confused, flinching at the harsh tone.

“I tried calling you for like a hundred times, Min. I’ve been worried sick all day about you!” Chan goes on, letting his anger flow freely now. 

"Chan," you try gently. 

Minho’s stomach turns painfully as the common fear of what is about to unfold takes hold of him. He puts down the bags shakily, bracing himself for all the hurtful words that would leave his hyung's mouth at any second. He deserves every one of them. "I-I turned off my phone," he says quietly. 

"You can't be serious," Chan snaps, and you glance at him worriedly. "I told you always to keep that damn thing close so I can find you when something happens." 

"I-I'm sorry, hyung," Minho says shakily, staring at the floor in front of him. "I know that was stupid. I'm stupid."

"You're not stupid, Min," you chime in gently, but the younger male shakes his head firmly. 

"I am," he presses out, body shaking in fear as he feels put back into a situation he thought he escaped. 

"I told you so often," Chan insists tiredly, voice growing more gentle. "How could you forget that?" 

"I'm sorry," he whimpers, tears shooting to his eyes and spilling right down his cheeks. "I-I should've told you. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking," he starts, sounding a little panicked. "I'm so stupid, I'm sorry I worried you. Please don't punish me." 

Chan's whole demeanor changes at that sudden breakdown, face falling. "Fuck," he breathes out, realizing how triggering this must've been. "Minho, no one is going to punish you," he says gently, making his way over, not knowing that being soft was exactly what Minho got before the snap. 

Minho subconsciously takes a step back, shivering. "Please, I'll do better, I promise," he tries to save himself. Stumbling back blindly, he trips over Chan's backpack and falls backward, hitting his head at the front door as he crashes onto the ground. 

"Shit," you breathe out shocked. 

By the time Chan reaches him to help him up, he's sobbing, curling up on the floor and protecting his head. "Min, hey, hey, it's okay," Chan tries, crouching down. The moment he touches him, Minho screams in fear, making him flinch back. 

"Please," he sobs, making himself even smaller. 

Chan looks back at you, eyes filling with tears and practically screaming for help. He backs away quietly from Minho as you make your way over. 

You crouch down next to him and hesitantly place your hand on his lower back. "Minnie," you say soothingly, knowing no one else but Chan and you called him that. "Minnie, angel, you're safe. I'm here, no one can hurt you, okay?" Your voice breaks through the fog of panic, and Minho scrambles onto his knees, lunging forward and holding onto you tightly. You hold onto him just as tight, soothingly running your hand through his hair. "Shh, it's okay," you whisper and rock him in your arms. "It's okay, you're safe." 

Minho sobs into your sweater, holding onto you for dear life. He tries focusing on your scent, how your hair feels beneath his fingertips, and how your body is warm against his. He tries pushing all the dark memories aside, reminding himself that he is, in fact, safe. Safe in your warm embrace. 

You glance over at Chan, who watches you, still standing in the same spot. The guilt in his eyes is overwhelming, and he doesn't bother wiping away the tears running down his cheeks. You hold out your hand for him, but he shakes his head weakly. "Channie babe, come here," you say soothingly. "Chan was just worried, he didn't mean to upset you, dear," you say toward Minho, and the younger one nods bravely. "Come on," you encourage your boyfriend.

Chan slowly makes his way over, shaking as he sits beside you. "Minnie, I'm so sorry," he presses out, hesitantly rubbing his back.

Minho pulls back and looks at him through teary eyes. "Something's wrong with me," he whispers, and Chan searches his eyes confused. "You'd never hurt me." 

Chan firmly shakes his head. "Never," he promises. "I'm sorry I got mad." 

Minho straddles his lap, burying his face in Chan's shoulder. He wraps his arms around his neck and sniffles softly. "No, I'm sorry for disappearing," he says shakily. 

Chan hugs him tight, burying his face in his hair and closing his eyes. He gently runs his hand over his back before fondling his head. "Does it still hurt?" he asks, and Minho shakes his head. 

You watch them with a gentle smile, knowing how much they mean to each other. Minho pulls back after a while, pressing their foreheads together with a weak laugh. "I'm sorry, Channie love, I know I worried you." 

"Stop that now," he says gently, rubbing his sides soothingly. "I know you didn't mean to." 

"Thank you for always trying to keep me safe," he tells him, cupping his face. 

"Of course," your boyfriend whispers. 

Minho wraps him back into his arms and closes his eyes for a moment before speaking up. "I just wanted to take a walk this morning, but then he bombarded me with messages, having another fake account. I got upset, turned my phone off, and kept on walking around aimlessly for hours. I completely forgot the time." 

"That's okay, Min, it happens," you assure him, sitting down next to them. 

Minho flashes you a weak smile and squeezes your hand gently. "I should've told you guys. I wasn't thinking." 

"Happens," Chan nods and soothingly rubs his thighs. 

Minho meets his eyes again and remains silent for a while, sinking deeper into that warm feeling of comfort and safety. "I actually bought dinner on the way back." 

You giggle softly and pat his shoulder. "That's sweet." 

"And uhm…I saw something that seemed fitting for the two of you," he says, ears burning up a little as he climbs off Chan's lap. Minho grabs the smaller bag and takes out two small boxes, handing the longer one to you. 

Chan opens his and takes out a beautiful silver bracelet with a small pendant in the middle. There's a heart-shaped hole in the pendant, and opening your box, you know why: the heart's attached to a necklace. "Oh my God, that's so cute," you beam at him. Chan helps you put it on, and Minho watches you with a soft smile. "Where's yours?" you ask and Minho frowns softly. 

"I-uhm…I shouldn't-," he shakes his head, swallowing softly at your confused expressions. 

"Kitten, you're a part of us," Chan says softly and Minho's eyes brim with tears again. 

"But-," he starts out weakly. 

"We love you. This is your home, angel," you tell him and smile as Chan caresses his cheek and Minho instinctively leans into it. 

"We'll go back there tomorrow and find something fitting for you," Chan suggests. 

A hot tear falls down Minho's cheek as he watches the two of you amazed. "Okay," he whispers and closes his eyes as Chan plants a soft kiss on his hair. He giggles softly as you kiss the tip of his nose and smiles at the two of you through his tears. "I love you two so much." 

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[thelargefrye]

CHRISTMAS BLUES  …  one - shot

pairing : poly!ateez x idol!f!reader

genre : angst + hurt / comfort + really really light smut

warnings : language + insecure thoughts + y/n celebrates christmas + mentions of shower sex

word count : 2.3k

notes : this is a repost on my actual blog bc my other blog @/atztv has gotten shadowbanned 😕

after your flight home gets cancelled last minute, you spend the holidays alone and you take this moment to think about your relationship with the boys.

DEC. 23, INCHEON INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, SOUTH KOREA, 10:49 PM

“cancelled?” you echo the words the airline worker had just said to you. they nodded and once again offered an apology to you, but you brushed them off. “that’s alright, thank you. happy holidays,” you say softly before picking your bags up, luggage towing behind you as you get out of line.

your flight home had been cancelled last minute due to the weather, which means that you would be spending the holidays by yourself.

the boys had already went home. all miles away from seoul and from you in order to spend the limited time they had with their families before they had to go on tour again.

well, might as well go back to the dorm, you think before trudging your way out of the airport to haul a taxi.

DEC. 24, ATEEZ DORM, 12:03 AM

the dorm always felt odd when the boys weren’t here. even when they were on tour and you remained in korea, it felt weird.

something just… unsettling about how quiet it was. that’s why you usually opted to stay in your own apartment when they were gone.

leaving your luggage by the door along with your shoes, you make your way through the dorm. winter jacket being ditched at the edge of the couch mindless as you make your way to one of the bedroom.

smack, you turn to see your coat now on the floor and your shoulders slump at the sight. shit, i’ll get it later, you think before continuing to seonghwa’s and hongjoong’s room.

changing your clothes, you throw on one of seonghwa’s hoodies. allowing yourself to be engulfed with his scent, you think this makes the dorm a little less cold.

you make your way back to the kitchen to fix you some ramen after realizing you hadn’t eaten in a few hours.

honestly, making ramen wasn’t your favorite thing to do. you know that if wooyoung was here, you would just harass him until he caved in and made it for you. he would complain about making it, but you knew if it really bothered him, he have a small smile on his face as he made.

yeah, his ramen is better.

