#including that last one of the off chance he gets put in the show

[aria-hannah]

For Crystal Week 2024 Day 2 - Family | Friends

I wanna talk about the differences in Crystal's family vs her friends.

Emotional Distance:

Crystal is not close with her parents, even outside of the present day when a flashback is shown that both includes and discusses them, they are distant from her, and as she puts it "[They] won't say shit. They don't even--" The most likely way that sentence was going to end was with care. Crystal with her memories fully believes that her parents will not care if she's getting into drugs at a party, a far cry from the memory less Crystal who worries through much of the series that her parents would obviously be missing her and worried. She gets a very harsh awakening when she remembers enough to call them only for her mother Maddy to not pay any attention to the phone call and then pass her off to her father Seth. Seth then goes on to reveal that they hadn't even noticed she was missing and further still claims she is "always so dramatic" when she points out she has been missing.

Crystal's ancestors are more of a middle ground here, they are not particularly close given that she's really only met and interacted with them twice. But there is some emotional support provided by them when Iris advises Crystal that she will always have her powers connecting her to her ancestors and nothing can take that away.

Crystal's closeness with her friends varies but she is still closer to all of them by the end of the series than she is to any of her family. Even what we see of her in the flashback with Emma shows her having fun running through the cemetary together and offering a flower to her, we do not get to see any of this kind of joy with her family. From the very first episode Charles encourages her to open up to himself and Edwin, and she does bit by bit. While she is still clearly closer with Charles, as he also opens up to her more, she still develops a solid friendship with Edwin to the point where they can now be jokingly snarky with each other rather than actually fighting. As seen in the last episode where Crystal tells him she could "get used to this nicer, funnier Edwin" and he responds with "Not a chance in hell" before she smiles and nods and shakes his hand. As soon as she really starts interacting with Niko in episode 2 she starts opening up to her because she relates to the loneliness Niko feels while also wishing that she had that connection to family that Niko had but had put to the side in her grief. Even with Jenny, who tries to keep some distance from pretty much everyone, from episode 1 Crystal opens up to her about how she's feeling about the boys and David without including the supernatural details. Jenny keeps checking in with Crystal to make sure she's alright throughout the series in spite of how annoyed she sometimes gets with her, even checking to make sure Crystal will be alright outside on her own while she and Niko go to answer the police's questions about Maxine, a time when it would be fully understandable if she didn't have the energy to look out for anyone else. In time Jenny admits to Crystal that she cares about her when she follows her to the abandoned roller rink to confront David.

Physical Distance:

Crystal is always shown physically separated from her parents. Even putting aside that they are an ocean away, in the flashback they appear in, they are standing in the doorway away from where Crystal is. We never get a shot where all three are on screen at the same time. While we do get shots of Maddy and Seth on screen together, they are often not touching or even looking at each other either, which could indicate some distance between them also.

Crystal also has a lot of physical distance from her ancestors. In the one shot they are all on screen together she is shown standing away from the table. Unlike with her parents she does make physical contact with Iris at least. The first occassion is when Iris is holding her hands but still standing a bit away and is reassuring her of her connection to her family and her power. The second occassion is when Iris lays her hand across Crystal's to lend her more power as she buries David. Immediately after burying David all of her ancestors start heading away and back to the table as Crystal collapses to the ground tired and a bit freaked out about what she just did. Even Iris just gives her a few words but does not offer her a hand up or any physical reassurance at this point. The seating arrangement of the table is something I also find interesting as there are actually empty chairs between each of the sitting ancestors except for Iris, as she sits at the head of the table directly next to 2 of them. Placing them at something of a distance from each other, though we do see one of them (dressed in what appears to be 1920s fashion) reach over the empty chair between herself and another to hold onto her arm when Crystal first arrives. So they're currently at a distance but not opposed to reaching out to her and each other at times.

Crystal does not maintain a lot of physical distance with her friends. When she is shown running through the graveyard with Emma, they are hand in hand. In the very first episode when she tries to reassure Edwin that the case does matter to her as well and this isn't just a game to her, she takes his hand, interestingly this is the first physical contact we see her choose to establish with either of the boys. She progressively gets closer to each of her friends. By the end of episode 8 she has exchanged hugs with all of her friends, including Edwin, though he does not return it as he is still uncomfortable with most people touching him. Her hug with Edwin is also notable because it is something she does out of pure joy from him accepting her as part of the agency, rather than a goodbye hug as with Niko and Jenny or a thanks and reassurance hug as with Charles. Her friends also are physically close to each other (with the exception of Emma), Charles and Edwin are often physically close to each other, looking to each other and moving in sync. Niko and Edwin likewise have a physical closeness and some syncronicity to their movements. That they demonstrate this closeness with each other encourages Crystal to become closer to them also. Interestingly the little head snuggle between Crystal does during her hug with Niko echoes the same kind of head snuggle Charles does with Edwin in episode 5.

[cutekittenlady]

Planes, Trains, and Autobots

Summary Fic part 1

[NEXT]

Another fic idea that there's a decent chance I wont have the time or energy to write. This time for Earthspark featuring Breakdown. Figure I'll do what I tried out awihle ago with a Pokemon fic idea I knew I wouldn't have time to write and write very very brief summaries of how I see the series of events playing out.

Kinda like a heavily abridged summarized fanfic with some stuff I cant figure out or have no ideas for yet skipped over in the interest of just getting the idea out.

Think I'll call it a Summary Fic or whatever.

(Probably going to do this in parts so might as well go ahead and put the necessary pits for a link here)

Takes place after the end of the first season during a rather delicate period between the Autobots, Decepticons, and darn well near everyone for that matter.

G.H.O.S.T. is gone and all their decepticon prisoners freed, and while there are certainly Decepticons who aren't going to let their necessary saving of the world stop their ambitions, they're hiding out atm. Regrouping, gaining resources, and figuring out what to do next.

During this tentative period; Bumblebee and co (whoever is involved in "co" is a work in progress) visit the now abandoned GHOST base in an attempt to potentially gain some information on whatever else GHOST may have been up to as well as retrieving potentially damaging information about Cybertronians.

While there the group is shocked to encounter Swindle, the still armless Hardtop, and Breakdown of all bots picking through the remains of the base. A fight breaks out between the Con bros (my special name for Swindle and Hardtop) and Bumblebees gang before Breakdown breaks up the fight and explains that hes helping Swindle and Hardtop pick through the remains to find parts to build Hardtop a new arm. They "are NOT there to pick fights!" (directed at the bros).

He asks Bumblebee why he is there and, Bumblebee rather carefully tells him about the data recovery mission. Breakdown offers the Cons aid on the mission as recovering the data could benefit him and the rest of Decepticons (former and otherwise) just as much as the Autobots. Swindle and Hardtop try to argue but Breakdown pretty quickly quiets them down, reminding them of an unexplained "deal" that they struck that meant they had to help Breakdown out.

For various reasons (that I can't explain because the magic wand of plot contrivance hasnt produced anything et) Bumblebee accepts against his better judgement (actually its probably because the base still poses dangers. rogue automatic security measures and all that), but makes it clear to Breakdown that anything the Con Bros get up to is Breakdowns responsibility and that he won't hesitate to strike back if they pull anything. Breakdown agrees to the terms and the groups heads into the base.

After some fun actiony stuff featuring the teamed up groups getting past security, they eventually make it to the core server where all the memory storage is. Hashtag, or Nightshade (becuase the Terrans should be there. They're the main characters darn it) manage to access the information and find that it contains, amongst a lot of other things, a complete list of all the known Cybertronians on earth. Both Autobot AND Decepticon. And what GHOST knew about their abilities, whereabouts, status post war etc.

This is, needless to say, kind of a big deal.

Theres a bit of a scuffle as Breakdown and the Con Bros and Bumblebees team have a disagreement of what to do with the information. Bumblebee doesnt trust Swindle and Hardtop at all, so Breakdown asks that he be allowed to see the information without the two Con Bros present. Bumblebee admits that while he WANTS to trust Breakdown, the fact that he's still technically a Decepticon makes it impossible for him to just handover incriminating information about the autobots who might still be in hiding. Breakdown argues he could say the same thing.

Eventually the two agree that Breakdown will be allowed to come and see the information, but only if he comes alone. No Con Bros or anyone else. At a time and place Bumblebee specifies. With both Optimus AND Megatron present.

Breakdown isn't thrilled at the idea of being so disadvantaged, and makes an attempt at appealing to his and Bumblebees old friendship. In the end though, he accepts the conditions. Which surprises Bumblebee prompting him to ask Breakdown why he wants to see the information so badly. Breakdown vaguely answers that there are certain Cons he knew during the war whose fate he'd like to know, and leaves with the Con Bros.

Once out of earshot the Con Bros make their displeasure with Breakdowns decision known and threaten to relegate on their deal. Breakdown becomes a lot more intimidating and makes it clear that they're perfectly free to leave and can even take the parts they found with them. Of course that'd mean they'd be left constructing a new arm compatible with Hardtops Cybertronian body and figuring out how to safely attach it without frying Hardtops circuits. Meanwhile he, Breakdown, would have no issue at all going to his old pal Bumblebee and making a new deal with him and the Autobots to get what HE wants. He'd even have information about Swindle and Hardtop to buy admission into the Autobots.

In his own mind Breakdown knows such information is flimsy and wouldnt be enough to get him into the Autobot ranks. But its enough to scare the Con Bros into compliance.

With them placated Breakdown drops the intimidating air a bit and reassures them that he's fully intending to keep up his end of their bargain by finding them an expert who can reattach a new arm for Hardtop. All they have to do is continue giving him a hand when he needs it.

With that they all leave the base with Hardtop asking Swindle under his breath if he thinks Breakdown actually knows such a person, and Swindle answers that even if he doesn't and hes just leading them on they have the advantage over Breakdown in terms of numbers. At bare minimum they'll follow his lead long enough to get all the parts they need and can always ditch him if they get tired of the 'partnership'.

End of segment.

[moonyflesh]

What if Wolverine took you to a hockey game?

WARNINGS: (not much). no smut- just a playful set of imagines/headcannons — very fluffy and ‘lovey-dovey’ (small kisses and cursing).

CHARACTERS: James “Logan” Howlett (‘Wolverine’) - (MARVEL/X-MEN)

🍺 .*.. 🏒

- At first you thought he was joking.

- i mean- can you imagine trying to squeeze his massive frame into one of those tiny, plastic stadium chairs?

- sure you know nothing about the “Calgary Flames”, but supporting the beast either way is entertaining enough as it is—

- (^) literally the worst person to sit around. he’s loud, obnoxious, (big), and curses like there’s no tomorrow.

- “fuckin- can you fuckin’ believe these pieces ‘uh shit? i totally could’ve fuckin’ made that fuckin’ shot. buncha’ bullshit ifya ask me.”

- he’s definitely big on stadium snacks. constantly has to get up and get more food (and beer).

- (^) the bar would 100% have to draw a limit on the amount of beer they can physically sell him.

- probably walks you through the basic rules of ice hockey, and/or the different players, and the fan-favorites.

- little forehead or cheek kisses when he needs to run to go to the bathroom or grab more food.

- one of his arms is slung around your shoulders at all times.

- throughout the game, he’s constantly glancing over at you- reading your facial expressions. are you enjoying yourself? do you know what’s happening? is this entertaining for you, too?

- definitely likes to show you (and your jersey) off.

- (^) forced you to wear a Flames jersey (that’s much to large on you) and is proud of you for “pickin’ the right fuckin’ team”— so what? at least you get his undivided attention.

- puts you on his shoulders so you both have a better chance of getting on the big screen.

- (^) and if you do? jesus, it makes his whole month. the second that camera pans to you two he’s already tongue-deep into your mouth, grinning like an idiot as you try to push him away from embarrassment.

- you totally go to the photo booth and take the most grainy, out-of-focus pictures known to man together in some shitty ice rink backdrop, (to which he insists you look beautiful- and sticks the entirety of the photo into his wallet).

- buys you a shitload of merch, including one of the collectible hockey pucks.

- claims to know some of the players personally (he’s never met any of them outside of the rink).

- distinctly shouts out each player’s first and last names when cheering them on.

- boos the other team, and their fans with zero shame whatsoever.

- the drive home depends on the outcome of the game.

- (^) The Flames lose? he’s not even mad- he’s just disappointed that that was all his team could manage for your first game. he promises to take you to more, though.

- (^) and if they win? he’s already discussing the ticket prices for the next game (if you’re willing to go with him again); excited grins tossed your way here and there as he makes sure you’re paying attention.

@trenchcoathunnybee08 this is dedicated to you! Sorry it took so long to finally get out (in some ways, it’s still a WIP). 🫶🏼

((if any of you would like to be added to my taglist, let me know through my inbox.))

[luviwon]

MY PERSONAL STYLIST | y.jw

kinktober day 2! back to the masterlist here!

☆ stylist!jungwon x model!reader

; jungwon always finds the most fashionable pieces of clothing for you to try out, but when one day he decides to wrap you up in his own hands, well that becomes your new favourite fit.

genre ; smut

taglist ; @blushbunini @moonpri @blackp1nkfan @mitmit01 @pasteltheghost16 @harukayoiiiiiiizzz @mlywon @lhspeachie @seraphira @kaykay11sworld @winuvs @yuniesluv @shhth @rizzki09 @mylettterstoyou @d-dilemma

“i don’t think that fits well,” you complained loudly, without any sort of shyness. “i want something that screams that girl, you know? something to turn heads when i walk by, something that no one else has”

what a hard life, indeed. you pouted while laying down on the leathered sofa, throwing away the last piece of dress you’ve tried on. unhappy, disappointed and frustrated. these were 3 amazing words to describe the exact way you were feeling. it did, although, make sense, as the [brand name] fashion week was approaching by and all you could do was pray you will find something unique before that.

on the other side, jungwon snorted at your gesture and picked up the delicate dress from the floor, making sure to get rid of any dirt before putting it back on the hanger. it’s been nothing less than 6h since all the wardrobes in the building were emptied out for you to try every single item, but your expectations were somehow higher than the 24th floor you were on.

“look, giving their most recent collection, i believe we need to definitely include denim. it’s basically their signature, we couldn’t not take advantage out of it” the stylist explained in his simplicity while closing the doors of the closet. “what about a denim skirt? that’s both stylish and comfy; although going for a sleeveless denim top would be just as great”

you nodded, having a look around you. there were now low chances to try something new on as you were more than 99% sure you put on everything already. "i shouldn't be doing this," jungwon mumbled under his breath, casting a quick glance over his shoulder as if someone might walk in at any second. your interest piqued immediately, sitting up straighter on the sofa, eyes glued to his every movement. he turned his back to you, walking towards a wardrobe that had a small lock to it. he effortlessly took the keys out from his pants' pocket, following to unlock the mysterious closet.

the soft clink of the lock turning was like music to your ears—something forbidden, exclusive. jungwon swung the door open with a sense of purpose, pulling out a garment that instantly caught the light. a smile tugged at his lips as he walked over, holding up a stunning denim corset.

"now this—this is what you've been waiting for," he said, carefully laying the piece across his arm like a treasure. it wasn’t just any denim. it had the perfect balance of structure and softness, the kind of piece that would mold to your body, hugging your curves in all the right places. the corset was minimal in design but bold in impact, with sharp seams and an impeccable cut that made it scream sophistication. there were no buttons or zippers, just a sleek back, held together by what looked like a barely noticeable magnetic closure.

"oh my god, jungwon," you gasped, practically leaping off the couch to inspect it closer. your fingers itched to touch the fabric, running across the smooth denim that was far softer than you’d expected. "this is perfect. no, more than perfect. this is exactly what i was talking about." he chuckled at your excitement but quickly added, "there’s just one little thing... it’s not out yet."

your head snapped up, eyes wide in disbelief. "wait, what? this is from the new collection?" jungwon nodded, grinning but looking a bit mischievous. "yeah, technically, it’s part of an unreleased line. i’m not supposed to show it to anyone just yet." you blinked at him, utterly floored. "but... you’re showing it to me?"

he shrugged, smirking like this was all part of some grand conspiracy. "i figured, if you’re just wearing it for the fashion week—after the official release—then we can make an exception, right? besides, this is the piece. the one no one else will have."

you could barely contain your excitement. "oh my god, yes! no one else is going to have anything like this!" you practically snatched the corset from his hands, already picturing how it would look paired with just about anything. the versatility of it was unreal—denim, but with an edge that made it feel couture.

“try it on,” he urged, standing back to give you space.

with a grin, you quickly shed your current outfit, slipping into the corset like it was meant for you. as jungwon helped close the back, the magnetic closure clicked seamlessly, feeling almost like magic—no fuss, just an instant fit. you turned to the mirror, barely recognizing yourself in the best way possible. the corset cinched your waist, accentuating your figure in ways that made you feel like a walking masterpiece. your reflection practically screamed that girl, exactly as you had wanted.

“how does it feel?” jungwon asked, watching your reaction closely.

“it feels…” you twirled, taking in every angle. “it feels like i’m going to break every neck at fashion week.”

jungwon smiled, a mix of pride and amusement. "good. that’s what we’re going for."

you couldn’t take your eyes off the mirror, completely mesmerized by your own reflection. the denim corset hugged your body in all the right places, accentuating every curve. the sharp lines of the piece sculpted your silhouette, making you feel powerful, like you were already walking down the runway at fashion week. a smile tugged at your lips, growing wider with every second you spent admiring yourself. you had to admit, jungwon had completely outdone himself with this.

but as you stood there, swimming in the confidence the corset gave you, you found yourself subtly adjusting it. your hands instinctively moved to your chest, pulling the corset up a little each time. it fit your waist perfectly, but around your chest, it felt like it was slipping ever so slightly, not quite sitting the way you wanted it to.

jungwon, who had been silently watching from behind, couldn’t help but admire the way the corset shaped you. the way the denim cupped your waist, accentuating your figure—it was flawless. his gaze trailed over your body, lingering on the soft curve of your hips and the way the fabric contoured to your form. his breath hitched as his eyes moved upward, taking in the way your cleavage was framed by the low-cut neckline. it wasn’t just the fit; it was the way the corset transformed you into something almost untouchable.

"wow," he muttered, voice low, almost like he was speaking more to himself than to you.

you caught his reflection in the mirror, his expression a mix of fascination and appreciation, and your smile widened even more. "you like it?" you asked playfully, even though you could already tell by the look on his face.

"it looks incredible on you," he said, stepping closer. the admiration in his voice was undeniable, and his eyes never left your figure as he moved. "every curve, the way it fits your waist—it’s perfect."

his gaze shifted to the neckline, noticing how you kept adjusting the corset. "except maybe here," he added, gently reaching up to pull the fabric up a bit for you. his fingers brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. "feels like it’s not fitting you quite right up top."

you nodded, looking down at your chest and laughing softly. "yeah, it keeps slipping a little. not the best fit for my, uh, chest."

jungwon tilted his head, his eyes still locked on the way the fabric clung to you. "we could probably make a small adjustment to the top. just enough to keep it secure without losing that sleek look."

he stood directly behind you now, his presence warm and steady as he eyed your reflection in the mirror. his hands hovered near your waist, not quite touching but close enough that you could feel the energy between you. "but honestly," he added, voice dropping, "it’s hard to notice anything wrong when it looks this good on you."

you met his gaze in the mirror, cheeks flushing slightly at his words. there was something about the way he looked at you—like he was seeing more than just an outfit.

your heart fluttered as jungwon's words hung in the air. his gaze, warm and intense, never left your body, and it felt like every second he spent behind you made your skin tingle. you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and before you knew it, you were looking down, trying to steady your breath. your fingers played with the hem of the corset, pulling it up again, even though that wasn’t really the issue.

get it together, you thought to yourself, chewing the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning too wide. it’s a professional relationship. he’s your stylist. this is what he does.

but every time you dared to glance back at the mirror, your resolve cracked just a little more. jungwon was still there, standing close behind you, his eyes lingering on you like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to. and it wasn’t just the way he looked—it was the way he felt standing there, like the air between you was charged with something you couldn’t quite name.

your heart skipped a beat, and despite trying to keep your composure, you couldn’t stop the small smile from creeping back onto your face. god, get a grip, you scolded yourself, but it was impossible not to feel something when his gaze was that intense.

he seemed to realize it too. there was a moment—a brief flicker in his expression—where he caught himself staring. almost like he forgot for a second that this was supposed to be all about fashion. jungwon blinked, then let out a soft, almost embarrassed laugh, quickly brushing his hand through his hair. his fingers tousled his dark strands, and he turned away from you, moving toward one of the racks like he was suddenly very busy.

"so," he began, his tone light and casual, as though he hadn’t just been admiring your every curve moments before. "should we go with shorts or a skirt? i feel like either could work with the corset, but we should go with whatever makes the most impact for fashion week."

you exhaled quietly, feeling the tension ease as he busied himself with the clothes, his back now to you. he was already flipping through hangers, acting like nothing had happened, but you could still feel the lingering energy between you two.

jungwon rummaged through the rack with practiced precision, flipping through various fabrics before his hand landed on something. "ah, here it is," he said, pulling out a sleek skirt with a satisfied grin.

you watched as he held it up for you to see. the material was a smooth, structured twill—something that could perfectly complement the denim without clashing. the fabric had a bit of shine to it, just enough to elevate it beyond casual wear, but what really caught your attention was the unique detail at the waist. there was a thin, adjustable thread running along the top, almost like a drawstring but far more elegant, allowing you to tighten the fit as needed. it added a subtle edge to the skirt’s design, making it feel more versatile and modern.

