#okay its nearly 3 am time for bed

[cat-dragron]

Now that episode 8 is out o have to make that Murder Drones video essay holy shit.

Like from the overall character arcs to the music and it's leit motifs to the use of color there is just so much I would love to talk about honestly!!!

God im so glad that a show like this got to exist and he made.

[ellecdc]

LOVE U LOVE U LOVE U

I WAS THONKING

HOW WOUOD THE GUYS TAKE THE NEWS OF YOU BEING A SAD DRUNK LOLOL WOULD THEY COME GET U??

(๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

LOVE U 2 OMG and to answer your question: yes

poly!marauders x fem!reader who is apparently a sad drunk

CW: mentions of being drunk/drinking but not described, crying, James punches Sirius right in the face and Sirius is very pressed about it

It had been James who finally picked up the (according to Sirius, “goddamned”) phone by its third ring of the second call.

“‘Lo?” He mumbled gravelly as he rubbed harshly at his eyes, not having even checked the caller ID before answering what he now knew to be Remus’ phone.

“Potter?” Marlene all but shrieked into his ear, causing James to pull the phone away from his face as even Sirius winced at the volume. 

“What the hell, Marls?” He grumbled as he finally pulled himself up into a seated position. 

James listened as he heard someone mutter something along the lines of “would you stop sodding shouting?” before Lily’s voice took over for Marlene.

“Hey James, sorry to have woken you up, but I was wondering if you could maybe meet us at the corner of Moor and Old Compton?”

“Erm, yeah, yeah.” He sighed as he felt around his bedside table for his glasses. “Why?”

“I know you guys haven’t been dating long, but we were wondering if you could perhaps pick Y/N up?”

James’ heart sped up drastically as he almost took his eye out with the arm of his glasses in his haste to check the time.

3:34 am.

‘Nothing good happens after 2am’ he could hear his mother telling him. 

“Why?” James all but barked into the phone. “Is she okay?”

Remus sat up suddenly at that, nearly launching Sirius right off of the bed from where he’d been resting on the taller boy’s chest. 

“Yes!” Lily assured him quickly at the same time he heard Marlene shout “no!” from behind her.

“No, she’s fine, James.” Lily said severely, likely glaring at Marlene for her unhelpful input. “It’s just-”

“She’s bringing the whole vibe down!” He heard what he recognized as Mary’s voice chime in when Lily seemed to hesitate in her answer.

Lily chuckled awkwardly. “It turns out your girl is a sad drunk.” 

This somehow left James feeling simultaneously relieved that you were at least safe and distraught that you weren’t having fun anymore. 

“Give it here.” Remus gruffed as he pulled the phone away from James’ face, taking over the conversation with Lily as he moved towards the closet to re-dress. 

“Why’s the light on?” Sirius grumbled from his pillow that he’d tried to burrow into at the disruption of his sleep.

“Y/N needs us to pick her up.” James offered as he went to push hair away from Sirius’ face.

His efforts were for naught as Sirius sprung up like a possessed jack-in-the-box at the mention of your name; his face colliding painfully with James’ hand.

“Sodding hell Jamie.” Sirius hissed as he held his face. “You punched me in the face!”

“I did not!” James argued back, cradling his hand against his chest. “You faced me in the hand!” 

“Oh my God.” Sirius whispered into his hand as he rubbed at his nose. “Why are we up again?”

“We need to go pick up Y/N.” Remus said as he returned to their bedroom in a pair of joggers and a jumper, throwing sets of clothes to both of his boyfriends which James caught and Sirius did not in his current state. 

“Is she okay?” Sirius shrilled slightly as he pulled the hoodie which had landed on his head out of his face in order to look at Remus worriedly. 

“She’s fine.” He assured him at the same time James replied “she’s crying.”

“Well which is it?” Sirius asked quickly as he pulled the hoodie over his head. “Is she fine or is she crying!?” 

“She’s waiting for us, is what she is.” Remus chided, his usual humour sleep-addled as he exited the bedroom. “Hurry up!” 

・。・。・。・。・。・。・。・。・。・。・。・。・・。・。・・

James only finally felt his heart unclench when Remus pulled around the corner and he could spot Lily’s fiery red hair, Marlene’s purple-streaked hair, and finally you sitting on the curb outside of a club looking painfully dejected. 

“It’s not that we don’t want you here, sweetheart.” The boys could hear Lily offer you in a maternal voice as they approached your group. “But we think you might have more fun if you went home with the boys.”

“I know I’d have much more fun if you came home with us!” Sirius offered jovially as he crouched in front of you.

“You called them?” You asked Lily incredulously; your face painted with a look of ill-hidden betrayal as Lily cringed.

“Of course she did, pretty girl.” Remus answered for Lily, which the red-head seemed eternally grateful for. “As she should; we’d like to know if you ever needed us, yeah?”

You turned your face dejectedly towards your shoes as James took Lily’s place at your side. 

“What d’you say, hm? Good to come home with us?” He asked as he pulled you into his side; you only required the slightest encouragement before you were swaying complacently into his side.

“Okay.” You responded; voice pinched decibels higher than your normal pitch in a way James was sure had to be painful. 

“What’s with the tears, dolly?” Sirius asked quietly then, tapping your knee with his knuckles to encourage you to answer.

“You guys woke up for me.” You whispered. 

James only noticed once Remus sat beside you on the curb - his knees cracking audibly - that he had thanked the girls and told them to have fun at the next club they were headed to, leaving you four to your own devices. 

“Of course we did, dovey.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“What for, sweet girl?” James cooed at you then.

You shrugged your shoulders defeatedly before letting your head fall onto James’ shoulder as a few more tears escaped your eyes.

Sirius was suddenly looking around the group of you awkwardly, likely realising (much as James had) how creepy it must look for three blokes in sweats to show up to a clubbing district seemingly attempting to proposition a very drunk girl in a very short dress. 

“Think you can tell us in the car, angel?” James asked as Sirius helped Remus stand back up before they turned to do the same for you and James.

You nodded readily and allowed them to usher you into the back seat of the idling car. 

Remus feigned insult when both Sirius and James opted to sit in the back with you, but quickly assured you that he was only joking when that threatened to elicit even more tears.

“Did you have fun, baby?” Sirius asked as he rubbed his thumb along the bone at the base of your neck where he was resting his hand. 

“Yeah.” You let out with a shuddering sigh, though the tear tracks lining your face severely contradicted your statement.

“Yeah?” Remus asked with a chuckle. “That’s good.” 

“But then I ruined it.” You started again, face pinching miserably as James and Sirius shared a nervous look over your head.

“No you didn’t, sweetness; you couldn’t ruin anything.” James argued.

“I cried and then ruined everything.”

“What made you cry?” Remus asked then, watching in the rearview mirror as your face turned contemplative and then bashful. 

“Hm?” Sirius encouraged, continuing his ministrations of your neck that James could feel was causing you to melt with each pass of his thumb. “What were you thinking about that made you cry?” 

You muttered something incoherent that caused Remus to take his eyes off the road to consider you. “What was that, dove?” He asked as he turned his face back towards the road when he was convinced that you weren’t falling asleep halfway through the conversation.

“I missed you guys.” You admitted only slightly louder, though the way your face was pointed at your lap left James wondering if you were actually talking to your thighs.

“Awe, sweet girl.” Sirius cooed as he pulled you roughly into his side. “We missed you too.”

“But we’re together now, yeah? Does that mean there’s no need for tears anymore?” James asked, which was apparently the wrong thing to ask as your shoulders started to shake with sobs. 

“Nicely done, Prongs.” Sirius hissed with faux malice as he tucked your head under his chin. 

“What is it now, dovey?” James could hear the smile in Remus’ voice as he turned down a street James recognized was close to their flat. 

“You guys are so nice to me.” You whimpered as if that fact caused you physical pain. 

“Awe, I’m sorry dolly. We could try being meaner to you, if you’d like?”

“No we can’t.” James corrected Sirius quickly, sending him a stern glare over your head. “Sorry angel, you’ll just have to get used to having the sweetest boyfriends constantly fawning over you, ‘kay?”  

You sniffled a few times as you rose from your home in Sirius’ neck; nodding your head in a way that was likely more for your own sake than the boys’. 

“Okay.” You agreed as Remus parked the car and turned to look at you over the centre console. 

“That’s our girl.” He smiled at you; all three boys relishing in the way you turned bashful rather than shedding more tears. 

“You make sure to call us sooner next time, yeah?” Sirius admonished gently as he pressed a placating kiss to your shoulder. “No need for our pretty girl to spend so long upset when we can so easily fix it.”

“‘Kay.” You accepted again, looking guiltily at Remus and James as Sirius pulled you back into him.

“No more apologies, my love.” Remus said. “We’re over the moon to have you here.” 

James sat horrified as he watched your bottom lip begin to wobble again. 

“So nice.” You whimpered before falling back into Sirius’ side and sobbing into his jumper.

“Way to go, Moons.” Sirius muttered as he held you tightly against him. 

Remus wiped a hand down his face before looking at James guiltily. 

“It’s okay, Moons.” James assured him. “I sometimes want to cry when you’re too nice to me too.” 

“Don’t be nice to him.” Sirius barked then as he ushered you carefully out of the car. “I cannot carry two of our crying loves upstairs.”

Remus and James sat in the car quietly as they watched Sirius guide you towards the flat.

“She’s going to be horrified in the morning when she finds out she cried in front of us like this.” Remus said then, still watching as Sirius crouched to take your heels off of your feet so you could traverse the stairs more easily. 

“I don’t plan on breaking that news to her.” James offered, causing Remus to turn in his seat to look at him incredulously.

“Sirius will not let her live this down.”

James considered that then, wondering how long you’d cry over this before ultimately breaking up with them out of sheer embarrassment.

“Damage control?” James asked.

“Damage control.” Remus agreed before they both exited the car to chase after you and Sirius, hoping to convince him to go easy on you as well as offer their affection in consolation of what would no doubt be at least two days of quips and taunting from your notoriously teasing boyfriend.

But James knew that two days of teasing would also mean two days of Sirius refusing to let you out of his sight, and James was not afraid to admit that with you sounded like a very nice way to spend the weekend.

[amaiwrites]

ITS JUST A KISS

Monoma… is broke. That is, until, he starts working part time in Recovery Girl’s office by copying her quirk. It’s all going well until a certain someone shows up with injuries that need to be healed…

inspired by this post! monoma x fem!reader, fluff <3

word count: 1.6k (!!!)

“Kirishima, Y/n— you’re up next.” 

Y/n takes in a deep breath before she steps onto the platform. Today’s class is combat practice, and students were put in pairs assigned by Mr. Aizawa. Y/n’s up against Kirishima— and he’s great! But that’s the problem. He’ll definitely be a tough opponent. 

“Whoever gets the other to step off the platform first— or to surrender, will win.” 

Kirishima gives Y/n a determined grin as he hardens his arm, and Y/n returns the favor as she powers up her own quirk. 

“And… fight!” 

Kirishima throws a punch, Y/n dodges. Y/n kicks Kirishima’s leg. Kirishima gets a hit in on Y/n’s side, then Y/n punches him right in the chest. It goes on like this, each of them landing hits one after the other. Everyone is watching the fight closely, excited to see who will win in the end. Then, a loud noise is heard, causing Y/n to turn her head. 

“I am here!” All Might exclaims, and Y/n gets a tiny bit distracted from her fight because, hello, it’s All Might! 

Wait, focus— fangirl about All Might later! She looks back over to Kirishima, and his hand flies right out to her face. She stumbles backward, and falls onto the green grass next to the platform. Right out of bounds. 

“Kirishima wins this round.” Aizawa says, “Y/n, are you okay?” 

“Yeah…” Y/n didn’t hit her head on the ground or anything, but she puts her hand on her forehead and sees that it has some blood on it. 

“Ah, shit. Sorry Y/n! I didn’t mean to hit your head like that, it wasn’t very manly of me.” Kirishima offers his hand out and helps Y/n stand up. 

“That’s okay,” she smiles, “nothing Recovery Girl can’t fix later. Good fight!” 

The cut on her head wasn’t bad enough to cause great concern, but Aizawa sent Y/n down to Recovery Girl’s office anyways. 

Dang, I really wanted to see Momo go up against Uraraka, Y/n thinks as she knocks on the door to the nurses office. 

“Come on in.” A voice— definitely not Recovery Girl’s voice, says. Y/n cautiously opens the door, only for her eyes to meet—

“Monoma?!” 

“Y/n? How delightful to see you here!” Monoma welcomes her inside, warm smile on his face, but Y/n is still skeptical. 

She crosses her arms. “What are you doing here?” 

“Recovery Girl was kind enough to let me work part time in the nurses office.” Monoma smirks, “The best part about it is that I get to see how many of you 1-A idiots end up in here injured! Not nearly as many Class B students get hurt like—“ 

“Now, now, calm down Monoma. You’re supposed to be helping.” Recovery girl says, and Y/n tries her best not to laugh. “Heal her cut for me, will you dear?” 

Monoma’s smug demeanor seems to fall, his eyes going wide as his head turns to Recovery Girl. “Heal her? But— it’s just a small cut!” 

“Wait, how would he heal me?” Y/n cuts in. 

“Well, as you know, Monoma here can copy quirks,” Recovery girl explains, “I’ve had him copy my quirk so he could heal non-emergency people. This way I can go be right on the scene of classes like yours, where bad injuries are prone to happen.” 

…Interesting. Besides his quirk, Monoma is the least suitable student to be helping out like this. From what Y/n has seen, Monoma only likes to help his classmates, and definitely notClass 1-A. 

“Speaking of, I’m off to find your class now. They’re outside on the platform left of the main building, yes?” 

Y/n nods. “Take good care of our patients, Monoma!” The door closes behind Recovery Girl as she leaves the nurses office.

And now it was just the two of them. 

Monoma sighs. “Sit.” He says, pointing towards one of the doctor’s beds in the room. 

He always has so much attitude, Y/n thinks, but she sits where he told her to anyways. She would leave, but it’s probably not the best idea to leave her cut unattended. 

Stupid Monoma. His ‘I’m-better-than-you’ attitude and that smug smirk that’s always on his face is so… ugh. If he was less of an asshole, he’d be cute. 

Wait, what am I even saying??

Monoma isn’t cute. He’s not. Y/n hasn’t thought that, not even for a second—

“Damn girl, this cut’s worse than I thought.” Y/n almost jumps at the sound of Monoma’s voice next to her. He stands in front of Y/n, placing various medical items down next to her. When he’s done with that, he frowns. “Who did this to you?” 

Y/n studies Monoma’s expression. Usually he’d be teasing her, saying that with his idiotic smirk on his face. Call her crazy, but he almost looks… worried? Weird. 

“Kirishima,” She answers, “it was an accident though! I got distracted and his hand slipped.” 

Monoma grunts in— understanding? Disapproval? Y/n doesn’t know. 

“Idiot.” Monoma mutters, and Y/n’s not sure if he’s talking about her or Kirishima. His hand taps Y/n’s thighs. “Spread out your legs.”

She gives him a suspicious look. “My cut’s on my head, dummy.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” He pushes her legs apart himself, and then he stands between them. “See? Now I can get to your cut easier. Dummy.” 

Monoma takes a wet cloth and starts to clean around the cut and he— well, he smells nice. That might seem like a random thing to say, but he is right up in Y/n’s face right now, which is being flooded with the smell of subtle cologne. He just smells nice. 

Y/n usually keeps her distance from this guy, but he isn’t that bad up close. The Monoma that Y/n sees right now isn’t the obnoxious little shit that’s always talking trash about 1-A, but a concerned… classmate? Friend? 

And, Y/n has to admit to herself, maybe he’s a little cute. Just a little bit. It’s totally the blue eyes— or the hair. Or the voice— Okay, not gonna think about that anymore. 

Monoma puts the cloth down, his eyes meeting Y/n’s. “I’m gonna kiss you.” 

“What?!” Y/n exclaims, her face quickly turning pink. Where the hell did that come from? Monoma just laughs. He gently takes Y/n’s face in his hands and kisses her forehead. 

Wait. Copying Recovery Girl’s quirk… he was just kissing me to heal my cut, that makes sense! Y/n hadn’t realized that until now. 

His quirk must’ve malfunctioned somehow, though, because that kiss didn’t make Y/n feel better. It made her heart start beating really fast, and— is it hot in here? Because Y/n definitely feels hot. 

Oh. 

Monoma’s smirk appears back on his face. “Y/n, are you blushing? Aww! Want me to kiss you again?” 

“Shut up!” Y/n’s eyes go to anywhere in the room, just not on him. Shit, she can’t like Monoma! The guy that, like, all of your friends hate? That hates you? Well, isn’t that just great. 

Monoma’s still standing where he has been, right in Y/n’s space. It’s not helping. She finally decides to look back at him, because he probably should have moved away by now. He really should, before Y/n does something that she’d regret. 

“Oh,” He says simply, taking Y/n’s left hand in his. “You’re bleeding here too.” He wipes the blood off of Y/n’s hand with a cloth, then presses his mouth to her palm. Another kiss, yet there wasn’t even a cut on her hand. That was just blood from her forehead. 

“Um… there’s no cut on my hand.” Y/n points out, and Monoma just nods. 

“Great observation, Y/n,” He teases, “I’m aware of that. I just wanted to see if your face could get any redder.” 

Y/n rolls her eyes. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that to get me to blush.” She says, despite her now red face. 

“Alright then,” Monoma starts, leaning in just a little bit closer. “guess I’ll have to keep trying then.”

“I…” Before Y/n can stop herself, she glances down at Monoma’s lips. I’m about to do something stupid, aren’t I? “Y-“

“Y/n! Are you in there?” Ochako knocks on the door, startling both Y/n and Monoma. Y/n quickly stands up as she walks into the room. “…Monoma? What are you doing here?” 

“Oh, Ochako! Who won your match?” Y/n asks, partly to take the attention off of her but mostly because she’s curious. 

Ochako grins and puts her hands on her hips. “Me! Momo was quite the tough opponent though, I just barely won…” She shrugs. “Speaking of class, Aizawa sent me to find you. We should hurry back, Deku and Bakugo are up next!”

If you know Izuku and Bakugo, you know that this fight is going to be intense. It’ll definitely be entertaining to watch too, which is why Ochako grabs Y/n’s hand and starts to lead them back to class. 

Y/n tries to look over her shoulder at Monoma, but Ochako closed the door on their way out. 

“Hey, what was Monoma doing in there?” Ochako asks. 

Kissing me, Y/n thinks, but she probably shouldn’t say that. “He’s… working for Recovery Girl. Copied her quirk and stuff.”