DEC. 24, ATEEZ DORM, 8:09 AM

woo-bug : hey bby! let us know when you land and make it home!!

joongie : ^^ love you! have fun and call us when you get settled! 😙😙😙

you smile at the texts you got from some of the boys. you woke up this morning to see the text from them and it makes your stomach full with butterflies.

you : hey loves, i’m home 💕 will call you later when i get the chance!! have fun with your families.

you toss your phone to the side as you get out of bed and make your way to the bathroom for a quick shower.

you figured you might as well go out and do some things then be trapped in the dorm for two days by yourself.

as you’re in the shower, you can’t help but let your mind wander to the boys. how seonghwa would be arguing with san about joining you in the shower, the eldest telling the younger to let you shower in peace.

however unknown to the fact that hongjoong had already snuck in and joined you. you would be like putty in his hand as his hands roamed your body, feigning innocence and claiming he’s “helping you wash” and the next thing you know he has two fingers shoved into your pussy.

you try to hold back your moans, but he would encourage you to let them out as his free hand fondles your breast. “let it out, pretty. let them here how good i’m making you feel.”

his fingers move faster, the feeling of you clenching around his fingers let’s him know you are close. you finally do reach your climax with a high pitched moan, you are hit with the sudden realization that you are alone.

the now ice cold water feels weird hitting against your hot skin.

DEC. 24, SEOUL, 2:30 PM

your converse against the sidewalk make a nice rhythm as you walk through seoul.

it’s been a while since you’ve traveled to this part of the city and you’re hoping to find a new café to take yeosang to before they leave on your.

hongjoong’s jacket, that you definitely didn’t steal from his closet, engulfs you nicely along with the thick sweater you have underneath. you knew hongjoong would love your outfit.

you need to make sure to take a picture and send it to him later.

as you walk, you take note of the a new café you haven’t seen before. the aesthetic of the place was cute and warm and you knew you would have to bring yeosang here.

and maybe even jongho. the maknae always made it seem like he was rather indifferent about coming to cafés with you and yeosang, but you knew he secretly loved coming on those kind of dates with you two.

you once overheard him tell yunho about a café he wanted to take you too. you remember the gummy smile he had and the fond look yunho gave him.

now that you think about it… that was around the time you wanted a break from the relationship because of hongjoong and that producer.

you feel a sense of guilt settle in your stomach as you think about how he never took you to that café or even mentioned it.

during that time, you felt like you just ruined everything for them. that’s why you wanted to take a break. you remember how miserable you felt and how you would actively ignore their longing looks when you ran into them at the company.

you try not to think about how miserable they must have felt too.

DEC. 24, SEOUL, 5:30 PM

“why are you doing here, young missy!” the familiar voice of the grandma at the bbq restaurant yells as you walk through the door.

you can’t help but smile as you walk over to her hunched form and allow her to hug you. she’s warm.

“gosh, missy, why are you so cold? and where are the boys at?”

“my flight home was cancelled and they boys are with their families,” you explain to her as she leads you to a table.

she doesn’t hand you a menu, already knowing yours and the boys orders by heart. you’ve been coming here since your trainee days. you look at the walls to see pictures of you and the boys decorating one wall and her collection of signed albums on display for everyone to see.

grandma makes you feel proud of all your hard work. she’s witnessed you grow from a rookie to someone who has fans all over the world.

“oh, grandma, here,” you say handing her the present your bought her once she brings you your food.

“thank you, dear, you always did have such a warm heart.”

DEC. 24, HONGJOONG, 9:30 PM

“huh? what do you mean she didn’t go home?” hongjoong was confused as he spoke to his manager over the phone.

“i seen her while i was out. she was wearing one of your jackets you designed. i contacted her manager and apparently her flight was cancelled last minute. figured i would at least let you know,” his manager finishes and hongjoong thanks the man before he hangs up.

why didn’t you tell them your flight was cancelled? if you had told him you were still in korea, he would have immediately went to go get you and bring him home with you. his parents love you, they wouldn’t have minded.

the question still lingered in the back of his mind as he tries to figure out why you didn’t say anything. he lets out a sigh before picking his phone back up and going to his contacts.

“hey, do you have a second?”

DEC. 24, ATEEZ DORM, 11:30 PM

this is nice, you think to yourself as you snuggle on the couch, favorite blanket wrapped around you as you watch a christmas movie. a bowl of popcorn nestled right next to you.

the christmas movie was one of those cliche love story ones. the type that always got mingi emotional by the end of it.

“i’m just so happy they found each other!” mingi would say as he wiped his eyes away before cuddling into whoever was the closest to him.

you’ll have to rewatch this movie with mingi when they come back. you know he’ll really enjoy watching it with you.

you let your head rest against the back of the couch, eyes following the characters on the tv. letting out a few chuckles here and there because of their shenanigans. by the end of the movie, you were starting to grow tired, but decided that one more movie wouldn’t hurt before going to bed.

looking at the clock you notice it was 11:30, only thirty more minutes until christmas. you remind yourself to send the boys a text once it hits midnight.

your first pad softly across the floor as you make your way to the kitchen to fix another bowl of popcorn.

while you’re waiting, you begin to hum to yourself. a song you and hongjoong have been working on while he’s been away on tour, sending the song back and forth between each other.

it was something you were proud of.

beep, beep, beep! you take the popcorn out of the microwave and dump it into your bowl.

thump! you turn around at the sound, bowl in hand you begin to walk near the door. “that damn jacket, i swear to—

you cut yourself off when you notice yunho standing at the entrance. you can’t help the small gasp you let out as the two of you make eye contact.

yunho smiles at you warmly, setting his bag aside he immediately comes up and engulfs you into a hug.

“my pretty baby, why didn’t you tell us your flight was cancelled?” he asked, hand running over your hair as he holds you close to his chest. you can feel the coldness of outside lingering on his jacket as you snuggle into him more.

“i didn’t want to bother you guys,” you mumble once yunho pulled away a little bit. you refused to look him in the eyes, ashamed of not telling him.

he took the bowl of popcorn from your hands gentle, setting it aside before cupping your face. you didn’t even realize you had tears forming until he forced you to look at him.

“you should know by now how important you are to us and this relationship. you will never be a bother to me, or hyung, or any of us. i love you so much,” he confesses and you feel your heart thumping hard in your ears at his words.

“i’m sorry!” you cry, tears finally falling as you shove your face back into yunho’s sweater. “i’ve been so miserable since you guys went on tour. seeing you all perform and do lives together made me feel so… i don’t know, like i don’t belong in this relationship.”

“and being here alone for christmas just made all those feelings come back?” he asked softly, he felt his heart ache when you nodded your head.

yunho didn’t say anything as he tapped the back of your thighs, a signal for you to jump, to which you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“go ahead and cry your heart out, baby, i’m not going anywhere,” he says once he moved the two of you to the couch. you felt your blanket drape over your shoulders as yunho started rubbing circles into your back.

DEC. 25, ATEEZ DORM, 12:05 AM

when you woke up, you felt overly warm. your cheek was squished against something soft, too soft to be the couch cushion. and when you go to move, that’s when it hit you.

yunho had come to the dorm.

you sit up quickly, pushing your body away from your boyfriend to see him looking at you in shock.

“whoa, you okay, baby?” he asks still a little surprised by your sudden movement.

“i-i’m fine…” you say trailing off as you feel yourself relax a little bit.

“do you feel a little better?” he ask, hand coming up to caress your face.

“why didn’t you stay with your family?” you ask completely ignoring his question.

“what?”

“why did you leave them to come here?” you rephrase your question, looking down at your hands instead of meeting his eyes. for some reason you were afraid to meeting his eyes. why? you weren’t too sure on.