"this could be perfect," jungwon said, his excitement matching yours. "the material’s got just enough weight to balance the denim, but it won’t overwhelm it. and with this thread detail," he ran a finger along the waist, showing how it worked, "you can adjust it exactly how you want it to fit."

your eyes lit up the moment you saw it. "oh my god, yes. it’s perfect." without even thinking twice, you reached for the skirt, your fingers brushing against his as you took it from him. "i’m trying this on right now."

he stepped back with a grin, giving you space as you slipped out of your pants and into the skirt, the fabric sliding smoothly over your legs. you turned to the mirror again, adjusting the waist with the thread until it sat snugly against your hips. it hugged your body in just the right way—tight where it needed to be but still comfortable, and it gave your whole look a balanced, polished feel.

you couldn’t help but smile, feeling an overwhelming sense of satisfaction as you twirled slightly to see how it moved with you. "what do you think?" you asked, your voice barely hiding your excitement.

jungwon was watching you again, eyes filled with approval as he nodded. "it’s everything. the corset and the skirt—it’s like they were made for each other." his gaze lingered just a moment longer before he added, "and they were definitely made for you."

you looked at your reflection once more, the outfit transforming you into exactly the vision you’d had in your mind since the beginning. "i love it," you said, beaming. "this is it. this is the look."

you couldn’t contain your excitement. the outfit was perfect—beyond perfect, and it made you feel unstoppable. without even thinking, you spun around and practically launched yourself into jungwon's arms. "oh my god, you’re the best!" you squealed, throwing your arms around his neck in a burst of joy.

he barely had time to react before you were in his arms, your body colliding with his in a tight hug. His grip instinctively tightened around you to steady the both of you as he let out a soft, surprised laugh. "whoa, okay, glad you like it!" he said, still smiling, clearly amused by your reaction.

but just as you buried your face into the crook of his neck, something unexpected happened. you felt a soft click behind you. for a split second, you didn’t understand what it was. then, suddenly, you felt the denim corset loosen completely.

your eyes widened in horror as you realized what had happened. the magnetic closure had come undone, and before you could even react, the corset slipped down, hitting the floor. you froze, every muscle in your body stiffening as the air around you seemed to stand still.

"oh my god," you whispered into his chest, your voice muffled and filled with embarrassment as you buried your face deeper, cheeks burning. you wanted to disappear, to melt into the ground and pretend this wasn’t happening. "oh my god, oh my god…"

jungwon’s body tensed at first, clearly just as surprised, but then, almost instinctively, his hands found their way to your waist. the warmth of his palms rested gently against your skin, holding you in place as if to steady you, even though both of you were standing perfectly still. his breath hitched for a moment, but he didn’t say anything.

the two of you just stood there, glued to each other, neither knowing what to do. you could feel his heartbeat against your cheek, a steady rhythm that seemed louder in the silence, while your own heart raced wildly, your face still hidden against his chest.

you let out a shaky breath, unable to move or even think straight, trapped in a whirlwind of embarrassment. "i—i didn’t mean for that to happen," you mumbled against him, voice small and apologetic, barely above a whisper.

jungwon, who had been frozen for what felt like an eternity, finally spoke, his voice low and soft. "it’s okay," he said, his hands still resting on your waist, as if anchoring you both in the moment. "it was the magnet."

you both laughed nervously, a quiet, shared moment of awkwardness but also something else neither of you could quite name.

jungwon's hands still rested gently on your waist, his touch warm and steady, grounding you in a moment that felt anything but. your heart was racing, and you could feel his pulse thudding just as strongly against your cheek. the awkwardness between you grew thick, heavy, as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

but then, without saying a word, jungwon's hand moved from your waist, gliding up slowly. your breath caught in your throat as his fingers gently tilted your chin upward, coaxing your face away from where you’d buried it against his chest. your eyes reluctantly met his, wide and uncertain, your body instinctively pushing closer to him to keep your chest covered.

his touch was soft, yet there was something deliberate about the way he held your chin, guiding you to look at him. you could feel the heat from his fingers, his thumb grazing the edge of your jawline, and for a moment, the world outside of the two of you didn’t exist. it was just the quiet, the subtle rise and fall of his chest beneath your hands, and the intensity in his eyes as they locked onto yours.

but he couldn’t stop himself. his gaze flickered, almost unwillingly, sliding down from your face, tracing the line of your neck before settling lower. his eyes dipped, just for a heartbeat, to where the corset had fallen away, and though you’d pressed tighter into him, he could still catch the soft curve of your bare skin. his eyes did a slow, unintentional marathon—from your eyes, to your chest, and then back again, as if he was trying to fight it but losing that battle with each passing second.

you felt a shiver run through you, your entire body hyper-aware of his presence, the closeness, the heat between you. his fingers still held your chin, his grip gentle but firm, and the way he looked at you—like he was seeing you in a way he never had before—sent your heart pounding even faster.

"jungwon…" you whispered, your voice barely audible, not even sure what you were asking, or if you were asking anything at all. maybe just for the moment to slow down, or speed up—something. your cheeks burned with embarrassment, your arms still wrapped around his waist, pressing tighter as if that would somehow make everything less exposed, less vulnerable.

jungwon’s gaze was intense, almost overwhelming, and you felt your pulse quicken under the weight of it. his eyes seemed to linger just a moment too long on every part of you, tracing your features with a softness that made your breath hitch. unable to take the intensity any longer, you instinctively turned around, trying to break free from the moment, hoping to gather yourself.

but in your flustered state, you didn’t realize the full gravity of what you’d just done.

the cool air on your bare skin suddenly felt more noticeable, your nipples hardening in an Instant, and before you could react, you were standing there—completely uncovered—facing the massive mirror. your heart skipped a beat, panic flooding through you as it hit you: jungwon was right behind you, already facing the mirror. his eyes had a perfect view of everything reflected back at him.

"oh my god," you gasped, realization crashing over you like a tidal wave.

before you could move, jungwon was already there. his reflexes were quicker than you expected, and without hesitation, his hands shot forward, gently but urgently covering your exposed chest. his palms pressed against your tits, shielding you from both the mirror and himself, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt through you.

the room seemed to freeze for a moment, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating. you could feel jungwon’s breath behind you, shaky and uncertain, his hands resting protectively over you. your pulse raced beneath his fingers, the intimacy of the situation more than either of you had anticipated.

“i knew they would fit just right in my hands” jungwon whispered merely for himself but your ears couldn’t ignore it either. his hands were warming up your chest a lot in that moment, and if before you’d be positive that your nipples are the hardest they could be, well, jungwon decided to prove you wrong and circle his palms around them to make them even rock hard. he couldn’t stop staring at the mirror, at the way your body was glued to his, at the manner in which there was only one obstacle from seeing your beautiful chest and that was his own hands.

you bit your lower lip, resting the back of your head against his chest as he lowered his head to place a wet kiss against your exposed skin. you trembled under his touch as his plumped lips left saliva on your beautiful neck, following to be licked off by his long tongue, going all the way to your ears. and because he couldn’t leave them just like that, he bit your earlobe, still, so gently. his hands continued to tease your nips against his palms, now your shoulder being devoured by his hungry lips, kissing, licking, sucking and nibbling all over.

naturally, one of his arms went lower to unwrap the thread along your skirt, causing it to fall down so carelessly, exposing your simple, pale pink panties, along with a wet stain against them. “do i turn you on, y/n”? jungwon asked, eyes locked on the mirror, pushing his hand lower to cup your pussy completely. he rested it there, using his middle finger to press against your hole, hidden behind the drenched piece of lingerie.

“mhm” you nodded, closing your eyes as arching your back in response, unable to resist to his soft, attentive yet dangerous touch. you pushed your chest up, the lonely left breast showing off its round and perky shape. jungwon smirked at the view of that, turning you around and pressing you against the mirror. the cold touch of the glass gave you a short shiver, followed by another one coming from jungwon, who couldn’t help but get on his knees in front of you.

“as a model, you should control yourself regardless of the circumstances, is that true?” he asked you on a deliberate sarcastic tone, a mischievous smile appearing on his face. he stuck out his tongue, licking his lips like a hungry animal. “let’s see if you can keep your moans to yourself then, sweetheart” he added, just before pulling down your panties, his hot breathe hitting your soaked pussy immediately. you felt your legs getting weaker already, but jungwon made sure to hold you still, his mouth taking a full bite of your dripping wet cunt. if before he presented himself to be the greatest gentleman, now he surely proves the contrary. jungwon aggressively sucked on your clit, using a finger to push inside you unexpectedly.

you whimpered out, loud enough for the whole staircase to hear. “shh” he whispered to you, pushing his finger as high as possible and taking it out to make you desperate. his lips were taking over your folds, giving each of them their own turn, leaving wet kisses and fainted marks. additional to his index finger, another one joined him, pushed hard inside you again, letting another moan out, even louder this time. jungwon smirked, and curled them inside you, making your legs tremble. you clenched around his fingers, his tongue giving your clit now all of his attention.

at this point, you had no more strength to stand still and kept going lower, his fingers deeper inside you. “ride my fingers” he urged you, raising his head to see your face full of pleasure, rolling your eyes back with each movement. he stopped moving his hand now, and waited for you to do your turn. with a small gulp, you pushed you body lower until his finger were all hidden inside you again, biting your lips not to let another sound escape from you. it felt so good you couldn’t raise anymore, legs still shaking in pleasure. that’s when jungwon’s patience went down to 0 and his fingers curled again inside you, this time his thumb rubbing your clit in sync.

“do you like how i finger you, sweetheart? your wet sounds say it all”

his smirk couldn’t leave his face at all, not for a second, nor could his gaze let go of yours. he was obsessed with the way you rolled your eyes back, the way you pushed your chest up and the way your shaking legs couldn’t help you stand still anymore. all of this because of him, because of his hands, his fingers, simply him, his voice, his touch.

“i feel so close” you whined, the words barely coming out of your mouth correctly. but to be fair, how could you say anything right when all you could feel was pleasure? hearing your statement, jungwon stood up and pulled down his jeans along with his boxers, revealing his hardened length. “then cum around my cock” he imposed as he pushed his dick covered in precum inside your cunt. he pressed his hands against the mirror, pumping himself into you. he threw his head back, speeding up his rhythm as your tits jumped up and down.

“j-jungwon” you moaned aloud his name, crying along with it. you did not have a single thought on your mind anymore, all you could feel was jungwon’s cock hitting your g point a million times, until your body couldn’t take it anymore. “jungwon i-“ you started saying, but before you could finish, he was already painting your walls white. you let go of your pleasure and came on his cock, throwing your arms around his neck to find some support.

legs shaking, you were still trying to catch your breathe. completely naked against the dressing room mirror, you felt a shiver down your spine and a moan was shouted out again when jungwon pushed himself inside you one more time. he chuckled, seeing your reaction and lifted you up, walking effortlessly across the room to the leathered sofa. he sat down on it, you still on his lap, his cock still buried inside you.

“round two?”

[ovaryacted]

MDNI/18+. NSFW. CW: smutty thoughts, collar usage, pet play vibes, dom/sub dynamics.

Typing this fast as fuck while I’m at work so I apologize if there are any typos. I gotta get this out. Don’t jump me pleak.

Something something, Logan coming home from being out all day just to get hit with your bratty attitude. You’ve been irritated for the past few days, you don’t even know why you’re upset to begin with, but just that you’ve been on edge. Every time Logan tries to get you to talk about it, you shrug or brush him off, and he’s not the type to intrude so he gives you your space and leaves you alone in the meantime.

Well today he’s had it.

With a hand on your bicep, he brings you to the living room, plops down in front of you and orders you to go into the closet and bring out your collar including the leash.

You had half a mind to argue with him, but the look on his face told you he wasn’t in the mood for backtalk. So you follow through on his order, coming back into the living room and handing him the collar with a pout. Your knees hit the floor soon after, his thick fingers move to click the collar around your neck, making sure it was snug against your skin, the feel of it keeping you grounded.

With one hand, he tugs on the leash, wrapping it tight in his fist and holds your face by pinching your cheeks, forcing you to look at him in the eye.

“You’re going to sit there and think about how you’re acting, and when you’re done being a fucking brat, you talk to me. Got it?”

You nod without saying a word, kneeling in front of Logan while he reaches for the remote to turn the TV on, putting something for background noise.

Thirty minutes pass by and Logan’s eyes never left the TV screen. The more you stayed situated on the ground and the less attention you got from Logan, the quicker the frustration dissipated until you’re leaning against his leg. Anger and irritation no longer in your body once you nuzzle your head against Logan’s knee, the inner parts of you craving affection, something to hold you together.

His heavy palm comes to stroke the top of your head, a hum spilling out of your lips as he did. Your eyes flutter closed, a gentle pull on your leash brings your head lifting up to look at him, your sight lining up with hazel irises.

“Are you done throwing a hissy fit?”

His tone wasn’t as sharp as before, and your nod this time around wasn’t as coordinated, mind slowly reaching that fuzzy headspace where your brain was turned off.

“You gonna talk to me now then?”

You don’t say anything but shake your head. The last thing you wanted to do was talk actually. Instead, your eyes drop down to the obnoxious metal of his belt buckle, sneaking a bit lower to the bulge where you knew what laid underneath. He chuckles, the corner of his lip curling up to show a pearly white canine.

“Your brain doesn’t work for shit other than thinking about getting fucked. Ain’t that right baby?”

You didn’t get a chance to respond, the leash being yanked and forcing your face to collide directly with his pelvis, nose pressing into the worn denim of his jeans. The moan you’ve been holding in seeps through the material, mouth watering as you pant against the zipper.

“I’m done dealing with your mood swings. So you’re going to make it up to me, and I’ll make sure there ain’t a single drop of your attitude left.”

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[back2bluesidex]

Give Me A Taste - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi X Fem!Reader

Theme: PWP, SMUT, established relationship au

Wordcount: 1.3k+

Summary: Yoongi is down bad for you, he has been missing your taste crazily. Thanks to unexpected turns of events and a cancelled show, he can finally satiate his hunger for you.

Warnings: Titty fucking, yes, he fucks her tits, tit play (a bit), fingering, he cums on her chest, a heated make out, Unprotected sex (don't try this at home), NSFW!!

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: It's been a minute since I have written anything for Mr. Min. so... here it is. also, this is an apology because I won't be able to update WDBHG this week. I'm so sorry.:(

You are trying your best to scrub off the burnt patch of your frying pan when you hear the door lock chiming its jovial sound. 

“What the –” muttering to yourself, you start peeling off the washing gloves from your hands. It’s only you and Yoongi who know the passcode of your shared home. You are inside the condo and Yoongi is out on a world tour still having three more weeks to come back home. So it’s definitely a trespasser, or worse, a burglar or a robber trying to break into your house. 

Your blood runs cold at the thought as you walk towards the door for taking a look at the doorbell screen. Your steps halt when you see your boyfriend putting off his shoes and slipping into home slippers. 

“Yoongi?” you whisper, your eyes fill with moisture at an instant. It’s been nearly three months since you last saw him, smelled his calming scent, traced his skin with your fingertips. You have been missing him crazily and a brief phone or video call a day does absolutely nothing to quench your thirst. 

“One of the shows got canceled due to extreme weather conditions, we have a week till the next one. So, we decided to rest for a bit.” Yoongi reasons in his usual calm voice, before you get to ask him. He comes to stand right in front of you as you keep on staring at him. 

“Oh. Have you-” 

“Are you just going to stare at me?” Yoongi cuts you off. His face is unreadable but his eyes are dark, which makes it hard for you to assume anything. 

“No, I-” 

You get cut off again but this time because Yoongi slams his lips onto yours, pinning you to the nearest wall. 

Your boyfriend is usually calm and collected but he becomes a beast when lust takes over his senses. 

He grabs your wrists with both of his hands, pinning those above your head as he presses his body on yours. 

He kisses you hungrily, as if trying to lavish your lips for all the times he was away from you. You kiss him back with just as much urgency. The make out session is so heated that it spreads heat all over your body, including your pussy that just started wetting your cotton panties. 

You realize Yoongi is on the same page when his semi hard bulge presses on your stomach. 

He bites down on your lower lip, pulling it with his teeth before leaving you fucked up with only kisses. 

Yoongi loves you. Oh hell! It will be underestimated to say that he just loves you. He is obsessed with you! He craves for you like a lunatic. He starves for you. 

This prolonged period of staying away from you has been taking a toll on him, that’s why he came rushing back to you as soon as he got the chance. 

He looks at you with hooded eyes, stares down at your swollen lips then at your perked nipples. Fuck! You look heavenly like this. He can’t wait to feel your warmth wrapped around his length.

“I’ve missed you,Y/N. I can barely control myself anymore.” Yoongi whispers as he latches his lips to your throat, placing soft and lingering kisses wherever he could reach. 

“You don’t need to control yourself, Yoongi. I am all yours. Do whatever you want. I am all yours.” You breathe out. Yoongi’s tight grip on your wrists arouses you by an impossible amount. 

“Yes baby. I am going to fuck you so good now. But before that.. Give me a taste? Will you?” Yoongi’s low voice sends a trail of goosebumps all over your body. You suddenly find an urge to shy away from him and his eyes which are currently boring in your chest, more precisely, your nipples.  

Yoongi finds it adorable the way you get a little shy whenever he asks for a taste of your tits. He loves your tits, he can never get enough of those and fucking your tits is one of his most favourite ways of ruining you. 

He leaves your hands and clutches at the rim of your oversized tshirt to pull it off of your body. His eyes turn even darker as soon as you are topless in front of him. 

He palms your tits for a few moments. You push your tits out to enjoy more of his touch by arching your back. Yoongi chuckles at your eagerness. 

“Guess you missed me too, darling?” he squeezes both of your tits at the same time to erect a soft contained sigh from your lips. 

“You have no idea how much.” you murmur while enjoying Yoongi’s rough hands on your soft supple flesh. 

His fingers find your nipples and he twists those to satisfy himself, “then you will let me fuck your titties today, won’t you?” 

“I will…” you voice somehow. 

Yoongi bends down and takes one of your nipples in his mouth. 

As soon as the bud is inside his mouth, he starts lapping it up with his saliva before sucking it hard. All of your breath is knocked out when he worries your nipple between his teeth, not quite biting it rather playing with it with practiced skills.  

One of your hands finds its way to his long dark hair, nails raking through his scalp, earning a moan from your boyfriend. Your other hand travels down to south, brushing through the rough material of his jeans, grabbing his bulge and rubbing it to satiate your burning need that has developed for him.  

Yoongi repeats his actions with your other nipple, arousing you more and more.  

You are far too gone with the pleasure to notice that Yoongi has smeared your chest with his saliva, seemingly preparing you tits to take his cock. 

“Should we head to the couch now?” he asks with his gentle yet low voice. You nod eagerly. 

He lifts you up effortlessly, carries you to the couch and lays you down. Swiftly removing the rest of your clothes and leaving you lying naked on the couch, he reaches for his own clothes. 

His cock springs out of his boxers, tall and proud and ready to fuck you. He smirks, feeling you eyeing him like the horny, hungry girl that you are. 

Yoongi climbs on top of you, places his knees on either side of you, and lines his cock in the middle of your tits. You squeeze your tits tightly to make a tight passage for your boyfriend’s greedy cock. 

His first thrust is a little messy, the head of his cock nudges you on your chin, painting your chin with his precum. 

The next thrusts are more stable and steady and soon you hear Yoongi groaning in pleasure. He is such a goner when it comes to your tits. You tighten your tits even more to rile him up. 

“B-Baby, ugh, Y/N! I will c-cum at this rate.” Yoongi whines. Your eyes roll back at the sensation of his cock being squeezed by your big tits. 

But you start seeing stars when you feel Yoongi’s fingers parting your folds and drawing tight circles on your clit. 

“Oh my– Yoongi” you fumble to make any coherent sentence. 

Arousal pools out of your hole and creates a mess down there.

Apparently, it’s too much for Yoongi to take in your fucked up state, your wetness on his fingers and your tits squeezing the hell out of his cock, all together. His dick starts twitching and before he could warn you, he is cumming all over your face, throat and chest. 

Your grip on your tits loosen as you bring your hand to wipe your face off. When your vision returns to you, you find Yoongi licking your juices off of his fingers while maintaining a steady eye contact with you. He definitely doesn’t look like someone who just cummed all over you. 

Repositioning himself, Yoongi lowers his head to the level of your cunt and chuckles in his breathy voice, “Next up is your pussy. Give me a taste, yeah?” 

And you know you are going to have a long day ahead.

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae

[gloomwitchwrites]

hi!!! i literally started reading your blog and FR YOU HAVE TALENT. Got me giggling and kicking my feet cus of that girl dad!tf141 fics.

I was reading one of the links you put in for prompt ideas and I read that one six words sentence from link five: "I can't risk losing you again." hello?? potential angst to fluff?? I couldn't get it off my head and i was wondering if you could write something from it :>

Thank you so much! That's so sweet of you! I'm so glad you enjoyed reading the Just Like Dad stories. I had a lot of fun writing them.