“Whatt? I never would’ve imagined him as a nurse, he doesn’t seem like the type of guy to help others like that…” 

Y/n nods in agreement. He didn’t seem like her type either, yet here he was making her all flustered. 

Seriously, out of all people, Neito Monoma?

You’re an idiot, Y/n. 

should I make a part 2? 🤭

[caws5749]

hiii i saw that you were looking for fluff requests so could u do something like natasha and reader both busy and not looking while walking through stark tower or soemthing and y/n obviously knows who natasha is has a bit of a crush on her and nat is like teasing her. later on they keep bumping into each other until nat is like “i’m done with the meet and greets” and asks reader out on a date. (nothing specific lol take and pick at if if you’d like, i just wanted to pitch in! :))

WARNING: THE BAREST HINT OF THIRSTING AND MENTION OF BREASTS IM SORRY I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF

A/N: you know that part in despicable me where she goes "IT'S SO FLUFFY" ?? yeah that came to mind reading this because ITS SO FLUFFY AND CUTE AND SUCH A GREAT IDEA THANK YOUUUUU <3

Consulting with the Avengers team was something you still couldn't believe you had the privilege to do. You had more been consulting with the brand itself versus the actual humans, but it still felt like a privilege.

You were a bit rushed leaving the compound, face glued to your phone looking at the plane tickets for the upcoming weekend. You were set to visit a friend but hadn't even bought your ticket yet. With one strap of your bag hanging off your shoulder, you rounded the corner and bumped right into someone...hard.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry," you quickly got out, eyes finally moving up to meet lively green ones. Your jaw dropped a bit.

"Are you alright?" Natasha asked softly, eyes scanning your form for obvious injury. When she found none, she focused back on your face. She didn't even seem fazed by the collision.

"I'm fine, I'm so sorry, are you?" You questioned quickly, nearly slapping yourself in the face once you realized you asked an Avenger, hell, the Black Widow, if a bump into you had injured her.

"I'm alright, thank you. You seem like you're in a hurry, I won't hold you up."

All you could do was nod as she walked around you and you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding.

++++++

Somehow the exact same thing happened again, though this time it wasn't your fault.

Natasha was exhausted, just returning from a mission that drained her both physically and mentally. While it was only just after five in the evening, she couldn't wait to go straight to bed after a warm shower. She exited the elevator as soon as the doors opened, walking right into you.

"Oof," you muttered in surprise.

"Are you- I know you," the red-head stated, her eyes scanning over your form for injuries as they did previously, even after just a simple bump. "I'm sorry, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Natasha," you replied as you sent a reassuring smile. The corner of her mouth quirked upwards.

"And you are?"

You blushed. "I'm Y/N L/N. I consult for the Avengers."

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'll see you around."

You entered the elevator, your legs feeling like lead. You turned just in time to watch her continue her walk down the hall. It just might have been the greatest sight you'd ever seen.

++++++

The universe must have been against you because it just seemed utterly impossible for you to not run into the widow.

It was just after midnight and you couldn't wait to leave. You were trying to finish up a big project and you knew having it done as quickly as possible would be a good thing, especially because you believed in the project so much. So you stayed in a conference room working later than normal. But you were exhausted and it was time to go home so you quickly tossed your things in your bag and headed out the door. You reached the door to the hallway and pushed it open with all of your might, eyes widening when a certain red-head had to jump out of the way to avoid it.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Again," you rushed. "Are you okay?"

"It didn't hit me, I'm okay," Natasha responded, before tilting her head. "What are you doing here so late?"

"Just trying to finish up a project. I hadn't really realized what time it was, to be honest."

She hummed thoughtfully. "You know, we do have guest rooms if you want to stay the night. You might not want to be out driving this late."

God, you knew it wasn't her protecting you or being worried about you because there was no way, but you couldn't help the flutter in your chest and the red that creeped into your cheeks.

The woman across from you smirked at your pink cheeks. She wasn't sure if you were like this with everyone or just her, but she loved it.

"Oh, I'm fine, but thank you. That's really nice of you... guys. That's really nice of you guys," you babbled, feeling the heat spread to your entire face.

"Just don't tell Tony I offered, he's picky," she laughed, before pulling the door open and walking through.

"Might want to check your temperature, Y/N, you're flushed like you have a fever," Nat yelled back, amusement in her tone.

No chance she hadn't noticed then. You were certain you couldn't make any bigger a fool of yourself.

++++++

The next time you ran into her, thankfully there were no close calls for injuries. Natasha had just finished her workout and was heading to the kitchen for a snack, where you had just finished a conversation with Sharon Carter, who had helped you on your latest project. She had told you to grab anything you wanted from the snack drawer, something that was somehow empty by the end of each day.

You searched the drawer for something that seemed appealing, jumping out of your skin from a smooth voice that came from behind you.

"Find anything good in there?"

"Natasha," you breathed as you whirled around, heart pounding in your chest. Your eyes widened as you took in her sweaty appearance, skin glistening, the top of her breasts just visible with the sports bra she had chosen.

"See anything you like?"

You flushed a deep red. "I, uh-"

"In the drawer, Y/N," she interrupted, eyes sparkling with humor.

"I- not really."

She walked up to you, the distance between the two of you now nearly nonexistent. You could see the dimension in her green eyes, the sweat bead slowly making its way down her right temple, the gentle pink to her full lips. You gulped, trying to steady your breathing when her arm reached around you, grazing your skin as she grabbed a snack from the drawer.

"I'm tired of these little meet and greets. Meet me here later at 8."

She gave you a wink and walked out.

You weren't quite sure what you'd done to deserve a date with that woman, but boy were you grateful.

[invisible-lint]

Everything Could Be Okay: Chapter 2

Rhys x Tamlin's sister!reader

Summary: Time for a wedding... Or is it?

Warnings: nothing I can think of!

Word Count: 1.4k

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 3

You had never been a fan of parties. They were too loud, the air too stuffy, and the gossiping of the Spring Ladies you were forced to be with was obnoxious. But you had endured, not wanting to leave Feyre to fend for herself. Or worse, alone with Ianthe who had gotten on your nerves with how pushy she had been while planning what was supposed to be Feyre’s wedding.

Feyre had made her escape nearly an hour ago, heading up to bed, and here you were, stuck, nodding along as you pretended to listen to the gossiping females surrounding you.

"From what I hear, Tamlin is looking to find a husband for you." That got your attention. The room is suddenly suffocating, air struggling to find its way to your lungs. Your hand reaches to your necklace, finding the ring on it. The group of females look worried as you back away, feeling as if the room is closing in on you.

"Excuse me," you manage to mumble, fleeing the room.

You run out to the gardens, not noticing Tamlin following you. You stop, sinking into a bench, trying not to hyperventilate. How could he do this? Just because he wanted to pretend nothing had happened doesn't mean that you would. He sits next to you and you stand, anger flooding your body when you see him, pushing out the panic.

"How dare you?" You hiss, blinking back the angry tears stinging your eyes.

He sighs. "What is it I've supposedly done now?"

"When were you going to tell me you were looking for a husband for me?"

"You're overreacting. Someone asked about marrying you, and I simply said I would think about it."

"No. You don't get to make that choice for me. I am not ready for that. I am not ready to replace him!" You start to pace, trying to keep your temper in check. 

"It would be good for you to move on. You can't be unhappy forever." 

You lose your temper then, whirling to face him, pointing a finger at his chest. "You don't understand! I felt it when he died! It was like my soul was cleaved in two! That is not something I can just move on from! Had Feyre's death been permanent you would not have moved on as quickly as you're asking me to!" He growls at you, claws sliding out. You flinch, knowing you said too much and turn to run further into the garden. This time, Tamlin doesn’t follow.

The next day is the wedding, and you sit with Feyre as several females prepare her. You watch silently, trying to gauge how she is feeling. You know about the nightmares, and have noticed the weight loss, but you don’t know what to do. What can you do? You’ve offered companionship, tried getting her to eat more of the foods you know she likes, but still, she is wasting away before your eyes. You can’t talk about Under the Mountain, no one talks about it. No one can. 

You notice Feyre is looking more and more nervous, and you ask for the room to be cleared. Once it’s just the two of you in the room, you pull a chair over so you’re right next to her, taking her hands in yours.

“I was nervous before my wedding too. I couldn’t eat anything and then I almost fainted right before the ceremony.” You squeeze her hands gently. “But I knew it was what I wanted. Andras and I had courted for nearly 20 years before I agreed to marry him. I suppose what I’m trying to say is if you’ve changed your mind, if you need more time, I will come up with some sort of reason to postpone the wedding. Tamlin doesn’t need to know about any of it.” 

Feyre sits for a moment, thinking before shaking her head. “I’m ready. I want this.”

You nod, squeezing her hands again. “Then I’ll be right there with you.”

You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised, Rhysand was prone to making dramatic entrances after all. Showing up right as Feyre was walking down the aisle seemed just like the kind of thing he would do.The part of you screaming its relief is hard to ignore, but you manage to shove it down.

You stride across the lawn, chin held high, interrupting the argument. "I will be joining Feyre as a chaperone." The violet eyed male quirks an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile. “Oh?”

"Yes. No part of your agreement said she had to spend her time in your court alone." 

"I suppose not."

"So I'm joining her." 

At that moment Tamlin finally finds his voice. "Absolutely not."

"You'd have her go alone?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at your brother. 

He sputters, before making an exasperated noise, knowing you're right. 

"Don't worry Tamlin, I'll treat her better than you treated my sister," Rhysand taunts. You shoot him an exasperated look, ignoring your brother's snarl. He crosses over to you and Feyre, wrapping an arm around each of you and winnowing away, whisking both of you off to the night court.

You wander the halls of the mountain palace, thinking back on the past few hours. It’d been hard not to laugh when Feyre had thrown her shoes at Rhysand, the look on his face had made it even harder. But more than anything, the interaction made you feel relieved. Somewhere in there, who Feyre truly was still resided. And he had managed to draw her out. 

You walk out onto a balcony, glad that whatever magic seems to be heating the interior of the palace extends to out here. You gaze up at the stars, lost in thoughts about how you might help Feyre. When you eventually turn to go back inside, Rhysand is standing in the doorway, staring at you, the expression on his face unreadable. He walks over, leaning against the railing of the balcony next to you. 

“This is the second time now I’ve found you roaming in the middle of the night. I’m starting to think you don’t sleep.”

“I don’t.” He raises an eyebrow in response.

“Not well at least. It’s… a long story.”

“One you won’t share with me?”

You cross your arms, shooting him a hard look. “I don’t know you.”

“Ah, yes. But I assume you intend to accompany Feyre everytime. One week a month for the rest of your life gives you plenty of time to know me.”

“I think I know enough.” You squeeze your arms, trying to ignore the way your heartbeat races at the idea of getting to know him.

“Do you make it a habit of assuming you know people based on what you’ve heard?”

“Do you make it a habit of being so obnoxious?” You huff, flinging your arms down to your side, temper stirring. The corner of his mouth quirks up into a smile as he tries not to laugh.

“Are you always so easily irritated?”

You snap, letting everything you’ve been holding in flood out. “You would be too if you were me! I have lost so much and I’m supposed to just smile and pretend I’m okay. That I don’t dream about my dead husband every night. It has barely been a year since he died and someone asked Tamlin if they could marry me. A year! I was with him for almost 100 years and people have the audacity to think I should move on because I can’t be miserable forever! Not to mention that without him, without his sacrifice, Feyre wouldn’t have been able to save anyone! Oh, and speaking of Feyre, I don’t think she wants to marry my brother. But she refuses to admit it and there's nothing I can do and she’s going to end up as trapped and miserable in Spring as I am! And I have nobody to tell this to because the only person who I could ever truly share my feelings with is dead! So I’m so sorry if I’m a little bit irritable.” You finish your rant, chest heaving. Rhysand just stares at you, a little wide eyed, at a loss for words. Suddenly realizing how much you had shared, you turn and run, heading anywhere but there, but he remains rooted to the spot.

He had felt it. Felt all your anger, frustration and anguish down the blossoming bond. Mate. You’re his mate. He lets out a shaky breath, turning to grip the railing, his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t tell you. How could he when you had just shouted at him about how you're still grieving your husband? So this, like so many he already carried, would be his sole burden to bear.

A/N: And there it is! I'm already working on chapter 3 and hope to have it posted sometime either this week or early next week. it's already a LONG one! As always, requests are open and feel free to send them on in!

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

Taglist: @lilah-asteria @readingislife2006 @acourtofimagines @mistymoocow @irelanrose @darker-december @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @loving-and-dreaming

[serqphites]

VICTORIA NEUMAN X ASSISTANT!READER

format: blurb

warnings: nsfw content at the end

word count: 700+

not proofread! y/n used!

- the second you came in for your interview she pretty much decided she was hiring you LMAO

- now i’m not saying she only hired you because of her crush, because your resume genuinely caught her eye, but i’m also not saying it had nothing to do with it 🤷‍♀️

- she definitely asks you to do things she could easily do just as an excuse to see you

- “y/n! can you come here please?”

- “can you pick up this pen i dropped please? i’ve got suchhh a bad back” she’s so dramatic i love her

- you honestly think she’s just being a bitch and she’s messing with you

- that is until one day she comes to you in the morning, saying today she only has one task for you

- “will you eat lunch with me?” and she has the dorkiest smile of all time on her face

- lunch together becomes a regular thing, going from talking about your favourite tv shows to her telling you about her daughter zoe

- she’s so sad when you eventually tell her you thought she was just like every person you’ve ever worked for, just messing with you for the fun of it

- “no no never! i could never do that, especially not to you” OOOOOO it’s blush city for you both

- things are going great! you love your job. that is until something changes, and victoria randomly stops asking you to do things for her

- i mean you’re her assistant, shouldn’t you be getting her coffee? shouldn’t you be organising her files? shouldn’t you be having lunch with her and not hughie?

- to say this has you down is an understatement, you can’t seem to understand why she has randomly shut you out

- it’s not like she’s not speaking to you, she’s still asking you to do things but they’re all tasks that require you to be away from her. you haven’t even been in her office for nearly two weeks now

- after your hurt builds and builds, you can’t hold it in anymore. you storm into her office demanding to know why she’s avoiding you

- she plays it dumb at first but she knows what she’s been doing so she fesses up

- “fuck… i’m sorry, so sorry. it’s not you i promise, it’s me. i- i like you, okay? like a lot and i know it sounds stupid and i know it’s sooo inappropriate because you’re my assist-“ SILENCED BY A KISS WOOOO

- you’re discrete about it at first, sneaking around and making out in the bathroom stalls like you’re high schoolers

- her bringing you lunch everyday<3

- she so leaves post-it notes on her desk with cute lil messages whenever she has to leave for meetings because it’s where she tells you to just relax

- you don’t bother asking why you’re not allowed to meetings that involve voughts CEO, it’s probably just a confidentiality thing right?

- a bit random but whenever you’re standing talking to somebody i feel like she’d just squeeze your butt?

- canon she’s a butt squeezer

- you don’t fight much but oh boy is your schedule full when you do

- she gives you the stupidest tasks she can think of LMAO

- “can you walk someone’s dog please?” “someone’s dog?” “yeah, just go around asking who has a dog that needs walking” “are you being serious, vic?” “yes i most definitely am, it would help me soooo much you have no idea!”

- I LOVE HER SO MUCHHH

- dating your boss can be annoying at times, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world <3

NSFW TIMEEEE

- officesex!officesex!officesex!

- this honestly deserves its own blurb if i'm being honest

- i feel like she's already dominant in bed anyways but because she’s your boss it’s elevated TO THE MAX.

- “i have one really special task for you today, so listen closely”

- you can barely stay stood up with how weak your knees go (real)

- “i need you to be a good girl for me, how does that sound? you think you can do that for me?” in her husky voice im DECEASED

- one time she cleared her desk by pushing everything on the floor, she immediately regretted it when she realised she had broken almost everything

- “i always see people do it in movies and this doesn’t happen” she’s so upset while she’s picking up a broken picture of you both on the beach

- she’s so silly

- she definitely buys you lingerie to wear underneath your work clothes 🤭

- the amount of flirty texts she sends you during the day just to watch you blush uncontrollably is concerning (when is it my turn)

a/n: requests are always open, hope you enjoyed :)

[backwzzds]

ೃ⁀➷ 5 in the mornin’, trafalgar law (nsfw)

law never gets mad when you call. even if its to have phone sex with him at 5 in the morning.

only back to drop for my baby daddy’s birthday <3. might feed y’all some more later today i gotta see how tired i am 🙇🏾‍♀️

it nearing 5 in the morning when you’d started to grow restless. usually you pulled all nighters on the night where law had to pull doubles at the hospital, most lasting anywhere from 36 to 48 hours. but no matter how many times he told you to stop waiting up two days straight for him—you didn’t listen.

you were sure that sleep was coming soon. law only worked four days a week, ranging at 96 hours of being head surgeon, and most of that time, you spent it awake, up and waiting for him—you were insane. you checked the time and figured that he’d finally be on his three hour break, permitting him to finally get at least a nap in his office quarters designated for senior doctors.

you began to grow irritable as you felt your body heat up randomly. you couldn’t remember the last time you had sex; it’s been a couple weeks due to how busy both you and law were. though the sun would be coming up soon, you’d felt the sudden urge to masturbate and hopefully release some tension like you usually did in order to sleep, but knew your fingers were nothing in comparison to law’s.

contemplation picked at your brain. you bit your lip, waging a mental war with yourself on what you should do. you were sure law would be napping right now—getting the little bit of sleep he usually did before his next and last surgery at eight in the morning, just a few hours from now. he always answered the phone whenever you called, but you felt so bad for disturbing him, even if it was just to get a nut from the sound of his voice alone.

you decided to try and settle it out yourself in hopes that you could have at least one orgasm before sleep naturally came over you. but with your plush legs spread open to the wall full of pictures of you two, you screwed your eyes shut in frustration when you couldn’t get yourself to cum. twenty minutes had passed by and you were growing annoyed for the lack of a nice orgasm.

finally giving into your nasty desires, you picked up your phone and clicked on law’s contact to facetime, resting the phone on the pillow by your ear, hand still between your hands and rubbing at your clit. you’re breathing heavily when he finally answers.

“hm?” you look over at your phone and notice that law is laying down with near closed eyes, the room to his quarters barely lit. “you alright baby?” his voice is groggy and tired. you felt bad for bothering him.