“because someone needed to be with you during the holidays,” he answers quietly, his fingers coming and intertwining with yours lazily. “i told my parents and brother that you were alone at the dorm, and my mom practically shoved me out the door to get here quicker.”

you looked at him a little surprised, “really?” he nodded with a smile. “my mom really likes you, she wants to meet you soon. i think she might be a bigger fan of you than she is of me,” he adds with a laugh and it makes you laugh as well.

then something hits you, “what time is it?”

yunho looks at his watch, “a little past midnight. merry christmas love,” he says before leaning over to kiss you. “thank you for loving us and sticking with us through everything,” he whispers in your ear as he pulls you back to his chest.

you smile as you snuggle into his chest, “merry christmas to you too, yuyu. i love you.”

[the-primordials]

Do ROs have a romantic experience? And what about the sexual experience?

Hi anon, to answer your questions;

Arum, does have romantic experience and sexual experience as he has had a few lovers, but none ever felt right, or were just casual interest; Rating: 9/10 on romance/ And been with 6 sexual partners.

Samuel, has no romantic or sexual experience as he is shunned by most mortels that know his name and heritage. But he is also cold to those who have offered to be with him; Rating: 0/10 on romance experience/ And still a virgin in all 3 sectors.

Cliodhna, well... not much to say... she's a succubus 🙈🙉🙊. She has quite a lot of romantic experience due to her late-husband who won her heart, and a lot of sexual experience due to her nature and species. But after her husband's death she has been single(and stayed away from the sex too, but understandable), tho has flirted and bewitched many even after his death; Rating: 10/10 on romance/ And sexual partners 🤔 more than a hundred 💯 😳. (And incase that scares you, just know a succubus can make themselves a virgin again as they are the manipulators and masters of lust).

April, has had one boyfriend while younger as mearly an experiment to see what all the fuss was about when it came to love and sex. It didn't last long; Rating: 3/10 on romance/ And she has had 1 sexual partner and only done the deed once. She didn't find it very thrilling as many described it.(I wonder who's fault that was... he must've been a 2 minute guy😅)

Ren, well she's a special case, she had a crush on a boy back on earth, he came with her to Eden becoming a hero too but ended up crushing her feelings by trying to have a threeway even when she told him she liked him and wasn't into poly or harem crap.(dude must've thought he was the protagonist). Anyway eversince that and with her time spent wondering our world of Eden, Ren fell in love with a common girl, unfortunately she only swung straight, and poor Ren got burnt in the most embarrassing way.(poor girl can't catch a break, that author should burn on a stake.); Rating: 1/10 romance/ And still a virgin, tho not lip wise that shit got sold off twice.

Ravyn, has zero romance or sexual experience poor girl is so attached to our PC, she got eyes for no one else. And i mean zero she comes off maybe creepy/stalker vibe especially around PC; Rating 0/10 on romance/ Complete virgin(oldest till date, unless we count your PC too), tho she has been collecting sexual knowledge by watching mortels over the eons.

Invar, is also on the inexperienced scale, tho only sexually. Invar has dated a few gods and mortels but none ever worked out, due to him being omniscient(and no his omniscient power doesn't work on the Primordials only gods and lower, but he can glimpse a Primordial's future) and seeing the whole relationship from beginning to end, he did try but it just never felt real.; Rating: 6/10 on romance/ And has no physical sexual experience only what he has seen, felt and read.

[silver-heller]

So, I'm curious. Since the characters are poly and all in your AU, and Serafine is pretty open about that, could she potentially enter into another relationship like the one she has with Mordecai?

Do you think Mordecai would get jealous? How would he react exactly, and who else (as in, type of person), could you see Serafine getting into a relationship like that?

Ooo, this is a super interesting ask, thank you in advance!

And most definitely, if she found the right partner and felt comfortable being more serious with them. She has that sort of relationship with Silver, however, I'm not counting her because you're specifically asking about something that would break the status quo for Mordecai, and Silver doesn't.

I think Mordecai would definitely get a bit jealous, mostly because of how "exclusive" Serafine makes herself. In the AU, she acts very open but has very few people she is actively and emotionally close to (mostly just Nico, and then Mordecai/Silver). So, Serafine opening up more, though Mordecai would of course be happy for her, and not just in a fling sort of way (which I imagine she'd still do, Mordecai wouldn't care), it would make him wonder about his position. A whole "am I really special, or was I just there at the right time" type situation.

I also think, overall, it would make him really nervous, especially if Serafine would want to include him, considering they're so close (and I think she probably would). A new partner in this type of arrangement would bring forth a lot of questions for him, such as "what do they expect from me? Do they know I'm ace? Do they respect this?", "is it possible I could fall romantically for them and this would cause problems later?", "are they aware and comfortable with the fact I have a metaphorical husband?", "do they realize how many partners I have outside of Serafine? How do they feel about that, would they want to meet them and would I want them to meet them?", etc.

Serafine would be both great and terrible at bringing the two together, because her pushiness and refusal to take Mordecai's shit means she'd help the new partner have an easier time cutting through this as well, but she'd also probably overlook and forget all the insecurities and understandable worries Mordecai has toward this type of thing. I think Mordecai doesn't understand Serafine would be way more cautious about who he brings into his space, being well aware of his sexuality and struggles, than he thinks.

The other thing is really fun to think about, so I'll be rambling under the cut lol.

My first thought was potentially someone who is actually how Mordecai acts/wishes he could be, before Serafine helped him take off the mask; cold, genuinely doesn't have that many emotions, tough and not that much bothers or weighs them down, not that sentimental, more like Serafine who attempts to stay in the moment, etc. It'd make Mordecai worry he wasn't enough, and that Serafine is disappointed he turned out the way he did. I also think Mordecai would be worried such a partner would not be able to meet his emotional needs, and find him annoying for secretly being quite soft. Little does he know, that type of dude would immediately feel pretty protective over him and not want him to ever suffer in the ways he did in the past again. Mordecai is so used to seeing others as the more "sensitive ones", so I think the change of pace would be really nice for him.

Which, honestly makes sense. I think there's a unique experience when you're queer and you love the same gender where, at some point in one's life, they try to act like their type because "haha, I just find that kind of person cool, no homo!". Not to say they'd be just Mordecai without the nuances, they'd have their own that would contribute to their brand of coldness and how they express that kind of demeaner. But, close enough for the connection.

Alternatively (though I like the former much better), someone Mordecai would assume Serafine would enjoy more due to their similarities, being more fun, wild, crazy, and spontaneous. Mordecai would definitely wish he could be as flexible as them, and there'd be a lot of jealousy there. Mordecai would also probably struggle to connect to them as well, since both Serafine and them wanting Mordecai to loosen up would be a bit much for him.

All that being said, since I have imagined the partner as a dude until this point, if they were a woman (cis), yeah, that'd be complicated. I think it's unlikely (and not as interesting), since I do think Serafine does have a bit of a preference for men. However, Serafine would be very direct about the fact Mordecai is gay and he is off limits in that way, though Mordecai would be very skittish around them regardless due to past experiences.

[pelicanoctopus]

In the 1980s, when I was little, and we were poor, before the fire nation Walmart invaded our town, we could only afford to buy clothes at rummage sales, thrift stores, and very, very rarely, off the clearance racks at second-run stores like TJ Maxx. My mom leveraged my autistic hypersensitivity to textures - I was in my 30s before I figured out that most people can't identify most of their clothing by touch alone - and my compulsion to touch all the things, into finding the stuff made out of the softest, sturdiest fabrics, the stuff that was cotton/wool/silk with no polyester or spandex in it, the stuff that still had enough life left in the fabric to be worn for years, handed down to my siblings, and then maybe handed down to cousins after we had all grown out of it.

Since we lived in a "quaint" touristy area that a lot of rich people owned second (or third, or fourth, or fifth) houses in, at the time, there was actually a fair amount of stuff in thrift stores and at rummage/garage sales that met those standards. My mom probably still wears some of the stuff I found back then.

Then, when I was in high school, we got a Walmart.

By that time my dad's business had grown to the point where we were mostly shopping off the clearance racks at second run stores and places like JC Penney, with occasional splurges on stuff from the clearance racks at "chain brands" like Old Navy, but we still went hunting for higher ticket items like sweaters and jeans at thrift stores.