"I can't risk losing you again" is such an open-ended prompt. There is a lot you can do with that. I hope my humble offering is enough. I certainly went more angst than fluff on this one, but I really do love sad things with twinges of hope thrown in.

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, mild blood, non-graphic mentions of violence, angst, fluff, pregnancy, mentions of pregnancy complications

Simon "Ghost" Riley: An enemy of Simon's harms you, forcing Simon to make a tough decision. (wc: 315) Kyle "Gaz" Garrick: Kyle decides there is only one way to keep you close. (wc: 323) John Price: Price worries after you tell him you're pregnant when the first pregnancy had complications. (wc: 329) John "Soap" MacTavish: Johnny learns that falling in love with a teammate can only lead to sorrow. (wc: 542)

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Busted door. Shattered glass. Overturned table.

The lights aren’t working and rain enters through the open patio door. You are safe and whole and far from this. But is it enough? Will Simon be able to keep you safe?

What was once doubt is now cold truth.

It’s not your trashed home but the state Simon found you in. It was your heavy-lidded eyes and bruised face. It was the pools of red that Simon didn’t know belonged to you, the dead man facedown in the carpet, or both. It was your smile of relief when you realized it was Simon drawing you into his arms.

Simon knows the man who did this—no. He knows who fucking ordered it.

And when he finds Makarov, he’ll show that fucker just how trigger-hungry he can be. The lead will burst and fuse to his lungs, and Simon will bathe in the aftermath.

All that’s left is your safety. If Simon knew that his career would lead to this, he would have taken steps to protect you years ago. You are always his one bright spot, that candle in the dark that is his life.

With you, he became more than his trauma. More than his guilt. More than his past. With you, he found peace. He found happiness. You are the sugary candy that sticks in the teeth but is too addictive to give up.

Departing is agony. The return is his reward and his longing.

You are everything.

And that is why he let you go.

Why he said, “I can’t risk losing you again.”

He put his head in your lap, his fingers digging into the sides of your thighs and failed to push down the tears.

Laswell will take you far away. She will keep you somewhere safe.

Makarov won’t find you.

And maybe—perhaps in the future—Simon can return to you.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle is a nervous wreck.

The tiny box sits heavy in his pocket, burning an invisible hole. His plan is not the most romantic, but the two of you aren’t the type to go big. It’s all subtle, and Kyle only wants this moment to include the two of you.

This is his last chance.

Kyle’s final opportunity.

In this relationship, Kyle has kept you second. Not on purpose but out of habit. Work is his lifeblood. It drives him, and every successful mission is a point of pride. But in keeping up with that, Kyle left you behind.

His absences lengthened, and over time, he noticed you were pulling away, closing off. But that isn’t your fault. Kyle created the perfect brew for you to drink. These are the consequences of his actions, and he needs to make it right.

There was a time when Kyle nearly did lose you. When he came home and thought you had packed up and left without saying a word. That broke him. Made him realize just how distant he’d become.

Change is difficult.

But Kyle did it. Slowly.

Your smile returned, and when he comes home, your greetings are full of passion.

I can’t risk losing you again.

Kyle takes a deep breath as the deadbolt on the front door disengages. There is a slight tremble in his hands. Kyle is never nervous. Never. But fuck—taking this next step is driving him up the goddamn wall.

He pushes off from the couch, turning just as the front door swings open.

You step inside, face turned away as you go to shut the door. When you finally glance into the room, all the nervousness inside Kyle’s chest evaporates.

Your smile is so sweet, and you don’t hesitate. Dropping your bag, you rush toward him, and Kyle cannot help but meet you halfway.

He’s making the right choice in asking you to stay with him forever.

John Price

“You’re not happy.”

John is happy. He is. But old worries bubble up, seeping into the joy. It’s tainting everything, and that is clear by how your smile starts to fade.

“I am happy,” he says, but his mouth is a hard line. John knows he’s frowning.

You shake your head, one hand resting over your stomach. “Don’t lie, John.”

This is supposed to be a happy moment. He should sweep you up in his arms. He should kiss you until you’re begging for air. But all John can think about are all the doctor appointments he attended with you, and the grimness of what might not happen.

From that came a daughter. John loves her. Adores her. But bringing her into the world nearly killed you. He grappled with that stress while being as present as possible with you. Growing your family has always been a dream, and John doesn’t fault you for a second. There is no family without you.

John grasps the sides of your face and moves into your space. Your own hands close over his, keeping him from retreat.

“I am happy,” he reiterates. “But we both know what it took to bring our daughter into the world.” John shakes his head absently and breathes deep. “Don’t do this for me.”

“John—”

“I can’t risk losing you again.”

This time, your smile returns. There is a hint of sadness lingering behind it, as if you too are reflecting on all that happened.

“Everything will be fine.” You release his hand and gently cup his cheek.

John kisses your forehead, his thumb absently tracing your jaw. “Are you sure?”

The decision is ultimately yours, and John will respect whatever you decide.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” he nods.

John pulls you in, lips finding yours. When you melt into him, accepting all that he’s giving, a wave of peace settles over him.

This is right.

And whatever happens, the two of you will face it together.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny drips water all over the floor. He is soaked through. Shivering. But he could give a fuck.

“Where is she?”

“Soap—”

“Where the fuck is she, Price?”

Captain Price sighs heavily and crosses his arms. “She needs rest.”

Johnny swallows down his retort. He’s not upset with Price, and shit like this happens all the time, but he needs to know if you’re okay.

You took a fucking bad fall, and Johnny couldn’t stop to run after you. The mission comes first, and it wasn’t his job. Other people stepped in and whisked you away. But from the height you plummeted from, Johnny feared the worst.

Still does to an extent.

If you were dead, Price wouldn’t hide that from him. But he might hide how bad you’re injured as a way to protect him. Price has always been fatherly in that regard. Right now, it’s driving Johnny fucking nuts.

“Captain. Please,” Johnny clenches his fists and then releases them. “Let me see her.”

Price’s frown smooths a bit and the middle of his brow wrinkles with concern. “For a few minutes. All I can spare.”

Johnny has to keep from rushing to the hospital room doorway when the words leave Price’s mouth. He has Johnny walk with him to your door. Thunder rumbles in the distance and rain steadily hits the large window at the far end of the hospital room.

Just as Johnny takes a step inside, Price’s hand is on his shoulder.

“She’ll make it,” is all he says before he shuts the door.

Johnny lingers right inside. All the lights are off except a small lamp in the corner. Your eyes are closed, and your face is peaceful. There is bruising. A few bandages. The machines next to the bed beep softly.

He was so eager—so determined to get to you. Now, Johnny deflates.

On quiet feet, he grabs a chair and brings it over to your bedside. You don’t stir. Simply sleep. Johnny eases down into the chair and leans forward, his forearms crossed as he rests them on the side of the hospital bed.

Still, you don’t move. And Johnny doesn’t dare wake you.

Rest is important, and all he wants is for you to recover.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “That I didn’t come sooner.” The rain picks up and Johnny smooths back his wet hair. “But I can’t keep doing this. Every time you’re hurt I—” He sighs heavily and rests his forehead on his crossed arms.

“I can’t risk losing you again,” he murmurs into the bedding.

It’s become too much. You’re not supposed to fuck your coworkers and you shouldn’t fall in love with them either. But Johnny did both. With you. And he cannot take that back.

He’d give anything if you’d set this all aside.

Your fingers brushing against his scalp startle him. Johnny lifts his head, only to find you watching him. There is a soft smile on your lips, and his instinct is to grasp your hand and bring it to his lips, kissing each knuckle and then your palm.

The moment your mouth opens to speak, there is knock at the door. Johnny frowns and looks up, finding Price in the doorway.

“Time’s up.”

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @miaraei

@coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @pearljamislife

@miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff

@berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf

@lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien

@sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d

@heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria

@lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic

@suhmie @tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair @nomercyforthewarrior

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

Requesting something where reader works as a barista and her boss/co-worker is flirting with her like non-stop. She finally reveals to her BF Ethan about it and of course he’s livid. Ethan/GF makes a visit to the cafe to show boss/co-worker to leave y/n alone for good. Later that night Ethan reminds y/n that she is ONLY his. Please include as much smut as you deem necessary. Btw absolutely adore your writing. 💕

Hiiii! I hope you like it💕

I Mean It - Ghostface!Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: Your creepy supervisor threatens to get you fired after you reject his advances, so Ethan takes care of the problem.

Contains: Suggestions to murder, workplace harassment(Nothing graphic), oral - f recieving, p in v, rough-ish sex

A/N: I was going to post this earlier today but life happened haha

Ethan was the sweetest boyfriend to you. He loved to randomly buy you flowers just to see you smile, plan date days for the two of you, and he was always doing something to make you laugh, especially if you were having a bad day. He was also very protective. Whenever he’d be out with you somewhere, if he noticed that another guy was staring at you, he made eye contact until the person took the hint. God forbid anyone said anything or catcalled you because Ethan didn’t mind confronting someone. He didn’t want anyone else to think they could have you, but he also thought it was disrespectful to you.

You knew how Ethan could be, so when your new supervisor at work, Logan, started to flirt with you, you didn’t want to tell him. The last thing you wanted was for Ethan to pop in one day and say something, and with his occasional hotheaded tendencies, you were sure you’d get fired. You needed your job, especially with Ethan talking about how he wanted you to move in with him.

“Hey cutie,” Logan said, as you’d just put your apron on. “What are you doing after work today?”

“You know I have a boyfriend,” you said, brushing him off as you checked to make sure the coffee that was already brewed was still fresh. “Plus, you’re my supervisor. Don’t you think it’s a little unprofessional for you to keep hitting on me?”

“No,” he said, leaning on the counter beside you. “I can’t believe you’re with that loser.”

“Don’t talk about him like that,” you warned, as you once again, walked away from him. You peaked in the fridge to see what milk you needed to grab from the back, but he stayed right beside you.

“He’s not going to do anything,” he said, as you sighed in frustration.

“Seriously, Logan. Let it go. It’s never going to happen,” you said, making a mental note of what you needed before going to grab the extra milk.

He was still behind you, and you were starting to get a little uncomfortable. He was always flirting, but him following you into the walk-in cooler where no one else could see the two of you was making you nervous. You tried to push any anxiety you had to the side so you could get what you needed and get out, but once you had two gallons of milk in your hands and he stood in front of the door so you couldn’t move past him, you were starting to get mad. You huffed as you sat the milk down on one of the shelves.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you asked, staring him down as he smiled.

“I could write you up for talking to me like that…but I won’t if you let me take you out. Just once,” he said, trying to manipulate you into giving him a chance.

“Yeah, I can only imagine how that night would end,” you scoffed, as he started to smirk.

“Hopefully with you naked in my bed.”

You didn’t have time to process what you were doing before your hand connected with his cheek, the sharp sound muffled by the hum of the cooler. Your hand was stinging as you pulled it away, a red mark appearing on the side of his face as he stared at you in disbelief.

“I’m getting you fired for that,” he said, stepping away from the door as he ran his hand over his cheek. “I’ll tell the manager about this in the morning.”

“I’ll tell him about you sexually harassing me,” you snapped, grabbing the milk off the shelf and walking out of the cooler.

Your other coworkers looked at you as you walked out, noticing that you were trying to hold your tears in. You put the milk in the fridge before Logan walked out, an angry look on his face as he made his way towards you.

“I think you should go home for the rest of the day,” he said, as you took your apron off.

“Fine. I didn’t want to be here with your creepy ass anyway.”

“Expect the manager to call you in the morning,” he said, as you made your way out of the coffee shop.

On your walk back home, you knew you needed to tell Ethan. If Logan was going to get you fired anyway, you knew you’d be happier with the situation if Ethan confronted him. You dried the stray tears on your cheeks before you pulled out your phone to text him.

You: Can you come over before your late class?

Ethan: Yeah

Ethan: Wait, why aren’t you at work?

You: I’ll tell you about it when you come over.

When you made it to your dorm, you noticed Ethan standing outside of the door, waiting for you.

“That was fast,” you said, as he took in your sad appearance.

“You know I live in the next building over,” he said, as you walked up to him and rested your head against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, his hand soothingly rubbing across your back. “What happened, baby?”

“Let’s go inside and I’ll tell you,” you said, pulling away to unlock your door.

As you explained the interaction with Logan, Ethan was starting to get angry. His leg was bouncing as he tried to keep calm in front of you, but he knew that Logan needed to pay for the way he’d treated you. Ethan wouldn’t tolerate him flirting with you in the first place, but the idea of anyone thinking they’d even have a chance with you had him fuming, because you were his.

“I don’t know if I can stop by the coffee shop tonight, but I’ll take care of it tomorrow,” he lied, already having a sinister plan floating around in his head. “Maybe if you tell your manager what happened, he’ll be the one that gets fired.”

“All that man does is kiss the higher-ups’ asses, and he cornered me where he knew there weren’t any cameras,” you sighed, as he took a deep breath.

“I promise you, you won’t have to deal with him anymore,” Ethan said, as he stood up. “I’ll take care of it. But I have to run right now or I’m going to be late for class.”

“Okay,” you said, as he grabbed your hands and pulled you close. He placed a sweet kiss on your lips before he pulled away. “Wait, my roommate had to go home for a family emergency. If you think you could sneak back in here tonight, I’d love to spend some alone time with you.”

“Hmm, I like the sound of that,” he said, smirking at you. “Leave your door unlocked. I might not get here until late, but I don’t want to get caught in the hallway.”

“I will. I hope your class isn’t too boring,” you said, as he mumbled “I know it won’t be.”

It wasn’t going to be because he wasn’t going. After seeing how upset you were, and the possibility of Logan getting you fired after he harassed you, he knew what needed to happen to him. He’d go to the ends of the earth to protect you, and he’d do anything to make sure you didn’t have to see Logan’s pathetic self again.

Ethan always paid close attention to his surroundings, even when he was visiting you at work for your breaks. He’d met you at the back entrance a couple of times when you had to close…the back entrance that was never locked until the supervisor left. He knew that was his way to get in, he just needed to plan it out perfectly.

He ran to his dorm to get the things he needed, hoping Chad wouldn’t come back as he put the robe, mask, and knife in his backpack. His roommate walked in just as he’d finished zipping his bag back up.

“Hey, wanna play Mortal Kombat when you get home later?” Chad asked, as he held up the game he’d just picked up.

“No, I won’t be coming home after class. I just stopped by to grab some extra clothes,” Ethan said, as Chad shook his head.

“Don’t get caught in her dorm again,” he said, as Ethan rolled his eyes and walked out.

Ethan found a little hiding spot outside of the view of the exterior cameras of the coffee shop as he waited for his opportunity to go in. His head snapped up from his phone once he heard your coworkers talking amongst themselves as they walked out the back door. He locked his phone and slid it in his pocket before unzipping his backpack and grabbing what he needed to not get caught.

He held the knife tightly in his hand as he walked up to the back entrance and opened the door, peaking around the hallway. He noticed that the coffee shop was dark, aside from the glow of the fluorescent lighting in the manager’s office. He quietly stepped towards it, and once he made it to the doorway, he tapped the blade of his knife against the metal door frame to get Logan’s attention.

As soon as Ethan finished what he went there to do, he wiped the blood off his knife before heading towards the back exit. He slowly opened the door to make sure no one was outside before he bolted to where he was hidden before. He took off the robe and the mask and shoved it, along with the knife, into his backpack.

You kept checking the time on your phone, wondering what was taking Ethan so long. You almost thought he got caught by your RA, but you knew he would’ve messaged you to tell you that. You jumped when your door quickly opened as Ethan ran inside.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you sighed, as he turned to smile at you.

“Sorry. I almost got caught,” he said, his breathing heavy from all the running he’d just done.

His adrenaline was still pumping through his veins as he took in your appearance. You had the cutest little pajama set on, and he was dying to get you out of it.

“You know you’re only mine, right?” he asked, as he stepped closer to you. You noticed the dark look in his eyes as you curiously looked at him.

“Are you okay?” you questioned, as he let out a light chuckle.

“You didn’t answer my question. Maybe I need to show you who you belong to,” he said, as your core started to throb at his words.

“Are you still mad about the Logan stuff? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you he was flirting with me until it got bad,” you said, as he shook his head.

“You do need to tell me when stuff like that happens, but…” he trailed off, once he noticed you laying there, clenching your thighs together. Your eyes were so needy, and you were struggling to sit still. “I think you want me to show you that your mine.”

“Mhm,” you said, as he sat his stuff down and pulled his shirt over his head.

He got on your bed and hovered over you before he leaned down to place his lips against yours. Your mouths were hungrily moving together, like you couldn’t get enough of each other. You felt Ethan start to tug at your pajama shorts as he pushed his tongue past your slightly parted lips. You lifted your hips so Ethan could slide the shorts down over the curve of your ass. As soon as he got you out of them, his fingertips gently moved up your thigh.

You whimpered into his mouth as he started to rub you over your panties. He slid them to the side to rub painfully slow circles against your needy bundle of nerves. He knew what he was doing, but he couldn’t help it. He loved teasing you until you were begging him to fuck you.

“Ethannn,” you whined once he pulled away to catch his breath. “Move your fingers faster.”

He smirked at the pouty look playing on your lips as he barely changed up his pace. It was almost unnoticeable, as you gave him a ‘Really?’ look.

“Oh, you want more?” he asked, his fingers quickly rubbing against your clit. “Is this what you need?”

“Yes,” you moaned, as he started to laugh and slow his fingers. You whined in protest as he almost came to a stop. You were starting to get a little frustrated, especially after you’d thought about Ethan taking care of you in the way you needed him to the entire evening. “I thought you were going to show me who I belong to?”

His smirk dropped and his eyes got so dark at your question. You weren’t trying to piss him off, but you felt like you did as he stared at you.

“Don’t be a brat,” he warned, “I do so much for you.”

“I’m sorry, babe. I know you do,” as he scooted down the bed and looked at you from in between your thighs.

“You don’t know the half of it,” he said, before he leaned forward, his tongue licking stripes up your clit.

Your hands went to his hair as his tongue skillfully moved against you, but you still needed more. He already knew that, but he wanted you to ask him for it. You stayed quiet, not wanting to make him mad like you did before. Your bottom lip was in between your teeth as you tried to hold your sounds in, because you didn’t want anyone to hear you. Ethan loved it when you were loud, but you didn’t want him to get caught in your dorm again.

He wasn’t satisfied with your silence, a low moan slipping past your lips once he sucked your clit into his mouth and started to move his head from side to side.

“Unf, fuck,” you whimpered, your hips lifting off the bed as he fought to hold them down. “Please use your fingers.”

He slid his middle and ring finger into your dripping pussy with ease as he kept sucking on your clit. He curved his fingers just right, your legs involuntarily twitching at the feeling. Once he sucked even harder, you felt your orgasm building.

“I’m close,” you whined, as his fingers pressed harder against that spongy spot inside of you.

His eyes connected with yours as your moans kept getting louder, the feeling in the pit of your stomach getting stronger and stronger as he brought you closer to the edge. Your hands were tugging on his hair as you started to move your hips with his fingers until your entire body started to shake. He watched you fall apart as that feeling finally washed over you, your breathing shaky as you whimpered his name.

He slowed his fingers as you started to come down from your high and switched from sucking your clit to gentle licks. Once you started to pull your hips away from the slight overstimulation, he removed his fingers and sat up to look at you.

“You’re mine, right?” he joked, as you stared at him through your post-orgasm haze.

“I think so…I need you to fuck me so I can be sure,” you said, teasing him as he glared at you.

“Be careful what you ask for,” he said, sliding off the side of your bed to take his jeans and boxers off. He walked over to your bedside table and grabbed a condom before he crawled back on the bed with you.

He grabbed one of the extra pillows from beside your head and placed it under you as you lifted your hips for him. Once he slid inside of you, he gave you time to adjust to his size as he leaned down to kiss you. His tongue glided across your bottom lip as you let him deepen the kiss, but you were starting to squirm underneath him.

He started off with slow, deep thrusts. The tip of his cock was brushing against your g-spot as he caught all your moans with his mouth. Your nails ran over his back as he fucked you at a slow pace, but you were craving more. Your legs wrapped around him so he could go even deeper, but he knew what you really needed.

He pulled away to look at you as he rested on his knees, still thrusting into your soaked core.

“Are you mine?” he growled, as you nodded. “You better fucking say it.”

“Mmm, shit. I’m all yours,” you said, as he quickly sped up. His cock was slamming into you so hard that the sounds of his skin slapping against yours, along with the loud moans flooding out of your mouth, were bouncing off the walls.

His brows were furrowed as he concentrated on keeping his pace, his cheeks a rosy pink as he tried to keep his breathing as steady as he could.

You snaked your hand down to your clit, before he swatted it away and replaced it with his thumb. He was rolling circles over it, the pressure making you whimper.

Grunts were slipping past his lips as he started to drill into your g-spot even harder, your shaky hands gripping the comforter to brace yourself for your orgasm.

He knew that if the sounds already coming from your room weren’t loud enough for anyone else to hear, the sounds you were about to make definitely would be. He placed his hand over your mouth, your eyes wide as your eyebrows knitted together.

Your pussy started to flutter as you let out a loud cry against the palm of his hand, your entire body bucking as he tried to fuck you through it.

Your chest was heaving as your body started to relax, but he still kept his hand in place just in case you couldn’t be quiet as he chased his own orgasm. It didn’t take long for his hips to stutter.