“i’m sorry,” you choked out. “just wanted to hear your voice is all. go back to sleep.” you’re prepared to hang up and just deal with your orgasm yourself but stopped when law hums in decline.

law opens one eye and furrows his brow as to why he was staring at the ceiling. “it’s alright. you okay?”

you breath out, rubbing your clit at the sound of his voice. even that was enough to get you to cum. “yeah, i’m good. just miss you.”

your man lets out a yawn as he finally sits up a bit and eyes the camera. “i miss you too. you sure you’re okay? you sound like something is bothering you.”

“law, please talk to me,” you whisper softly, “say something sexy, please baby. how was your day at work?”

“it’s fine. had a knee and back surgery today. the back one nearly blew me out from how intricate it was. one wrong move and you could nick an artery in the spinal cord and permanently paralyze the patient…” it doesn’t take long for your doctor boyfriend to hang onto your words once he hears your unsteady breathing grow louder. “you in bed right now?” you hum out a response and nod your head, forgetting he couldn’t see you. now law was more awake as the topic of conversation intrigued him. his voice remains low as he thinks about you in all your glory. “you touching yourself?”

“mhm,” you let out. “keep—keep telling me about your day, baby please.”

“you really couldn’t wait, huh?” he chuckled lowly. it was just like you to be impatient. “thought i told you i’ll deal with you when i get home in a few hours, hm? you know my work days are boring.”

“fuck,” you drew out. it wasn’t unusual for you to be the perverted one in the relationship. law was more of the quiet one but you never had a problem with expressing yourself—oncoming orgasms included. “c-couldn’t wait. g-gonna cum soon.”

your chest is heaving up and down as law responds, dominance slowly peaking into his still hoarse vocie. “alright. you gonna do everything i tell you to, baby?”

you slip your middle finger into your cunt, slowly teasing yourself in hopes of tricking your body into thinking it was law touching you, but your body knew better than that. no one could ever replace the surgeon of death’s hands. “yes daddy, just make me cum please,” you whisper, eyes fully closed now.

the sound of a zipper is being heard from the phone, and you could only assume that law was mirroring your actions in the confinements of his own room, pulling his fat cock out the tent of his pants. with a heavy breath, he mutters, “rub that clit for me. nice and slow, okay, baby? just let me take control.”

you nod your head and do as told, handling your little bud with the utmost care as law would have. a few seconds into doing so, you can’t help but ask, “you touching yourself?”

small grunts and moans from law’s end of the phone tells you all you need to know as he breathes heavily. “no other choice but to,” he grits out, referring to your irresistible personality that only got more attractive during your mutual masturbation sessions. only you could wake the surgeon three hours before his next surgery for some phone sex and an orgasm. “go ahead ‘n put a finger in for me just the way i do it.”

“as long as you rub your thumb over your fat tip,” you whisper, pumping your middle finger in and out of you. “can you do that for me baby? nice and slow.”

“mhm,” law hummed, nodding. “fuck,” he whined lowly. and just like you said, he rolled the D of his right thumb finger right over his reddened tip, sticky with pre-cum as he savored your voice over the phone. “take your tits out. squeeze them just the way you like it.” with your free hand, you opened your robe, revealing your already naked body. “add one more finger.”

you let out a gasp as you feel yourself stretch with the addition of another finger, but not in the same way it does with law’s. “wish i can show you,” you wheeze out. “show you how wet my pussy is for you.”

“i know, mama,” law coos as he talks you through it. “but i’m not there right now so you’re gonna have to work this one out on your own in the mean time. rub your clit clockwise. you know how i do it,”

you frown. “‘s not you, daddy,” you whine, “‘s not gonna work.”

“stop talking and focus,” law’s voice is stern as he practically bites down on his tongue to prevent a loud groan from escaping from his lips. “you wanna call me at 5 in the mornin’ knowin’ i got a surgery to prepare for soon? mhm hmm, shove those fingers up that cunt and be a good girl now.”

you immediately do as told and stuff yourself with another finger. you curve your thumb upward to rub at your clit, causing you to jolt with extra stimulation. “oh fuck,” you whined, kicking ur knees up to the ceiling. you begin to feel a large knot tie in your stomach as you sped up your pace. “keep talking, baby. please.”

“yeah? you like that, mama?” law’s voice is taunting and teasing as he himself begins to lose control of his breathing. “you like it when i talk to you mean like that? you little minx.”

“yes,” you dragged out in a whining tone. “need you so bad, papa, i miss you.” you hadn’t seen your man in four days—of course you were gonna be acting like this.

“fuck,” the young doctor’s straining himself to hear your words. with a few more pumps of his shaft to the sounds of your wet pussy and whiny cries, law finally comes undone, shooting thick ropes of his hot white cum all over his delicate fingers and scrubs.

the proof of his affection continues oozing out the slick red slit of his tip as he bites down on his lip, trying his hardest not to let his sounds travel outside his sleeping quarters. “you gonna cum baby?”

“law, ngh—i’m coming!—“ you’re gasping for air once you finally feel the knot in your stomach come undone once more. fingers soaking up your juices like prunes, your eyes flutter shut when you feel your heart finally slow down. you and your man are both are breathing heavily over the phone when law finally sits up from his position.

“i’m on my way home.”

[dawnoftime22]

clingy baby.

| T.S

Warnings: R being clingy/adorably stubborn with taylor, taylor carrying you around nearly all day, one short scene of a shower together with little detail, and a taste of pancake batter

Summary: A sweet morning spent with Taylor, making pancakes while clinging onto her each time you could.

Word Count: 2.7k

Category: Fluff

A/N: honestly this didnt quite turn out to be as 'clingy' as I wanted it to be, but its definitely still adorably in the story! enjoy<3

| Started on 02/06/2024, 9:01 AM |

| Finished on 29/09/2024, 5:01 PM |

Main Masterlist | T.S Masterlist

“baby, be as sweet, as caring, and as clingy as you want to be...because i love you.”

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

This sweet morning was cozy and warm, spent all curled up with Taylor. There were no duty calls for today, so she chose to stay in bed with you, nestled against her chest.

She was already up, her hands gently combing through your hair as she gazes off, getting spaced out. A few strands of hair were also curling with the movement of her fingers.

You, on the other hand, have been in and out of sleep since the first time you woke up, having the desire to get all the rest you could, to which, Taylor did the same, but now both of you were fully awake, cuddling under the covers.

She couldn't go back to sleep even if she wanted to, and you knew your body would ache if you slept any longer, not to mention the headaches.

You move for a stretch, looking just like one of her cats that would elongate their bodies. You get all your joints ready for the day before relaxing back into your original position, feeling her comfort.

When a yawn starts to escape your lips, you use Taylor's chest to hide half your face, nuzzling into her. The blonde smiles, softly gazing down at you.

She leans down to place a kiss at the top of your head, then gives you a gentle squeeze in her embrace. "Baby...lets get up...its afternoon..." she whispered softly, your messy morning hair against her face.

"Mm, just a few more minutes," you murmur, burrowing further into her as your own arms tighten their hold around her. She could almost feel the pout on your lips through her clothes. It was everything adorable to her, but the time on the clock holding double digits showed that you both had stayed in bed much longer than you should have.

She takes a breath in, then lets it out softly. "Okay...well then, you stay here while I take a shower," she suggests, smiling teasingly before she starts moving to get up.

"Nooo...I wanna come with you," you softly whined, pulling her back as she sat up. Without hesitation, she pauses, glancing to you with a knowing playful look, determined to have you up.

"Get up then, love," she says, her nod urging as she keeps her eyes in contact with yours. The pout on your lips deepened, with the smallest hint of frustration of the choice you're left with; get out of the bed that was warm and cozy only to feel your aching bones, or stay in bed but feel the coldness of it being empty without her.

"Hmh." You huff, turning your face to the sheets slightly. Your shoulders even slump downwards, and it was hard for her to not let out a small chuckle.

"Come on." She urges, gently pulling your hand. You eventually relented, sitting up, and standing on your feet with enough loving from her, but staying close to her still, arms holding onto her.

Taylor smiles, not minding it since you were now at least out of bed. Her arm wraps around your waist, pressing you closer to her. But seeing as you might not possibly budge from your current spot, she decides to pick you up into her arms.

You blink at the sudden change of height, your arms holding onto her, but in a way, it felt more comforting. Besides, you were as close to her as you could be like this.

Your path took you to the bathroom, where Taylor gently puts you down to turn on the water, adjusting it to the right temperature for a perfect shower.

Once she was done, she helps you undress, even with the pout she had to kiss away, along with a few tickling kisses she left at your neck and cheek.

The shower was spent with love and care, her hands gliding over your skin without difficulty, careful to be mindful of each area, and planting even more soft kisses, this time on your shoulder.

After some relishing time passes by, you were both soon clean. She wraps you up in the fluffy towels you had, making sure it was secure.

In a small thought, you take a step forward when she covers her own body, reaching out to intertwine your hand with hers, the warmth of her fingers radiating against yours.

She turns her head, smiling at you before gently tugging you off to the bedroom, so you could both get your clothes on. Although, technically, borrowed clothes of each other.

A while after, you sat at the edge of the bed, waiting for her to finish buttoning up her white shirt. She turns around, seeing you swinging your legs carefreely. When she takes her steps towards you, a smile instantly pulls at your lips.

The gaze she reflects back had the same adorning look as yours, her arms going around your waist to gently pull you closer. She nuzzles against your nose, further going in for a soft kiss.

You return it with all the warm love thats been making your heart melt just like the sunshine does to ice creams.

In an instinctive moment, your arms wrap around her, softly breaking the kiss to pull her in for a hug. Her arms embrace you, with not a single ounce of affection missing.

She was about to lean back when your arms only tightened around her, and she chuckles, shaking her head.

When she gently picks you up just like earlier, you were grateful, holding onto her. Your heart beated against her chest, possibly syncing with hers as your face was against her shoulder.

"I love you," you whisper, the sound of your voice going a little melodically in contentment from being with her.

She grins, and leaves a kiss at the top of your head. "I love you too, sweetheart," she returns back the three words, adding in the loving nickname she always uses.

A hum came from her throat, soft and quiet. "What should we have for breakfast today?" she asks, swaying lightly to induce some serene and calmness for the two of you.

You hum yourself, turning your face out from her shoulder. Seconds go by in thought, feeling her comfort in the meanwhile. "I'm thinking...pancakes," you finally answer, smiling.

Her nose scrunches up in happiness, looking at you softly. "Pancakes it is." She nods, walking forward to get out the bedroom.

Feeling your weight in her arms almost kept her grounded in a way. Her morning mind was staying clear of any lesser thoughts, and only the thoughts of taking care of you and making breakfast were present.

Once she arrives to the kitchen, she sets you down on one of the barstools at the kitchen island. You were still close to her, but resting instead of moving around a lot.

She kisses you softly, about to go grab the pan for the pancakes, but just before she walks away completely, she goes to pick up Olivia, putting her in your lap so you had something to distract yourself with.

You stay with the sweet cat for a few minutes, gently petting her head and stroking her fur. Sure she kept you company, but as you continued to watch Taylor, you couldn't help but feel restless.

Your teeth sinks into your lip at a decision, and it wasn't long before you set the cat down on the floor.

A meow came from the feline, and you smile at her, giving her a few more pets before standing up and making your way to Taylor.

She was mixing up the batter of the pancake when she felt a pair of arms going around her waist, making her slow her stirring. She turns to look over her shoulder, a smile raising up on her lips when she sees you, head resting against her back.

The batter calms down into a more flat looking state when she stops completely, pausing to reach one of her arms around your shoulder, pulling you to her side. Then, she continues mixing.

"You wanna help, baby?" she asks, tilting her head as her eyes flicker between the bowl and you. For a moment, at the notice of your bitten lip, her hand reaches up to brush against your lip so it was free before returning her hand to the comforting spot on your shoulder.

You peek at her progress, then nod eagerly at her question. She hums softly for a moment, thinking of what you could do and choosing the options in her head.

"Cut some strawberries and apples for me?" she suggests, looking to you for your reaction. But you were already on your way to the fridge, having let go of her. A small chuckle escapes her, her gaze staying on you for a moment before focusing back to the pancakes.

You grab some strawberries from its original container, washing them in water for a moment. You repeat the same action with the apples, then place it onto the wooden cutting board, both your hands and the fruit now clean.

Some gentle background music starts up when Taylor tapped play on her phone, brushing her hands on her apron, then continuing back to set the pan on the stove.

You eye the bowl that had the pancake batter, seeing that she was distracted with making sure the pan was heated fine. Deciding to take your chance, you take a step to the side and poke a finger ever so slightly into the batter, quickly taking a small taste.

Her head turns back to the bowl to pick it up, but when she sees you, her eyes widen much further, identifying the fact that you had stolen a little bit of it by the fact that you had your finger in your mouth for just a small second.

"Hey! Hands off." She gently swats your hand away, picking her bowl up and protectively pulling it to her chest. A giggle sounds out from you, and you move back to your own place.

"I needed to make sure they were good..." you murmur, grabbing the knife to cut the fruit, placing a single strawberry on the board carefully.

Meanwhile, Taylor had gasped, putting her hand on her heart to feign that you had offended her. "How dare you. You know my cooking is good," she says, staring at you for a moment before turning back to the stove.

But she pauses without even a second later, her hands still lifted up with the bowl. She bit her lip, looking at you once more. "But how was it?" she asks, looking expectantly as her cheeks came up with a faint blush.

You just barely saw it when you took a glance, and you had to stifle a giggle, only your lips curled up. "Delicious, as always," you assure her. She nods, thankful for your reply.

"Good," she whispers, returning back to her pancake making; putting the bowl back down, and then swiping some oil on the pan first.

You keep your focus on cutting your side nutritional snacks, having already finished up with the strawberries and setting them aside, to then working on the apples.

Taylor hummed along to the music, dancing here and there. When you went to throw away the centre of the apples you had cut off, you caught her doing a silly dance move that made you giggle with a shake of your head.

Her own laughter came into sound until she grabs a ladle and starts scooping up the pancake batter, making sure it wasn't dripping before she slowly pours it down onto the heated pan.

You put the cut fruit onto a plate, arranging them down before you peek at her cooking once again, and right in the perfect timing. She goes to flip it over, revealing the beautifully cooked side.

"Ooh, that's perfectly golden," you say, your face brightening at the sight. Taylor smiles widely, letting out a small giggle too. "I know, right?" She adds, leaning towards you to give you a nudge with her shoulder.

You then prepare the plates, helping her put the pancakes on them once the waiting for each side was finished. She did some smaller pancakes with the extra batter, saving them as a movie snack for later.

As you waited for her to put all the pancakes on your plate, you were putting some cut up strawberries atop her pancake, serving it as topping, just how she liked it.

She glances to you to see her meal beautifully decorated, and it made her smile as she picks up your plate. "Thank you." She leans in, giving a soft peck to your cheek.

A flush of pink crosses your face, and you smiled, helping her bring her own plate to the table too, following behind her as she puts yours in front of your usual spot.

You placed her pancake with the strawberry topping next to yours, making it so you were sitting side by side.

You took your seat, but scooted your chair a little closer to her, sliding your pancake closer to yourself, then going to pick up the fork and knife.

She settles herself down too, looking at you with a gentle gaze. The two of you enjoy your sweet breakfast, maple syrup being poured and dripping down the stack of fluffy pancakes.

You took a few apple slices too, putting them on your plate so you could easily pierce your fork through them without having to reach your arm out every time. Taylor sneakily stole one with her own fork, taking a bite of it. When you saw it, your eyes instantly go to her.

"Hey, thats mine." You call her out, your shoulders falling into a small slump. You had claimed specifically those slices for yourself, until she rudely, although gently, snatched it away.

"You stole a taste of my pancake batter..." she mumbles, her expression mindless as you watch her with an unamused gaze. Her hand was moving to cut a few more pieces of her pancake, and she was holding back a smile.

"But they're right there," you say, gesturing to the plate still full of the fruit you had beautifully put out, and a small giggle escapes the blonde.

"I had to make sure they were good...and safe for you to eat," she teasingly said. The words escaped with her soft breath, and it connected to the ones you had said earlier.

You shook your head, smiling widely at her playful behaviour, but continued with your breakfast anyway.

The time passes, and it wasn't long until you were soon left with empty plates, but full stomachs, standing up from your chairs.

You help Taylor clean up, picking the plates up from the table to wash them, and clearing up the counters of any leftover ingredients or cooking items.

As soon as you were done, the gentle clink of the final plate had sounded out from the dish rack; a sign of Taylor's own work being finished. You were leaning against the kitchen counter, your hands at the edge of it.

"Tay," You whisper, your lips forming a pout. She was wiping off the water splashes on the counter and dries her hands, using the small towel that was hanging on the oven handle.

"Mm?" She hums softly, slowly stopping to turn and look at you. When she sees you putting your arms out, her heart couldn't melt anymore with love, knowing exactly what you were asking for.

"Come here," she urges softly, her hands gesturing until you walk close enough to her. Once you were inches away, she waits until you put your arms around her before she gently hooks her hands underneath the back of your knees, picking you up.

"You're so clingy today, sweetheart," she whispers, rubbing your back with one of her hands as she goes to kiss the top of your head.

"I'm sorry...I just miss you," you murmur, burying your face into her neck. The warmth she radiated was everything to you, and the air that you breathed had a familiar scent.

"No need to be sorry. I'm just teasing you, love." she whispers, leaning back to kiss you, then moving to nuzzle her nose against yours sweetly.

"Besides..." she starts, walking off to where your shared bedroom is, the sun still gently coming through the windows to keep the space alit.

You listen on, but you were also caught up in just being close to her, until she gently sets you down at the edge of the bed, which made you lean back curiously.

She smiles, slowly letting one of her hands trail off you. "Your girlfriend's got muscles for days, sweetheart," she said, a gentle wink going with her eye, playfully showing her biceps. You easily giggled softly, shaking your head at her antics.

Her grin widens with her own laugh, just before it slowly fades, and her lips hide her teeth. "I missed you too, you know?" she whispers, her hands returning to holding you.

"And I quite like this side of you. It gets me the excuse to carry you around and get kisses all the time." Her eyes were filled with only love and adoration, even as she leans down to rest her head against your shoulder.

The curl of your lips linger at her reassurance, and you keep the eye contact. "You don't need an excuse for that." The words were a hushed sound within your breath, escaping with affection.

"I know I don't," she reasons, tilting her head to look up at you. Then, moves to brush her lips against yours, up until they're captured in a sweet kiss.

She sighs softly, and you could feel her breath, fanning against your skin. "You feel so right in my arms..." she murmurs, nuzzling into you once more.

"I love you," you say, and to her ears, all she heard was the cutest voice in the whole world, from her most favorite person, someone she'd keep preciously all to herself.