Or rather, we still tried to. You see, when Walmart moved into town, so did a couple of "fast fashion" retailers - Fashion Bug is the only one I remember by name - and after a couple of months, there was so much poly/rayon garbage and scratchy, flimsy cotton at the thrift stores that hunting for the good stuff wasn't really worth it anymore. We would find maybe one 100% wool sweater per store, and it would be "not even a preschool teacher would wear this" levels of offensively ugly. Any 100% cotton jeans I found were either threadbare or already coming apart at the seams.

They tried instituting policies like not buying Walmart brands, but it was a losing battle, and by the time I left for college, the only second-hand clothing store that was still open for business had stopped buying regular clothes for resale, because only their second-hand tack and riding gear was making them any money.

By the time I graduated from college, second-run stores were like that too; full of clothes that I could tell wasn't going to last for more than a season, if they even lasted that long. I still didn't know, then, that my ability to determine fiber content and quality of fabrics by touch was special, so I couldn't understand why anyone would buy that shit - especially for full retail price at first-run stores!

These days, I know from learning the hard way that even paying >$100 for a pair of jeans and >$40 for a T-shirt is no guarantee that you'll get a garment with quality fabric and lasting construction. There are so many new types of synthetic fibers that I can no longer count on my tactile sense to reliably tell me which fabrics are sturdy and which will become see-through after five washes.

Even worse, even if you find a company that makes one kind of clothing that is both comfortable and long-lasting, you can't trust that their other kinds of clothing will have the same level of quality. I recently found myself in the position of needing to replace my entire wardrobe (due to gender transition and illness-related weight loss reasons) and I made the mistake of assuming that the T-shirts from the company that makes my favorite jeans would be of a similar quality. It hasn't even been four months since I bought them, and those T-shirts are already pilling all over. By next year, they'll be unwearable.

It really makes me want to found my own trans friendly nudist commune 😩

Listen I'm a little drunk but... yarn crafts are so important. Textile arts are the backbone of society. All of us take our clothing and accessories and upholstery for granted and it's honestly shocking

I used to buy affordable t-shirts and they were comfy and nice, now I buy them in the same price range and they're sandpaper. They don't wick away moisture and the print comes undone after two washes. I buy denim and the crotch falls apart in months. I read about how modern Singer sewing machines are disappointing and then look at the delicate machining and the beautiful finishes on my 1857 machine and wonder if this is progress?!

Reblog if you're desperate for clothing that doesn't feel like sandpaper or if you like machines that go thunk instead of going obsolete in two years

[fadavitalis]

Long Distance to Nesting

My very first post on this blog was orginally about surviving my long distance relationship with my (still) partner. I wanted to make this cute ass long story about the longing and everything we went through, but of course in true AuDHD (autism + ADHD for those unfamiliar) fashion I lost attention. That is not the only thing though: going from being at a distance to actually cohabitating is really hard. It can be a dream come true, but you only really get to know how it is to live with someone by doing it. So besides my neurodivergency getting in the way, it was also a matter of not being capable to put time and energy into my blog… and of course a good dose of perfectionism.

When I first met my partner, we were two lost souls with plenty of problems going on mentally, but we were under the impression that our issues were lighter than they were especially on their side. My partner has since been diagnosed with very severe mental illnesses, but to get there came with its own number of challenges. From all that we knew, they were looking to settle together with me and find work or a study to pursue and we would become this dynamic duo of oddballs that could conquer the world.

They moved over to be with me in the Netherlands when I was 21, this was 5 years after our long distance relationship initially began. We moved into a small studio apartment in a big city and just as agreed they went looking for work while I carried on with my study. With not knowing the local language as an added challenge, getting to work was difficult enough, and those they did manage to get into, they were not able to hold down. As their symptoms worsened as they were alienated and suffering from culture shock, so did the did the problems between us.

Without dwelling too long on details and personal information that I do not have explicit consent to share, I convinced them to eventually look for help. The mental health system here is overburdened, especially for the more complex cases. They were on a waiting list for three long years in which I was their only and primary caretaker, next to providing for them off a student loan alone. After so much fighting against the system, they finally managed to get themself a good therapist, and with his help they also got disability benefits so they could have their own income independently from mine.

It was a blessing, immediately our relationship improved as being together no longer was a ‘must’, it truly became a choice. This was a time of much needed healing, heart to hearts, and growth. We found out they are in fact asexual, and that I am pansexual, and that neither of us exactly identify as a binary gender. With jealousy never really having been that much of a thing between us - seriously I only got ‘jealous’ when other people insinuated I should be - polyamory became a healthy and natural choice for us due to our differences in needs and wants out of a relationship. It took me especially a long time to accept it, having been raised a Roman Catholic, and having to take some years of learning about polyamory and unlearning mono-normative instincts before I dared to apply it to our relationship.

It is all well that ends well now. We have been together 15 years and counting, and have been poly for about 4. We have been through hell and back together, something we could not have foreseen while we were still in a long distance relationship, and looking back I sometimes wonder if I had made different choices with the current knowledge. Hindsight is 2020 though and that was a shit year for the most part, even if it is the year I met my girlfriend. I am happy we live as a polycule now, finally in a home with enough space and love to go around. The system that left us to struggle and go hungry still is terrible, but that is why I became politically active, and why now we fight to change it.

Going forward I doubt I will write long essay-like blogposts as often as I have right now. I just felt like this blog might have needed a decent introduction, and some background information to what led me to be the person I am now.

[silverdelirium]

LIARS & LIBRARIES | POLY!WOLFSTAR

SUMMARY ➠ professor!remus and professor!sirius find out you’ve been fucking the both of them secretly.

WARNINGS ➠ age gap sex (reader is 20!), oral sex, double penetration (vaginal and anal) , praise, degrading, sir kink, threesome. don’t read if any of these make you uncomfortable or sound unappealing. FLASHBACKS ARE IN ITALICS

WORD COUNT ➠ 3.2k

———

bottles of beer clanked against each other as the trio cheered together.

james chugged a chunk of his beer in one gulp, making remus grimace as he took a sip of his, sirius groaning slightly as he looked down to his now root beer-stained shirt.

“well” spoke james, putting his drink back on the sticky table in front of him. “how are you two doing? with the whole college professor shit”

sirius shrugged, “it’s definitely something, students get annoying sometimes, though”.

remus rolled his eyes as james snickered. “they’re really not that bad, you just gotta teach them how to respect you” he replied. sirius made a sound of what seemed to be agreement.

the table went silent for a moment, the three men taking sips of their beverage silently until sirius quipped up again, “well i’ve been meaning to tell you guys about this one student”

this got the other two’s attention, “don’t say what i think you’re gonna say, mate” chortled james, trying his best to hide his laughter as sirius cheeks flushed a coral pink.

“well first of all, i didn’t ask her to, she came to me one evening and i just couldn’t help myself” by this point, james was on a full on laughing match as sirius continued to explain himself “oh come on, like you’d say no to a pretty 20-year-old that begs for some cock in exchange for good grades” he scoffed.

it was then that both of them turned to look at the lycanthrope, who sat there with an iron grip on his bottle as his mouth stayed lightly agape.

james groaned as he threw his head back, a rumble of laughter coming from his chest as he stared at remus, “please don’t say you fuck your students too, moony.”

his whole face went red, throat dry as he tripped over his word “i-i, it was a one-time thing but then-” he got cut off by his curly-headed friend who was now doubling in laughter. 

sirius turned his head to the flushed male next to him, a playful smile dancing on his lips. “with who?” he whispered, as if he wasn’t gonna tell james once he was done laughing his ass out.

remus sighed before murmuring “y/ln. y/n y/ln”, leg bouncing on the table due to anxiety as if he was confessing the worst sin ever to a priest.

sirius smile dropped, his face static as he stared back at his friend. his expression was unreadable, it could’ve been mistaken for shock or horror, no one knew.

“no. fucking. way” he seethed, eyes turning into slits as he recollected all those times you missed out on your sessions. coincidentally the same nights remus couldn’t come over.

the dots seemed to connect in remus’ mind too, you could tell by the way his brows furrowed and he stared off into the abyss, probably having some similar flashbacks to sirius’.

james made and ooph sound as he wiped the tears from his face, wincing as he took in both of the male’s puzzled and heated expressions.