“Aahh fuck,” he moaned out as he pulled his hand away from your mouth, his head falling forward as he gave a few more week thrusts, his cum filling the tip of the condom. He slid out of you and flopped on his back as he tried to catch his breath.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled, as he turned his head to look at you. You looked like you could fall asleep in that moment, so he got up to take the condom off, and grabbed your panties and his boxers off the floor.

“Let me help you, baby,” he said, as he slid your panties back up your legs and over your hips. He slid his boxers back on before crawling in bed beside you and pulling you closer.

You moved your head to his chest, and he heard your breathing slow as he drew patterns on your back with his fingertips.

“I love you, babe,” he said, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Love you, too,” you said softly, as you started to drift off.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of your phone vibrating against the nightstand. You lifted your head off Ethan’s chest as he started to wake up, a sweet smile on his lips as his eyes stayed closed.

“Oh shit,” you said, grabbing your phone. Ethan’s eyes opened as you glanced over to him, your phone still vibrating in your hands. “It’s work.”

You hesitantly answered it, a nervous “Hello?” slipping past your lips. Your eyes went wide as you listened to your manager speak, your hand covering your mouth as you tried to process everything you were being told. Ethan was trying so hard to hold in his smile over the horrible crime he committed, but he’d do anything for you. He had no shame in that.

Once you hung up with your manager, you turned to Ethan, your eyes still wide as you tried to put into words what you were told.

“So uh, the coffee shop is a crime scene right now,” you said, as Ethan looked at you, fake confusion painted on his face.

“What do you mean?” he questioned, as your words got stuck in your throat. “Talk to me, baby.”

“Logan was murdered last night after everyone left,” you said, the shock fully hitting you once the words left your mouth. “Oh my god. That’s fucking crazy.”

“Yeah…I’m just happy you weren’t there,” Ethan said, as you nodded.

“Me too…I wonder what happened,” you said, as he shrugged.

“We’ll probably know something soon,” he said, as he started to laugh a little. You didn’t think it was very funny, your questioning look letting him know he needed to explain himself. “It’s not funny, but I guess you aren’t getting fired, after all. He was a scummy person…now he can’t treat anyone else the way he treated you.”

“That’s true,” you sighed as you laid your head back on Ethan’s chest.

[wlntrsldler]

I keep imagining the first time Luke and Mr. D met after Luke's hickeys/scratches went viral

LMFAOOOOO ANON THIS IS SENDING ME

here is how i think that conversation played out (suggestive content ahead):

"shit, five star, your dad is calling me," luke mumbled, eyes wide as he looked down at his phone. "he never calls me."

connor snicked from his bunk in the tour bus, "well, given that the whole internet is talking about you right now after the show you gave them last night, i'm not surprised."

"ha!" travis exclaimed, sitting up on his bed. "put it on speaker. i wanna hear him yell at you."

you rolled your eyes, "he's not gonna yell at you."

luke turned to you with hopeful eyes, "you think so?"

"well, he's probably not gonna yell at you," you scrunched your face up, rethinking your words, "like 55% chance he won't yell at you."

"i don't like those odds, babe."

"answer the fucking phone, luke."

luke clicked the green button on his screen, chewing on the nail of his thumb. he rolled his eyes, pressing the speaker button as travis kept egging him on. chris and clarisse opened the privacy curtain of chris' bunk to listen in on the drama.

"hey, mr. d," luke cleared his throat, ignoring the quiet giggles from the boys when his voice cracked. "what's up?"

"is my daughter with you?"

"say no," you whispered. so you were wrong about the odds. your dad was 100% about to yell at luke and you selfishly didn't want to get your ass handed to you just yet. you were going to avoid your dad's calls for as long as possible.

"uhh... no?"

"oh jesus fucking christ," you sighed, smacking your palm against your forehead, "that was soooo convincing."

you heard your dad type on his laptop before shutting it. there was some background noise that subsided after you heard the shut of a door. it seemed like your dad went into his office to get some privacy.

"hey, kid," your dad said, no doubt addressing you now.

"hey, dad," you rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly, leaning down to speak into the mic of luke's phone. "how are you?"

"don't start with me," he said, "would it kill you both to not do whatever it is you do that results in those pictures? pictures that are all over the internet by the way!"

a snide remark was on the tip of luke's tongue, because yes, it would kill him to not do the things that resulted in the pink marks on his neck and the healing scratches on his back, but that didn't seem like the right response.

"dad, you never had an issue with them taking their shirts off during shows before. and luke has gone out on stage like that before."

luke cringed, remembering one too many instances where he'd gone out on stage with hickeys all over his neck. it felt like a lifetime ago now, as if ever since you walked into his life that past version of him was someone he didn't recognize anymore. he much preferred remembering the name of the girl who left him marked up, especially preferring that it was only you who did that to him.

"that was before he started dating my daughter!" he replied, "i don't want to know anything about your relationship, but i'm in an unfortunate situation where i happen to manage the career of your boyfriend's band so i have to deal with it sometimes. so for the love of god, please please, stop."

"i'm so sorry mr. d," luke mumbled, "i completely forgot about them and by the time i realized, it was too late."

you could practically see your dad pulling at his hair, a habit he had when he was in stressful or awkward situations. he didn't speak for a good thirty seconds and then he sighed, "just keep your goddamn shirt on."

luke gulped, "got it."

when your dad ended the call, the entire bus erupted in laughter, including you. luke's face was as red as a tomato as he groaned and buried his head in his pillow. your shoulders shook as you giggled, laying on top of him. he instantly turned his body to wrap his arms around you.

"that wasn't so bad," you cooed, running your fingers through his curls, "and that was a shit apology, baby. you were smug as hell on stage when people pointed out the scratches."

"i wasn't thinking of the consequences of my actions," he said, "i was caught up watching people connect the dots that my girlfriend is not only hot but a fucking animal in be--"

"okay, that's our cue," travis cut off, closing his curtain. connor followed his head, popping in his airpods. clarisse sent you a wink before she disappeared behind the curtain with chris.

"i'll stop leaving hickeys on you," you kissed his face, enjoying how flustered he got. "but i can't promise too much on the scratches."

"i'm gonna stop taking my shirt off at shows, i think," he mused, toying with the hem of the shirt you wore. "i don't think i can take another surprise call from your dad. i think it took years off my life."

"your fans will be highly disappointed," you teased, leaning over to his ear, "but if you're gonna keep your shirt on, does that mean hickeys on your abs is fair game?"

luke licked his lips, tugging on his own curtain to give you two some privacy, "absolutely."

[gerec]

Do you have fic recs for cherik exes to lovers?

Saved the best for last, Anon - exes to lovers is my absolute FAVOURITE trope!

These are some of my personal favourites; I hope you enjoy :D :D :D

symphysis by ikeracity

After Charles and Erik broke up four months ago, Charles convinced himself he'd never see Erik again. But life has a funny way of bringing people back together.

it was a yellow umbrella spring by ikeracity (series - read part 1 first!)

Three years after Charles left for Oxford, Erik discovers that Charles is coming back to New York.

Second chances are wonderful things.

Lean On Me by SpiritsFlame

Ten years ago, Charles and Erik split up, dividing their six kids between them. None of them expect them to meet at summer camp. And no one could have predicted the results.

preheat to 350 (just for you remix) by ikeracity

Charles realizes he's in love with Erik. But there's one tiny little problem: he just broke up with Erik.

Repeat Offenses by populuxe

“Prickly bits aside—hell, for the two of them, prickly bits included—it almost felt like a date. Which is stupid on multiple fronts. Grudgingly buying your ex a meal after he grudgingly bails you out of jail is obviously not a date.”

Five times Charles bailed Erik out of jail—and one time he didn’t.

melt your headaches, call it home by joshriku

Two decades later after the last time he saw Charles Xavier, Erik's children lead him right back to him.

Of course, it's never easy to look at the ex love of your life and realize you're not over them, not even in the slightest.

my heart knows your name by borninsideatornado

Once they’ve finally got him in bed, Charles works up the courage to ask if he might stay for a few days, because being rejected can’t be worse than seeing Erik in pain. But Erik only says, “I think that would be good.”

The Way I See You by kianspo

Charles is an FBI agent working white collar crimes, specializing in art theft. Erik is a master forger. It's all well and good, except no one knows that Charles and Erik used to be in love once upon a time. Years later, they meet again.

my heart knows your name by borninsideatornado

Once they’ve finally got him in bed, Charles works up the courage to ask if he might stay for a few days, because being rejected can’t be worse than seeing Erik in pain. But Erik only says, “I think that would be good.”

to put the world between us by populuxe

Erik Lehnsherr is one of the hottest actors in Hollywood: fresh off an Academy Award nomination, he’s about to star in HBO’s most anticipated show of the year. And even though online chatter about his recent string of queer roles keeps getting louder, his personal life remains personal—just as it always has, and just as his manager and publicist continue to advise.

But when he winds up at the same wedding as his college best friend, Charles Xavier—and when they quickly fall into bed together—he’s forced to revisit the past he’s been trying to get away from for years. The pull between them has always been magnetic, but so has the weight of secrecy. Can they keep from repeating the same mistakes, or will the price of the truth be too high?

Walking in a Winter Wonderland by TurtleTotem

Charles hasn't seen Erik since their devastating breakup ten years ago. He's certainly the last person he expects to run into at a Christmas lights display.

Old Flame Burning by TurtleTotem

It's ridiculous for Charles to dread meeting the best man at his sister's wedding, just because he shares a name with Charles's ex. It's not as though it could possibly be the same Erik.

The Edge of What Doesn’t End by populuxe

When a mysterious object appears on the moon, Moira MacTaggert calls in two experts with very specific mutations to investigate.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, after years of breaking up and getting back together again, those two experts have finally broken up for good—and they’re the last people in the world who should be stuck together on a spaceship.

I need sleep like I need oxygen (I'm not admitting to missing you like crazy) by ximeria

Erik needs sleep, but since he and Charles broke up, he's not been able to get a good night's sleep.

December, Take Two by Anonymous

Charles has no problem being in the same room as his ex at Emma's holiday party. They're adults, after all.

We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven (the things you love don't last remix) by hllfire

Charles hands Erik the signed divorce papers, but Erik has changed his mind. Too late, it seems. All he can do is go forward with the divorce. A year later, Charles comes back, and Erik can't help but wanting to see him. The only problem is things don't go like Erik had planned.

Spy Games by manic_intent

Prompt: Burn Notice AU, with Erik Lehnsherr as the spy and Charles as the trigger-happy ex boyfriend. Erik is burned for unknown reasons in Mexico and wakes up in New York City. Somehow, he needs to raise $500,000, in order to find out -why-.

Best Ex Ever by 1sttimefeeling

Charles wakes up drunk on the pavement of a gas station, phone dead. He finds a payphone but can only remember one number. Erik Lehnsherr's.

The problem? They broke up two years ago.

Twice in One Lifetime by Gerec

Written for this prompt: Charles and his fiance Steve, are happily waiting for their first baby. What they are not expecting is the baby to arrive almost a month earlier and looking like a miniature copy of Charles' ex-boyfriend Erik.

It takes them a lifetime to get it right.

Years Falling Like Grains Of Sand by clarasteam

Seven years after they met and parted, Charles and Erik meet again in the most unlikely place.

Every Song I Know by clarasteam

“Erik,” Janos says wearily, “you had amazing sex with this guy. He obviously really likes you. You have, what, a month, six weeks left? You can spend it moping and hiding and worrying you're going to run into him. Or you can call him, have a good time, and figure out where you go from there.”

Erik groans. It's what he wants to do, so much it scares him.

Talk, Baby, Talk by lyonet

“Enough,” Erik said furiously. “It’s over. Let it die.”

“Be fair, sugar,” Emma said. “We made good music. It was your choice to wear magenta armour and a cape.”

Carry Me Anew (Frost & Darkholme Remix) by kianspo

While working as a model for Raven and Emma's clothing line, Erik experiences a strong attraction to his shoot partner. These things happen, except Erik has a boyfriend, who does not take this at all well.

+

linger like a tattoo kiss by ikeracity

Six months apart gives Erik a lot of time to think about what he really wants.

An absence which could not be more there by aesc

He prepared to shift another half-step over to the Current Events section (which would, of course, enrage him) when the teaser positioned by the model's left elbow caught his eye: DATING WHILE TELEPATHIC: WHY I DON'T DO IT.

Salem Center Mass by listerinezero

Erik Lehnsherr is a professional hitman and has no intention of attending his ten year high school reunion. But since he happens to have a kill lined up in the same town at the same time, he decides he may as well stop by. After all, his high school sweetheart, Charles Xavier, might be there. And it's not like he's spent the past ten years pining over Charles. Not at all.

Three wheels of cheese and a Great White by ximeria

Charles and Erik were friends with benefits in college.

They went their separate ways and 18 years later, they run into each other in New York.

The sex was never a problem back in college - and sex was all it had been. But now Erik is a divorced father and Charles has admitted to himself he needs more than just sex in a relationship. So in their usual round-about way they try to navigate becoming friends after so many years. The whole quest is aided by Raven, Edie, Wanda and Pietro (and a large number of shark jokes).

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch. 3 returning the favor

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 3/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 4.5k

a/n. hope you enjoy! i really had fun incorporating a lot of the other characters in this one.

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

|| 9:21AM Gojo Satoru sent you a photo

|| 9:22AM Gojo Satoru: Here’s our practice schedule for the week. Honestly, it’s better if you come when we do practice games or something, since on other days we just do drills or strength training, but coach doesn’t really tell us what we’re doing beforehand so would probs have to play it by ear

|| 9:27AM Gojo Satoru: Oh yeah, we’ve got a big game in three weeks on the 28th. It’ll decide if we’re automatically seeded into the top 16 teams bracket, which is really crucial if we want to eventually bring home the championship. Not sure when your assignment is due, but that would be a good official game to come to 

|| 9:28AM Gojo Satoru: Let me know as soon as you can if you want to make that game. I’ll have to ask coach to get the referee sign-off for you to be on-field during play at least a week before

You look down at all the messages he was sending you during class on a Monday morning. After he sent you that house party details post from his fraternity’s Instagram page last week, their posts kept popping up in your feed and you saw one this morning with a bunch of the guys in the frat, Gojo included, shotgunning beers until 3AM last night. You marvel at how he’s somehow not hungover beyond repair and is texting you before noon. 

Pressing and holding on to his messages, you give him little thumbs up reactions and you decide on a heart reaction for the picture he sent you of the practice schedule. Then, you set your phone down and look at the video of the men’s soccer team highlights your professor was playing from the game a week and a half ago.

“Here, here, this right here. Midfielder #24 surveyed the field, spotting #13 making a run for it down the flank. Pinpoint pass to left winger, who starts steering through defenders, but loses the ball. Then, center forward #10 steals the ball back! He steals the ball, he fucking steals the fucking ball back!” Your professor was running back and forth in front of the projector screen, his finger following the movement of the soccer ball in the video. Your heart jumps a beat when Gojo shows up on screen, with his signature #10 jersey, and some people in the lecture hall stand up in excitement with the professor. “Beelines towards the goal, and BAM! Goalie stood no fucking chance, ball sent immaculately into the back of the net. Victory for UTokyo, 2-1, in the last seconds of the game!" Your professor cheers and jumps up and down. Some people cheer with him, others sigh, others are in awe, and some simply clap. 

Another entire lecture goes by where the professor spends absolutely no time going over film photography theory and instead just talks about how soccer used to be back in his day. You approach him after class, clutching your laptop case to your chest, and it’s only when you clear your throat in front of him that he finally looks up at you from the podium. 

“Oh, y/n, how can I help you?” He asks as he shoves his phone back in his pocket.

“Hey, professor. Bit of a request, could I have like two extra days for my assignment? There’s this event that I really want to use for the subject matter but it’s the day before the deadline, and I would need some time to develop my photos,” you say in the politest tone you can muster up.

“Yeah, sure. Just get it in before the end of the deadline week,” he says nonchalantly. “Looking forward to seeing it. Good work on the last one, by the way.”

You give him a smile and a word of appreciation before turning on your heel and making it up the stairs to exit the lecture hall, pulling your phone out of your tote bag. 

|| 9:53AM You: i can make it on the 28th. please get that referee permission for me

You press your lips together as you press send, and then type a bit more.

|| 9:54AM You: and thanks a lot

Your stomach is suddenly growling and you’re about to head over to the student hub when your phone starts ringing. You look down at the contact name that says Nobara and pick up.

“Hey, Nobie, what’s up,” you say as you make your way towards the heart of campus, enjoying the light breeze as the sun peeked through the clouds. 

“Where are you? Didn’t we have a Film Club meeting today?” She asks you, her tone a bit impatient. “We were supposed to discuss that collaboration with the school newsletter.”

Shoot. You forgot. These days, you were a bit too distracted by recent happenings, like Mina practically falling head-over-heels for a guy that was quite possibly the opposite of her type, the towering amount of class assignments that never seemed to end, and this whole arrangement you were trying to coordinate with Gojo Satoru. The Film Club meeting totally slipped your mind. You were supposed to head out of class a bit early to make it on time. “I’m so sorry, Nobara. I totally forgot about it. I’m unfortunately all the way on the other end of campus right now. I typed up some notes in the document, can you just run those by them? If we need anything else, I’ll reach out to them by email.” 

She sighs on the other end of the line. “Yeah. I’m not good at these conversations, but I guess as President I should be better at them anyways. I’ll let you know how it goes.” And then she hangs up. 

Mentally happy that you were at least free of one other obligation today, you prepare to make your way to the dining hall when your phone vibrates again.

|| 10:01AM Gojo Satoru: Will do, and sure thing. By the way, you free right now? Coach is having us do a practice game, probably for around 2 hours

You squint your eyes at his message, considering the opportunity. You didn’t have any other classes left for the day and were just going to grab something to eat before heading home, but now you wonder if you should make it to this practice session. He did say that you have to be flexible since he doesn’t even know exactly what they’ll end up doing before practice, so you figured this might be your only chance this week to practice capturing shots of them as they play, since it seemed like they had Tuesday & Friday off based on Gojo’s schedule picture. Unfortunately, you only brought your digital camera with you today since your film camera was too heavy to carry around unless you knew you needed it, but you can still do a lot with digital that would help for the film camera shoot. You could make it work.

|| 10:05AM You: yeah, i’m free. i was just gonna grab something to eat first, and then i’ll head over to the field in maybe 15 min. but i’m not exactly sure how to get onto the field, or where the entrance is…

He adds a heart reaction to your message which startles you a little bit. An accident, maybe?

|| 10:06AM Gojo Satoru: Lol, just meet me at that weird art sculpture they put up last semester. The one that cost like all of our tuition money. I’ll walk you to the field

You let out a sigh, somewhat nervous that you'll be seeing him again soon. The last time you saw Gojo was when you left him standing unceremoniously at the kitchen island with a somewhat offending comment. Nonetheless, he didn’t necessarily seem angry at you. Quite the opposite, actually. He’s been way more helpful than you had ever anticipated. You started to feel like the effort you put into getting Mina to go to that house party was nothing compared to the effort he was putting in for you to ace this assignment. 

Stopping by your school’s mini grocery store, you pick up a sandwich plus some strawberry vanilla soda, and take some bites as well as some sips as you leisurely make your way to the expensive art sculpture near the sports fields. As you get closer to it, you see Gojo from a distance talking to some people. A few of them were guys, a few of them girls, and he was laughing out loud at something one of the girls said. A part of you wonders what it’s like to be adored by so many people. 

When he spots you at the other side of the cross walk, he doesn’t break eye contact with you as he’s hurriedly saying goodbye to the group in front of him. Their heads turn to each other in confusion before turning their attention in your direction as he makes his way over to you.

“Hey,” he says as he lightly jogs up to the sidewalk you were standing on. You notice he’s wearing a black long sleeve undershirt with a short-sleeved blue one on top, along with some athletic black shorts and running shoes. When he brushes some of his hair away from where it had fallen near his eyes, your heart skips a beat at his handsome expression. A smile graces his face. “You ready?”

You nod, swallowing the mouthful of sandwich you didn’t realize you had stopped chewing, and follow his lead as the two of you cut across behind the batting cages of the school’s softball training area. Your eyes fell to Gojo’s back as he walked on the pavement. His shoulders were broad, shoulder blades pulling the upper half of the fabric of his clothing somewhat taut across as the rest of it freely flowed down to his lean lower back. The long sleeved shirt he wore underneath was pretty loose-fitting, but you could still see the thickness of his muscles. With every step that he took, his calves flexed in a way that made you realize he must really work out.

“What are you eating?” He says as he turns around to face you, walking backwards for a few paces as he looks at your hands.

“Oh, just a veggie sandwich,” you answer as you hold it up next to your face. “Campus delicacy.”

His smile widens. “And what are you drinking?” This time he asks with a bit more curiosity.

“It's strawberry vanilla soda,” you say as you juggle all of the things you were holding in your arms. 

“Can I have some?” He asks with a somewhat innocent tone. “The soda, I mean. I’ve never had that flavor.” 

You hesitate, but alas you were a people-pleaser. “Sure.” 