Her smile was knowing. Knowing, so much, that this will be forever for once in her life. That she'll always love you, even fall for you entirely all over again and again, and you will always love her just as much.

And without hesitation, she whispers back,

"I love you, too."

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

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[toournextadventure]

everyone but her pt.41

Summary: You were getting used to the weird. Hell, you were almost even comfortable with it. But when weird turns to unsettling, you panic. At least Wednesday's there to panic with you.

Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: swearing, violence, arson, mentions of murder, slight gore Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (Masterlist)

It was dark and you couldn’t breathe.

No, that didn’t seem right. You were still alive, weren’t you? Surely you could breathe. With great effort, you inhaled deeply, filling your lungs with the hot summer air. Every moment of it hurt, but you could breathe. Okay, that was much easier to work with, now you needed to focus on the dark.

Wednesday had invested in even thicker blackout curtains (which were unnecessary, though appreciated), so that must have been it. There was a dull pain in your eyes - yes, actually in your eyes - but you marked it down to still being exhausted. The alarm clock on Wednesday’s nightstand read 3:33 am; way too early to be awake. It was no surprise your eyes were hurting.

It wasn’t immediately obvious why you had woken up at such an unusual time. Wednesday was still asleep in your arms, her head tucked carefully underneath your jaw. Her breathing was deep and even and, against her desire, she was almost horrendously warm.

If she was still with you, what could be wrong? You couldn’t remember a nightmare - even though your racing heart said otherwise - and there weren’t any strange sounds in the room. The muscles in your back pulled with the shift of your wings; you still couldn’t tell what was wrong.

You settled deeper into the bed and held Wednesday tighter. Her breathing caught for a moment before resuming its typical slow pace. The thought nearly made you laugh. If you hadn’t known her better, you too would have assumed she was nothing more than a corpse. She was completely still and you could barely feel her breath on your skin. Which was exactly what she was going for, but it was still funny to you.

Maybe nothing was wrong. Your eyes slipped shut at the unsurprising revelation. Just because you were wide awake and panicking didn’t mean something was wrong. That was one of the benefits of dating an Addams; she always made you panic - in a good way - and helped you learn not everything meant something. Sometimes life just moves on without a single care for you. Not everything mattered. That was something you could live with.

They’re dying.

You exhaled through your nose, causing Wednesday to shift momentarily. She quickly settled again. For the past few weeks, the voice stayed within the confines of your nightmares. It maintained a presence on the fringes of your mind, only coming forth when you were already beaten and broken. But when it stayed away from your waking hours, you couldn’t complain.

However, you were not having a nightmare, you were awake, and it was making its presence known. Perfect. Fantastic. You loved hearing your personal doomsayer wax poetic when you were trying to fall back asleep with your girlfriend. Besides, why was it so vague? Normally it was painfully specific, what gives? You kept your eyes closed; it would need to try harder to get your attention.

Your parents, the voice said, the children.

You held your breath and waited. Wednesday moved in your arms.

Your grandparents. They’re burning.

That got your attention.

One of the benefits of Wednesday being, well, Wednesday, was she slept like the dead. Both physically and literally. She had convinced your entire friend group that she was a light sleeper and no one could ever sneak up on her, but you knew it was a lie. Hell, you swore she wouldn’t wake up even if a nuclear war started around her.

It came in handy when you wriggled your way out of bed. You smiled to yourself at Wednesday’s adorable nose scrunch when you pulled your arm out from under her head, but she was still within moments once again. She looked so peaceful there on the bed. Even with your body removed, she stayed curled up on her side with her hands tucked beneath her chin.

You loved her.

You would die for her.

You would kill for her.

They’re dying for you.

Your beating heart was almost painful in your chest as you willed your body to move. It was soon accompanied by a sharp pain radiating from your toe as you, unsurprisingly, tripped over Wednesday’s shoes. It wasn’t the first time. And you couldn’t even get upset because she had placed them exactly where she always did. Maybe you just needed to pay more attention to your surroundings.

You were taking too long. A nail was driven into your brain, sticking gruesome images into every space in your head. Fire. You forced some shoes on. Screaming. The jacket felt too small; you didn’t care. Burning wood creating an inferno. Your fingers jammed into the doorknob, and you swore under your breath before successfully grabbing it.

“Cara mia?”

The sounds and images in your mind remained, but they parted to give way to Wednesday’s small, sleepy voice. If anyone could see her at that moment, tired and small and vulnerable, they wouldn’t have believed it was her. She was growing soft, but even in that moment, she was still your girl. Your love.

They’re burning while you stay here.

“Go back to sleep,” you said softly as you walked back over to the bed. The voice started to grow louder in your mind.

“What’s wrong?” She asked. The sleep started to slip away and she looked more alert. Her usual state since she had restarted her investigation board.

There was no use in lying to her. “I have a bad feeling about home,” you told her. “I’m going to go check on them.”

Wednesday held your gaze until you were both uncomfortable. “Give me a moment and we’ll go.”

The voice started screaming in your mind. It was deafening and left a distinct ringing in your ears. The first few months of its disturbance had nearly driven you insane. The constant screaming, the bloody, gorey images, the fear response your body would have. All of it had left you feeling like you were losing your mind and you wouldn’t be able to pull yourself out of it.

Now, however, you could cope. At least in the short term. You had worked out a plan with Wednesday, and it had yet to fail you. Whenever the screaming started, or the images put too much pressure, you would just look at her and focus on whatever she was doing. It was simple, Yoko had even teased it was a bit self-centred of Wednesday, and yet it worked.

You watched as she pulled on something a bit comfier; something she wouldn’t mind flying with. She grabbed the shoes you had stubbed your toe on and slid them onto her feet effortlessly. She also made sure to toss you a single shoe and, when you looked down, you saw the matching pair on your left foot. Your right was in a lazily-tied boot that did not match.

Wednesday also tugged your jacket off; which wasn’t actually your jacket.

“Let’s go,” she said as she grabbed your hand and started dragging you out the door.

You didn’t have to ask if she was good with flying; you knew she wasn’t. But she was brave - as she had often insisted - and she wrapped her arms around your neck the moment you both got outside the apartment building. In return, you wrapped your arms around her waist before taking off. Perhaps you would need to get a harness for your rare flights together. Now that would be funny.

The voices got louder the closer you got to the house. That… wasn’t a comforting thought. You were sure Wednesday could hear your racing heart from where she was resting her head, but you didn’t care. Something just didn’t feel right. The feathers of your wings puffed up and the hair on your arms stood up and you weren’t sure what to do.

Your hands stopped shaking when Wednesday started lightly scratching the back of your neck. It was an uncomfortable position for her; flying itself was weird even when it was just you. There was no telling how many dozens of flights you had experimented with to get the hang of how to hold your body. If Wednesday had flown with you more than the required minimum, she would have been able to figure it out too.

At another time it would have been funny. Now it just left your palms clammy and your grip tighter.

The world was distressingly quiet when yours and Wednesday’s feet planted on the ground. You couldn’t hear the birds chirping, nor the goats bleating as they stayed up later than they should. Every light in the house was off - as they should be so late at night - but it still didn’t feel right. Every fibre of your being was on high alert.

Even the voices had grown silent.

“I see nothing wrong,” Wednesday said, her voice sounding extraordinarily loud in the silence.

“Me either,” you mumbled.

Your eyes darted every which way. The barn looked completely untouched, aside from someone forgetting to properly latch the door. The limbs of the surrounding trees swayed in the barely noticeable wind. To your left, on the other side of Wednesday, you could see the empty doghouse. Nothing was out of sorts.

That was unusual enough.

Finally, a larger gust of wind blew by, ruffling through the leaves and your hair. It felt nice on a summer night. Nothing was more unbearable than the stillness of summer heat. You let your head fall back a little to enjoy the breeze and inhaled deeply.

Then you froze.

“Do you smell that?” You asked as your head slowly lowered.

“Yoko warned me that was a trick question,” Wednesday answered.

“What?” You asked, then smiled to yourself. Oh yeah. You had pranked Yoko plenty of times with that question. “No, I’m being serious this time.”

Wednesday looked around. “I don’t smell anything.”

You hummed in response. She didn’t smell it. But you knew it was there, and it was familiar. The name was on the tip of your tongue, you could almost taste it. A strong taste that clung to every taste bud, taunting and teasing you to think of the name. It was a mix of sticky and bitter and intense and… like a sharpie? Maybe?

Well that just sounded stupid, you would keep thinking about it.

“I’m just going to look around real quick,” you said. “Go wait inside.”

“And if your Grandfather has a gun?”

You faltered.

“Don’t go inside,” you corrected. The corner of her mouth ticked upward. “I’ll be right back.”

Her knuckles brushed against the back of your arm before you started your way around the yard. Twigs snapped under foot; the only sound that reached your ears. Even the birds were silent. That was the part that worried you. You walked further into the tree line, following the smell, and the birds stayed silent.

The smell was stronger in the tree line behind the house. It pervaded all of your senses, you just couldn’t quite tell where it was coming from. You stepped precariously, not wanting to get too close to whatever it was. Though you still couldn’t name it properly, you knew what it was; it smelled like danger. 

You took another step forward and reached your hand out to a tree trunk for support. It was wet. Sticky. Whatever it was, the trunk was soaked in it. You pulled your hand away and held it up in front of your face to see what it was. The lack of light didn’t help, but it was something dark.

The smell nearly made you gag. It was nauseatingly strong and very much not natural to the area. The liquid trickled down your arm slowly until you let it fall back to your side. Your eyes trailed down the tree, following the liquid until you could see it puddled on the ground. 

It was shiny, and when you tilted your head to let the moonlight catch, it almost looked like a little rainbow was trapped within it.

You stood up quickly and eyed the shimmering line leading directly to the back of the house. Your house. The house where your family was fast asleep. The feathers on your wings were standing up so high it was almost painful. Each step you took toward the house was like moving through the water.

Something sparked and popped behind you.

“Oh fuck.”

A wave of heat hit your back. Thankfully it wasn’t strong enough to push you forward, but that didn’t mean it didn’t light a fire under your ass. The spark of the fire slowly grew to a roar as you sprinted to the house. You wanted to scream, to get someone’s attention, to wake up everyone in the house before you could get there.

The scream lodged itself in your throat even as you rounded the corner of the house. Your turn was too sharp, and your feet kept sliding across the too-dry dirt. Loose gravel embedded itself into the palm of your hand as you fell. It was almost second nature to dig your fingers into the ground and pull yourself forward while simultaneously pushing yourself back to your feet.

Ringing echoed in your ears as you ripped the screen door and threw the front door open. It should have made a loud “thud.” You couldn’t hear it. There should have been a plan. You should have made a plan. But the only thing in your head was static; a red static that left your head feeling heavy.

A hand rested on your arm.

“Wake up your parents,” Wednesday said. Her voice sounded like it was muffled by a pillow. “I’ll wake up the kids.”

Okay. That was a plan. Someone had a plan. You could work with that. You didn’t wait for her before running up the stairs, three at a time. None of the stairs creaked, at least not that you could hear. Down the hall, third door on the right, it hit the wall so hard you could feel the floor shake.

At last, you heard a noise. A gun being cocked.

��I ain’t afraid to shoot.”

You stared down the barrel. The voice slowly started to creep back into your mind. A low rumble accompanied by the crackling of the distant fire. Only the fire wasn’t outside, it was within you. Burning hotter and hotter until you wanted to rip your skin off and feel the light summer breeze once again.

You stared down the barrel of the gun.

“Y/N?”

You blinked slowly.

“The hell are you doin’ here?” Pop asked. “Thought you was some critter from the woods.” You didn’t move. “Coulda shot you, baby bird.”

You’ll get him killed.

“What’s wrong?”

Each muscle in your body was locked; you couldn’t move.

“And why the hell you smell like a barrel of gasoline?”

Tell him.

The muscles of your jaw tensed when you opened it and closed it a few times. Fire. The house. Run. No words would come out. They stuck in the back of your throat like a cold. But you had to tell him. You had to warn them. The crackling was growing louder.

“Wednesday?”

Someone sidled up next to you. You didn’t have to guess who.

“Will someone please tell me what the hell is goin’ on?” Pop demanded.

You’re all going to die.

You were silent.

“The house is on fire,” Wednesday said.

Five words. You couldn’t even say five words.

Pop nodded once and shook the body beside him. “Come on, Momma, we gotta go.”

You clenched your jaw and watched them get up. Watched them do the things you couldn’t make your body do. Why couldn’t you just answer them and move? How was Wednesday doing all of it while you just stood there on the sidelines like it wasn’t your family in danger?

Nicky would be very disappointed in you.

“Go grab your Abuelita,” Pop said when he was suddenly standing in front of you. When had he gotten there? “Wednesday, you help Momma grab a few things.”

Wednesday nodded once and walked over to where Momma was already starting to gather things. You didn’t know what. All those instincts you had harboured, all those dangerous things you had managed to avoid, and now you were frozen in place. Your feet felt rooted into the ground as if they wanted to stay. As if they wanted to go down with the house.

Maybe they did.

“Y/N.” Fingers snapped in front of your face. You blinked once before using every bit of strength you had to look up into Pop’s eyes. “Get your Abuelita and get the hell out.”

His words echoed in your head, twirling around the voice that continued its onslaught of doom and dread. It didn’t help you move, it didn’t do anything but paralyse you with more fear than you had started with. Fear. That was the word you had been looking for all evening. You were afraid.

Wednesday’s hand brushed against your arm, the one not covered in gasoline. Not that it would have mattered, it sent a jolt through your body anyway. A jolt that gave you just enough energy to finally move your body. One step at a time, getting progressively easier until you made it to your grandparents’ room.

They were already up.

“Help an old woman down the stairs,” Abuelita said as she reached forward. You held out your dry arm for her.

“I’ve got the important things,” Grandpa said, hoisting a duffle over his shoulder and following you both out of the door.

You could smell the smoke when you approached the stairs. A red glow reflected off the front wall of the house. The sight nearly had you frozen in place again. The kitchen was on fire. It was on fire. Your house was burning.

You’re all going to die because you can’t move.

“Keep moving, puișor,” Grandpa said with a gentle nudge.

It was enough to keep you in step. The way down the stairs was slow, and Abuelita seemed to be in no true rush. Did she know something you didn’t? No, she was simply old, that must be it. By the time you got down the stairs, you could feel the heat of the fire suffocating your every breath.

Everyone else was already out by the road when you managed to get Abuelita and Grandpa out as well. You stood up straight and started counting heads; two parents, two grandparents, six kids, one girlfriend. That was everyone. The roar of the fire grew louder.

Everyone was safe.

You’re forgetting something.

Were you?

“Wait,” Emily said. “I forgot Miss Spider.”

“We’ll get you a new one, baby,” Momma said as she held onto Emily’s arm to keep her still.

“But Nicky got her for me.”

Nicky.

You forgot Nicky.

You looked up and met Wednesday’s gaze. Her eyes were wide and you could see the ever-growing fire reflected in them. You took one step backward. She shook her head slowly. Each step had her shaking her head increasingly fast.

You forgot Nicky in the house.

You turned and sprinted toward the house.

“Y/N, get back here!”

Everyone’s voices were drowned out by the fire. A loud mixture of sounds that created a horrific orchestra from hell. The crackling fire, the roaring heat, the wood burning away and crumbling to the ground. It wasn’t even the heat that had you hesitate; it was the sound.

You forgot Nicky.

The steps were hot as you sprinted up the stairs. They weren’t burning just yet, but they were hot. Your bedroom door was still wide open, and you could see the flames licking up the window. Miss Spider was laying on the floor beside Emily’s bed, miraculously unscathed aside from what looked like a single scorch mark on one of the legs. You snatched it up and shoved it under your shirt to keep it safe as you made your way out.

“You gonna forget me?”

You froze. The floor got hotter underneath your feet. Smoke continued to invade your senses, filling your lungs and suffocating your very thoughts. You needed to get Miss Spider back down to Emily. But you couldn’t leave him.

You turned back to face the room and stood tall. The last time you had seen him had been that one weekend at the Addams’ household. He had stayed fairly under wraps, as far as you could remember. He seemed shorter. Or perhaps you had just grown.

“You left me waiting long enough,” Nicky teased. “I thought you were gonna leave me here.”

A lick of fire brushed against your bare leg.

“I’d never leave you,” you said with no effort at all. “That’s why I came back.”

“Then come on,” he said as he held out his hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

You looked down at the hand he was offering you. It was normal. No IV scars, no cuts, no dirt, no fire. It was his normal hand that you had held time and time again. It was Nicky. Your Nicky. Miss Spider’s legs itched and tickled under your shirt when you took a step forward and lifted your hand.

The fire continued to rise around him, but you couldn’t feel the heat. All you really needed to do was reach out and take his hand. Then he could come back home, and you could all be a family again. He could properly meet Wednesday, and Hailey wouldn’t be so mad, and you could all belong. 

That was all you really wanted, right? To belong? To have Nicky by your side as you both grew out of the trauma that had been inflicted upon you for no other reason than being different? You could have that. You could have your brother, and your girlfriend, and your family. You could have it all. You just simply had to reach out and take his hand.

“We can sneak out and go camping,” he said. “Mom and Dad can go with us.”

Your muscles locked up again when your fingers were only centimetres away from his.

“What?” Nicky asked. “What’s wrong?”

Flames continued to climb up your legs.

“Nicky hated them,” you said with a shake of your head. “He would never invite them.”

The smell of burning feathers permeated the air.

“Don’t turn your back on me now,” he said in a voice that was no longer his. “Just come with me.” 

You looked down at where your outstretched hand nearly met his. His skin was black; charred and bloody. Following up his arm removed the char but was replaced with lacerations. Blood. Injuries that had been carved into the inside of your skull, unable to be scrubbed away no matter how many years it had been.

His eyes were pale.

It wasn’t your Nicky.

Fire jumped from his hand to yours; it caught the gasoline on your fingers. You couldn’t feel it race up your arm. At least, you couldn’t feel the pain. It simply felt like a tickle against your skin. But it didn’t matter; it wasn’t your Nicky, and you weren’t taking him with you.

You pulled your arm back to your body and turned around, nearly tripping over your own feet in an attempt to run from the burning house. Your burning house. You took no risk of falling down the stairs, instead just jumping from the top floor and landing on the ground with a harsh “thud.” The first sign of pain was in your knee. It didn’t stop you from running out of the house.

The air was clear outside. Muffled voices reached your ears once you were far enough away from the screaming fire. In the distance, you could hear sirens. Something wrapped around your arm, and you finally felt the pain. A burn that was nothing short of indescribable.

You still couldn’t scream.