“shit” he murmured, lifting up the drink to his lips once again; the air around them becoming thick by each passed second.

sirius gave a shake of his head before grumbling a “that little brat” under his breath, fists clenching under the table as remus’ consciousness still wandered to all those times you screamed his name and swore no one else made you feel like he did. all while fucking his best friend on the side.

——

the underside of your knees dug on the wooden armrests of the chair as your hand fisted remus’ hair, tugging so hard you had him groaning into you.

“you like that, sugar?” he teased, raising his face just the slightest, giving you a glimpse if his drowned chin and glistening scruffy beard; all you could mumble back were meek whimpers, each stroke of his pink muscle bringing you closer to the peak.

his tongue dived in and out of your slick hole repeatedly, nose nudging at your swollen clit which he liked to tease with wet kisses every once in a while.

“fuck remus! i’m gonna cum, feels so- oh!” you gasped, your eyes watering and toes curling as your orgasm rushed over you, the brunette beneath you lapping up every last bit of arousal your body could give him.

“that’s it, sweetheart... so fucking sweet i could be between your legs for hours” he murmured, stroking your thighs with his fingers as he gave his last few languid tongue-strokes on your sensitive cunt.

he rose from his position on the floor, now towering over your flushed form that stayed in his seat, bottom clothing disregarded and top crinkled from remus’ previous groping on your breasts.

you cocked your head to the side tiredly “what are you gonna do now with me, sir?” an adorable pout forming in your face as he snickered and shook his head, undoing his trousers slowly.

“well, miss y/l/n” he started “i think it would be very much deserved on my part to fuck your little cunt stupid. what do you think, pretty?”

your throat ran dry.

“just please fuck me, remus”

——

the memory struck remus like a thunder once he waltzed into his classroom.

it was funny really, because if what had been revealed last night hadn’t been revealed. then perhaps he could’ve gone in like nothing had happened. 

not that he didn’t daydream about your rendezvous together on the daily- it was just a tad bit more exciting to think about them today, knowing that what he and sirius had in store for you was gonna leave you much more desperate than that time he ate you out on his chair before rearranging your guts until you cried.

almost as if on cue, a semi-long haired tall figure knocked on his classroom door.

“morning, professor” he teased, and it took remus one look at the smirking male to know he was just as giddy as him for today.

sirius took a few long strides over to him, “you ready for tonight?” he asked, unable to hide the slight glint of his eyes at the mention of it.

“very” chuckled remus, “make sure it’s by 10 P.M sharp, don’t want any onlookers watching her drool our cum out” he mumbled the last part, readjusting the strap of his watch.

sirius felt his trousers tighten at the thought of you, makeup messed up as you sat there on the library’s floor, begging to have your mouth fucked.

almost as if on cue, you emerged from the hallway’s shadows, stiffening lightly at the sight of your two hidden lovers reunited.

“oh- good morning, professors” you saluted, awkwardly walking to your seat with your rambling friend at your side.

“that little minx knows what she’s doing, wearing the tiniest skirt she has, almost as if she knew we’re gonna tame the brat out of her” grunted sirius, bulge growing by the second as you gave lovesick puppy eyes to lupin.

remus hummed in agreement, eyeing you up and down but not saying anything. he cleared his throat before refocusing on his colleague, “i’ll see you tonight then, mate”

brown hues focused on your squirming figure as he left the classroom, throwing you the most subtle wink he could manage before disappearing through the door, leaving behind the class that echoed remus’ saludation.

—— “just like that, sir!” you sobbed, hands grasping at sirius’ shoulder blades while he gave reckless thrusts into you, his fingers squeezing at the sides of your throat. 

he brought his mouth next to your ear, “what was that, sweets? can’t fucking hear you thanking me for wrecking your slutty cunt” he growled, bringing your curled leg from his desk to his shoulder.

“fuck!- thank you, thank you, thank you” you choked out, eyes lolling to the back of your head as your mouth stood agape, wanton moans leaving your mouth like a chant.

sirius laughed lightly at your eagerness, rocking his hips into yours at a sharper angle, making you full-on shout his name as he let out a few moans of his own, “my fucking god, baby, i could fuck you all day if i could- have myself buried deep inside you just to hear my name come from those little lips of yours” he said, mind lost in euphoria as your walls fluttered at the compliment.

“i’m cumming sirius, please!” you wailed, back arching off the wooden table.

the brunette thumbed at your clit, helping you draw out your orgasm as he crashed his lips with yours, “cum baby, fucking cum on my cock so you remember who you belong to”

“thank you- oh shit! thank you” you gasped, crystal tears running down your cheeks.

——

it was a deja vu, realized sirius.

the memory hit him just when you thanked the male for the compliment of your recent essay, a beam dancing in your smile as you giggled out a “thank you, sir” making his dick twitch in his pants.

“anytime, honey” he winked, making your ears grow hot as you went back to your seat.

the lecture went on as normal, sirius making your thighs clench together as he explained with his hands (the same ones that were deep inside you not even s week ago).

“alright, that’ll be enough for today, i want that analysis paper on my desk by tuesday” he announced, finding your eyes across the room as you collected your stuff.

“a word, miss y/l/n. please?” 

you didn’t need to be told twice, excitement bubbling at the pit of your stomach as you shamelessly thought about all the things that could happen in the next five minutes.

while the class emptied, you walked closer to sirius, who was leaning against his desk, sleeves rolled up as he fumbled with his rings.

you wasted no time to put your arms around his neck once the door snapped shut, a small hmph! coming out of sirius as he instinctively wrapped an arm around your waist whilst you brought him into a messy lip-lock.

he snickered against your lips, peeling you off of him slowly, much to your dismay.

a pout formed on your lips at the unexpected rejection “what’s wrong?” you questioned.

“not right now, baby- anyone could walk in and see us and we don’t want that, do we?”

you shook your head no.

“well” he resumed. “how does tonight at the library sound, angel? at 10 perhaps? i always dreamt of bending you over the tables in there” 

the confession went straight to your clit, staggering your breath as you nodded happily in response, nuzzling into his palm lightly when he stroked your cheek with it.

in the blink of a moment his palm was traveling down to your neck, roughly yanking you forward as you squeaked soflty.

“i want you naked underneath those clothes, you hear me?”

the space between your legs throbbed madly, all of a sudden feeling empty as you clenched around nothing.

——

your fist connected with the large wooden library doors repeatedly, neck growing hot as you thought about what awaited you tonight.

a creak sounded, making your head snap up as sirius’ tall brooding frame came into view, a small smile decorating his sharp features, “come on in, sweetheart.” he invited, stepping to the side to let you inside.

the bright smile that was planted on your face left as quickly as it came once you caught sight of the lycanthrope leaning against one of the tables, the same one you had bounced on his cock in just two weeks ago.

your eyes sunk as realization drowned upon you.

they were fucking best friends, y/n. how long did you think you could get away from? you thought, mentally facepalming yourself as you remembered it was remus’ turn to close the library tonight. they’ve planned this, you realized.

you made a turn in a weak attempt to escape from the tense situation, only to be met with a hefty chest that almost had the wind knocked out of you. 

you swallowed the rock-sized lump in your throat before stepping back, switching your line of sight between the two as your breathing accelerated, “i’m sorry, i swear i didn’t meant for it to get this far!” you whimpered, fumbling with the ends of your long-sleeved as remus walked closer to you, cupping your chin with his index and thumb.

he shook his head lightly before speaking up “no need to be afraid, sugar. we’re just here to give you a little lesson, hm?” 

you looked over to sirius, who only gave you and encouraging raise of brows.

“yes, sir” you whined, unable to stop your thighs from magnetizing together as their eyes roamed your budy hungrily, as if they were some type pf predators and you were their prey.

you barely had time to catch a breat before remus’ lips were on yours in a fervid kiss, sirius coming up behind you to rub his bulge against your lower back, his girth perfectly outlined, making you whimper against remus’ mouth.

both sets of hands groped and teased your entire form, making your skin pebble. “please” you croaked, grinding your hips against god knows whose. 