He halts his movements and so you do too, and he closes the gap between you two in one exaggerated stride. His hand gently pulls the soda bottle out from where it was tucked into your elbow to keep it from falling. You notice the veins on his hand get more defined as he squeezes & twists to release the cap and it sends something akin to a wave of arousal through your body, entirely startling you. But when he brings the bottle up to his lips with his head tipping backwards, drinking directly from it, neck bobbing as he swallows and a single drop trickles down the expanse of his jawline, the arousal directly hits you at your core. 

“Hm,” he licks his lips. “That’s pretty good.” 

You’re standing there in shock, your grip on your sandwich causing dents in the bread. He dabs the stray droplet of liquid at his chin with the back of his hand and turns around to keep walking ahead, making his way up the stairs onto what looks like a grassy field. It takes you a second to start moving too, and by then you need to do a light jog just to catch up to him. 

There’s a comfortable silence that develops between the two of you and when you glance at Gojo, you notice his eyes are closed and there’s a serene smile on his face, a gust of wind pushing the hair up out of his forehead and sending the blades of grass dancing across the hilly field. You smile too at the sensation of cool wind on your skin. It was a beautiful day outside with sparkling sunshine and quiet whistling wind.

“Can I ask you something?” You say after contemplating if you should interrupt his somewhat meditative state. 

“You can ask me anything,” he easily replies. 

“Why are you so willing to help me out with my assignment?” 

He turns his head to look at you with a neutral expression. “Because you did me a favor.” 

You sigh. “I know…but it really wasn’t that hard to convince Mina to go to that party. I feel like you’re helping me out way more than I helped you out.” A small ladybug lands on the fabric of your jeans and you marvel at it before it flutters its wings and flies away.

He’s silent for a second. “Honestly, when you agreed to help me out with Todo’s little crush, which by the way I had to do because I lost a bet, and you mentioned something about terms and conditions in your message,” he starts to say, a brief pause making its way between the sentence as if he was actively trying to relive that first night he was texting you, “I thought you were going to ask for something sexual in return.” 

Your mouth drops at his line of thinking, suddenly mortified. That’s how your message came across to him? Oh my God, you had to rethink how you texted everyone in your life from now on.

“I mean, weren’t you being a little flirty? ‘My terms and conditions will come later’. Or do I just have some weird sexual brain rot?” His eyes are still on you, his tone way too casual in your opinion for this sudden topic of conversation. You also realize that he thinks having sex with him would be returning you the favor. And then you try not to think about how good he probably is in bed. 

When you can’t think of what to say and just stare at him with wide eyes, he smiles and stretches his arms out in front of him as another gust of wind passes by. “Well, anyways, when you shared what you actually wanted from me and it ended up being a pretty earnest request…let’s just say I was emotionally moved by your dreams and aspirations.” He says that last part somewhat dramatically and you roll your eyes, sending him an annoyed look. “A little disappointed, but nonetheless moved.” 

“Wow, you’re the type of person that would trade favors for sex?” you ask him with a sneer to your tone. 

He sends a lazy smirk to you over his shoulder to where you’re trailing behind him now. “Not really, no, can’t say I’ve ever done it before,” he says slyly, “probably would’ve made an exception for you, though.” And then he’s giving you a wink.

You can’t help but blush a little. He was definitely just teasing you, some hobby of his that he does just to constantly get a kick out of the people around him since he knows he just has that much of an effect on them, so you try not to let his words get past your skin to the more vulnerable parts of you. He’s reading your expression before he speaks up again.

“We’ve already started this little return favor of yours, so no take-backs. It’s an eye for an eye. Not an eye for an eye and throw some casual sex in there, too.” He makes his way up what seems to be the largest hill across the field and he stops at the top, peering out at whatever was across from it. When you made your way to the top too, your eyes widened as you saw an expanse of flat grassiness covered in orange cones, green land markers, white chalk outlines, and netted goals. Oh, and a lot of men. “Alright, you freaky little photographer. Here are your muses.” 

You let out the breath you were holding in and smiled, hands immediately reaching for your digital camera case within your tote bag. A wave of creativity and inspiration hit you as you were finally able to lay your eyes on your subject matter and setting, and you couldn’t wait to get started. 

Gojo makes his way down the hill and you stumble after him. He high-fives a couple of his teammates that were leaving the first wave of practice and makes his way over where the second-wave practice players were stretching on the field and running laps.

“C’mon, Itadori, I’ve seen snails with a more urgent sense of direction than you! Pick up those goddamn knees!” You hear a loud voice from a few feet away from you and flinch, eyeing the scary looking man that had a…Pomeranian dog in his arms? He was wearing a black athletic jumpsuit and had extremely tinted, thick sunglasses on. His facial hair was a bit jarring and you immediately decided you were scared of him, despite how gently he was petting the little dog cradled in his arms. 

“That’s coach Yaga,” Gojo says beside you with a smile on his face and his hands on his hips. “Real nice guy.”

You turn to give him a suspicious look and he just returns it with a wider smile. 

“Hey! It’s y/n,” you hear a somewhat familiar voice call out and you glance at the direction it came from. You see Geto standing next to Nanami and he whacks his hand against the blonde's chest to get his attention when he makes eye contact with you before jogging over. You see Gojo put his hands in his shorts pockets in your periphery. “What are you doing here?” 

You give him a shy smile, suddenly embarrassed by the attention. “Here to take some photos.”

“Are you with the school newsletter?” Nanami’s smooth voice says as he approaches Geto, standing next to him. They both were wearing matching blue tracksuits. 

“No, I’m not. Just here to…take some photos for one of my classes. It’s for a film photography assignment.” You suddenly wished you were part of the school newsletter committee, so that you could at least provide them with some positive publicity with your photos. You wondered if they would think you’re just using them. As if Gojo could read your mind, he patted Geto harshly on the back and let out a loud, obnoxious laugh.

“Hear that, punks? She wants to try and take some nice photos of you lot. Be grateful! Of course, your grotesque appearances cannot simply be fixed by any technology yet known to man,” Gojo says rather loudly, continuing to smack Geto on the back. Geto has a small pitiful smile on his face and Nanami just looks annoyed. You feel lighter somehow, less tense. 

“Okay, cool, let us know if we can help in any way,” Geto says kindly as he sits down on the grass to continue stretching out his legs. “Oh by the way, Satoru, Chosou’s out sick today so you might need to cover for goalie.” 

“What? Why’s that fucker always getting sick?” Gojo says as he walks towards one of the duffle bags on the bench, and you assume it’s his. He pulls out a water bottle. “He needs to stop eating that goddamn grocery store sushi.” 

“Oh! Oh! It’s you,” another somewhat familiar voice calls out from ahead. You see a guy wearing a dark blue jacket that had a red hood approaching you from the inner field. Then you recognize he was that guy at the entrance of the house party that called you a- “It’s casual tomboy!” 

Your eye twitches slightly as you take in your appearance. Sure, you were wearing jeans again, but your top was somewhat stylish and feminine. He arrives in front of you and notices the digital camera hung at your neck. “Hey, what’s that?” He points directly at your midriff where the camera sat. He almost pokes his finger right through the delicate attachable lens that cost you nearly two months of rent.

“A little rude, Yuuji,” Geto says, grunting as he switches from one stretch to the other. 

Yuuji gets closer to you to study the camera and you instinctively lean away from him before Gojo is grabbing him by the hood of his jacket and yanking him away from you, Yuuji’s arms flailing out in front of himself in a struggle. “Hey, get back to practice. You’re not allowed to talk to pretty seniors.” 

Coach Yaga grunts and crosses his arms from where he stood a few feet away, the tiny pomeranian now barking at his feet. “I never said you could stop running laps, Itadori! Get your ass back out there! I’ll be sending you to recreational soccer for the rest of your freshman year if you don’t get your damn head straight!” Gojo lets go of Itadori’s hood and the poor boy is scrambling across the field to join what seems like the other first-years for their warm-up laps. Coach Yaga turns to you and gives a hmph before vaguely gesturing to you. “May I know what you’re doing out on my field?”

“Coach!” Gojo says, making his way over to the scary man. He slings his arm around his neck and the man just continues to glare at him through his sunglasses. “She’s with me today. Photographer y/n will be taking some handsome photographs of you that you can send to your wife, and then maybe your wife will actually want to-”

Coach Yaga puts Gojo in a headlock and Gojo’s instantly tapping on his back to get him to ease up. “I dare you to finish that sentence, boy.”

You let out a small laugh. This was certainly a lively bunch. Nanami approaches you and expresses interest in your camera. You lift it up for him to take a closer look. He pinches his chin between his bent index finger and thumb, as if he was a detective analyzing a crime scene. “I see…so this is a film camera.” 

“Ah…” you laugh awkwardly. “No, this is just a digital camera.” 

“I see…so this is a digital camera,” he repeats, equally as intrigued. 

The time eventually comes along where all the players start the practice match. There’s obviously not enough players out on the field for full teams on each side, but they’re split into 1st & 4th years vs. 2nd & 3rd years. You learn that the second wave practice group has the talented players at the top of each of their year groups. Gojo doesn’t seem to participate in the practice match despite one team having to omit having a goalie since the coach requested he sit out to watch the plays and make suggestions.  You’re a bit sad you don’t get to see him play, but figured you’ll have a chance in the future. You take a few snapshots as one of the other first-years, a quiet boy named Megumi, kicks the ball towards the goal that ends up bouncing off the goal frame. You spend some time tweaking the exposure, zoom, and focus until you feel like you have a pretty good idea of the settings you’ll need to get some fluid shots. 

When you look up over the field again, raising your digital camera to your face, you notice Gojo looking at you from across the field where he stood at the sidelines. You both keep your gaze on one another for a couple of seconds, and you boldly lift the camera up to your eye, taking a few snapshots of him. When you pull it away, look down at the results on the small screen, and then glance back up at him, his eyes are slightly wide. Something stirs within you when you remember his words from earlier: I thought you were going to ask for something sexual.

Your mind wanders back to the party from last weekend, and the feeling of him leaning down next to your ear in the kitchen as he said “Thanks, I owe you one. Find me later, ‘kay?” The memory itself made your cheeks feel warm. Did he…think that something was going to happen that night at the party? Probably would’ve made an exception for you…Disappointed, but nonetheless moved. Somewhere in the haziness of your thoughts, you realize that meant that Gojo would’ve wanted to sleep with you if that was indeed your condition.

When you look to the other side of the field again, Gojo’s eyes are still on you but his handsome face looks a bit troubled, eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly pursed. You couldn’t really tell what he was thinking, but for some reason you felt like he could tell what you were. When you raised an eyebrow at him, his face relaxed and he slowly shook his head as if to say it's nothing. 

Coach Yaga’s sharp whistle cuts through the silent conversation you two were having as he yells, “alright, boys. Practice over! Go stretch yourselves out.” 

You quickly stuff your digital camera back into its case and collect your things into your tote bag. In your peripheral vision, Gojo’s making his way over to you and when he’s right next to you, you can’t bring yourself to look at him.

“How’d it go? Get some good shots?” he asks, sounding genuinely interested.

“Um, yeah, I think so.” You’re still not looking at him, pretending to fiddle with something in your tote bag. He leans down a bit to look at your face more clearly when he notices you’re not meeting his gaze, but you still struggle to make eye contact with him. “I’ve gotta go, can you tell the guys I said bye?” And then you’re making your way up the hill.

There’s a beat of silence as confusion washes over him from your behavior. “Hey, wait, y/n, do you know how to get back to campus?”

You spin to face him when you're at the top of the hill, finally looking him in the eye. There’s a concerned expression on his face. “Yes, I’ll be fine. Thanks a lot for today. Let me buy you a strawberry vanilla soda sometime, okay?” Flashing him a small smile, you turn around and run down the hill, ignoring the fast beating of your heart.

a/n. thanks a bunch for reading!

➸ take me to chapter four!

[coco-loco-nut]

Choices

pairing: logan x reader, pato o’ward x reader

summary: when your first love comes back into your life, you are stuck between two choices.

a/n: please enjoy my drunk, post-indy, fic idea (i wrote most of the plot while drunk at the bar. college towns are great guys 😂)

masterlist part 2

———————

“I am so proud of you, amor!” Pato hugs you as soon as he sees you after your graduation. He’s been supporting you since you joined the team as an undergraduate engineering last summer with Arrow McLaren.

“I couldn’t have done it without your support, Pato,” you smile, admiring your boyfriend. He would make sure to visit you when he got the chance, and he always picked up when you called needing to vent or asking for motivation. Your lock screen was a picture of the two of you at a hockey game you snuck him into the student section for, he showed up as a surprise that weekend to help you relax.

“Don’t say that, you got this because of your own merit. The guys send their congratulations, by the way,” Pato tells you. The only people who know about you dating are the other drivers, you didn’t want to risk your internship.

“I hope they aren’t too tired of me, I just accepted an offer for a full time position,” you tell him what you’ve been keeping secret the past few months.

“You deserve it. Does that mean you will be coming to Indy with me?” Pato asks, rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand.

“Of course. Now, let’s find my parents, I know they will want pictures,” you kiss Pato quickly before looking for your parents. He spots them waiting a few yards away and pulls you over. They have to leave after a celebratory lunch, but Pato stays to help you finish packing up your apartment. You utilize his muscles for putting things in your U-Haul trailer. He even manages to convince you to let him drive to Indianapolis with you.

It doesn’t take you long to settle in with the team that year. Your coworkers throw you a 23rd birthday party the next spring, inviting everyone who worked in the garage (including the drivers) to celebrate. You worked your tail off proving why you deserve to be there and they said you deserve to let loose before the summer.

Later that second summer you are on a date with Pato for your two year anniversary when you get a call from your boss offering a promotion, which you quickly accept.

“You deserve it, you’ve worked so hard,” Pato reaches across the table, grabbing your hand and squeezing it.

“Your support makes it possible, babe,” you reply, squeezing his hand back. You are so helplessly in love with him. At the end of the season, Pato has a ring picked out and he had a plan before he is flown out to Abu Dahbi to drive in free practice for Formula One.

Unbeknownst to Pato, while he is away you are asked to join a virtual meeting with some higher up engineers at McLaren.

“We’d like you to join our Formula One team as we finish developing next year’s car. We will assist in your relocation, all you need to do is say yes,” the offer is virtually laid in front of you. Your mind immediately goes to Pato.

“When do you need an answer?” you ask, making sure you don’t sound disinterested.

“Two days,” they say and you nod.

“I’ll have my decision into you by then. Thank you so much for the opportunity,” you tell them, mulling it over in your brain. A copy of the details pops up in your inbox.

“We hope you say yes,” they tell you as you leave the call.

As you read the document, you know what your answer is going to be. The next day Pato returns and you go for a walk through the local park.

“Will you marry me?” Pato blurts and your heart drops.

“Patricio-,” you start and he cuts you off.

“I know, we are young but-,” this time you cut him off.

“I’m moving to England. McLaren wants me to move to the F1 team, and they are offering to pay for me to get my Masters as well as helping with my relocation, and the money is good,” you start to ramble but stop when the hurt in his eyes matches the hurt in your heart.

“Mi amor, I can support you here, I have enough money for both of us,” he says, praying you didn’t accept yet.

“Babe, I know, but I have to do it for myself. I have to accept the job,” you say, silently pleading that he understands.

“What about us,” tears start rolling down his cheeks.

“I don’t know, Patricio,” tears form in your eyes as you say his name softly, he loves it when you call him by his full name.

“We can make it work,” Pato says, despite both of you knowing it won’t.

“Pato,” your voice cracks with emotion. The two of you know what has to happen.

“I know. At least keep this, it’s only meant for you. Maybe one day it will be on its rightful place,” he pulls out the ring and shows it to you. That’s when the tears flow, and he pulls you into him.

“Please don’t think that I don’t love you. I would say yes a million times if it wasn’t for this offer. This is the hardest decision I’ve ever made,” you cry as he holds you tight.

“I know. I love you more than you know,” he whispers. He walks you back to your apartment, leaving you with a heartfelt kiss goodbye. A few days later you are gone.

When you meet Lando and Oscar, you are wary of them, they remind you too much of Pato, but it only takes a week for them to crack your shell. They saw how sad you were and learned how young you are and immediately wanted to get to know the new American on the team.

You carefully balance work and classes, wishing you could pick up the phone and call Pato, but you can’t. Instead, you fiddle with the ring you keep on a chain around your neck, you added a P charm to the necklace.

“Y/n! I want you to meet Logan, he’s American too,” Oscar drags a blonde boy into the motorhome behind him during testing. You look up from your coursework and offer a welcoming smile.

“There aren’t many Americans around, are there?” you jokingly ask, motioning for Logan to sit down.

“No. So where are you from?” Logan asks as you quickly mark where you are at. Oscar slips out of the room, hoping his matchmaking skills worked as you tell Logan about your start in Indycar.

Oscar failed at first, you were determined to keep Logan in the friend zone. But he broke down your walls and somehow convinced you to date him a couple months later.

Everything goes smoothly from late May until October when COTA comes around. You visit your family the week before the race, and that’s when your mother drops a bomb.

“What are you going to do when you see Pato this weekend?” she asks.

“What?”

“Didn’t you see? Pato is driving free practice at COTA and Mexico,” your mom tells you and you feel your stomach flip, it takes everything in you to not reach for the ring around your neck.

“No, I must’ve missed that email,” you say softly. You do really love Logan, but there is a reason you can’t bring yourself to take off the necklace unless you are with Logan. There’s been times when you have wanted to tell him, Oscar, and Lando about Pato, but you never do, it’s too painful.

You arrive at COTA and it’s clear something is off, but you brush every question off. Pato arrives the same way, nervous to see you again. He is wearing a hair tie on his wrist, one that you left behind. He wears it for the same reason you wear the ring.

“Oh! One of our engineers is from America, used to work in IndyCar. Maybe you know her,” Lando says to Pato, not picking up on Pato’s uncomfortableness as Lando drags him around. It’s odd for the Mexican driver to be uncomfortable.

“Y/n, hi,” Pato awkwardly and breathlessly says, you almost drop your tablet from where you are standing in the garage. How is it possible for him to look this good.

“Patricio, hi. How are you doing? Tough luck on the 500, I meant to text you,” you say softly, setting the tablet down and approaching him and Lando. He can barely breathe, to him you’ve only gotten more beautiful.

“Thanks, it’s okay, I’ll get it next year. Maybe I would’ve won if you were there,” Pato ruefully smiles, your heart drops.

“Maybe, but don’t think like that. You’ve always been okay driving without me,” you match his rueful smile. Lando looks between you, a little confused. Pato goes to say something, noticing a P sticking out of the collar of your shirt where a necklace is, but Oscar interrupts.

“Hey, Logan is looking for you outside,” Oscar tells you, you can’t suppress the happy look on your face.

“It was nice talking to you again, Pato,” you tell the Mexican and quickly exit towards where Logan is waiting.

“How do you know her?” oscar asks suspiciously, picking up the longing look Pato is giving you.

“She’s my ex, she broke up with me when she moved to formula one. We were going to get married,” Lando cringes. he remembers how sad you were when you joined the team, it’s why he befriended you. “Who is Logan?” Pato asks Oscar, feeling like he’s missing something.

“Her boyfriend,” Oscar says, feeling the urge to defend his best friend and engineer, but also wanting to crawl in a hole and die.

“That’s something you need to talk about with her, if it makes any difference, she was unhappy for a long time after moving here,” Lando says, ending that topic.

Pato nods, turning his focus to the drive. Luckily for you, you are currently one of Lando’s engineers, so you are busy with him all weekend.

“Y/n, we should talk,” Pato approaches you carefully.

“Pato,” you say his name warily, it’s like a dagger to his heart.

“Please. Come with me to Mexico. I won’t try anything out of respect to your boyfriend, but we both deserve to talk about some stuff. Plus, Mami and Elba miss you,” Pato says and you pause to think about it.

“San Antonio is on the way,” you think out loud, still mulling it over.

“It’s just tomorrow that we’d be there, leaving first think Tuesday morning to get to the track on time,” Pato insists. Even if it’s a bad idea, almost all of you wants to go.

“Okay, I’ll join you,” you relent, and he almost hugs you.

“I’ll drive you from the hotel,” Pato says, turning to leave before turning around again. “You will have to unblock my number so I can text you,” he adds and you fight the smile playing on your lips.

“I never blocked you, Patricio,” you admit, and his heart melts at how you say his name.

“Oh, I will see you soon then,” he says, not quite sure how to reply, leaving you to pack you backpack.

“You okay?” Lando asks and you shoot him a weird look.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“We know you used to date him,” Lando says and your eyes widen.

“We?”

“Oscar and I, yeah. Wait, you aren’t even denying it,”

“I broke up with him to take the job here when he was proposing even when I wanted to say yes, we dated most of the time I was at Arrow McLaren, I still wear his ring and initial on a necklace,” you blurt, knowing Lando isn’t going to judge too much.

“Oh. Wow, ok. Is it a nice ring?” Lando asks and you tug the chain, pulling it in front of your polo. “He has good taste. What were you talking about?” Lando pushes further as you tuck the chain behind your polo again.

“I’m going to San Antonio with him tonight and tomorrow,” you say, needing someone to confide in that isn’t your college friends.

“Does Logan know?” Lando asks and you shake you head.

“That’s the next step, once you are done asking questions,” you bump his shoulder lightly.

“No, like, does he know about your history with Pato,” Lando asks, glad Oscar isn’t around.