Instead, against the screaming coming from every atom of your body, you reached under your shirt with your good hand and handed Miss Spider to Emily. She said something that you couldn’t hear. You hoped it was something nice. People were still talking to you when you turned back around.

Nicky’s silhouette stood in the window of your burning home.

—---

“Can’t thank ya enough, Mr. and Mrs. Addams,” Pop said after Lurch had led the kids upstairs to get them settled in their own rooms.

“It’s our pleasure,” Mr. Addams said with a wave of his hand. “You’re all Addamses now, you’re always welcome.”

“Thank you for letting the littles bring Steve,” Momma said.

“Pugsley loves pets,” Mrs. Addams replied. “He’s always happy to have more.”

Both sets of adults kept talking as they made their way into the sitting room. At least you thought that was where they had gone. Truthfully you didn’t know. All you knew was you couldn’t get Nicky’s gaze out of your head. Or, no, it hadn’t really been Nicky, you didn’t think. Something else. Something sinister.

“Cara mia.”

You didn’t want to face her. You couldn’t face her. God, how could you have been so stupid? She shouldn’t have even been there, it had been dangerous from start to finish. You had put Wednesday in danger again. How could that ever be forgiven? She could have died.

“Let’s go.”

She grabbed your good hand and slowly led you to her room.

You didn’t save them all. You squeezed your eyes shut while she guided you. Everyone will burn in the fires of your sins.

Everything hurt when you finally got to her room. You hadn’t heard everything the paramedic had said, but you didn’t have to. It was your body anyway. The soles of your feet were burned, and you would have to regrow more than your fair share of feathers. If you were lucky, you wouldn’t need to do anything else for the burns on your arm.

You weren’t so optimistic, but you would rather die than go back to a hospital.

Wednesday quickly crawled into bed with you after you had both changed into something more comfortable. Everything was still foggy, but you noticed her hesitation before touching you. You didn’t care. You pulled her closer, ignoring the unbearable heat even her body created against the burns. It hurt.

You didn’t care.

“You terrified me,” she said softly, her breath tickling your skin. “I believed I would lose you.”

You couldn’t say anything.

Your mind was running rampant even as Wednesday settled into an unsteady sleep. She nearly had lost you. You had nearly walked into that fire without a single hesitation. If that spectre hadn’t mentioned your parents, you would have taken his hand and stayed in that house until you burned down with it. You would have died without thinking twice. How could you have let that happen?

I’m not done with you yet.

And what if it happened again?

[undercovercameron]

only you

summary: a midnight meeting is never off the table for him.

notes: i cranked this one out like two two weeks ago but i didnt get around to editing it... apologies! this is a continuation of my same person, same mistakes fic, as it concerns rafe with a gf and the reader being highschool fwb with him. features a masturbation kink, dirty talk, and a whole lot of nostalgia! enjoy my darlings, and dont forget to watch the fuck out of obx 3 (i finished it an hour ago and its 2:00 am my time and im not sure). feel free to talk to me about it ;)

tags: rafe cameron x fem!reader

word count: 2213

It’s nearly 3 am when he shows up at your house, mind all over the place, and parks in your driveway. He knows your parents won’t be mad seeing his truck— they can’t help but love him. He slams the driver’s door shut and jogs around to the backyard, breathless in the cooler night air. The grassy shore two hundred or so yards from your house ripples with the harsh wind of early summer storms, and he wipes a hand at his forehead. It’s still hot. 

Rounding the corner, he sees the metal basin that curves around one of your basement bedroom windows, and drops down onto the gravel that lies at the bottom. 

You barely register the sound, fast asleep in your bed when he glances in at the dark room. 

He digs around for a second in the gravel and finds the familiar curve of the window key and quickly unlocks the latch. Throwing it back down, he uses his arms to push up on the handle and slide it far enough so that he can crawl in. 

You turn onto your back in your bed, and he nearly smiles at how you look. So calm, yet so stressed with your eyebrows drawn. But Rafe just hops into your air conditioned room clumsily, shoes quiet on the carpet, and nearly tips over into your desk. He turns to the window and closes it quietly. 

He takes a moment to listen for any movement in the house. He knows your parents go to bed before midnight, so they’re sound asleep—he’s mainly worried about your brother. He was such a cock block in highschool. 

You move in the sheets again and his attention is drawn back to you. You’re so peaceful. Oh, well. 

“Y/N,” he whispers, and reaches to shake your leg. You lick your lips and burrow deeper into your pillow. “Y/N!” He raises his voice, glancing at your locked door. 

“Hm,” is all that comes from your mouth, and your eyelids twitch. 

“Fuck,” he curses to himself. Fine. Grabbing one of your ankles, he drags you to the foot of the bed. 

“Hey!” You croak, startled awake, and blink furiously around. “Oh.” You clear your throat and wipe your eyes. There’s a handsome man at the foot of your bed.

“Hey,” he says, looking down at you, and his hand finds your shoulder. You’re dressed in soft shorts and a skimpy tank top in an effort to remain cool in this summer heat—it makes his heart thump against the wall of his chest.

“Why’re you here?” You ask, voice still groggy, and your skin erupts in goosebumps where his fingers move. 

“I told you I’d come today.” 

“Yeah, during the daytime.” Your eyebrows draw together and you push up onto a hand. “Not in the middle of the night.”

“Do you want me to leave?” His eyes stare down at yours. You look over him, liking the way those jeans and flannel shirt look on him. The crickets chirp outside, and you hear a branch moved by wind brush the side of your house. His hand migrates and a thumb rubs at the skin of your stomach, nudging the hem of your tank top up. 

“No,” you finally settle on, and he steps closer to the bed. 

“Okay,” he murmurs, and dips. Your lips connect, soft against soft, and you shiver. He smells like the sun and that car freshener he keeps in the glove compartment. His hands find your hair, cradling your head, and your body prickles at the touch. It’s so late, and he’s so warm— you just melt into him. You grip at the sides of his shirt and fall back onto your bed, taking him with you. 

He grunts, pulling away from your mouth for a second, and follows you up the bed as you move closer to the headboard. He looks huge like this.

Your legs come together.

He bites his lip and with a hand on your knee moves them back apart. You settle with your shoulders against your pillow, and he leans down, between your legs once more, and kisses you. 

“Rafe,” you mutter into his mouth, and he hums wordlessly in response. Your body is so soft and nice when you arch up into him that he forgets about anything besides you. You grab at his hand at your waist and drag it up your body, and when his thumb brushes your hardening nipple the crotch of his pants tightens. Fuck. 

He pushes his knees into your bed, keeping your legs spread for him, and straightens. His large hands fumble with the buttons of his shirt, and he shrugs it off. The material of the shirt underneath nearly rips with how quick he takes it off. His skin is shiny and strong in the moonlight, and it takes all of your mental strength to not lean up and kiss all over his chest. That would mean you’re desperate to feel and touch him— and you’re definitely not. Between your legs definitely doesn’t ache terribly when he unbuttons his jeans. 

“Please.” You lean up to him, sliding a warm hand around his shoulders, and bring him back down with you. He makes a noise when he feels your fingernails scrape his skin, but your mouth is back on his, so what reason is there to complain? His nose brushes your cheek when he pulls away to tug the tank top strap off of your shoulder, and you shudder in the cold air. 

His thumb nudges your nipple back and forth, making your blood rush in your ears as your chest heaves, and he bows to catch it in his mouth. Rafe sucks, pink lips perfect just for this, and you arch up into him. The scent of body soap washes over him, and he just breathes you in. So sweet. He curls an arm around your waist, forcing your skin up against him, and you make a noise of contentment. 

He mouths at your breast until he has you panting up into the night air, eyes closed, and then moves to the other. Your eyes open briefly and you slide a hand across his head, feeling his warm scalp and soft hair under your fingers. 

He hums into your skin, nipple caught between his teeth, and you nearly cry out. But you hold back, wanting to save it. He pulls at it again, wanting to hear that pained noise you know he loves, and your heart skips a beat. You suck in a breath. 

“So responsive,” he murmurs into you, and his gaze briefly moves to your face—his dick hardens even more. 

“I’m impatient, Rafe,” you huff, petting his hair, and squeeze your thighs around him. “Please.”

“Needy,” he says more to himself than you, but pulls away to get a hand at the waistband of your shorts and move out of the way so he can rid you of them and get to what he’s actually been thinking about all day. He throws them over the edge of your bed and crowds you against the headboard again, mouth insistent upon yours as his fingers find your slick. Your thigh jerks when his pointer finger draws a line up your folds, and he just hums into your mouth. His thumb pushes into your clit, demanding, and his middle finger slides easily in. You clench around him, head thrown back into the pillow, and your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Fucking wet,” he grits out through his teeth, digging his face into your neck. Your skin ripples with goosebumps at his hot breath on your throat, and he slides another finger in. 

You’re so warm, so tight, so wet around him— it makes his heart smash into the cage of his ribs. It’s just like high school. You, sweet and perfect for him, and him, brooding and in the palm of your hand. He tried to not let you know that too much, though. Can’t let people around him know that he cares. 

“So perfect.” His teeth nip the soft skin on your neck, and you grab a hand at his forearm, guiding him faster. He accedes, knowing what you want, and slips another finger in. You tingle and curve up into him, unused to the stretch, and the breath is stolen right from your throat. 

His thumb slides off of your clit when you push it away. Your fingers replace his thumb, and he just tries to breathe. You know every fucking avenue to getting him to cum in his pants, and he’s really trying to avoid that outcome. 

Your noises become higher in your throat, whinier, and he feels you start to pulse around him. His fingers push even deeper, going the perfect speed, and then you’re shaking and trying to both get away from and get closer to his hand. 

He grabs at your hip and keeps you in one place, hand continuing, and you grab at him frantically. 

“Too much, Rafe,” you cry, neck cramping at the angle you’d stretched it to for the longest time, but he continues on. Your blood is pumping so fast, so hard in your body, and the rush of orgasm fades into numb pleasure that makes you pulse around him. 

“Come on, baby, I know you can.”

Your mind calls memories to the surface— memories of him pushing you past your limit, making you scream, cry. You loved it, and he only continued when you were nodding and shaking for him. Any inkling that you weren’t into it he was off of you. He was no stranger to felonies, such as drug distribution or grand theft auto, but he didn’t dare do anything that was a question of consent. Off the table. 

“Your fingers are so—so big.” You ramble on, talking of good things only like the size of him and how he feels and tastes and smells, and his hips twitch where they're pressed to you. Fuck. 

“So close, Y/N,” he pants into your ear, hips rolling steadily into your thigh and pelvis, and you feel his dick jump against you. “You’re so close.”

Your torso shakes with the effort and tension in your muscles, and he bites into your pillow. 

“I fucking—,” you start, but you fling your head back into the pillow before you can finish. He really wishes he knew what you were going to say. “Yes, yes, yes—fuck!” You chant, and your hips twitch where they meet his hammering hand as you cum onto his fingers. He continues on for a little bit, loving the feel of you, but pulls his fingers out. They immediately push into his mouth and you take the moment to pull yourself together. 

Sweat sticks the sheets to your back, beading at your forehead too, and you’re sure your face is flushed red. The room is undeniably hot, filled with the hot breath and energy palpable in the air. You’re sure it smells like sex, too. 

Rafe catches your jaw in his hand and tilts you up for a kiss, lips hot and smooth against yours. As he settles into you again, your hand finds the crotch of his pants. He breaks away immediately, cursing and looking down at your fingers. 

“Touch it,” you breathe, eyes locked on his. His wide, clear, blue eyes. “For me.”

Rafe’s large fingers push yours away and dig into his underwear, and his eyes close when his palm circles the tip of him. You look up at him, hands coming to your chest, and you cup your breasts. His eyes follow your fingers as they pinch your nipples. You back arches, and his hand around his dick pumps faster. 

“You’re so good for me,” you say, as breathless as you can manage without sounding like a corny phone-sex operator, and his head cants back at your voice. 

“Shit,” he gasps, mouth hanging open when he looks down. “O-Only you.” It’s more to himself, but your chest swells. 

“Yeah?” You ask, and sit up. Your hands find his waist and his torso, and you lean up so his mouth is inches from yours. “Not your girlfriend?”

“Fuck,” he exhales, cheeks pink, and his eyes close when you trace his chest with a finger. “No. Not her. Never.”

You just hum, pleased, and curl a hand around his own to slow his hand. His hips twitch, fucking himself between your two hands, and his mouth opens in a “fuck” before he’s cumming right into your bare chest.

“Christ, Y/N,” he says, panting, and covers the upper half of his face with his forearm. His knees ache. 

You rise clumsily from the bed and stumble into your bathroom, returning with the hand towel. You wipe at your chest and throw it back into the bathroom, careless. 

“Are you staying?” You ask, nearing him, and lean one knee on the bed. He curls an arm around your waist and tugs you closer in the darkness, lips pressed to your temple. 

“I don’t think you could get me to leave your bed right now, sweetheart.” He smells like sweat and the remnants of cologne, and you breathe him in.

“I’m counting on it,” you whisper, and kiss him square on the mouth.

[freakspectors]

EDGAR ALLAN POE SMUT HCS.

E. A. Poe | BSD x Gender-Neutral Reader Smut Headcanons .

warnings ; smut, my pussy wrote this and its 3 am prepare for errors, body worship, cunnilingus, blowjob, face sitting, breeding mention, praise kink, cowgirl position, etc.

authors note ; hi guys .. im a bsd fan .. a big one ... and i fucking love poe so much im obsessed with him . this entire thing is self indulgent i swear to you (which is why female anatomy is mentioned more in this . sorry guys TvT) . sighs deeply .... anyways go read ttyl ! ^_^

✦ Poe's a Sub. 100%. But occasionally, he's not -- and on those occasions he's a Service Dom.

✦ He acts high and mighty, yet nearly crumbles from the slightest bit of teasing from you. He stammers and whines so pathetically from just a simple touch. If you leave Poe alone after that, later you'll feel him wrap his hands around your waist and meekly grind against you to show how hard he is for you.

✦ Poe loves when you gently place kisses on his body, especially his neck. He's the most sensitive there. Bite him there and you'll receive the most pitiful whimpers you ever heard. His tip gets all sticky from just that alone .. please stroke him off , he deserves it :((

✦ Speaking of Poe's dick, it's HUGE. It's a little girthy and very long. He simply has big dick energy I don't know what to tell you. He cums so much, too. Hot, sticky, salty ropes always gush out load by load, emptying himself out. He has so much more, though .. <3

✦ A pillow prince when he's subbing. He's an absolute mess when you suck his dick, his whimpers and babbles filling the room while you bob your head and swirl your tongue around him. He begs to cum, even if you never asked him to.

✦ Service Dom Poe isn't entirely different.. But you can easily tell them apart.

✦ Poe always does body worship. He'll kiss you all the way down your body like you do for him, mumbling praise as his lips touch your warm skin.

✦ His favorite part of you to kiss is your thighs. If you're plus sized or have larger thighs you're putting him in pure bliss, I'm telling you. Poe would bury himself in them if he could.

✦ On that note, Poe is into face sitting. Heavily. He likes it when you close your thighs around his head when you cum, along with you grind on his tongue and make a mess on his face.

✦ He himself isn't exactly a messy eater, though. Poe's slow and calculated, sucking and flicking your clit with his tongue exactly the way you like it. He doesn't mind if you squirm either; it lets him know how well he's doing. The same applies if you have a dick - he sucks at a reasonable pace, and doesn't mind if you start to facefuck him.

✦ Poe's so focused on pleasing you he denies his own needs. He'd deny his own orgasm just to feel you cum around his cock a little more .. He just wants to make you feel good :((

✦ Please praise him. Doesn't matter if Poe's subbing or dominating; just do it. It's his favorite thing ever. He loves to give and receive it.

✦ Poe likes to make you read his novels when he's giving you head or fucking you. The way you stammer and sputter always makes him smile.

✦ Poe writes out the fantasies he has of you nearly all the time. They range from you topping him, fucking him until he can't cum anymore to Poe breeding you, his thick cum pouring out of your stuffed hole. He never lets anyone read them - not even you.

✦ His favorite position is Cowgirl. It works for when he's a sub and a dom -- you can take control, riding him while he grips the sheets desperately, or he can hold you by your hips to help you bounce on him; yanking out your fourth orgasm for the night. Poe loves the duality of it.

✦ Aftercare with Poe is very sweet! When he subs he's tired as fuck, so he ushers you to join him for bed and whispers about how much he loves you as you both doze off. When he doms, he's not as tired, but he's all over you making sure you're okay and if you need anything. He's infatuated with you, his various love poems for you has proof of that.

@ HELUVAKU 2023 . do not share or repost .

[entitled-fangirl]

That's a love rune. Casts a love spell.

Pelle x reader

Summary: Pelle carves the reader a love rune to make her realize their potential for each other.

Words: 2,122

Warning: Love runes, not forced love but manipulated?? Weird cult stuff

Author's note: This is my favorite thriller of all time, so obvs I'm doing this. :)

Masterlist

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In the short few years Pelle and Y/N knew each other in college, she knew she wouldn’t be able to bear the day that he had to leave again.

It seemed that her wish would come true. Very true. 

Here she was, in the shared room of the Harga. Her bed felt cold and hard, and her eyes were barely able to catch any sleep. As hard as she tried, it just wasn’t happening. She sighed, sitting in bed, and rubbing her face with her hands. Her hair was wild from the consistent tossing and turning. 

She heard a noise.

Her head turns quickly to the side, her eyes scanning every bed carefully, checking on each of her friends. Pelle sits, two beds down. He sits on the end of his bed. He holds something in his left hand, and a knife in his right. It takes her a while to realize he’s carving something. He’s so focused, he doesn’t look up at her. He seemed to not notice her at all.

She pushed herself to the side of the bed carefully, her socked feet touch the ground cautiously. She stands, stretching her arms up. She didn’t want to scare Pelle. And she definitely didn’t want to wake the entire room.

His eyes finally flicker up at her movements, so vibrant, it’s like she could see the blue hue in the dark. Or maybe because as of now, his eyes were wide. He masks it quickly with a smile.

“Y/N, what ever is the matter? It’s nearly 3 am. You should be getting your beauty rest.” Even at the darkest part of the day, he still worried for her. Or at least, she thinks it’s the darkest part of the day. It’s hard to tell with all the windows and doors closed. 

She gives a soft shrug, walking to him slowly and quietly, “I’m not sure. Just can’t sleep.”

He chuckles softly, “Don’t worry, Darling.” He pushes his things further up the bed and away from her view, opening his arms, “Come here. Sit with me.”