“what do you want, sweets? for us to play with your little cunt, is that it?” taunted sirius, squeezing at your waist as remus’ kisses traveled lower.

you nodded shyly, letting out a small cry as the brunette nipped at your sweet spot. “wanna make you feel good too”

remus hummed, unbuckling his belt as sirius turned you around to face him, trapping you in a lewd make-out whilst carrying you to a table, laying you down softly as you gave labored breaths.

“you gonna be a good slut like always and suck me good while sirius eats your little pussy, yeah?” asked remus, stroking your cheek with his knuckles as your head almost dangled off the table’s edge.

“yes”

“yes what?”

“yes, sir” you corrected, spreading your legs for sirius on the other end, revealing your sopping, bare heat.

sirius gave a strangled moan at the sight, palming himself lightly as he stroked your soaked lips with his fingers, “atta girl, so obedient for us, yeah?” he praised.

you mewled in response, rotating your hips onto his hand, which earned you a firm strike of his palm on your buzzing cunt. “don’t be such a greedy slut, we’ve taught you better than that”

“i’m sor- hmph!” your apology was cut short by a gargle of your own, your oxygen cut short as remus’ cock pushed itself through your mouth. “enough talkin, you brat, need to put this useless mouth to good use- oh fuck” he groaned, feeling as your throat contracted around him when sirus’ thick digits entered you.

“as tight as ever, angel. can’t wait to fucking fill you up” spoke sirius, letting his thumb draw tight circles on your engorged clit that pulsed in need. 

remus’ molars grind painfully as he struggles to keep his mewls down, thanks to the vibrations your own provided to his cock. 

he reached over to pull your top down, revealing your breasts, which sirius wasted no time to put in his hands, smoothing his fingers over the sensitive nubs.

“gosh i wish i could have you like this all day, at our disposal, ready for us to pump your holes full and nothing more” chuckled remus, watching as your thighs shook from the unstopping currents of pleasure that sirius provided to your gushing cunt.

“so fucking little yet as dirty as ever- dripping down my arm already, you wanna cum, angel?” he cooed, watching as you gripped remus’ thighs while his cock dived in and out of your mouth.

you did your best to nod around the thick cock that continued to destroy your throat, the stimulation from your played tits brought you closer to cloud nine, rush of euphoria swimming through your veins.

“can feel you clenching around me, sweets- shit” groaned sirius, his mouth agape as the coil in your lower abdomen snapped with no warning, watching as your slick rushed out of you like an open faucet, not that he minded.

“gonna fucking cum- ah!” moaned remus, squeezing the base of his cock as he emptied his first load of the night down the depths of your throat, eliciting tears to run down your face.

it was absolute heaven for your lungs once the male pulled out, sitting you up and letting you catch your breath as you leaned against his warm body, mind already foggy after just one high.

“that was so fucking sexy, i want you creaming around my cock now.” sirius ordered.

after a hassle of torn clothes and heated kisses, here you were, hovering over remus’ leaking and already hard cock as his hands groped the tight globes of your arse, giving them a firm slap before spitting into his hand and lubing up the tight ring of muscles on your bum.

“you ready, gorgeous?” he whispered, not giving you time to respond as he slammed you down on him, coaxing a shout out of you as you wriggled in pain due to the burning stretch.

your breaths were harsh and choked as sirius stroked himself at the sight, watching twin waterfalls leave your eyes as remus adjusted your legs, letting the bend of your knees rest on his hands while your puffy cunt practically begged for sirius.

“can’t believe we get the prettiest little doll just for us to use, rem” he said, aligning his cock with your slit.

you whimpered as he entered you, your pussy sucking him in eagerly as he grunted in bliss, your brain short-circuiting as both males slowly thrusted into you.

“so good, sir” you babbled, not even sure who you were talking to as your eyes unfocused, body going limp as you let them abuse your holes, your weak moans and cries resonating through the empty library, along with their own strangled groans.

“you like that, baby? or is it too much for your little guts, huh?” they would tease, going at animalistic speeds as you sobbed for more.

“if you didn’t want us to pound your pussy into tomorrow then you shoulld’ve thought about sneaking around like a needy little slut” seethed sirius, ignoring your pleas as he drilled in and out of you.

“fuck!- too much, sir! can’t take it” 

remus faked a pout “you think we care? after you lied to our faces the whole time- you baby brained brat” he patted at your cheek, thrusting his hips up against your tight ass.

“oh fuck i’m gonna cum” said sirius through gritted teeth, rubbing with his index finger at your sensitive mound to bring you closer to the edge.

it didn’t take much for all of you to cum, sirius being the first to reach the seventh heaven as his hips stuttered; the double-ended simulation from your part gave you one of the most mind-blowing orgasms ever, your juices drenching both male’s thighs, along with your own.

remus was the last to reach his peak, you weren’t surprised. he had stamina.

the groans he made always sent sparks through your spine, this time was no different.

“now- you think you can get away with lying to us again, angel?” asked sirius, cocking his head to the side as remus helped cleaned you up.

“well” you shrugged “if this is what it’ll get me, then maybe”

———

[follow my library blog and turn on notifications to know whenever i post a fic!]

sirius 🏷: @selenesheart @malfoy-girl @siriusblackwifeeey @alohastitch0626@youreso-golden @remuslupinswhore @caosfanblr @whoreforgeorgeandfred @abbott27 @elizabethrosedarling @siriusbarnesslut @samaraaaaa @malfoyspov @ildm4ev @imjustanothernerd @pixaura@justadreamyhufflepuff @mollysolo @princess-jules47 @ilovejamespotter @arisblackhole @yiamalfoy @brattypeony @myalupinblack @slut4tamaki @nic0lodean @rylynn-m @harmqnia @pottahishotasf @soraya825 @sabrinathesimp @remusluvr @alic3cullenswife @underratedhotties @wolfstar-lb @lliasky @randomstufflol29 @akraziia @kieracass4lyfers @acciodignity @kayleigh @maeve-7 @simpforremuslupin

remus 🏷: @selenesheart @malfoy-girl @siriusblackwifeeey @AlohaStitch0626 @malfoysbiitch @remuslupinswhore @caosfanblr @memorycharm @abbott27 @elizabethrosedarling @samaraaaaa @malfoyspov @ildm4ev @justadreamyhufflepuff @cokencake @mollysolo @princess-jules47 @arisblackhole @yiamalfoy @brattypeony @myalupinblack @slut4tamaki @nic0lodean @rylynn-m @harmqnia @pottahishotasf @soraya825 @soraya825 @toms-diary @sabrinathesimp @remusluvr @alic3cullenswife @underratedhotties @wolfstar-lb @lliasky @randomstufflol29 @akraziia @kieracass4lyfers @acciodignity @kayleigh @maeve-7 @ilovejamespotter @simpforremuslupin

[myfictionaldreams]

Sweetheart needs looking after // poly!marauders x fem!reader

Summary: You were warned not to be a brat today, but when you start to feel unwell, how will the boys react when this mistake your behaviour for being a brat?

Warnings/tags: sexual themes discussed, dom/sub, brat reader, Hard dominant marauders, sub!reader, rough behaviour, fluff, comfort, dom/sub, slight angst, discussion of punishment

WARNING!!: this was one of the first fics I've ever written so please proceed with caution as there may be some not great BDSM etiquette/ aggressive relationship dynamics. The idea was for the boys to be hard doms with a bratty reader who likes punishment but it is only in this fic where the marauders are like this so be aware of this as you are reading.

Word count: 2.4k

Edited: 11/11/23

my masterlist 📚 // AO3 link

Your day had started the same as any other. Closely wrapped around your boyfriends, each snoring at different intensity levels. Trying to clear the fogginess from your tired mind, you figured out which of the three chests you were lying on, deciding it was still too early to open your eyes. From the soft hum with each breath from beneath your cheek, you could tell that it was Remus who had pulled you onto his chest before passing out and the two heavy arms over your body were James and Sirius, who lay on either side of you, thoroughly cocooning you in.