“No, I can never bring myself to tell him. I think we both know that we might not last past this season,” you admit. Logan and you had said as much to each other a couple weeks ago. He admitted that he isn’t sure where he sees it going after the season.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Lando pauses, thinking about it.

“Don’t be, he knows that I had just gotten out of a serious relationship when we became friends and I know he isn’t ready for something long term yet. Obviously I’m still going to try to make things work, because I do love him, but I’m also going to take comfort in knowing that we tried,” you pull your backpack over your shoulders. Lando says a quick goodbye before you walk out to find Logan’s rental car where he is waiting.

“Hey sweetie,” he kisses you when you get in. Any tension in your body leaves when you see him.

“Hi, Lo, ready to get back to the hotel?” you ask as he backs out of the space.

“So ready, I just want cuddles and a nap,” Logan groans a little, you reach up and play with the ends of his hair as he drives. Despite you having a room from McLaren, you are staying with Logan in his room this race weekend.

“That sounds perfect,” you admire the way the sun makes his hair look lighter and his blue eyes clearer. You change while he takes a quick shower, tucking the necklace into a pocket in your backpack.

“Don’t go to San Antonio with Pato,” Logan says suddenly while you lay in bed with him.

“What?”

“Come with me back to Fort Lauderdale instead, please. I heard Pato tell Oscar that you were joining him, and I know your history with him even if you didn’t explicitly tell me. And I get it, it must be hard to bring up. I don’t want to lose you, I love you,” Logan whispers and you feel your gut twist as you are left with a choice.

Logan offers you a chance to start fresh and continue the new relationship you built, but Pato offers the chance to rekindle an old flame that never quite burnt out. How the hell are you going to choose.

part two

[biblicallyaccuratecrow]

in stars and time "method actor" au braindump

the people have spoken! welcome to the method actor au! in which i took the theatre themes of isat and stretched them to their absolute limit!

the premise is that instead of saving vaugarde, the party + major side characters (the king and euphrasie) are an acting troop! and they're telling the story of the saviors through a play. Siffrin is playing The Traveller, and over time in rehearsals has really grown to like his castmates (even the one playing the king- he's actually quite sweet!).

it's the opening night! they're more than prepared for the show!

... until they aren't.

All it takes is a faulty prop from the fly tower, and suddenly siffrin is right back where they started the day before, waking up from a nap in the greenroom before the last rehearsal.

they're back at the beginning. they get a second chance.

after all, you only get one opening night, and siffrin is determined to make it perfect.

...all they need to do is make sure the show goes smoothly!

no stage hazards,

no missed lines,

no injuries,

no deaths,

no mistakes.

and if they have to play the hero to do it?

if the lines between them and their character have to blur so that their parts are perfect?

so be it.

the show must go on.

[notes below the cut!]

[spoilers for isat below!]

so yeah, siffrin takes the term "method acting" way too seriously. out of necessity, though. this is a performance, after all! they have to keep it together for the show, and the best way to do that for them is to embrace their role.

setting

still takes place in vaugarde! except yknow. the king isn't actually happening (yet), so instead of a group of saviors we have the acting group playing the saviors! a bit meta, but it works.

craft and the island still are a thing, and play a major part in the overarching story! this is still a time loop, after all!

all of this is taking place on a stage within dormont's house of change! Euphrasie sponsors, and was more than happy to be included for her very short role! The theatre there has been out of use for decades, but Euphrasie sees it fit to resurrect it just for this show!

The party:

Mirabelle is the playwright, having dreamed up a story like the books she loves to read but for the longest time being too afraid to put it down. Euphrasie encouraged her to go through with it, and they've been building the show ever since! she thinks she isn't a good actor, but she's actually very empathetic as the heroine, since she (secretly) based it off herself.

Isabeau was actually the first to audition- and the only one, at least in the first round. He came in last-minute, and after delivering a solid monologue (with a few puns slipped in), Mirabelle was eager to cast him! He actually loves costume design, but he doesn't dare to reveal this to the party, even if he occasionally spends hours in the House's storage room looking through pieces from older performances.

Odile was a surprising addition to the cast. She was interested in Vaugardian tradition, and figured the best way to learn was through the epicenter of vaugardian culture, at a house. She reccomended some plays to mirabelle from her travels, and after giving some pointers on mirabelle's early scripts decided to join in for the hell of it. She likes horror productions in particular, and contributed a lot to the concept of the king's time craft.

Siffrin was visiting the house, and came to see one of the plays... but got the time wrong and came in during a live-reading of the scripts early draft. he stood and watched for a bit before mirabelle noticed, and after a LOT of fumbling and apologies admitted that he loves theatre. Mirabelle practically dragged him in after that. Given that he didn't have anything else to do, he agreed. Despite claiming he's not much of an actor, much preferring to work on the set design, he's actually uncannily good...

The King is... just a guy, actually! very quiet, very reclusive, but after seeing one of mirabelle's casting calls came in and absolutely smashed the audition. he's been with the group ever since! he's pretty busy outside of the production, but he puts his all into his work! He and siffrin have a kind of kinship, given their shared elusive background and... white hair, i guess.

Bonnie is the younger sister of Nille, who worked on trade classes at dormonts house after the two left Bambouche together. Mirabelle needed someone to help make the sets, and Nille volunteered early on in the production, so long as she could bring Bonnie along. Initially Bonnie wasn't all that interested, but after hanging around the cast a bit grew curious. Siffrin caught them reading through one of the scripts and acting out the various parts on their own. After that, Mirabelle made the time to write in The Kid for Bonnie to have a role thats easiest for them! Fun fact- a lot of The Kid's lines are actually ad libs from Bonnie throughout the production. Mirabelle kept writing them into the script as a sort of inside joke.

Euphrasie is mostly the same! As the head housemaiden, she's had a bit of experience with public speaking and acting, and after seeing Mirabelle having such fun she allowed herself to be roped into a small role as The Head Housemaiden in the production.

the story...

Siffrin's first death is actually to a prop rock falling on top of them. When they wake up, they're back in the green room, waking up from a nap. Isa is out by the favor tree as usual, odile is buying food for the cast party, mira is pouring over her dating profiles disguised as her script, and bonnie is hanging out in the auditorium.

Of course, at the favor tree after the first death is loop. They immediately cast siffrin as the "new director", and from there basically acts much the same as in canon, though a lot of the "memories" are slight improvements to siffrin's acting or the set props.

so, despite all their preparation, the performance keeps getting interrupted in increasingly more and more bizarre ways. A strange array of stage accidents, usually resulting in siffrin's death. They initially suspect that the show is cursed (theyre not that far off), and start to dig into how that could happen. this is where the idea of wishcraft gets introduced. The King seems the most likely to be highjacking the show, but siffrin doesn't want to believe it.

As siffrin performs show after show, things start to get... weirder, somehow. Like the performance is becoming more real with each passing loop. This doesn't just extend to the set, but also to siffrin themself. The line between them and the traveller blurs. As they learn more about wishcraft and the forgotten island, they project this into the story and their performances, and even off set will take mannerisms from the traveller role and use them to brush off the party's concerns.

in later acts, the rest of the cast begins to blur with their own respective characters, to the point that siffrin starts to become irrationally aggressive towards the king, somehow believing him to be responsible. Loop does their best to keep siffrin's handle on reality in tact, but by act 4 they're essentially living out the play. there is no distinction between reality and mirabelle's script- it's all one thing. And the wish makes that true during the performances as well, in ways that even the party can notice- ghosts on the stage, reality warping because of props, even randomly improved sets and staging. The further siffrin descends, the stronger the wish's influence over the performance and their reality grows. by act 5, the wishcraft has transformed the house to reflect that of the play, and everyone to be their characters- or be frozen, as a captive audience. the rest happens similarly to how it does in canon.

the real crux of the issue, like in canon, is that siffrin made a wish. They love their cast, and they love their performance. They want it to stay like that. They want to stay with them. And so they wish at Dormont's favor tree. And it comes true, in the best way the universe can manage- by making it so that the performance never ends. The actual hazards of the set are real- Dormont's theatre is borderline decrepit- but once the wish craft begins to influence things, they become more serious.

i initially had the idea that maybe during the first loop the story becomes real, like what we see in canon, and siffrin is reacting to the actual characters as a literal actor, but i like the idea of the party playing their SASASA counterparts as more base/easily digestible protagonist versions of themselves more. plus like, the idea of it all being literally on a stage is too fun for me

the hilarious thing is, in my mind... the audience wouldn't know that wasnt the intention for the play. in their pov they saw this shit being acted out and not the absolute wacked out acid trip the party saw while on stage. it's an instant success, though the entire party agrees to never put on the show again.

thats about all i got so far? dunno if i'll actually write anything for this, and if i do it'll probably be a one shot or two. but if youre interested in more info abt the au, or just wanna chat about it, feel free!

until next time!

[lovesickonmybed]

crazy fuckin' phenomenon | 18+

masterlist | info about palestine | donate to gaza

pairing | dbf!joel miller x reader

synopsis | after your dad abandons joel to watch instagram reels in the bathroom, an argument over the remote ends in a new discovery

warnings | excessive use of bigfoot as a plot device, dbf!joel, explicit sexual content, smut, age gap (20s/late 30s), play fighting with sexual tension, wedgies, humiliation, degradation, kink discovery, semi brat tamer!joel, almost getting caught, blue balls

word count | 2030

a/n | this was co-written with one of my favorite people ever but they wish to remain anonymous! this was so so so fun to work on and i think it really shows. i urge you to not buy any of the last of us games, including the remaster as the creator, neil druckmann is a zionist. the second game is based off of the israeli occupation in palestine and you can learn more about that here.

“Joel I swear to fucking god if I have to watch one more episode of Finding Bigfoot, I’m clawing my eyes out.”

There’s only so much bickering between Matt Moneymaker and Ranae Holland that you can take, and apparently, you’ve found your limit. Approximately five minutes. Joel had come over to hang out with your father, they had planned to watch some war movie because they’re fucking old, but, in typical dad fashion, your father had gotten up halfway through to use the bathroom. After 30 minutes, Joel couldn’t wait anymore and switched the TV to Animal Planet so he could watch Finding Bigfoot reruns. That was two hours ago, and you’ve now spent an hour on the couch with Joel, pleading for him to change it. Of course, your TV decides to stop working the one time your dad actually wants to use the living room TV. So, yeah, you can be a little bit of a drama queen.

“If you can drag your old man off ‘a the shitter, we can go back to watchin’ Come and See. Three fuckin’ hours, startin’ to think he pulled an Elvis.”

“Seriously, Joel,” you bellyache, slumping back into the couch. “Dunno why they’re looking for Bigfoot when he’s clearly right fucking here.” You shoot him a glare from across the couch.

“Uh huh,” Joel drones, either not listening or either not giving a fuck while he watches one of the camouflaged hosts do a shitty imitation of a sasquatch mating call.

Well, since he’s distracted…

With the stealth of a super spy, you lunge over Joel’s lap towards the side table, reaching past discarded beer bottles and hunting magazines for the hijacked remote. You snatch it right up, victorious for a few seconds at most.

“Now what in the hell do you think you’re doin’? Gonna put on fuckin’ Euphoria or something?” You don’t have time to come up with a witty response before you’re pinned down to the couch cushions. Joel’s hulking form hangs over you, shoulders broad and his hair messy as he gives you a smug look. Cursing the cavewoman part of you that gets butterflies in your stomach from how easily he overpowers you, you writhe underneath him.

“Joel what the fuck? Get off me you old fuck!” You groan, grunting in frustration as you try to maneuver Joel off of you. You’re weak as shit but you remember something from the self defense class you took in high school. You knee Joel in the chest, causing him to fall back, giving you a chance to roll off the couch and onto your knees. You look back as he coughs and gasps, trying to catch his breath. 

“Oh you little shit!” Joel groans, getting off the couch and looming over you like a killer in a slasher fic. He smirks down at you, tilting his head to the side like Micheal Myers.

You feel your heart start to race and your cunt start to pulse. You turn back and start to crawl away but Joel leans down and grabs your ankle, pulling you back to him. You definitely feel like you’re in a slasher film now. 

“Oh sweetheart, you’re not gettin’ away that easily…needa stop acting like such a little brat. Your daddy was never that good at discipline.”

You don’t know what you’re expecting. But Joel’s warm hands sneaking down the waistband of your denim cutoffs is not it. You cry out as his fingers loop around your purple thong, drawing it midway up your back. Pain sears up your ass, and much more dangerous, pleasure tingles in your cunt when the front of your thong slips between your folds. Kicking your legs, you smack your palm into the carpet underneath you. “Joel!” you gasp out in surprise.

Maddeningly, Joel chuckles at your struggle underneath him. He shifts to straddle your upper thighs, weighing you down even more. “What, ain’t ever had a wedgie before?” Another sharp tug makes your head drop to the floor. You fight not to give into your body’s base desire to arch your back. “With how often you run your mouth, I’m surprised your friends never ran you up the flagpole in the schoolyard.”

You scrunch your fingers in the fiber of the carpet, trying to anchor yourself to anything other than the searing pain in your ass and cunt. It doesn’t work. You can’t focus on anything but this cruel and unusual punishment. Your dad’s best friend, wedgieing you into obedience.

Somehow, he pulls even harder. All of that contracting work isn’t for nothing. You’re silently moaning now, mouth open and your forehead dipped to the floor, desperate pants flying in and out of your mouth. “Hmmm,” he hums. “Wonder if I could get these over your head. Bet you’d have an easier time watchin’ my show with that.”

“Please,” you rasp. Your brain wants you to beg for him to let you go. Your cunt wants you to beg for him to be meaner. To go all the way and snap them over your head, leaving you ass up and face down, split in half for his enjoyment. You short circuit before you can get any further into the plea, because he’s pulling your panties even higher in brutal bursts.

“Begging ain’t gonna help, honey. You’ve made your bed, now lie in it.”

The waistband gets halfway up your neck before Joel gives up. The tension in your body lessons as you melt into the floor. “You ain’t off the hook yet, missy,” Joel says, smirk evident in his voice.

He guides your arms through the leg holes of your panties, and you moan helplessly as he snaps them over your shoulders, leaving you in the equivalent of a wedgie bodysuit. You feel like you’re being split in half.

You can’t help it. You roll your hips, grinding into your panties and the floor. The pressure is everywhere and it’s perfect. Perfect against your burning asshole, your leaking cunt, and your throbbing clit. Every movement also propels you up against Joel, something you can’t even bring yourself to remember right now. You’re wet – unbelievably fucking wet. “What the hell are you doing to me?” you whine, still humping the floor as heat blossoms in your core.

Joel stiffens above you. “Are you…” He clears his throat, a rough noise. “Are you fuckin’ into this?”

The question alone makes you whimper.

Every rock of your hips has the wedgie slicing deeper, pulling you apart piece by piece from your most sensitive place. You arch your back properly, that way every time you go up, you can feel Joel’s bulge against your rear. Joel’s quickly hardening bulge as he watches you lose all of your dignity while humping the floor with your panties rammed up your ass.

“Shut the fuck up, Joel! I’m not into this…I just-” He cuts you off by flicking the string of your thong. Tellingly, you moan out.

“Just what? Just get off on getting split in half by your fuckin’ panties?”

You try to speak but he shoves you forward, pressing your face against the carpet and pinning you down, “Just shut your mouth, don’t want your daddy findin’ ya like this do ya? God, just imagine what he’d say…. Seein’ his precious ‘lil girl gettin’ all wet from a well-deserved wedgie up these plump fuckin’ cheeks.” His hand glides down between your ass cheeks and slaps against your denim-covered bottom. You jolt, moaning where he’s pressing your face into the carpet. You’ll be surprised if your drool isn’t soaking it.

“Joooooel,” you pout, still fighting underneath him. You kick your feet, and they barely graze the small of Joel’s back, a sort of flexibility you can’t afford very much of right now. “Can’t… can’t take much more. Hurts.”

“I’ll tell you what you can take, you little brat. You’re lucky you’re not hangin’ up by these,” Joel grabs the waistband of your light wash denim shorts, using it to lift you up off the floor while you grasp at the carpet in a poor attempt to stay on the ground. 

It doesn’t work. Joel hauls you up, grabbing the front and back of your wedgie. You can’t stop yourself from moaning again, dimly away that your dad is still in the bathroom and still could walk out at any given time. You hope Joel’s good ear can hear if the toilet flushes, because you can’t hear a damn thing over your own pulse rocketing in your ears.

He yanks the back of your thong, and then the front, effectively flossing your ass crack and cunt. Your hands fly down to your thighs, but it’s not like you can do anything, because the next thing Joel does is lift you fully off the ground. You cry out, hastily clamping a hand over your mouth, and decide three things back to back to back.

One – fuck Joel Miller.

Two – fuck Joel Miller.

Three – you might actually really like this.

The third one you realize when you look down to see your arousal seeping through the denim. The humiliation stings on your cheeks with a sort of heat you’ve never felt in your life. He bounces you in the damn thing, pulling you up and down with a strength you’d never fathomed he could have.

You can’t stop yourself from grinding down when he brings you up, pulling your panties even deeper into your ass and cunt. You whine and grab at Joel’s forearm for purchase, nearly fucking yourself against the thin fabric that’s cutting you in half. Joel’s satisfaction at it all, the way you can feel him getting sadistically hard behind you from your cocktail of pain and pleasure, is what truly makes it for you. You buck against your panties even harder, letting out a truly ragged moan when it brushes your clit just right.

“You’re taking this so good, ain’t even cryin’ or nothin’. Should I hang you up? Get your eyes just as wet as your cunt? Could you even take it, or are you gonna cream your pretty little panties before I even get you on a hook?”

The answer is yes – you are going to cream your panties before he gets you on a hook.

Your orgasm rips through you violently, lighting you on fire as you hang in suspension and just take it. Ass burning and your cunt dripping like Niagara Falls, you clench and grind on your panties as desperately as you can to prolong your orgasm. Your eyes water, heart beating out of control. Joel’s hand cups your mound, heel rubbing against where your clit pulses. You’re still tremoring by the time you come down. Everything feels like it’s in technicolor, easily marking the most powerful orgasm of your life.

You realize Joel has deposited you back on the ground. It’s a miracle you’re even standing at all with how limp-boned you are. Chest rising and falling, you stumble back around to face Joel, whose cock is straining against his jeans. You’re about to put him out of his misery, not even taking the time to pick your wedgie as your hand flies towards his belt when you hear it –

Wooooooooshgluglgulglug.

You take your wedgie out like you’re racing to get rid of a ticking time bomb, frantically yanking it down your shoulders and tucking the strings into your waistband. Still burning up from your orgasm, blatantly freshly fucked, you give Joel a half-apologetic look (he had given you a hellish wedgie, after all) and scamper upstairs.

You barely acknowledge your dad as you brush past him. “Hey sweetie, goin’ back up?”

“Mhm,” you get out, almost tripping up the stairs.

“Hm, wonder what’s wrong with her,” you hear your dad reflect to Joel.

“No idea,” Joel says.

You’re about to close your door when you hear more commentary from downstairs. Your dad’s voice. “Woah there, man. Got a thing for bigfoot?”

Your eyebrows shoot to your goddamn hairline as your heartbeat spikes and your brain fills in the gaps.

“Fear boners, crazy fuckin’ phenomenon,” Joel says, just as casual as ever. Yeah. Crazy fucking phenomenon is right.

[seventhcallisto]

Chapter 1 — "why didn't you answer my call?"

—Deep Down.

Toc/cw; read prologue or you'll be v confused!! Touching. Nothing much except world building. Language. Heats are the omega equivalent for periods(without the bl00d). I said what I said. Heat suppressants work, they just sedate the need for a knot(#worldbuilding). Angst at the end, lots of it throughout(it gets better I swear.)

It's not a surprise when the majority of unanswered texts come from mingi. You left without warning, and to think; he thinks he was the one who sent you to the hospital. All because he simply bumped into you. You feel bad. You feel terrible. Yet you're so scared you're gonna say something and reveal what really is going on.

Your hip, ankle, shoulder, and elbow ache. Your hips for two reasons. You scratch at the bandage on your elbow.

"You want me to lie?" You mumbled into the speaker. On the other side is your manager, no, not jongsik, but the overly obsessive and pushy manager that takes care of most of the groups publicity and what can and will be said. "I don't want to lie to them, they'll figure it out" you continue, growing more upset.

"Just until your next uhm. Cycle. Then the company can break the news publicly and personally to them." Song Pilyoung. Mr. Pil. Answers, as if expecting you to say that.

It hasn't even been a day since your last heat. You're supposed to keep up with your lies and completely change demeanor and body back to your old self for a month? When you know your obvious behavior will be to coddle and preen at any affections from the alphas you so desperately missed during your heat.

Seonghwa, who knows when the slightest thing is off with you. Who can tell when you're sick based on how you act and watches you so intensely under his pretty keen eyes, even when he bites you, ever so gently, you think, compared to the aggressive chomps he does to the rest of the guys.

Yeosang, who genuinely likes to be near anything that smells like you or makes him think of you, which he shyly admitted, who ever so gently leans his head on your shoulder when he has a stressful day. Yeosang who you constantly are seen next to, brushing arms gently with.

Mingi who continously hugs and drags his long limbs across you, because you're the only member who won't complain and will put up with him, who shares his food with you, but only you because he likes the way you follow him without questioning what it is you're being fed. but it's indulgent. You like how he casts himself on you and the way he grabs your chin when he wants you to try a piece of food.