She gives a soft smile and does so. Sitting by him always felt right. It felt cozy. And warm. Mostly because his arm had wrapped its way around her shoulders. “I’d hate to bother you from your… work, Pelle.”

He laughs quietly, “You did nothing of the sort. Truly.”

She takes this as an answer. “Tell me what you were doing?”

Pelle is slightly frozen in time, his gaze fixed on her face. What was he going to tell her? Whatever it was, he would have to say it quick, for he feared melting under her gaze if fixed on him for too long. A simple glance from her could send him to the moon or leave him in a trance for what felt like years. “It’s…. An old tradition.” Okay. He could make this work. But, Y/N is a curious thing, so chances are-

“How so? What is it?” 

He called it. He loved her open and curious nature, but in times like this, it could be his downfall. She turns her body to look back at the bed, but his hands come to each side of her shoulders, stopping her. They were now very close.

He could feel her breath on his face. It was driving him wild. He’d have to get this done, and fast. “It’s a rune. I’m carving a rune.”

She nods. “Carving a rune? Sounds interesting enough,” her voice was so soft. It made him want to reach out just a little further towards her and- 

“And why in the middle of the night?”

He looks down to the ground. Think of something, Pelle. “Uh, yes. I don’t find myself with enough time to do it during the daytime activities. And it’s a rather… intimate thing to do.”

Her cheeks turn pink. She stands quickly, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m so sorry, Pelle. I didn’t know. I hope I didn’t ruin it, or-“

His hand reach up to hers, pulling her towards him. “Relax. Nothing is ruined. Nothing at all. In fact, I believe it made it better.” His eyes bore into hers, as if he could read her every thought. If he could find a way too, he would have already done so. To him, this girl hung the moon and the stars. And if he didn’t already have a religion, he’d spend his days worshipping her. 

Her eyes bore back into his. “Are you sure, Pelle? I can leave like it never happened.”

He shakes his head with a smile, “No. I’d rather you stay.” He pulls her more towards him by the grip he has on her hands until her standing body is in between his legs as he sits on the bed. “Perhaps,” he even thought, “You could help me bless it?”

She shakes her head. “Bless it? Me? Pelle, what does it do?”

The panic sets in his head again. But Pelle was no idiot. “It helps things grow.”

“Grow?”

He nods. “It will be fine as it is, but,” He tilted his head back and forth, “it would be stronger with another soul to bless it.” He couldn’t have made this better if he planned the entire thing.

She lets out a shaky breath, looking down at his pleading blue eyes. She was a cautious woman, and while she liked Pelle, she couldn’t help but feel the strange vibes coming from the other members of the group. Or perhaps, just a dark spirit. She frankly was not spiritually sound enough to know the difference. 

He noticed this hesitation and pulled her closer, his hands now moving her the outside of her thighs. “Y/N. Please. It would mean so much to me.”

She sighs, “What do I have to do?”

He takes this as a yes. He quickly stands, turning to grab the ruin. He then takes her hand with his other and drags her out into the moonlight. Weird to finally see the moon after a few days. 

He holds the almost finished ruin in his hands, and holds it up to the moon. He brings it back down after a while, holding it out to her, “Now, you must kiss it.”

She tilts her head, “Just kiss it? Anywhere?”

Pelle is beside himself at this opportunity. Not only was it rare to have the scenario happen to a rune like this, but it was highly celebrated in the Harga. His eyes couldn’t look away from her as his breath became uneven. 

She takes it from his hand gently. She holds it in her own, her other hand running over the carefully carved dialect in it. For a piece of wood, it was quite beautiful like this. She looked back up at Pelle for one last chance of backing out. He didn’t seem to want to back out.

So, she pulled it up to her lips gently, kissing the top of it. 

Pelle let out a shuddered breath as if she had just kissed him. She was slightly weirded out, but the last thing she wanted was to embarrass her friend. She hands it back to him. “Does that work?”

Pelle’s smile was wide. She can’t remember the last time she had seen him this happy. “Oh, Y/N,” he said, taking her face in one of his hands, “You’ve done me an honor. An honor.” 

Still weird out by the event that just unfolded in front of her, she nods. “Of course, Pelle. Least I could do for ruining your quiet time.”

He seemed to melt at her words, “My need for quiet time could never outmatch the need to hear the sweet sound of your voice, Y/N.” 

While her heart felt something at his words, he was a friend. Just a friend. He invited her on the trip with their friends, and here she was, acting a fool. Dare she even think she was liking Pelle?

She nods, “I’ll just… go to bed now.”

He nodded as well, his hand dropping from her face. “Goodnight, Y/N. And may you dream the most pleasant dreams.”

She quickly retreats to the shared room, tucking herself back in. She tosses another 30 minutes in thought before Pelle finally enters the room again. He walks past all of the beds before stopping at the foot of hers. He quietly kneels, his hands reaching under the bed. He then stands up, his gaze on Y/N, and then he hesitantly moves back to his own bed. He simply sits on his, facing hers. He’s unable to sleep the rest of the night. But now, Y/N had no problem doing so.

Morning comes, and Y/N is awoken by Josh lightly pushing her shoulder, his voice low in her ear. “Y/N. Hey, Y/N.”

She stirs, her eyes opening to find Josh kneeling right beside her bed. She jumps back. “Jesus, Josh. Watch what you’re doing next time.” She pulls herself to a sitting position. 

Josh looks concerned. “Listen, Y/N. I… I found this under your bed.” In his hand, the rune Pelle carved.

Her eyes widen, taking it from his hand gently, “Under my bed?”

He nods, reaching down again, pulling a similar one into her line of sight, “One under Christian’s bed, too.”

He grabs that one quickly as well, comparing the two small pieces of wood in her hands. It was clear they were carved by two different people, for the markings were quite different, as well as the stroke of the carving tools they each used. She looked up at Josh. “Pelle told me that it’s a rune to make things grow.”

Josh takes the other rune from her hand, “Well I asked someone else, and they said it’s a love rune.”

Her eyebrows knit together, “A love rune?”

Mark’s voice is heard outside the house, “Josh! Y/N! C’mon!”

Josh sighs, placing Christian’s rune in his coat pocket. “Just, don’t tell anyone about this until we figure out what’s going on.” He then stands quickly and leaves the building, leaving Y/N by herself.

She looks down at the carefully crafted rune in her hand. Pelle had carved this just for her? She blinked. He is even more kind than she originally thought. And quite charming. Her fingers run over the markings. Maybe she’s liked him for a while but refused to acknowledge it. 

She looked up, dreaming about what he’s doing now. His long, wavy hair getting tangled as he runs his fingers through it. How he looks on his knees in the gardens. How skillful his hands are at picking the ripe vegetables. And his eyes. Oh, God, his eyes. She would do anything to have them gaze at her now.

As if her prayer was answered, a figure stood in the doorway of the house. Her head perks up, “Pelle?”

He walks to her quickly, kneeling by her bedside. “Good morning,” he says, setting a plate of food down on her lap, “Please. It’s from me.”

He failed to notice the rune sitting in her lap, now blocked from view by the plate. She nods. “Thank you, Pelle. That was very kind.”

Both of his hands go to her face, cupping her cheeks, “I would do anything for you. You must know that.”

She nods, watching him stand and turn to leave. His voice chips up as he goes, “You must stay here for the day. I’ll fetch you at supper.”

He walks a few more steps before her meek voice chirps up, “Pelle?”

He stops immediately, turning his body around. As he does so, she collides with him, having run from her bed. She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him close and kissing him. He’s shocked, pulling back only for a second, before completely melting in her hold. His hands go to her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss is heavy, as if years of pining had finally led up to this moment. He pulls away, his smile bright. Both now breathe heavily.

“I shall be back at supper. You’ll wait for me, sunshine?”

“I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

He nods at this, leaving the house. 

She moves back to the bed, holding the love rune in thought.

When her eyes do move from the rune, they go to her bed, where a folded paper rests under her breakfast plate. She picks it up as well, opening it.

Inside, a drawing resides. It's Pelle and Y/N sharing a gentle kiss. Under it, a scribbled note:

To today and many more with sunshine, Pelle <3

Her eyes move back to the door in thought.

[beamtori]

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲

demon (in human form)!ji changmin x afab!reader

it's a silly thing that brings you both to intimacy, but the intimacy is never silly.

3.0k words, smut (minors dni), incredibly soft sex, talks abt sex/dicks lol (if u can't talk abt it, then don't do it!), unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it bro), penetrative sex, fingering, low-key body worship (f.receiving), so much kissing, pet name (sweetheart), mentions of a broken wrist and scars?

a/n: this is an extension to my fic night terrors on my main! there are a couple refs from the fic, but the established dynamic is a huge turnaround for me in terms of writing for changmin if u haven't read night terrors yet LMAO anyways, for me and @mosviqu ily bar!! <3

CHANGMIN HAD GROWN USED TO your random questions of curiosity. There was, after all, so much you didn't know about his world, and for the most part, he was perfectly fine divulging information to you and being honest. He cared about you, after all. Loved you, even. It was just what he felt around and about and for you.

“How do demons have sex?”

He nearly snorted water through his nose.

You glanced over at him innocently from where you were perched on the hotel bed, your phone connected to its charger discarded on the nightstand.

He cleared his throat, capping the water bottle and setting it aside so he wouldn't choke again. “Sorry?” He sputtered, thumping his fist against his chest.

Your eyelashes fluttered and you replied airily, “Do you have sex the way humans do? Like… vaginal penetration or…? Am I making sense? Do you even have a—”

“Yn, I have a dick,” he cut in, then made a face. “Why are we having this conversation again?”

The two of you were holed up in a hotel several hours’ ride from Moonstone Creek. You were currently on your way to meet one of Changmin's clients about a missing lucky witch's cauldron. Instead of shacking up at a motel, you insisted on staying at a nicer hotel for once. Screw saving money this time; your ass deserved a break after sitting in his car for however long. Maybe you should invest in a butt pad…

You shrugged, shifting your position so you sat at the foot of the bed with your feet dangling over the edge. You held your dominant wrist with the other hand—a month had passed since it had been shattered, and though almost completely healed, it was still a little tender. “I was just thinking,” you said. “Is it like a human d—”

“It's a penis, Yn,” he deadpanned. “You've seen one, right?”

Your skin warmed. “Of course, I have,” you sputtered. “I was just curious about your—” You stopped yourself. “That sounds wrong.”

Changmin arched a brow at you, braiding his arms over his chest as he leaned against the table across from you. “Supernatural creatures do have needs, too, you know. Sex isn't just a human thing.”

“I know that,” you shot back. Sex definitely wasn't exclusive to humans. “When was the last time you had sex?"

“I don't understand where this is coming from.”

“Are you a virgin?”

A laugh bubbled out of his mouth. “I think it's impossible for a demon to be a virgin in any sense,” he said, head tilted to the side, tongue tracing his slight smile. It was funny for him to think about, really.

His eyes fixated on you again. “Are you a virgin?”

“Me? No.” Even when you were working your ass off for your accounting degree, you managed to find time to socialize with somebody. It hadn't been that special, really, but the guy had been decent and not an asshole. By your limited scope, that was as okay a time as any.

The room descended into silence.

You could tell he was thinking about something with the crease between his brows and the muscle in his jaw twitching. You didn't know what it was, but you could read that much.

“So why haven't we had sex yet?” was the question that popped out of your mouth next. It wasn't necessarily directed for him to answer; it was more so a… thinking-aloud situation… right…

But by the surprise that flickered across his face, he was going to answer it anyway. “I—I don't know. I guess…” He scratched the side of his head. “I never really thought about it.”

“Oh.”

You could see the regret as soon as he said it.

He brushed a hand through his hair, stepping over to you and kneeling in front of you. His eyes fluttered closed for a second before opening again. “I didn't mean it—like that. I just mean that so much has happened that it's the last thing on my mind. I didn't want it to come off like I only wanted that from you.”

“I know you don't,” you said, leaning onto your knees to lower your face slightly toward his. “But we both have needs, don't we?”

“Are you saying you're in the mood?” He asked.

“I mean—I was looking out for both of us.” You sat up again, leaning back onto your hands, putting more emphasis on your nondominant one. He followed you up and stood between your legs, knee pressing down onto the mattress to lean over you and collect you in his arms.

You both tumbled onto the sheets, your face pressed to his chest and his chin tucked over your head, legs tangled together. “I don't know,” you muttered, “it's been a good month, and I guess I was just…” Insecure. “I’m being ridiculous though,” you laughed the thought away, “every couple goes at their own pace.”

His fingers grasped your chin and pulled your eyes to meet his. The eye contact was strangely intimate with him as it always was. “Yn,” he said lowly, “you’re not being ridiculous.”

He rolled his body over yours, arms bracketed around your head with your noses a breath apart. “Can I kiss you?” He asked in earnest, searching your face.

You nodded, eyes wide. “Yes.”

His hand curled around the back of your head as he lowered his mouth over yours. Your nose slotted beside his, and you raised your upper body to hold onto him and press yourself all the more close. You sighed, his tongue pressing into your mouth to deepen the kiss.

There had been a few other times you'd kissed before. There was no rush with this one. He took his sweet time with you, kissing you languidly, devouring you whole. His limbs wrapped around you like a python so you were unable to leave his grasp—as if you wanted to.

When you broke apart, you were flushed and his breathing was heavy. He brushed the hair from your face, your eyes glazed as you stared up at him. “I've never been intimate with someone I care so much about,” he confessed, his voice gravelly from the kiss. Your lips parted for his thumb as he dragged it over your bottom lip.

“Me neither,” you told him. You reached up to run your hand through his hair. “Is it scary?”

“The way I feel about you?” He wrestled down a swallow. “I'm terrified.” Terrified to break you, to lose you, to hurt you. Everything in between.

It wasn't always that you were given the privilege of seeing him so open and vulnerable. He had slowly become better around you, especially around you, but there was still a few things you had to get past. It was okay though; he just needed time. That much you understood. This was new to you, too.

“I'm nervous,” you admitted quietly, “but I trust you.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your mouth. Your eyes fluttered closed. “I trust you, too.”

Changmin brought his lips to the corner of your mouth, then to the underside of your jaw. Your fingers buried themselves into his hair as he trailed his lips down the column of your neck as if to taste every inch of your skin.

Your heart palpitated in your chest and you held him close, neck craned to encourage him. A moan slipped from your mouth when you felt his teeth graze your pulse. The rough pad of his tongue swiped over the mark he left.

It was strange to think of how trust and love worked. It would be so easy to rip your throat out, but instead, he was here kissing you.

His fingers danced along the bottom hem of your shirt in silent question, and you guided his hand beneath the fabric and along your bare skin. You shuddered as his fingers trailed up your side and reached the edge of your bra.

He raised his lips up to meet yours again, eyes half lidded.

Your shirt came up and over your head, bra clasp unsnapping behind your body until your top half was bare before him.

And he looked at you under him with an expression you couldn't discern immediately. It was that thing he always did, the look he had in his eyes when he stared at you, but this time felt slightly different.

You shied away into yourself, one of your arms coming to lie across your chest. “What?” You let out a small laugh.

He swallowed, meeting your eyes. “I…” Changmin took your arm and brought your once-shattered wrist to his mouth. He pinned your arm above your head then, so he could see you. “Nothing, I just—you’re beautiful.”

Your resolve softened. “You can touch me.”

He kissed you again then, softly, one palm enclosing around your left breast. You shivered, your heart throwing itself up against its confines so it might reach the hand it wanted to be held in.

Changmin rolled one perked nipple between his fingers and you arched your chest up into his hand.

“I never say it—” He said, tongue swiping over your lips again for any and every taste of you, “—as much as you deserve to hear it.”

His lips met your pulse again, mouth trailing down your clavicle, to the pendant resting on your sternum. The pulsing of the scarlet mirrored your own racing heartbeat and gave your state of mind clean away. Every touch of his lips, lap of his tongue, nip of his teeth along your skin felt like he was tracing your outline and committing you to memory. Every inch of you, loved and worshiped and acknowledged. Not his to own, but his to cherish.

Changmin's shirt came off next, exposing a toned upper body marked in faded white scars here and there. Oh, to kiss each mark upon his body—an endeavor for another time. The twin to your necklace swung over you from around his neck as he returned himself to your embrace.

“You're beautiful, too—d’you know that?” You murmured to him between the breaths between kisses.

“Only if you show me.”

You smiled against his mouth. “Deal.”

You felt his mouth curl up in a similar gesture, his arms wrapping around your waist and pressing the length of his body against yours. His weight was a comfort, kissing him was a dream.

Changmin tugged the waistline of your pants down, fingers hooking in the elastic of your underwear, then pausing. “This okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded, and you helped kick your bottoms off and away. He was swift to follow suit, the belt of his buckle clinking together as he slid it off, then his jeans, and boxers. You could see the outline of his cock strain through the fabric before his aching, reddened length slapped against his lower stomach.

“Would it ruin the mood if I said that probably isn't what your demon form dick looks like?” You asked cheekily as he clambered back over you.

Changmin rolled his eyes. “I'm tryna be romantic and all you can talk about is—mmmph!”

You silenced him by dragging his mouth back down to yours. He melted into you, weaving his hand between your bodies so he could drag his fingers through your lower lips. You jolted at the feeling, your hips twitching in his direction in a silent plea.

He groaned low into your mouth, withdrawing as he circled his fingers through your arousal. “Is this all for me?” He asked, dipping a finger into your cunt. His thumb drew dizzying circles into your clit, and you swore you saw stars.

“Yeah, 's all for you,” you exhaled, earning you a searing kiss as he swallowed those words.

You pushed your hips against his hand, a pair of his thick fingers filling you up and curling against the sweet, gummy spot of your inner walls. It was as if he knew exactly where to find it, and knew exactly how much pressure would make you rocket up toward white-hot bliss.

You whimpered against his mouth as the tension in the pit of your stomach wound up tightly. “Changmin—”

“You close, sweetheart? Wanna see how pretty you look when you come.”

His thumb branded your clit with his fingerprint and drove you to insanity. Blood rushed in your ears, head spinning as he helped you over that crest. You cried out as you crashed and the steady pumping of his fingers coaxed you through it. Your fingers dug into the muscle of his shoulders, grounding you as your legs shook and toes curled.

His fingers maintained their steady pace as you came down from the high. You imagined you looked like something of a hot mess beneath him, but when your eyes fluttered up to meet his, you were struck by the tenderness in those dark irises.

When you could breathe evenly, he withdrew his fingers and collected your come to thumb over the pearl beaded at the tip of his cock. “Are you—was that okay?” He asked, his free hand thumbing your cheek. You saw his jaw twitch as he pumped his cock with his other hand, slickened with both of your arousal.