Feeling the stiffness throughout your muscles, you attempted to try and stretch, but the ache that flared through your body had you quickly stopping and reminiscing on the activities from the night before. There was no denying you deserved the punishment the Marauders had given you last night, having spent all day pushing their buttons until they finally dragged you to bed. There, they had spent hours spanking and stuffing each of your holes, essentially using you like their very own fuck toy, making you cum until your legs couldn't hold up your weight anymore, and you loved every second of it. Being a brat had to be one of your specialities, or this was what you liked to tease with your boyfriends when you decided to act up.

The next several minutes passed peacefully, not wanting the realities of the school day to begin, but as a distant bell rang, indicating the start of class, the calmness was all but a distant memory. Sirius was the first to sit bolt upright, cursing loudly and stumbling from the bed.

"Shit, how did we sleep so long? We have McGonagall first as well! James get up!". The long-haired Marauder shoved James hard, stirring him from his deep sleep. You and Remus then moved as one, sitting up and attempting to get out of bed to get changed, which seemed to be a more straightforward attempt for Remus as you had to take a second for your eyes to adjust to the light, an uneasy pressure settling behind your eyes. Brushing it off simply sitting up too quickly, you climbed out of bed and tried to find your clothes haphazardly discarded across the dormitory last night.

For once, the boys had dressed before you were finished, but this was only due to the slight tremor in your fingers, making it difficult to button your shirt and tie the laces on your shoes. Two large hands stopped your attempts with your laces as Sirius helped you to finish the knot and then placed a tender kiss on your knee, "you need some sugar in your system; we'll try and sneak to the kitchens after Transfiguration for a late breakfast" he warmly stated, referring to your shaking hands. 

The four of you were nearly 15 minutes late to class, and Professor McGonagall was ready to take 10 points away from Gryffindor. Sitting next to Remus at the back of the class, you positioned the chair as close as possible to his as both of you pulled your quill and paper from your respective bags, preparing to take notes. Absentmindedly, Remus placed a hand against your thigh, the pressure comforting, but as you felt his warmth through his hand, you tried to shuffle closer, not realising just how chilly it was.

Both of you were deep into your work, something you were becoming increasingly more frustrated with as your hands wouldn't stop shaking, even after Remus had found you a chocolate bar at the bottom of his bag. The tension behind your eyes also wouldn't pass, affecting your concentration; you did not notice when McGonagall asked you a question until the hand on your thigh tightened, making you look up at the class now staring at you, waiting for your response.

"Achoo!" quickly, you covered your nose and mouth as you sneezed as quietly as you could, the action only causing a slight to occur in your ears. The symptoms were noticeably increasing, but you quickly brushed it off as being tired, needing a few more hours of sleep, and seeming like you hadn't been able to get much last night.

The day continued dragging slowly, not helping the matter at hand. Even after having a healthy portion of late breakfast in the kitchens with the boys, your body still felt no better. Remus had tried to ask if you were feeling okay, but you quickly told him you were tired, not wanting him to worry, before pulling him into a heated kiss behind a statue on the way to your next lesson.

This only meant that you were late to the next lesson, which caused more points to be taken away, which Remus wasn't pleased about, especially as you slyly smirked at him, ready to play along with mischief, especially if it ended the same way as the night before.

By lunchtime, however, your head had begun to throb, and the sneezes didn't seem to stop any time soon, which only caused you to feel even more drained of energy than you already did. Leaning heavily on your fist, you stared hopelessly at the food on the Gryffindor table, none looking appetising. You should have told the boys that you weren't feeling well, but as you looked up and saw just how excited James and Sirius were about the Quidditch match later, you didn't want to worry them, so you decided against it.

"Shall we meet outside the greenhouses before walking to the pitch later?" Remus asked between spoonfuls of soup. You responded by swallowing harshly, trying to ease the scratching sensation coating your throat.

"I have Divination next, so it'll take me a while to reach the pitch, so don't wait for me. I can meet you at our usual spot in the stadium, and hopefully, Sirius won't fall off his broom this time." " You teased, relieved that you had managed to sound somewhat normal.

Sirius stopped midsentence, turning to face you and with a slow gaze up and down your body, he smirked, "Oh, are we in one of those moods today? Was last night not enough for you to learn to stop with the sass?" his tone quieten towards the end of the sentence so only you could hear it.

Your face warmed at his words, and you decided to play along with them. "Maybe you didn't go hard enough last night. Didn't you say I wouldn't be able to walk for a week, and here I am, walking absolutely fine?".

It was all playful, and with the smirk spread across Sirius' face, you knew he loved it, and sometimes you really couldn't help with the bratty comments. It was a nice distraction from how you were feeling anyway, and as the bell rang for the start of the next class, you rushed to kiss the boys each on the cheek before greeting Marlene and walking up to Divination.

This was the beginning of your downfall. Professor Trewlany's room was thick with steam and heavy scents, increasing your headache from a slight pulse to a steady pounding behind the eyes; exhaustion soon took over your body so intensely that you couldn't keep your head up anymore.

"Are you ok?" Marlene whispered from where she sat next to you, worry thick in her tone.

Attempting to open your eyes, you gasped lightly as it only increased the pain, arms unwrapping from around your middle as you sneezed for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "Not really, I feel awful". Marlene's hand shot into the air, not that you could see this, and she asked to take you to Madam Pomfrey as you weren't feeling well.

It took a while for the two of you to leave the room, Marlene's arm around your waist to help you from not stumbling, but the exhaustion was quickly taking over. "I think I just need to sleep it off. Give me an hour or two, and if I still feel awful, I'll go to Pomfrey before the match", you finally decided, not wanting to walk anymore and knowing you were closer to the dormitory than the hospital wing.

Marlene eventually agreed and assisted you to the Gryffindor common room, where you could stumble up the stairs, sneezing as you moved and clambered back into the large bed in the boys' dormitory. A small nap was all you needed, nothing more; you were sure the school bell would wake you up anyway.

ღ

The sun had long since set behind the Scottish mountains before the excited crowd from the quidditch pitch began approaching the school, ready for something to eat after the thrilling match between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor.

However, the three Marauders couldn't feel that same excitement as they met outside of the common room, frowns evident on each of their faces. "Are you sure she wasn't just sitting somewhere else?" Sirius asked as they hurried back up to the school, bypassing eager Gryffindors who congratulated Sirius and James for winning the match.

"I searched everywhere. I think I spent more time looking for her than I did watching you two play", Remus responded with an aggravated huff.

"Let's give her the benefit of the doubt; maybe she was kept behind in class." James tried to reason, but even he doubted this.

"She couldn't have because I saw Trewlany with the other Professors; you know why she's done this, Prongs? It's the cat and mouse game; she's done it before," Sirius referred to the time that you had hidden from them between classes to try and annoy them into finding you, only to discover that you were waiting for them naked in an empty classroom with a satisfied grin.

The trio rushed up the steps, cursing themselves for not bringing the Marauder's map with them, wanting to find you quickly so they could return to celebrating the win.

Remus was the first up the stairs leading to dorms, the door flying open, banging against the wall, only to reveal that you were back facing them with the quilt pulled up to your chin. The noise from the door disturbed your sleep, jumping and tried to glance around the room with eyes that were hardly open due to the pain you were experiencing.

"You were here the whole fucking time?" Sirius fumed, stepping into the room and around the bed, pulling back the quilt to reveal that you were still fully clothed, having only just made it into bed before collapsing. Groaning at the coolness that lay over your body from being uncovered, you attempted to turn into the pillow, but Sirius had tugged on your arm, so you remained on your back. "Wakey wakey, sweetheart, I'm talking to you."

Attempting once again to open your eyes, you could just make out the unimpressed expressions of your boyfriends as they stood around you. The headache caused a fog to drift across your thoughts, not realising that you'd missed the match and made them worry. All you could think about was how cold it was and the aches and pains flowing through your body that were still trembling. Opening your mouth, you tried to explain, but your throat felt so sore that all that came out was a weak sneeze.

You were vaguely aware of James muttering something before the bed dipped next to you, and two strong, slightly rough hands cupped your cheeks, "She's warm, I mean warmer than Moony usually is". Sirius and Remus swiftly placed their own hands on your face, feeling your fever for themselves.