Yunho who can't help but hold your hand whenever he's next to you, because an alpha and beta can have that public privacy without being seen as dating, yet you hope he doesn't feel the quickening pulse vibrating your fingers, yunho who defends your name and includes you in any type of conversation if you're nearby.

San who, for some reason, always flirts with you the hardest, only for you to plainly respond or brush him off because you're a beta, and you tell him so - not because you know he doesn't mean what he says, right?. San who sits side by side with you and makes sure the blanket covers you when you sit at award shows, even going as far as to take his own suit jacket off and maybe cover you from prying eyes.

Wooyoung, who gatekeeps you too much when he gets the chance, who stands behind you to make sure you get up the stairs safely, and so no one peeks up at you. Who always tells you about the drama with other alphas cause he knows you don't gossip, wooyoung whos smile makes you smile, whos lips make yours want to gravitate towards them.

Jongho, who you baby yourself - but always steps up to take anything on your shoulders that seems too heavy. Even during any type of game, he'll give you the answer and never regret it. He who will share his jacket and shuffle closer when he sees you shivering. When his eyes meet yours across the room just because you assumed he was searching for something, he holds the contact until you pull away. he warms you more than the jacket he lends you whenever it seems the slightest bit cold.

Hongjoong, who lets you sleep in his bed when you have a nightmare, who people say favorites you the most. how his calming scent always drags you under and sparks fireworks within you, how you never indulged yourself to scoot closer and be wrapped up in his arms anywhere at any time whenever he looks at you. He who leaves his clothing in your room, who silents everyone immediately when he knows you have something to say.

When did you realize you felt like this? For a while, actually, you would never say that, though. Feelings are feelings, yet you'll be with these guys the rest of your life, and you don't want to ruin anything. Plus, you're just another pack member. You're genuinely sure all of those moments can be because they're protective. You highly doubt they feel the same.

"I can't promise anything" you sigh as you tell Mr. Pil. "Great, I've got a driver on his way to you already, he's picked up everything you'll need for the month."

Perfect.

You see yourself out of the idle apartment. "Bye, gorgeous!" Yuqi and shuhua wave down the hallway. Miyeon is the one to walk you down, making sure you make it out safely.

You've washed yourself of their scent as much as you can. A bag of fresh, unworn and recently bought clothes are given to you provided by miyeon after your shower. You've got to undo ever being there, so you scrub yourself free of every scent of them. A new bottle of shampoo, conditioner, body soap, and perfume is given to you. Each of the members have an assortment of things they don't use or didn't want anymore. Which is very convenient for you.

From the pile, they each pick out things beta-you would have liked. Current omega-you doesn't have the same nose beta-you had. So you have to rely on your best friends' scents and recollection to give you things you would have liked. Which is how you smell as close to as you did before. You just tweaked a bit because you gotta like at least some of your smell. The girls give in. Your new permanent scent. A smell; omega-you indulges in which you didn't before. A lingering scent of sweets and tropicals you try not to get used to under the chaotic neutral tone your old scent gave off, a love-hate feeling.

You pull the hoodie snug. Miyeons pants are a bit tight, considering she doesn't work out as much as you do. A plain black and white track suit. "This is me," you sigh as the sleek black car pulls up. Miyeon is silent, yet you wait for her to speak anyway. "You're always welcomed here, you know that, right?" She nudges your shoulder with her hand.

"I know."

"And if you need anything. Anything. you call or text." She adds. "I know." "You know we love you, new sex and all" she smiles, you laugh. "That's very reassuring, thanks, love you too." You want to hug her, but you'll know it'll undo the scent process you just spent all morning working on.

"If anyone gives you problems, tell em idles' got your back." she grins, pressing a single digit finger to your forehead. "Bye cutie pie," she ushers you off the sidewalk and towards the car.

The ride back is full of anxiety. How are you supposed to explain the reason you haven't responded to the number of messages they left? Maybe cause you were actually too busy going through a terrible, disgusting, uncomfortable heat by yourself with no relief for days on end.

You can't say that though.

"Mr. Chen, are the guys at the apartment?" You speak to the driver. He's an older omega man, one you've come to know personally. The man in the passenger seat, an alpha, doesn't seem to care when you talk to him. "No miss, they're at the stadium filming." Chen glances at you through the rear-view mirror. "Filming?" You repeat. "Yes ma'am, filming for the music video starts today.."

Right. Of course. How could you forget? You've memorized everything down to the tiniest detail in the span of two weeks before your sudden omega sex came and distracted you. But you doubt you'll be picture perfect. At least in your own eyes.

The car passes the turn to your apartment. You can see the building in the distance. "Mr Chen, are we not going to the apartment?" The man in the passenger seat sits up and turns around to look at you. His eyes hold irritation. "Listen, beta, we're going to the filming site. Yeah? Got it? Be patient. Sit back."

If you were childish enough, you would have kicked his seat. You scoff. Falling back, letting the disrespect go. You gotta let it go. Don't fist fight a random alpha with a superiority complex.

Don't do it.

As soon as chen comes to a stop at the designated location, the alpha pops open his car door. You wait for him to get between your door and his. Boom. You slam your door open on his tush.

He pulls back, glancing between you and the door. There's a flare to his nostrils. One, you know only a pissed person would showcase. And god, is it satisfying to slam the door behind you and smile like the petty person you are.

"Woops," you simply say. His pissed face urks you to stand your ground. He doesn't hesitate to walk up to you, a crazed look in his eyes. "You-"

Your name is called in the distance, and you know exactly who's calling it. Your head whips, and your heart skips a beat. Running straight towards you are the guys, emerging straight from the field to your right. They look unreal, like they popped out of a commercial.

Mingi is the first to slam into you.

"Hey, ow!" You laugh, pulling him in tighter. The alpha, whose energy dissipates, turns away as if he wasn't about to go off on you.

Mingis arms are a welcoming feeling. He twirls you around, taking on your weight like it's his own. There's a certain desperation in his tight hold. You feed into it, pulling him just as tightly by the shoulders.

"Are you okay? Why didn't you answer my calls?" He pulls away only enough to scan your face. Maybe you really shouldn't, but mingis face is picture perfect. Whatever the makeup artists have done to make him look this good, it surely is based on hard work and years of perfection. Or maybe it's just mingi.

You stutter to answer, "I'm sorry, I wasn't.. really allowed to" it's half the truth. His hands fall to your hips, silent as he takes you in. "I'm sorry," he says, pulling his lip under his teeth. He genuinely looks sorry. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Mingi! No, I'm fine, completely." You pull his hands off you, missing the smell of sea salt and jasmine. You spin around. "Fine! See? Mingi.. i-"

Another pair of arms scoop you up. Silencing whatever you were saying, it's yunho this time, smiling ear to ear. And immediately after, waiting patiently next to mingi is San, his eyes flicker behind you, but as soon as you look his way, he catches your face. "Hey," he says so simply, with that sneaky grin he always has, yet you can tell he wants to say more.

"Hi," you say simply back, pulling both Yunho and San into a tighter hug. "How was it?" San asks, his voice is so sultry, something you missed, your mind goes haywire. "What?" Your face falls. "How was being away for so long? You missed us, right?" San laughs.

"Missed you? Never," you joke, pushing them both away when you catch Jongho and Yeosang jogging over. Jongho scoops you up next. His arms are tough, obviously, from working out so much lately. You take a well needed whiff of him. Fresh florals, mahogany, charred sandalwood, and laundry invade your nostrils. His head falls over yours, pulling back to let yeosang get a hug. Yeosangs arms are lean, but his hug is soft when he pulls you close, breathing you in.

Wooyoung and Seonghwa are last. Which you find surprising. Seonghwa, who usually pulls you into a half hug- full-on, brings you in. He smells like leather, dark coffee, and vanilla cream. There's so much more, but you're pulling away before you can smell him some more. Wooyoung locks you in, tilting you on your heels back and forth. He's the smiliest of the bunch. He sets his face on your shoulder, and his hands squeeze your sides comfortably. San scoots past the two of you, popping open the trunk.

The trunk, where your bag is. Full of assortments of scent blockers, heat suppressants, and the many smells the girls gave you so you can get by for the month smelling like your old self. Panic sets in, yet you try to seem as casual as you can when you twist in wooyoungs hands. "San, I got it!" You somewhat shout. San looks up, confused, pulling the shoulder strap over his shoulder. Wooyoung still has you in the tightest embrace around your waist.

"You really want to carry your own bags?" Yunho scoffs at the idea, mingi takes the other bag next to san. One you don't even remember throwing in. "I'm a big girl. I can take my own bags," you mumble. Wooyoung laughs from just over your shoulder. His lean body presses directly into your back. He's so very warm. You try not to think about it, opting to continue struggling.

"Woo, c'mon," you slump, you're not getting to that bag. It's no use, you're too exhausted to fight against him. He laughs. "It's just one bag beta, I'm sure your big girl attitude can be put aside for now," Woo loosens his hold around your waist, patting your hip with his large palm.

Seonghwa continues for him, a certain upset tone in his voice. "You just got out of the hospital. I don't know why you're here instead of resting at home."

You gulp when San slings the backpack around. "What did the hospital give you anyways?" He chuckles. You count heads, realizing hongjoong isn't here. "Where's -" the door behind you slams.

The alpha from before storms around the driver side. Everyone stops to stare. San shares a look with seonghwa. "What's his problem?" Wooyoung whispers to you, his breath fanning your ear. You scoff silently. "Egocentric alpha." You grumble.

"Got it," he laughs, he's missed you. Pulling you away. The guys all fall behind you two.

The cold of spring is fading away. It no longer nips at your nose. Soon, summer will roll around, and filming will get exhausting more than it already is. Your clothes whip around at the slight gusts of wind. Your makeup isn't caked on for once. Thankfully, you have a new makeup artist this time. Your scent still lingers. You'd have to reapply scent blockers soon. The bottle shifts between your fingertips, twisting and pulling at the lid. You subtly rub it around your scent glands. The chatter of the guys behind you cast in the background of your attention. Hongjoong is just a little bit away. You haven't seen him since you got there. Makeup and clothing took at least an hour or two.

Even though he's right there, you miss him. Hongjoong stands by the filming aquitment, speaking with the crew. You take your time walking up, having just now realized hongjoongs hair is back to the pretty brown you know suits him.

"Joong," you call, a blanket shrugged over your exposed shoulders. His shoulder straightened at your voice; his head whipped around. "Hey!" He calls, a genuine smile lighting up his features.

Hongjoongs figure is still so welcoming. The pack leader has always had that effect on you. It takes everything in you to pull away from the hug. "We missed you," he says earnestly, his hand resting on your neck where your scent gland is. "How are you feeling?"

You sigh, "I'm feeling good," it's somewhat true, although genuinely exhausted from the entire week of being poked and provoked by doctors and annoying alphas. what really got you was your first heat.

"You should be at home, not working." He huffs, reaching up to pull the blanket over you further. "I want to work," you nod, confirming it to yourself. He chuckles. "Yeah, right"

"Take it easy, kay?" You smile. "No promises"

It's the next day when the sun begins to set. You realize you're your biggest enemy. You will never be satisfied with how you contort your body to follow steps. 4,5,6. You repeat. 4,5,6. You stare as you watch yourself perform on the monitor.

There's a tension in the air, the staff can feel it, and the guys can feel it. Everyone moves around freely around you, the guys getting ready to perform the next sequence of steps. Yet you don't care if you're the one giving that tense energy off, your feet stand firm. "One more time, please," you ask the tech crew to repeat the video. A hand falls on your shoulder. Yunho calls your name softly. "Yeah?" You respond, not paying attention to what he says.

4. 5. 6. 4.5.6.

You watch as your lines loosen. This solo shot of you is cursed. Why can't you keep your movements sharp? "Beta," yunho calls firmly. You lift your head, catching his brown eyes with your own. "You're perfect." he guides your chin when you want to turn your attention back to the monitor. "No- look, my arms -" you go to point.

Yunho roughly turns you fully towards the monitor, and his hands fall by your waist. His chest presses against your back as he bends over you, and his head leans over your shoulder. "Look," he takes the word from your mouth. Pointing at your arms as you dance around on screen. "Your arms are fine." His silver hair brushes against your cheek. "There's nothing wrong with your shot. It's perfect."

And it's not because the alpha uses his firm voice to make you listen. It's the way yunho so passionately stares at you, like he believes what he says wholeheartedly. His eyes never slip from over your shoulder, even when yours keep falling back to the monitor.

"Okay," you listen. Yunhos hands fall off you, stepping away. You miss his warmth.

You're a week into the month when suspicion arises. Seonghwa is the one that finds your unopened bottle of scent blockers. "Hey," he says, twiddling the bottle in his nimble fingers. Your eyes shoot up from your phone, watching him stand in your doorway. "Are these yours? None of us had to get a refill." it's such a normal question because seonghwa doesn't think about it. All of the guys use scent blockers to perform for concerts or events.

But you're honestly choking. "I uh- I got a new bottle last week," you gulp. Quick, excuse. Excuse!. "Oh" His eyebrows furrowed. You haven't performed in about a month since the comeback is soon. "Yeah, i - that smell thing I had going on? That's what those are for." You loosely point.

"They're supposed to help," you gulp. Please take the hook. Seonghwas eyes scan you over once again, then back at the bottle. "Are they working?" He finally says. You blank.

"I don't know, can't really tell," you mumble. "Can you?" You sit up, scooting further down your bed. Seonghwa walks into your room. His scent mixes in with the smell you've had to endure all week. "Yeah, I suppose." You can see the gears behind his eyes moving.

"You suppose?" Your eyebrows furrowed. He bites on his lip, pulling at his earring. "Mm, you smell like you usually do.. but.." he thinks about it, scanning your room. His eyes finally fall on your face, urging him to continue. "Never mind."

Seonghwa exits your room without another word. You're in silence by yourself. The suspicion makes your anxiety skyrocket. He left his shirt behind on your bed.

You take it. Why not?

Hongjoong is late coming back again from the studio. He smells stressed beyond belief, even from where you sit across the apartment. He hangs his jacket up in the hallway. And you hear the slow pattern of his feet when he walks down the hallway. Your head falls on the arm of the couch, eyes focused on the TV. Hongjoong calls your name in a whisper. You look up at his tired eyes.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" He questions you. You have half the energy to laugh quietly. "Says the one in the studio at.." You check your phone. A picture of you and the girls on the lock screen. "4 am.. why aren't you?" You set your phone back down, pulling your feet up so he can take a seat on the couch without you hogging the whole thing.

He gladly takes it with a heavy sigh. His hand falls to your ankle poking out of the blanket, and you shiver slightly at the chill of his rings. "How are you feeling?" You scoot to sit up, leaning on your hand. "It always gets hectic before a comeback," he huffs a smile, turning towards you. "How are you?" His finger brushes up your calf. "I asked first," you glance back.

He smiles, a tired one, one he always has for you. "Why were you still up?" He changes the question. You take the hint. Laying back down on your pillow that's propped up against the couch. "I wanted to wait for you," you whisper.

The silence is comfortable. Hongjoongs fingers rubbing circles on your ankle. You reach down to grasp his hand, his tired eyes blink back at you. "Lay with me?" You ask, perhaps you shouldn't. But in your sleepy state, you're bold enough to ask, scooting over to make room for him. He doesn't answer but scoots up enough to take the spot next to you. Face to face. "Nightmare?" He asks, as if giving you an excuse, his eyes bore down on yours.

He's so pretty, you think. His eyes are so soft under the darkness. You question if he's one of the prettiest guys you've ever seen, an uncommon trait for alphas. You hum, taking the lie. "Yea"

Your eyelids slink as does his, the rhythmic breathing between you two casts over like a lullaby. Eventually, his arm falls over your hip. Alice In Wonderland playing in the distance, a sound you've gotten used to as you fall into the solitude of sleep.

The next morning, the comfort of the couch is something that you want to fall back into. You want your beauty rest, but the sun keeps beating on your eyelids. You turn in the grasp of the blanket, it has a tight hold, you wiggle to get comfortable.

The fan of someone's breath hits the shell of your ear. Your eye pops up, blinking at the sun coming down on you from the window. You turn to feel the body pressed against your back. Slowly turning so you don't wake them up.

Hongjoongs face is mere centimeters away. His hair falls over his face in waves. You want to reach out and push it away, kiss his eyelids, and touch his face ever so delicately. Your head lays on his arm. Hoongjoongs hoodie rid up his forearm, the scent gland on the bend of his elbow directly in front of you. Hongjoong smells.. like a ripe pear, tahitian vanilla, the heat from the sun, and sweet spices. You nuzzle deeper into his warmth, sighing gently into his chest.

Still foggy from sleep, every second that passes, you fall further into a dream state. Hongjoongs soft and quiet breathing echos in your mind.

Pictures pass in your vision, memories you haven't yet explore dance beyond the border of your sight. You dance silently, following where you lead yourself. Through doors that open without a sound and a floor that is void, your feet patter and swirl like raindrops on water. A distant noise echos. Hands reach out for yours, an assortment of them sticking out from the void and invisible walls that surround you. But you don't reach back. Your movements flow in a rhythm. When you stop to breathe, you sink into the floor. And fall continously. Echos of your struggles and inner thoughts consume you.

You wake up with a shudder, sitting up abruptly. You pat around you, you're in your bed. Hongjoong isn't here. You hope it's not because of what you said. You hope it's not because you made things awkward. You fall back into your comforters, sighing heavily. You stare at the crack in your bedroom door, watching figures pass and go. They block out the sun. The first to stop in the twenty minutes of you staring is Jongho. He pushes your door open softly. Two solid knocks hit your door.

"Want to get some breakfast?" He leans in, jongho is already dressed and ready. You hope he was waiting for you to wake up and ask you to tag along. You smile. "Yes"

The walk is brisk, just down the street to the coffee shop you visit most often in the morning. Jongho holds the door open for you, and you thank him. The smell of coffee hits you straight on. A pleasant surprise that makes your stomach grumble. Your mask stays put on your face, as does jonghos. Your arm wraps around his, a subconscious thing on your part. He doesn't pull away.

The line isn't long. A few stand around, picking and choosing their order. Many of the seats are taken. Chatter echoes in the large shop. "The usual?" Jongho nudges you, pulling your attention from the crowded strangers. He takes the lead compared to when you always do, you don't fight him about ordering like you usually would. "You know it," you smile, although you know the mask will block it. His eyes pull up, and you can tell he's smiling back.

You're compliant to the way he orders everyone's breakfast and drinks, something jongho finds strange for your behavior but boosts his ego a bit. You tell him the rest of the orders he forgets, leaning up to whisper it in his ear. He leans down and meets you halfway, so you aren't straining your still healing ankle. His hand falls to your mid back, steadying you.

"That's it, Thank you."

You lean up against the free space in the waiting area. Propping yourself up against the cold stone wall. This area is just as busy. You know the order will be a while. Jongho takes the spot next to you. Bumping shoulders. "How's your elbow?" He touches your arm gently.

You look down at it, a distant memory compared to the week you've had. "It's fine, it wasn't that bad." You shrug it off.

"If it wasn't, why were you in the hospital for a week?"

A lump forms in your throat. You advert your eyes to anything else. "I.. they wanted to run tests." That catches him off guard. "Tests? What for?" He leans on his shoulder to face you.

"Because i.." swallow the lump, don't word vomit. Please don't word vomit.

"Because I'm a -" ding! "order for Mr. Choi Jong!" Saved by the bell. God, it's so perfectly timed. Jongho stares at you for a second longer, his eyes scan you for answers. Like he's hoping you'll continue. Your mouth is glued. When he adverts his eyes, the emotion that crosses his features is like you did something terrible. He leaves to get the order when you don't look back up at him.

What are you doing? Are you crazy? Your hand falls to your forehead, rubbing the tension away. Jongho is silent the entire walk back. He takes the load of drinks and bags by himself, a few strides ahead. When you offer to help, he pulls away. "It's fine." he simply says. You flinch at his tone.

Just two more weeks.

The second week starts rocky. You haven't talked to yunho since the monitor incident. As well as jongho still being upset at you, hongjoong, avoiding you like the plague, and seonghwa not even giving you the time of day. You don't know what you did.

Your bed feels empty, as does your heart. You toss and turn all night long. Barely able to get any sleep for hours. A knock breaks you out of your tossing and turning habit. "Come in" you turn towards the door.

Mingi stands with his pillow tightly wrapped in his arms. Although childish, you find him cute. "Hey," you push yourself to sit up. He looks shy when he shifts on his feet, rolling his palm over your doorknob. "Can I sleep in here tonight?" He asks, it's mumbled, but you make out what he's asking.

Your lips poke up into a smile. You don't answer, just scooting over to the empty spot you were just upset about. You give him your warm spot instead. He giddily falls atop your spot, snuggly placing his pillow under his head.

"I sleep better in your room," he laughs, his eyes turn into cresents, and you stare at the way his face squishes into the pillow. You gently wiggle off the glasses from his nose, setting them aside on your side table. "It's because my room isn't messy," you snicker lightly.

Mingis whispering voice is just his normal voice, just less loud. You don't mind, though. You give him space. He hardly fits in your bed, yet he says he's the most comfortable in it. You can't tell if he's saying it to make you happy.