You gave a breathy laugh, and he nearly stopped at the sight of your smile. “Okay? That was—that was more than okay,” you said. “Ji Changmin, come here. Let me kiss you.”

It was something in the way he crushed his mouth against yours this time, one hand cradling the side of your face like you were all he ever wanted—the other coming up to grasp your side—that had your stomach doing flips. And if actions spoke louder than words, you wanted to believe that he was yelling them at you now. If he couldn't bring himself to scream them from the top of a building, this would be enough.

Your nose gently bumped against his. “Can I do something for you?”

He replied lowly between kisses, “Another time. Just… let me do this for you. It'll be enough for me.”

You melted in his hold, as if he didn't make you a fuzzy-chested, dizzy-headed mess all the time.

You felt him nudge your opening, and you locked your hands around his neck. Slowly, you felt a delicious stretch as he pushed into you. Changmin groaned into your neck, the sound making you arch yourself into him further. His voice alone sent you careening toward your own climax, it was so sensual.

Once he sat in you to the hilt, hips locked against hips, he lingered to give you a moment to get comfortable. The girth of him filled you up delectably, the pain only the undertone to pleasure.

He raised his head out of the crook of your neck. “Sweetheart?”

“Yeah—” you nodded, “—I’m good.”

He returned the gesture, biting his lip, then swooping down to kiss you again. “You're doing so well for me,” he murmured. “So warm, so tight. Fuck, you feel divine.”

He pulled himself out slightly, then gave an experimental thrust of his hips. Your hold tightened around him, a moan slipping from your lips. He held you as he continued this motion, a steady and strong rocking of his hips against yours, cock dragging along your walls in confident strokes.

He tucked his head back into your shoulder, lips pressing open mouthed kisses to your hot skin. You could feel the dampness between your thighs dribble down your legs, and you were gradually clambering back onto that hill with your stomach twisting in pleasure.

His labored breathing filled your ear, followed by his mouth—marks lovingly pressed into your flesh and whispered in your ear. You locked a leg around his slim waist and met his thrusts, the pacing quickening slightly as you both began approaching your highs.

Your voice came out choked and desperate. “Changmin, I'm…”

“Yeah, sweetheart; I got you.” Changmin pushed himself back up to hover over you for the last few thrusts, his lips pressed together tightly and sweat dripping down the slope of his nose. He slipped a hand between your bodies again and worked at your nub—and it was all you needed to be pushed over that edge again.

You cried out his name, fingernails burying themselves in his shoulders. You clenched down hard around him, breathing hard and ragged.

You thought you heard him groan out your name as his hips stilled and he came. You exhaled heavily, his body wrapping around yours again while you both caught your breath and descended from bliss.

He left a kiss just below your ear and you cupped the back of his head and shoulders to your body. “Fuck me,” he muttered, rolling your bodies to the side, legs sticky and tangled together.

“Didn't I just do that?” You mused.

He chuckled, moving his head to bump his nose against yours. “Yeah, guess so.” Changmin gazed at you then, eyes searching and searching and searching. You never asked what he was looking for; you always figured he'd one day be able to tell you.

He licked his lips and a crease formed between his brows. “Yn… Yn, I…”

The voice inside his throat remained trapped, the words on his tongue froze. You looked up at him, glassy-eyed and patient, the tilt of your lips so sweet and terribly beautiful. He'd never been at such a loss for words.

You moved forward to press a kiss to his mouth. “I know,” you said. Even if he couldn't say it yet, you always knew.

He swallowed, a moment of silence falling between the two of you. His heart careened against his chest, and he was sure if the amulet he wore now had his blood running through it, the damn thing would pound away like a galloping horse.

He wondered how he got so lucky.

But though he couldn't express it in words, he would always find a different way to reassure you that he felt the same. Changmin leaned forward and wordlessly captured your lips again, rolling you onto your back and pressing every last word he hadn't the guts to say into this searing kiss.

I love you, I adore you. Thank you. Be mine, in life and death; mortally and immortally. Every promise, he would strive to keep.

a/n: at one point, yes, i will write abt sex in his demon form LMAO what did u expect from me 🤣 anyways, this turned out to be around the length of an actual chapter of nt haha

m.list

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

The Hope in the Fault Lines, part 1

Summary: after your sister and her husband are tragically killed, you become the guardian of their daughter, your niece. As you try to pick up the pieces of your life, you become aware that you need help. Desperately. So you hire a nanny. Enter Mingyu, an ex-agent-turned-childcare-professional with a past of his own.

Genre: fluff, heavy themes, (light) smut in later parts (minors DNI)

Warnings: (applies to most of the parts) descriptions of grief, mental illness, disordered eating, instant parenthood, loss of sibling, vehicle-related death, police investigation, child custody court, parental abuse

Word count for pt 1: 4.3k

part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Why aren’t I numb yet? you think to yourself.

Because really, you should be there by now. Hell, you’d even planned to be there by now so you could go back to work. But here you are — standing in your seven-month-old niece’s bedroom, crying along with her, the agony in your chest building like water that slowly heightens to a boil, its persistent, grief-tinged bubbles roiling in time with every pointless beat of your absolutely shattered heart.

You stroke the back of your niece Sara’s head and made soothing noises as well as you could around your own tears. Surely, at some point, she had to stop crying, right? Then maybe you could get back to sleep, which so far has been the only semi-consistent way to forget the grim truth of your reality.

Which was that your sister, Jeri — the proper mother for this fussing thing in your arms — and her husband, Jisung, were dead. That was why you were here, with a child who was missing the same person you were missing but had much less of a vocabulary to express it, so she just cried and cried and cried until you realized she was voicing your own internal monologue. Both of you were hoping that she’d walk in any minute and hold you and make the world stop its incessant spinning for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m sorry you only have me. I’m sorry that’s the best I can give you.” You stifle a sob. “I’m sorry that she’s gone. I miss her too.”

Eventually, Sara’s wails quieted, and she slumped against your shoulder, exhausted. You collapsed into the chair in the nursery, exhausted enough to fall asleep immediately, holding Sara in your arms.

You were awakened by the sound of the door opening. Had you forgotten to lock it? You suddenly panic, gently placing Sara’s still-sleeping form into her crib before tiptoeing into the hallway, colliding with your best friend, Bora.

“Did I not lock the door?” you blurt in shock.

She looks you up and down. “No, you did,” she reassures, her worried look intensifying. “I’ve had a key for five years.”

You deflate in relief. “Right,” you say aimlessly, looking at her. “Okay. Um…coffee?”

“Girl, I should be making you coffee,” Bora said. She put a hand to your forehead. “You’re ill, sweetheart.”

You blink at her. “I am?”

“Undoubtedly,” she confirms, leading you back to your bedroom. “Don’t worry about Sara. I’ll be here all day, so you just rest, okay?” She nearly pushes you onto your bed, and pulls a blanket off the floor to tuck around you.

You take stock of yourself. Head aching -- that wasn’t new. Eyes dry and puffy -- same as always. No, the only difference you could tell from last night is a hollow, cavernous emptiness in your chest where the clawing agony used to sit. Right on cue, the numbness has begun to engulf you.

You pass the day in a haze, only briefly aware of the activities of Sara, who at seven months old is only fussy around strangers when it gets dark, and your friend. You simply lay there in bed, not sleeping despite your tiredness, not even able to muster up the energy to reach for the food Bora brings you at midday. In fact, the sun is setting before you’re able to become conscious, sitting up and rubbing at your stinging eyes as Bora comes in to check on you.

“What about Morrie and Cal?” you ask her, referencing Bora’s own daughter Morna and her husband Calvin. “Did you really leave them all day?”

Bora nodded. “Yeah, Cal’s got it. Which is what I wanted to talk to you about.” She brushes your hair out of your face in a motherly way. “You need help here.”

“I’m not getting married anytime soon, Bo,” you say dryly.

“I’m not talking about marriage,” she says. “I’m talking about a nanny.”

You bite your lip. “Are you saying I’m bad at motherhood?” you ask, and if you could sound hurt through all the nothingness you feel, you’re sure you would.

“No,” Bora says gently. “I’m saying you didn’t bargain for motherhood on top of dealing with your grief, and you still have a whole life ahead of you that needs your attention, outside of this apartment. You have a job you love that you really need to get back to -- for you, sweetheart, not for the company, because I know that the work you do makes you happy. You need more time like that, more time for you. I know there’s a big difference in the circumstances, but when I became a mother, having Cal as a partner made it really easy for me to do things outside of the house that gave me purpose. It really helped me get a handle on myself outside of motherhood so that I could maintain a healthy relationship with Morrie without resenting her or losing myself. And honestly, you need that. We all do. And since marriage isn’t the move right now, and you have the means, a nanny might be the best possible thing for you.”

You nod slowly. “So they’d just come watch Sara while I’m at work?”

She nods. “They can be here as much or as little as you want.”

“Okay. How do I make sure they’re not a child snatcher or a pervert?”

Bora snorts. “Well, I’d recommend interviewing them so that your spidey-senses can alert you to any potential creeps,” she advises.

“I’m tired just thinking about that,” you groan. The phone begins to ring, and you check the ID — it’s your head editor, Cory.

You answer. “Hey,” you say, trying not to sound as dead inside as you are. “What’s up?”

“How are you doing?” he asks, his tone hesitant. This was one of the worst parts of tragedy, you thought to yourself: the awkwardness. Suddenly there was no comfort anywhere. Nobody knew what to say to you, or how to address the event, so everyone skated around it and you in a cautious dance of embarrassment and pity. Part of you wishes someone would just acknowledge it -- “so, your sister is dead,” and then move on.

“I’m fine,” you lie. “I should be back to work...soon. I just need to find a nanny for my niece.”

“Oh, that’s...that’s good,” Cory says, sounding surprised. “I wasn’t actually calling about that, I was actually just...worried about you.”

You sigh. “Everybody is, Cory. But I’ll pull through this. I always do.”

“I know,” he says, “and I trust that you will. I just...wanted you to know that we’re -- that I’m thinking of you.”

You try to feel curious about his choice of words, but can’t muster the energy to care that much. “Thanks, Cory,” you say. “I’ll let you know if I need anything.” Another lie, but the last one you feel compelled to tell him. “Bye.”

Bora is looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “He seems friendly,” she says, and through the haze that seems to coat your brain you know she’s making an implication.

This is yet another thing you don’t have the energy to address right now, so you don’t. “So, I need to interview nannies.”

“Well, you could also have your assistant do it,” Bora offers. “She’d lay on train tracks for you. I’m sure she’d do a good job.”

The corner of your mouth twitches as you think of making Emily, your eager assistant, vet nannies for Sara. She was young and enthusiastic and proactive, and she’d do a great job. “I think that’s a good idea,” you say. “Thanks, Bora. I know I haven’t been -- well, I know you have better things to do than worry about me, and I’m s--”

“Don’t you dare finish that thought,” she says, holding her manicured hand up to silence you. “You have people around you who care about and love you. Me included. This is the time where you need to lean on those people. And we all want that.”

“Thank you,” you say again.

“Eat,” she says sternly. “I need to get home, but I refuse to leave Sara with you until you’ve got food in your body.”

You wrinkle your nose at the idea of putting something in your mouth and chewing, but you realize that Bora’s made you some kind of thick, creamy soup that requires nothing but small sips. It’s easy to eat, and before you know it, despite not really tasting it as it passed through your lips, you’ve finished the bowl. Bora nods approvingly, leaning in and kissing your forehead before standing up to leave. “I love you, sweetheart,” she says. “Call me in the morning, okay?”

And with that, she leaves.

***

Six days later, you’re somewhere that you never expected to be at this point -- at dinner with your friend Gwen and her husband, Chan. Bora had showed up, instructed you to get ready, and taken Sara home with her as the couple had showed up at your front door. “You need a night out,” she insisted as you halfheartedly protested.

You had taken her advice and asked Emily to start interviewing nannies, but so far, her search for someone who could be there during your required time period and had the right background checks and qualifications had come up with very few results. This was a bit disheartening, but you hadn’t really given up yet, hoping someone would pull through for you. If you believed in God at this point, you’d probably pray for it.

These are the thoughts that are consuming you at dinner with your friends, when you’re supposed to be listening to them talk. They, gratefully, are a comforting pair, who make a point not to look at you with the customary pity. Instead, they ask about work and Sara and even about your thoughts on how the funeral had gone, which is kind of a relief -- none of that timid skirting around the big, ugly elephant in the room. Maybe this openness they’ve pulled out of you is the reason you feel you can speak to them about your current issue. “Actually, I’m trying to get back to work,” you say. “Those bills aren’t going to pay themselves. The only issue is, I need to find a nanny for Sara, but my assistant has been having trouble finding someone who fits the bill,” you explain, picking at the food in front of you.

To your surprise, Chan’s eyes light up. “I might know a guy. He used to work with me, and he just moved back here after awhile.”

You stare at him. “Chan, aren’t you a federal officer?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Why would a federal agent want to work as my nanny?” you ask him.

“Former federal agent,” he corrects you. “Turned nanny.”

“You know someone who quit being a secret agent to become a child-care worker?” you say in disbelief.

Gwen nods. “Actually, he’s really good. The family he was just with fell on some hard times, which is why he’s back now, but I think he might be looking for a new gig.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “You got the contact information for this guy?” you ask Chan.

“Yeah. His name’s Mingyu. I’ll forward the info on to Emily.”

“Thanks,” you say. “Really, Chan.” You allow yourself to hope for a moment, which provides just the right amount of energy to finish dinner and make your way back home. Once you’re inside your wreck of an apartment, which hasn’t been really cleaned since the accident, you lean heavily against the door, releasing a big breath.

You head to Sara’s room before realizing she’s still at Bora’s house. You text her that you’re home, and before you know it, Bora is handing a sleeping Sara back into your arms.

“She was really good today,” Bora whispers. “How was dinner?”

“It was...okay,” you say, and for the first time, you’re honest. For some reason, you feel like this Mingyu person is the one who’s going to stick, and that leaves you with a modicum of relief. A change is coming, and this one feels like it’s bound to be better than whatever you’re trying to do now. Bora leaves, and you go to the nursery -- the one room that’s intact and clean -- and sink into the rocking chair with Sara.

“Sometime soon, we’re going to have someone to help us out, Sara,” you promise. “I know this isn’t the life your parents probably imagined for you, but I’m going to try and give you something close to what they wanted you to have. I mean that.”

Slowly, you pull her off your shoulder to look at her cherubic little face -- at the black curls that surround her face, her long eyelashes fluttering in sleep. She’s a darling baby, but what you notice is something that penetrates through the cloud of numbness: she’s smiling, her little dimples so reminiscent of --

“Jeri,” you breathe, and a rush of warmth hits you right in your chest for a moment before it’s once again extinguished by your grief, like a flaming arrow shot into a dark, black lake. You suppose, as you hold her close to you once again, that in a way, Sara has immortalized your sister.

You fall asleep holding Sara, who for the first time since she became yours sleeps through the night.

***

You’re standing in your sweatpants, braless, your hair thrown haphazardly on top of your head, feeding Sarah some baby food as she babbles happily in her high chair, when the doorbell rings. You check your watch in disbelief -- it’s seven in the morning, which is the time you had asked Mingyu to show up for his first day of work. You’d never met him in person, although you had talked to him on the phone, and you’d wanted to make a good first impression. But then Sara had had a blowout, and you’d had to change your own sheets because she’d slept in your bed with you, and then you’d had to bathe her (it was that bad), and you were finally getting to feed Sara. You hadn’t even eaten yet, and you’d planned to be fully ready and put together by the time he arrived.

But there was no postponing this -- you couldn’t just let him rot on your porch. So you head for the door, praying Sara won’t throw the spoon on the floor as she has been wont to do recently, and look through the peephole. When you see him, the only thing you can do is whisper “shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.”

Because how could Emily not have told you that the man was beautiful?

And he isn’t beautiful in like, your everyday way either. The man on your porch is tall, probably dwarfing you by both head and shoulders, with a broad chest that pulled at the simple black tee he wears and arms that the pre-accident you would have swooned over. His hair is cropped short like a fed, and he is dressed practically, and yet, he was a god. There was no other way around it. You look down at yourself -- stained t-shirt, sweats with holes in embarrassing places, hair in disarray -- and shrug. There’s nothing you can do but pull the door open. “Hi,” you say. “Mr. Kim?”

“Yeah,” he replies, and he doesn’t seem to register your haggard appearance, just smiles. “I’m guessing you’re --”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Um, please come in.”

He does, carefully removing his tennis shoes and stepping into the entryway. “Sara’s in the kitchen. Probably throwing stuff.”

He chuckles. “She’s seven months?”

“Yeah,” you say.

“They do that,” he says conspiratorially.

It has taken you very little time to realize you might be in trouble. Mingyu’s smile is open and warm, his eyes full of life. He is nothing like the gruff, stern former agent that you were picturing in your head. You watch him crouch to greet Sara, whose face lights up at his friendly wave. “Hi, Sara,” he says, brushing a bit of blended squash off her nose. “You’re a cutie, that’s for sure.”

“I’m so sorry for the mess,” you can’t help but say. “It’s...it’s been insane.”

He looks up at you. “I get it. Your assistant kind of explained the situation. How are you holding up?” he asks.

You scratch the back of your head. “Well, Sara’s still alive, and that’s pretty much the extent of my current goals, so I guess we’re doing pretty well, all things considered.”

He nods sympathetically. “Honestly, great job. Becoming an instant parent can’t be easy.”

“I actually need to be at work at 8:30,” you suddenly realize. “Can I show you around? I’ll have to dash right afterward.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, following you down the hall.

“This is the guest room,” you say. “It hasn’t been touched for a minute, but this is where you’ll sleep if we ever need you to stay overnight. I occasionally have business trips.” You lead him further down the hall and up the short staircase, opening the door to the nursery. “Right there is the bathroom. This is Sara’s room, so when she goes down for naps, this is where you can put her.”

You look at him, and his face is thoughtful as you point down the hall. “Door at the end is my bedroom,” you say, remembering what an absolute disaster it is. A blush rises in your cheek. “And please,” you say, going back down the stairs. “You can make yourself at home. Feel free to use the TV while Sara’s napping, or eat what’s in the fridge or pantry if you’re hungry.”

“Okay,” he agrees.

You pull out your wallet and hand him a card. “This one is for you. If you ever feel like eating anything or going somewhere with Sara, you can use this. I opened it for you specifically -- I figured it’d be easier than reimbursing you.”

He pockets it. “Sounds good,” he says.

You stand there, feeling awkward. “Well, I think that was all.”