"I'm cold", you just about whispered loudly enough for them to hear, worried that they would take away their warm hands from your face that you were eagerly trying to nuzzle into.

Remus dropped to his knees beside you beside the bed, "Sweetheart, open your eyes for me". Taking a deep, shaky breath, you did what was asked, squinting as waves of nausea tumbled through your stomach. His hand stroked behind your ear, a delicate touch compared to his emotions only a moment before. "What is it? What's wrong? Has someone hurt you?" he asked tentatively, eyes drifting down your body to see if anything was out of the ordinary to symbolise an attack or hex.

At first, you attempted to shake your head, but the movement only caused more pain than good, so you closed your eyes once more and softly muttered, "ill". Remus sighed, picking up your hand and kissing the back of it before standing, murmuring to the other boys before walking out of the Dorm.

While he was gone, Sirius and James helped you change into something more comfortable, but they lifted your body to remove your clothing and reclothe you as you had no energy to move. Finally, they helped you into the centre of the bed, Sirius sliding beneath you so that your head lay on his chest, his warmth instantly wrapping around you as James sat beside Sirius, combing a hand across your temple to try and ease the tension there.

Leaning forward to kiss your nose, James muttered, "You should have told us you weren't feeling well; we could have looked after you."

"Sorry," you whispered as you kept your eyes closed, letting out soft moans between sneezes as James' fingers massaged against a particularly lovely spot that relieved some pressure in your head. Drifting in and out of sleep, it wasn't long before Remus returned with a vial in his hand.

"I spoke to Madam Pomfrey, and she said quite a few people have been going to the hospital wing today with flu-like symptoms. It took some convincing as she did want her to go and stay in the hospital wing, but I said we could look after her tonight, and tomorrow we'll go first thing in the morning. Is that ok, love?" Nodding your head in response against Sirius' chest. "She also gave me this tonic, which will help you feel a little better and hopefully get some rested sleep without sneezing every few minutes".

In any other situation, you would have smiled at his calming tone, wishing to move closer to him, but instead, the boys had to help you sit up to drink from the vial. Flinching as the taste of pepper and grass coated your tongue and throat, you shivered as the tonic moved into your stomach, where the medicine's effects almost immediately eased the pressure in your head.

Shifting back onto Sirius' chest, you could feel the drowsy effects taking over, but it finally dawned on you that you'd missed the Quidditch match. "Who won the match?" you asked quietly but soon fell into a peaceful sleep before James could excitedly answer, "Obviously we did".

[thatblackravenclaw]

Please Don't Go

Masterlist

part one (go read it before this one if you haven't already! or don't. I'm not your mom.)

author note: did someone ask for a part two? In celebration of 107 of you nutty people following me, I decided to give y'all a part two.

Poly!Marauders x fem!slytherin!reader

word count: 715

warning(s): tiny bit of angst, happy ending, happy ending

.

.

Sirius POV

As we walk to the dungeon I can’t help but wonder what we did wrong. I know we’ve been talking to her less, but we never stopped loving her. I want to be mad at her for leaving us without a trace, but I can’t. My worry is stronger than my anger.

“Okay we’re here. Now what, Pads? We don’t know the password.” I hear Remus say behind me. Without responding I take a guess.

“Pureblood.” It opens. Predictable.

We walk in and no one is in the room beside Regulus.

“Where is she?” I ask him.

“Why do you care?”

“Just tell us where she is.”

“Surprised you noticed she was gone. You’ve seemed so wrapped up in Lily lately.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Every day for the past 2 and a half months she has come back to this house crying about how her boyfriends are falling in love with another girl. Lily Evans ring a bell?”

A pang hits my heart. I can’t believe we didn’t notice.

“It’s not like that. We promise. Please tell us where she is.” Remus says from behind me.

He hesitates. I understand. Regulus has seen how much we love her and even though me and his’ relationship is strained, he still cares for her as family.

“In her room. Her roommates just left to go get some food from the dining hall for her so be quick.”

I feel a gust of air pass me as James and Remus start for the girls dorms. I stay back for a second.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t hurt her again.”

I nod my head and go to catch up with James and Remus.

When we reached her door, we stood looking at each other for a few seconds before I knocked.

“Oh my gosh, you guys act like it’s not your room too.” She says from behind the door. There’s a bit of shuffling before she opens the door. A sharp inhale escapes her mouth while her eyes widen a bit. She wraps the loose sweater around her frame before shifting her eyes away from us.

“What are you guys doing here?” She says with a pointed tone while walking back to her bed.

James walks in first followed by me then Remus.

“Why did you take back your stuff?” James says lowly with a clear quiver in his voice.

“I don’t think Lily would have appreciated you guys still having your ex-girlfriend’s stuff.”

“Do you seriously think we’d choose Lily over the love of our life?” I say.

“After seeing you spend more time with her and less time with me? Yes.”

None of us say anything. Tension constantly filling the air. Remus begins to move towards her, but James gets there first.

“Please don’t leave us,” he starts. Arms wrapped around her shoulders, “Please. We love you so much. We’ll change.”

Her arms wrap around James’ waist and that’s when Remus and I joined the hug. It was like this for a few more moments before he parted due to the rise in heat from us being crowded together.

“Why have you guys been spending so much time with Lily if you’re not leaving me for her then?”

James POV

I reach for the ring inside of my robe, glad that I kept it there in the middle of all the madness. I look over at the guys and subtly nod my head.

“We told her that the most amazing girl had captured our hearts.” Remus starts.

“That we wanted to make a promise to her that we’d one day, legally, be together forever,” Sirius continues.

“So she helped us pick out the perfect ring for the perfect girl,” I finish off by sliding the ring on her finger.

“That is, if you’ll have us. I know we haven’t really been the best boyfriends, but please don’t give up on us just yet.” Remus says while holding her cheek in his hand.

More tears roll down her face, but a smile makes an appearance as well.

“Yeah, you guys are pretty shit.” She says which causes us to chuckle. She kisses each one of us before hugging us again.

“Now let us make it up to you,” Sirius says with a smirk.

taglist: @lizzyclifford13-blog @girl22334 @futurecorps3 @goldenhrry @youroutdoorbf @alohhaitsnani @mastermindmiko @camelliaflow3r @sweet-sunflower64

[the-gory-gardner]

Hello! poly!Asa with a S/O that has a stalker ex that really crazy. loves to call them like 2 in the morning just doing weird shit and gets the same job as the S/O just to talk to them and seen them.

Asa Emory x Jesse Cromeans x Reader With A Stalker

Start off by saying that any stalker you have or get will not be stalking you for long.

They'll intercept any unknown numbers that call you in the middle of the night.

Jesse will have his people trace the call asap.

Asa drops you off and picks you up from work keeping an eye out for anyone who sticks out.

They'd rather you not work and stay close to them but won't force anything on you.

Jesse gets and give you an alert button to press if something happens or feel unsafe.

They don't care if it turns out to be a false alarm or just you are being anxious, they will be there no matter what.

Once they've traced down the stalker, they'll be stalking him right back.

They'll be waiting for the right moment to strike while also making sure they stay away from you.

They had to have been working with you beforehand because the guys won't give them the chance to get so close.

Once the opportunity presence it's self you won't have to worry anymore.

They may not tell you at first waiting until they've disposed of the problem.

But more than likely you know due to the lack of messages from your stalker, the guy's mood and the sudden disappearance of your odd co-worker.

You can always count on them to protect you and be there when you need them.

[charnelhouse]

I feel like one of simons biggest flaws is being really possessive if red (if it’s poly soap counts too) ever tried to take a break from Simon like if they got into a really nasty fight and red tells him they are taking a break (not breaking up but technically not together) it would not be smooth cause if aNYONE tries to make a move on her or tries anything funny ghost is gonna beat the shit out of them and not in funny haha way more like a he has separation issues due to his traumatic pass and is overly possessive sometimes.

I actually think Simon would straight up RUN. He’d throw himself into any mission in order to put distance between them because I don’t think he could keep himself away from her.

I think he knows himself too well. He knows he’d be unable to cut the cord and he wouldn’t let her move on. I also think in a desperate bid to not get hurt, he’d leave.