Mingi calls your name softly in the dark. "Yeah, mingi?" You whisper back, tucking your arm under your pillow. There's a few seconds of silence. It's uncommon when mingi is around. "I'm sorry again," he says so softly. You sigh. "it wasn't you mingi, you didn't do anything to hurt me that bad.." You close your eyes, excuse.

Excuse.

"...I had to get checked out because of my weird scent change thing going on." It's not true. You're feeling sick from lying so much. He hums. "So I didn't hurt you?" You laugh lightly. "No, min, you didn't hurt me." Your eyelids close. "I would never hurt you on purpose," he slurs in tired words. Your eyebrows furrow.

"I know.." You hear him shuffle closer. He reaches to grab your hand from under the pillow. His grip is soft. Your eyes stay closed.

Is this real?

"I'm here if you ever need anything." his thumb catches yours, intertwining your fingers. You sigh softly.

The amount of lying all week weighs heavy on your shoulders, mingi, who genuinely says what he means, twists your heart between his words. You try to breathe through the sudden sting of tears welling up in your eyes.

"I know." You answer with a shaky breath. You slip your hand out of his, and your world feels as if it's crumbling. Turning on your side away from him.

Just half a week. Half.

It's getting repetitive. Filming for another episode of a variety show you don't care for currently. You just miss your bed. You miss your boys. You miss being normal. You miss not having to hide. You miss being a beta.

"Your turn!" A finger points in your direction. You blink for a few seconds, gathering your wit. "i.. what am I supposed to do?" You laugh to cover the fact you weren't paying attention. The camera shines just out of view.

To keep up with performances, the majority of the boys all yell out the instructions. You get it, just a bit. San and Yeosang are at the top of the tower, having climbed all the way up with their gear.

You have to climb the tower. "Do I have to?" You bounce on your feet anxiously, looking towards the camera. Staff buckle you into your gear, the chatter getting lost whilst you get stuck in your head. You're not a big fan of heights.

You're really not a big fan of heights. You start noticing that when you shuffle across the platform to collect a red scarf. The premise of the game is to collect your color accessories, whilst also not allowed to go back if you miss any. Whatever team gets the most accessories wins. You're on Yeosang and Sans team. Paired in three.

Your rope is tied to san, whose rope is tied to yeosang. You don't think you got the strength in your arms to keep going. You power on anyway. Slipping your hand between spray painted fake rocks and clawing your way up.

Your helmet keeps slipping down your face. Surely, it's unfair that you got a helmet that doesn't even fit you. And dangerous. But mostly unfair.

"You got this!" Sans yell encourages you. You're in a particularly tough spot. You have to reach sideways to grab a pair of red sunglasses. It's the last thing you have to grab to win.

To your left, the blue team, which consists of wooyoung, yunho, and hongjoong, yells to each other. You try to drown it out and focus on your own team.

You just gotta reach over. You wedge yourself as close as you can.

Just reach. You can hear the game hosts encouraging you on, shouts of surprise.

Your fingertips just barely scrape it, almost knocking it off the ledge it's on. You shuffle, your single hand holding onto a rock is getting sweaty. You breath cautiously, reaching out again.

It's so close.

And then you grab it.

Shouts from San and yeosang make you smile. You're proud of yourself. You go to turn back, slipping from your left foot. Oh no. You're slipping, trying to get a solid hold on the rock. You slip the sunglasses on your head, hoping to be able to get your right hand free to grab the ledge.

San and yeosang are only a few feet up, not close enough for you to reach for. You've got to maneuver yourself out of the spot you're in. You don't know if you can. You wiggle and twist your waist, stretching your right arm above you.

Your fingers wiggle to get a good grip on the jagged red rock you grabbed. You're not as muscular as you thought as you try to use your right arm to pull your full body weight further up.

You strain it so, to the point where when you finally get yourself up. You have to shake off the hurt. Just two more rocks. Two more big reaches.

Two seems to appear a lot lately.

Distant shouting of all the teams catch your attention. Wooyoung is gaining speed. He's on his last accessory, a few feet behind you. When he sees you staring, he smirks like a predator, gaining speed.

Your movements are calculated but rushed. You keep pushing the helmet back on your head. The sunglasses slip down over your eyes, somewhat blocking your view. You're sweating bullets at this point.

Yeosangs hand is a saving grace. He pulls you up by your right wrist whilst san pulls your left arm. As soon as you get up, you book it to the table you have to put the accessories on.

Your team wins. Confetti cascades around you. You cheer happily, jumping around and laughing out of breath.

How it feels to be victorious.

You look to yeosang and San. They stare, shocked.

You wipe the sweat off your brow. The sweet scent hitting your nostrils.

Oh no.

You swipe the sweat away as quickly as you can, pulling the roll on bottle out of your pocket. Hurry. You try to twist the top off. Rolling the scent onto your scent glands and over your forehead as much as you can.

It's no doubt in your mind. They smelt your real scent. They know. You don't turn to look. You don't even want to know what they're thinking. Your breathing turns shallow.

Fuck.

Your world is crashing.

This time for real.

You take the emergency stairs. Ignoring the calls of yeosang and san. Stripping the gear off of you as you go. You don't care if you're ruining the victory shot. You just gotta get out of here.

You're wondering the hallways when wooyoung finds you. Hot tears stream down your face. Why are you even crying? You don't know. Maybe you're scared this will change everything. Maybe you're scared you messed up again and ruined it.

Wooyoungs hand is a soft pull to your wrist. You yank yourself out of his grip. Pain flashes his features. He says your name gently. You continue to sob. "What? What now" you huff. Wiping your tears harshly.

"Tell me what's wrong -" "Nothing!" You painfully shout, stepping away from his distressed smell. "Nothing is wrong. Nothing is ever wrong." You laugh at your situation. Wooyoungs hand clenches in the air. His hair falls over his eyes messily. He's still in the outfit he was wearing for the game, minus the gear. It's as if he came looking straight for you.

Just for you.

Wooyoungs mouth falls open and close. You dont think about whether or not he has something to say. You don't want to even look. "Just go away, please"

Wooyoung face is painted in pain. You know he doesn't know what to do. Doesn't know how to react. "Omega, please." he whispers.

Your sobs stop. Your tear stained face whips around, and your shocked face is evidence you weren't expecting that.

His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. "We need to talk," he sighs, allowing him to walk up. He takes your wrists in his hands gently. His thumb rubs soothing circles on your wrists.

Silently, tears stream. You don't have the energy to pull away.

You ruined everything. They know.

A/n; cliff hanger bc my phone is glitching out BAD. IM SORRY! hopefully, the two chapts will make up for it. Thanks for all the support ♡.

Taglist: @lelaleleb @bratty-tingz @0325tiny @smilefordongil @atinytinaa @unripeapple7 @ja3hwa @stopeatread (thanks for your support ♡)

[sugrhigh]

BACKSTAGE - ( m.s )

REQUESTED**

summary- your best friend caught the eye of the bass player in a band local to boston, your hometown, so you’re invited to the second to last stop of their US tour. they can definitely put on a show, and all of them are very welcoming when you meet them backstage. then there’s the asshole grumpy drummer with the inflated ego, who can’t seem to stop staring.

warnings- cursing, smoking, drinking, ???

band au (triplets are in their mid 20s)

drummer!matt x fem!reader (this song ^^ inspired me and it’s good af so i’m including it)

a/n: this has been brewing for a while and i kinda forking love this concept, i hope i brought it to life well! hope u enjoy and as always my inbox is open for whateva #kisses ****part 2 to come

@fawnchives @55sturn @teapartyprincess4two @l9vesick @sturnlova @cupidsword @junnniiieee07 @mattnchrisworld @cherrypostsposts

“are you sure you want to do this?” you ask her as you two linger by the bar at the back of the venue.

people are clearing out, all happily chattering after an incredible concert. you have to admit that it was a great performance, and the sold out crowd helped.

they’re a pretty talented band. and the bass player really wants your best friend.

all it took to get him interested was a single comment on one of his recent posts. adelaide is undeniably gorgeous, and she’s also built a decent following through her recent modeling jobs.

she stands out in any comment section and in crowds like these, so it makes sense that he hit her up. that’s why you’re here anyways.

mister bass player had invited you guys to the first of two sold out shows in this place. it’s the last stop on the band’s US leg, in their hometown, which happens to be where you and adelaide live.

“yes dude, for the hundredth time, im sure. and he’s waiting on us, so stop stalling. i know you have more balls than that.” adelaide gives you a pointed look.

you can’t help but roll your eyes. “i promise you i don’t care enough about what these guys think to be scared.”

“now that sounds more like you.” she teases as she pulls her phone out of her back pocket.

the light from the screen illuminates her face, and you watch as she taps something out quickly.

“chris said someone is gonna come get us.”

“can’t wait.” you smile sarcastically as you respond.

addy doesn’t even get the chance to yell at you about your attitude before a big buff guy dressed in all black approaches the two of you, dark hair slicked against his skull. SECURITY is printed across his jacket in bold yellow letters.

“you ladies enjoy the show?” his voice is deep, which matches his huge stature perfectly.

“oh, it was amazing! i’m assuming you’re jason?” adelaide beams at him, pushing her dark curls out of her face.

he nods once. “that’s me. you guys ready to head backstage?”

“yup, just lead the way.”

the two of you follow jason back down toward the front of the stage, around the protective barricade to a door that almost blends right in with the venue’s dark walls.

he knocks on it three times. another tall man opens it for him and ushers the two of you inside before people start to pay too much attention.

“dressing rooms this way.” the new guy leads you through the backstage area, down a narrow hallway until he stops in front of one of the doors. there’s a little placard with their band name on it, which is cute.

this time nobody thinks to knock, because it’s already pretty loud. once the door swings open the sound is even more overwhelming.

you count seven people, all sitting around on the couches and vanity seats in the dim lighting. three of them are nearly identical, which surprises you. you thought there were only two brothers in the band.

several bottles of champagne crowd the coffee table already, and they’ve only been off the stage for ten minutes.

all of them are watching the two of you now, and it makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

“look who it is.” one of the twins (or apparently triplets) that’s sitting on the couch sets his glass down and gets up to greet you.

his brown hair is long, longer than the others, hidden slightly by a black boston hat. he’s dressed in a celtics jersey and baggy jeans, clearly happy to be representing his city tonight.

“good to see you, chris.” adelaide smiles into his chest as he pulls her into a tight embrace that lasts for a few seconds too long.

“i promise it’s better to see you.” he smirks as he finally pulls away, not even trying to hide his gaze as he admires the way her outfit hugs her body.

then he turns to you, and you suddenly feel like a spotlight is shining directly in your face.

“it’s nice to meet you too, y/n. addy tells me you’re even cooler than she is.” chris says, wrapping his arm around your friends shoulder lazily.

“can’t argue with that.” you shrug with a grin, impressed that he remembered your name without having to ask.

he looks around and clears his throat, and the others stop chatting. “everyone, this is adelaide and y/n. introduce yourselves.”

one of the clones that was sitting beside chris speaks up now. “shouldn’t they know who we are?”

he looks directly at you with an uninterested gaze that’s somehow still so intense you almost lose your breath. he’s in all black, fluffy hair styled a bit shorter than chris’s.

his harley davidson muscle tee is cut off right above his black pants, revealing just the smallest sliver of his stomach as he leans back against the cushions casually. so many tattoos, so many rings.

it’s annoying that you notice this, even despite how pissed off you are at his stupid question.

“i hate to burst your bubble, but i wouldn’t be able to guess your name even if someone put a gun to my head.” you bite back without thinking, and laughter erupts around you.

“that’s exactly what you deserve for a dickhead comment like that, matt.” another currently-unnamed guy says.

he’s on the other sofa with the last of the carbon-copy brothers, arm around the waist of the beautiful girl that’s perched on his lap. the couple smile at you and adelaide.

“feel free to ignore him. i’m nathan, lead guitar.” he introduces himself.

“i’m his girlfriend jen.” the dark-haired woman chimes in, offering you a friendly wave.

“im nick,” the triplet sitting next to them finally reveals his name, “i’m not in the band, i’m just their tour photographer. my brothers got the musical talent.”

“kids a genius with a camera though.” chris adds, still sidled up against adelaide.

“names sam. i’m the singer.” a blonde boy with hair cropped close to his skull says with a nod.

he’s sitting on one of the vanity chairs that’ve been set up in a half circle, tipping the rest of his champagne back after he speaks.

“and i’m just his older sister gabby.” the girl beside him sticks her hand out, and you take a step forward to shake it.

“dont say just. and i love your necklace.” you compliment the barbed wire chain around her throat, and she waves her free hand at you, flushing slightly.

“you’re sweet.”

“it’s nice to meet you all. the show was fantastic, we had a blast.” adelaide addresses everyone with that award-winning grin you know and love.

chris leads her over to the couch and they sit down, pressed against each other like they’re attached at the hip. you have to admit it’s a little cute. you take the open chair next to gabby, opting to avoid sitting next to matt just to be near your friend.

“are you both from boston too?” sam asks, reaching to refill his drink.

jen gets up from nate’s lap to grab two more glasses from one of the cabinets, which is a kind gesture that you weren’t really expecting.

“yeah. we met in college and ended up staying in the city together.” you answer as he moves to pour your champagne next.

“that makes you what, 22? i am about to serve you alcohol.”

you can’t help but laugh, so adelaide answers instead. “we’re 25, but i’ll take that as a compliment.”

he puts his hands up in apology as you grab your glass. “so not recent graduates then, my bad.”

you can still feel matt staring at you, and when you meet his gaze over the rim of your drink he doesn’t shy away. your own eyes narrow slightly, because you dont understand why he won’t fucking quit it.

“what do you do for work?” nathan questions, and you finally break out of your trance to look over.

“i was in publishing for a bit, but i mainly model now.” addy responds first.

chris’s hand goes to grip her thigh endearingly as she sips her champagne. “can’t you tell?”

“stop it.” she nudges him slightly, though you can see a faint blush appear beneath her bronzed skin.

nate rolls his eyes before looking your way. “and you?”

“i’m a media manager for a few different brands.”

“really? like who?”

it’s matt speaking, you know even before you turn your head to meet his cold eyes once more. he’s challenging you, inked arms crossed over his chest defensively as he waits for an answer.

“well for one, those pants you’re wearing? i work with that company.” you reply bluntly.

you’d recognize those cargos anywhere, the faded star patches are a dead giveaway. matt’s face drops in surprise, and nick snorts, giving you a nod of approval that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“i can’t believe you work for vamped. we all get like, half of our wardrobe from there.” he admits.

“raiding her closet is a real treat, trust me.” adelaide makes it sound like a joke, but she actually does love to come over and steal all your favorite pieces.

it would be annoying if you didn’t love her so much.

jen smiles, cuddled back up on her boyfriend’s knee as she looks between the two of you. “i like you girls already.”

“yeah, and i respect anyone who can humble matt that quickly.” sam nods along in agreement, and you recognize that he’s talking about you in particular.

“oh, so i take it he’s like this all the time then?” your question is directed at sam, but you’re looking at the subject himself as you ask it.

“pretty much.” chris nudges matt with a silly grin, and he scowls in return, though he’s still watching you.

you can’t decipher what he’s feeling, what he’s thinking, and you don’t like it one bit. to be fair, you don’t know him at all yet, but you know the type.

you’ve met enough high profile people through vamped to understand that this kid thinks he’s some kind of god, probably because his friends tell him so.

but you’re not his friend, and you don’t owe him any politeness if he can’t bother to reciprocate it. you keep your eyes on him as sam redirects the conversation away from the two of you, another challenge of your own, and he finally looks away a moment later.

you take it as a win.

a few rounds of drinks later you can feel the heat creeping up your cheeks, blissfully tipsy as you continue to swap stories about anything and everything with the rest of the group.

chris and adelaide are in their own little world, whispering shit back and forth to each other like school girls.

matt hasn’t said a single word to you since you name-dropped your highest paying client just to embarrass him. he watches the rest of you interact, though that burning gaze of his always seems to meet yours anyways.

its driving you crazy, and you’re itching for a quick pause from the socialization, as nice as (almost) everyone has been.

“i’m gonna go for a smoke.” you address the group, mainly adelaide, and you’re met with a couple nods.

“same.” matt replies gruffly, and your heart falters.

of fucking course.

he pushes himself to a standing position before you can protest, or say anything really. his shirt is even more cropped now that he’s stretched to his full height, and you’re staring straight at his exposed happy trail and v-line. you’re pretty sure you see the top of a small tattoo by his hip.

your mouth goes dry, and you busy yourself grabbing your little purse from the floor.

“hurry back, i wanna hear more about this PR box fiasco.” gabby points a finger at you as you get up next, and you smile even though you know it’s a weak attempt.

“i’ll be quick.” you promise her.

adelaide gives you a little wave goodbye, which doesn’t quell your nerves as you turn to follow matt, who doesn’t wait for you to catch up.

he just throws the dressing room door open carelessly, letting it swing back so you have to stop it with your hand before it hits you. you glare at the back of his head, though you follow him in silence because you don’t know the way outside.

another security guard stands in the hall, and matt greets him with a quick nod as he heads outside, once again neglecting to hold it for you.

you mutter a quick hello to the man before stepping onto the little back patio. it’s the end of summer, edging toward fall now, so there’s just a slight chill in the air.

he’s already leaned up against the brick wall, situated on one of the steps down to the gated parking lot. for the first time tonight, he’s actually not looking at you, and it’s somewhat of a relief.

you dig around in your bag to retrieve your crinkled carton of cigarettes, flipping the lid open to pull one out and stick it between your lips. you’re about to put them away when matt clears his throat.

“can i bum one?” he asks softly.

it’s the least aggressive he’s been all night, and it throws you so off guard you can’t find anything to say back so him. so you just nod slowly, grabbing another cigarette for him and passing it over.

“thanks.”

“you got a light? couldn’t bring mine in.” you mutter, though your words slur because of the cig that’s between your teeth.

matt nods, ruffling his hair with one hand as the other slips into his back pocket. he pulls out a red disposable lighter and ignites it in one swift motion.

he holds it up to your mouth, burning the end of the thin roll of tobacco. he’s staring at your lips, thinking about how soft they look wrapped around that filter paper.

matt doesn’t want to be wondering what it would be like to feel them against his own, because you embarrassed him. he hates being embarrassed, especially by someone who walked right into his dressing room like she owned it.

you’re unlike any girl he’s ever met, and he’s fucking entranced.

you inhale, glancing to meet his blue eyes as the smoke fill your lungs, completely unaware of his thoughts. it’s familiar, and it calms you down a little bit.

you pull it from your mouth to exhale, watching as he lights his own before slipping the plastic device back into his pocket. he slumps back up against the wall, kicking one leg up to steady himself.

it’s silent again for a moment while you both enjoy the brief hits of nicotine, letting the clouds swirl up into the night. you both go to ash at the same time, and he breaks the tension first.

“so, what did you think of the show, sweetheart? your friend spoke for you, but i’m sure you have your own opinion.” he says, one side of his mouth tilted up.

you weigh up his statement, rewinding to an hour ago. you guys were in the upper wing, right by the stage in the front row. the view was great, and the energy was definitely there.

you remember matt, sweaty and focused as he banged on those fucking drums like his life depended on it. your eyes were drawn to him for a lot of the performance, to the intensity he brought to the stage.

that was before you knew about his superiority complex, though you should have been expecting it. he is, after all, a rising rock star.

“it was good.” you reply bluntly, shrugging as you bring your cigarette back to your lips.

he fully smiles now, though it’s not a warm one. then he follows your lead and takes another drag as well, his tattoos shifting as his muscles flex and relax due to the movement.

“don’t fucking humor me.” matt finally says seriously, and you narrow your eyes.

“i wasn’t, but it doesn’t matter either way. you think you’re the shit regardless.” you snap back.

matt softens a bit at your tone, but he’s also backed into a corner. you confuse him, because you’re impossible to read. that’s never happened to him before, and it’s annoyingly enticing.

“you don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“i know your type.” you argue sourly, sucking in another mouthful of smoke.

he turns his full attention to you now, shifting so he can look you right in the eyes. you wish it didn’t intimidate you so much, but the way he’s been leering at you all night makes you sweat.

“and what type would that be, hm?” matt goads.

you nudge at the concrete with the toe of your sneaker, pausing briefly to compose your answer.

“you’re arrogant, which either comes from the fame or the praise, or most likely both. in fact, you’re so cocky that you probably can’t be around anyone without patronizing them. i bet they all tell you how talented and badass you are, but you wanna know what i think?” you ask him, taking a hit of your cigarette for dramatic effect.

and it works. matt is hanging onto every word, waiting for you to deliver the final punch as you take a step closer, blowing the vapor toward him.

“i think that the whole time, they’re just waiting for you to shut the fuck up.”

for a second the world is still, and neither of you move an inch. he’s just studying you, eyes skipping across your face like he’s trying to commit it to memory.

“you want to know what i think?” he questions you quietly, and you can’t help but watch his lips as they move.

so pretty and pink, and you know he would taste like tobacco and sweat. you want to give in, but you won’t. one thing about you is that you’re stubborn, and you refuse to make the first move for this asshole.

“i think you like it.” matt finishes, so close to your lips now that he’s practically whispering his words against them.

just as you think he’s about to kiss you, to give you the power you crave, he tosses his cigarette to the ground and snuffs it out before stepping around you.

the only reminder that the moment was real is the door slamming shut behind him.