He nods. “Go get ready,” he says reassuringly. “If I need something or have any questions, I’ll shoot you a text. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” you say in relief. “Thanks.”

You nearly sprint upstairs and jump in the shower. It takes you two minutes to do everything you need to do -- you’ve been taking micro-showers since you took Sara in, terrified that something would happen to her in your absence. Watching the time, you blow your hair dry, apply simple makeup, and change into a comfortable pair of black slacks and a white button-up. You arrive downstairs to see Mingyu at the sink with Sara, having sat her in the crook of his arm so he can wash her sticky face.

The sight of them warms your heart. “Okay, I’ve gotta dash,” you say. “Please, reach out to me if you need anything.”

He smiles. “I will. Drive safe.”

“Okay,” you say, bounding out the door and into your car.

The office hushes a bit when you walk in. They knew you were coming back today, but it must be surreal after the three months you’ve been gone, especially when this is your magazine -- you’re the only person at the company who’s been there since the beginning, because you started it. Cory is quick to hop to your side. “Hi, boss,” he greets. The rest of the office goes back to their activities as you enter your large, glass-paneled office.

“Hi, Cory,” you say. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” he says, seemingly lost for any other words. “It’s good to have you back.”

“Thanks,” you say. “So, update me. Where are we at with the Serena Williams feature?”

“She was super understanding, and the publishers were too,” he says. “Ruby wrote a great piece, though, so as soon as we’ve got the green light we’ll start the launch. I’ve got Jojo on the social media build, and she’s got a two-on-one scheduled with us later to go over it.”

You nod in approval. “Okay, sounds good. I’m gonna contact Park Seojun’s agent today, so I’d like a list of writers you think could write that story well before our meeting with Jojo. I’m thinking we use someone in-house, but I’m open to contracting out if you’re worried people in the office already have too much to do.”

Cory gives you a thumbs up. “Got it,” he says, heading back to his desk.

You breathe in your office air, feeling some of the tension in your shoulders dissolve. You can’t say you’re happy, per se -- but you aren’t as empty as you have been. Bora had been right -- getting back to work is going to be good for you.

***

Toward the end of the day, though, you begin feeling a strange pull -- a pull toward home. You know Mingyu and Sara have been fine, because Mingyu has been texting you periodically throughout the day:

9:49

MG: hey, we’re out of wet wipes over here. do you have any extra boxes?

You: yeah they’re in your bathroom under the sink!

MG: okay I should’ve thought to check there, thanks! You saved my life haha

You: no worries! Is everything ok?

MG: yeah its good, no need to stress. Sara just needs a diaper change.

You: ok, sounds good! Thanks!

11:30

MG: sara reeeeeeeeeeeally likes pears

You: oh yeah they’re her favorite lol

He’d sent you a video of Sara screeching with joy as he put a spoonful of pear mush into her mouth.

MG: like i’ve never seen anyone so enthusiastic about pears

You: i love it when she screams at her food, that’s the best

MG: me too its so cute haha

1:43

MG: ok i forgot to ask

MG: how long are her naps supposed to be

You: tbh I usually let her sleep an hour or so...i should probably do research on what’s developmentally appropriate

MG: lmao nah i gotchu

Then a few minutes later:

1:52

MG: so apparently huckleberrycare.com suggests 2-3 hours of daytime sleep for kids sara’s age

You: damn, that’s a long time

You: well, i guess let her sleep? She might not stay down that long, but we can adjust her routine a bit to try and get her there

MG: sounds good. Is she a light sleeper? She’s on me rn and i don’t want to wake her up if i move her

You: oh no you can totally put her in her crib lol she won’t wake up

MG: ok thanks haha my arm was kind of going numb bc i was too scared to change positions lmao

You: hahaha yes you’re totally fine to put her in as soon as she goes to sleep usually

MG: great to know, thanks lol

And more throughout the day, littered with photos of Sara in varying states of ridiculousness. You found yourself actually smiling as each text rolled in, grateful for the updates, knowing you would’ve felt a lot more anxious if you hadn’t heard anything.

Still, you didn’t want to keep Mingyu waiting too long. He was supposed to get off at 6, and you wanted to make sure he didn’t feel like you were taking advantage of him. So you left work earlier than normal, beating the rush hour traffic and coming through the door to see Mingyu playing with your niece on the floor. He looks up at you as you come in and waves you over. “She rolled over just barely,” he whispers excitedly. “Watch!”

Sara struggles, whining a little bit, before rolling from her stomach to her back. You clap excitedly, lifting her from the floor into your arms and kissing her pudgy cheek. “Good job, Sara!” you coo, and she burbles happily, touching your face with a fat hand.

Suddenly, you notice something -- the house is clean.

“Mr. Kim,” you say slowly, “did you clean my house?”

He suddenly looks sheepish. “Uh, yeah, I did,” he says. “I’m sorry if that was...I don’t know, not my place.”

“Are you apologizing for cleaning?” you ask him, amused. “I feel bad you felt the need to do that! I shouldn’t have -- have let it get so bad.”

He gives you an extremely gentle look that you are sure he didn’t intend to make your knees go weak. “You’ve been through a lot recently,” he says. “I think you should be kinder to yourself. Also, there was a time when I was in college and living with roommates, and it was way worse cleaning up after some of them.”

“Well, at least there’s that,” you say, returning his smile with Sara propped on your hip.

You stare at him for a minute, and then shake yourself. “Well, I’m here now, so I guess you can...go?” You make a face at your phrasing. “I’m not trying to kick you out. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to stay past your hours.”

He chuckles. “It’s okay. I get you. Have a good night.” He heads for the door, calling over his shoulder. “Actually, I made some fried rice this afternoon. The leftovers are in the fridge. Help yourself.”

Your jaw drops. “Wait a minute, Mr. Kim,” you call after him, following him on his way out.

He turns around, smiling at your tone. “You can call me Mingyu,” he offers.

You nod. “Okay, Mingyu. You cooked, cleaned, and took care of Sara while I was at work?”

“Yeah,” he says, a laugh in his voice. “Is that so odd?”

“I never managed to do all three in one day,” you admit ashamedly.

“Well, I’m not mourning the loss of my sister,” he reminds you, and his voice is a bit stern. “That kind of thing takes a lot of energy.” He rests a big hand on your shoulder comfortingly before opening the door. “See you tomorrow.”

[mystic-writings]

emergency contact | jack hodgins

pairing — jack hodgins x fem!booth!reader

summary — hodgins hasn’t heard from you in over six months, after you broke up with him and disappeared. until he gets an alarming phone call in the middle of the night

warnings — angst, canon-typical violence, mentions of death

word count — 2,528

notes — a few things: i wrote this back in january, and it was rushed and poorly done but im being self-indulgent for this one | also im not tagging anyone bc i wanna see how far this will get on its own (except for my beloved @shmaptainwrites who indulged me ily mimi)

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2:47am

Despite his many years working for the Jeffersonian, Hodgins had yet to get used to his phone ringing at odd hours. With a groan and a stretch, his palm landed where his phone lay on the nightstand table. Without checking the caller ID, he picked up the phone and slurred out a tired greeting to the caller on the other line.

“Hello, Dr. Hodgins, I’m Marie, calling from the George Washington University Hospital.” Why was a hospital calling him so late at night? “You’re listed as the emergency contact for Y/n Booth, correct?”

Your name sent a shock through Jack’s body. “I— I guess so, yeah. Why? Is she okay?”

“Your fiancée was shot on duty, sir. She’s in surgery right now. We suggest you be with her when she wakes up.”

Without a second thought, Jack hung up the phone and flung out of bed. He didn’t care how things ended between the two of you, good or bad, but he knew one thing for certain: he needed to make sure you were okay. After scrambling for a decent set of clothing and his car keys, Jack rushed out of the house and down the near-empty streets to the hospital you were taken to. 

Even though his mind was running at a mile a minute, Jack managed to recall what the nurse had told him. Shot on duty. You took a sabbatical seven months ago, were you back in town? Surely Booth must’ve known, he was your brother and co-worker, he had to have. Did he spare telling Jack to avoid the inevitable turmoil? Obviously you’d been back long enough to take a case, so it wasn’t like you had decided to come back out of the blue. 

By the time he found parking, it was half past 3 in the morning, and Jack’s heart refused to stop beating out of his chest, his palms sweating rivers as he clenched and unclenched them. Despite all of this, though, he approached the front desk with a cracking resolve, trying his best to be put together for the sake of not distressing the night staff and lingering patient family members. 

“Could you tell me where Y/n Booth is?”

The nurse behind the counter glanced up at him. “Connection to the patient?”

“I’m her-” he stumbled on the words. “Her, uh, fiancé. Emergency contact.” 

She typed a few things into the computer when a voice from behind caught Jack’s attention. 

“Hodgins.” Booth called, approaching with a weary face and a cup of likely burnt coffee.

Jack nearly sprinted over to the man, blue eyes frantically searching for answers in his features. “What’s up, man? I mean, what the hell happened?”

Booth took Hodgins by the arm and led him down a hallway, over to the elevators. “We were going after a perp. I told her not to go in first, that I’d handle the hard part. She didn’t listen, the bastard got her from behind, shot out one of her kidneys. Been in surgery for almost,” he checked his watch, “three hours now.” 

Jack deflated just as the elevator doors dinged open. The pair stepped inside, the space empty apart from themselves. “I just— I don’t get it. Yesterday, she was somewhere even I didn’t know, taking some damn sabbatical. Yesterday, I was still pissed at her. Now? She’s in surgery because she was on a case. Because some asshole shot her. I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do with that, Booth?”

Unable to provide any kind of emotional support or response, Booth remained quiet as his friend tried his best not to break down in the elevator. 

When the doors opened, Jack attempted to regain his composure as best as he could while Booth led him down the hall. There was a separate waiting room here, for family members who had someone in surgery. He sat opposite Booth, next to a sleeping little girl and her obviously exhausted mother. 

He had no bearing of the passage of time, and felt as though there was no energy left within him to check the watch on his wrist. All he did was sit with his hands on his knees, head tilted to the sky, one leg bouncing like an infinite rubber ball. At some point, a doctor came out to notify the mother of her husband’s successful surgery — his tumor was gone, he’d told her, and there was little chance of it coming back. 

It wasn’t until the sun started to peek in through the waiting room windows that a surgeon called out your name. Booth had been asleep in the chair across from Jack, but he was wide awake. The pair jumped up and approached the doctor, throwing questions at him rapidly. 

“Y/n is okay. Surgery went well, though we’ll have to keep her here for longer than expected.”

“Why? What happened?” Booth asked. 

The doctor sighed. “Due to the location of the entry wound, the bullet caused too much damage to her right kidney. For now, she’ll only be functioning with one until we can find a donor match. She’ll be on dialysis weekly and some medication to assist the working kidney, but otherwise, she’ll be just fine in a week or so. The bullet did puncture the liver and small intestine, but the speed of the bullet slowed enough to only cause minor damage, nothing we couldn’t fix up.” He told them, and a wave of relief crashed over the pair. “She’s being brought up to her room now, if you’d like to go wait with her.”

Jack only nodded, Booth trailing him as the doctor led them up one more floor, where you were being transferred to the ICU. It was painful, seeing you after so  long, only for you to be hooked up to so many machines, laying nearly helpless in a bed. He pulled a chair up to your right side, reaching for your limp hand to hold, hoping you could feel him. 

Hoping you knew he was there. That you knew he always would be.

Booth leaned against the door frame, watching everything with anguish. After you left for California, you kept in constant contact with your older brother. But even in those months, you never explained why you broke off the engagement so suddenly. Why you took a surprise sabbatical, why you went to California specifically. Why you became so closed off, so cold to everyone, even to Parker. 

After a while, Booth left Jack alone to go pick up Parker from his mother’s house. He promised to be back later, your nephew in tow, and pressed a featherlight kiss to your forehead before he left. 

Jack, swimming in an ocean’s worth of thought, barely noticed the sun coming over the horizon in the window opposite him. All he could do was process the emotions flowing through him. Anger, that you left him so suddenly and without explanation. Despair, that you’d come back so long ago and didn’t come to see him, to work things out. Worry, that despite your life-saving surgery, you wouldn’t get a new kidney, or that you’d never be the same again. Anger again, but at the bastard who shot you. Triumph, that he was rotting in a cell right now. 

 Jack’s only comfort in the sterile, whitewashed room was the steady beeping emanating from the heart monitor, a small assurance that you were okay. His hand remained clasped over yours for hours, thumb stroking the smooth skin on the back of your hand. Partly as a comfort to himself that you were still there, but mostly, he believed, a comfort to you. He hoped you could feel it; that you could feel his presence. He hoped his presence comforted you. 

By the time you woke up, all the worry had faded from Jack’s body and exhaustion had taken its place. He was asleep, head supported by his arm on the side of the chair, when he heard the sheets rustle in the bed. 

Somehow, in all your years of work, this was the first time you ended up in the hospital due to a job-related injury. It wasn’t the first time you woke up dazed after a surgery with little memory of how you got there, though. 

The sheets, despite being thin, weighed down your legs and torso, providing warmth and comfort. You could feel the leads for the heart monitor stuck to your chest, irritating your skin in the slightest bit. There was a cannula feeding oxygen into your system, though it rubbed the skin on the back of your ears uncomfortably. The main thing, though, was that your torso hurt. 

Despite that, you managed to notice something weighing down your right hand. It was warm, warmer than the blankets. And heavier. Garnering the courage to open your eyes, you blinked to adjust to the sunlight and fluorescent lights, trying to shift yourself upward, wincing when it pulled on your wound. Instead, you glanced over at your hand, only to find another on top of it. Following the arm connected to it, your heart stuttered and cracked when you found a sleeping Hodgins sitting next to your bed. Emotion swelled within your chest and tear ducts just at the sight of him, sleeping so peacefully next to you, his hand over yours in a firm grasp, as if that was the only thing that assured him that you were really here. 

Slowly, quietly, you tried to pull your hand out from under Jack’s, only for the movement to wake him up. He stretched with a deep inhale, blinking rapidly as he took in his surroundings. It wasn’t until he noticed you were awake that he seemed to come to his senses. 

“Hey,” he nearly whispered. “How’re you feeling?”

You bit back a scoff. “Terrible. First job back and of course I had to get myself shot.” 

Jack fought a smile, scooting forward to raise the bed up for you to sit properly. “They said they got all the fragments of the bullet during surgery. You’re down a kidney for now, though.”

You only nodded, allowing yourself some time to gather your thoughts. “Why are you here, Hodgins?”

“Apparently, I’m still your emergency contact.” He told you, sitting back down and resting his elbows on his knees. “And apparently, I still care about you enough to show up.” 

“Don’t put that on me.” You whispered, chest restricting as tears fought their way back to your waterline. “You can’t say that to me. Not after what I did to you. You should hate me. I mean, really hate me. Like, praying for my downfall, kind of hate. You shouldn’t still care about me.”

“Well, apparently I do. I thought I hated you, for a long time. But I guess I don’t.” Jack sighed,  taking your hand. You wanted to protest, to pull away, but you let him. “I guess this was a wakeup call for me. Literally. They called me at 3 in the morning to tell me you were in surgery.”

You laughed, a wet sound underlined with sadness. “I’m sorry, Jack. Really, I am. I just…”

“What, don’t love me? It’s okay. I’ve learned to live with it.” 

Even when he should hate you, Jack still understood, and even worse, he still loved you. He was, somehow, the world’s most understanding man. God, you love him. 

“No, no I don’t hate you. Actually, it’s the opposite. I just wish things could’ve gone differently.” 

Now Jack was just confused. “What d’you mean? You broke up with me for a reason, right? You told me you didn’t love me anymore.”

“It’s too complicated, Jack. I want to explain it all to you, really, but it’s not safe. I don’t know if or when it will be, and I won’t blame you if you want to find someone else, or if you already have. You deserve to be happy, Jack. You should move on from me.” 

“I don’t want anyone else.” Jack said, emphasizing each word and squeezing your hand. “I just want you. From the moment I met you, I knew you were it for me, Y/n. Even with your brother breathing down my neck to not even think about pursuing our relationship. It was terrifying, but I ignored it. Because you were too important to have in my life. I couldn’t risk passing you up. I just don’t understand why you ended things so suddenly.”

The tears that you had been attempting to keep at bay for this entire conversation now flowed freely down your cheeks, the emotions you’d kept close to your chest for nearly a year now breaking free. Jack, like the gentleman he was, gently tilted your head toward him, reaching up and using the pads of his thumbs to brush them from your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, daring to look him in the eye. 

“Don’t be.” He whispered. 

“I have to be. I hurt you. I ruined everything. And it wasn’t even worth it. It  didn’t change anything.”

Despite his confusion, Jack said nothing. He simply stood to his full height and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you into his chest — minding your wounds and stroking your hair. “It’s okay. You’re home now. We can fix this.”

“No we can’t.” You shook your head, looking up at him. “Jack, there’s nothing left to fix. Because if we fix it, you’ll die.” 

After what felt like an eternity of swirling, spiraling thoughts, Jack found his voice. “What?”

“That’s why I left.” You said. “I was ordered to. I was working on a case, some underground organized crime syndicate. I found out some stuff I shouldn’t have. My hands were tied, I had no choice.” Choking back a sob, you wiped the tears from your face and took a breath. “It was either break up with you, call off the wedding, and leave, or everyone I loved would die. They were gonna kill you, kill Seeley and Parker, and drain your accounts. There was nothing I could do.” 

Jack pulled you in tighter, his whole worldview shifting and turning on an axis. He couldn’t speak — hell, he could barely even think right now. Jack had spent months grieving your relationship, questioning why you broke things off, harboring a ruthless anger at what his life had become, and all of it faded to dust in an instant. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, pulling Jack back to the present. “I work with these people, Jack. They could ruin me in an instant.” 

“We’ll fix this, I promise.” Jack declared, and despite the fear that had overridden your senses for the past few months, you couldn’t help but believe him. 

You only nodded, curling further into him as best as you could with your incisions. Fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie, you listened to the beat of his heart beneath you and took a deep breath. 

Soon enough, you were drifting off to sleep with the firm belief that soon enough, with the help of your family, somehow, everything would be okay. 

if you want more jack fics, please feel free to comment and let me know!! writing for smaller characters is always a gamble but if people read this i’d be more than happy to do so!

[aflame4goinghome]

Antithesis

j.t.k x reader & j.m.k. x reader

part III

word count: 6.3k

warnings: THIS STORY CONTAINS SMUT, MINORS DNI!! fluff, swearing, flirting, drinking, cheating *kind of*, possessiveness, Jake's an asshole (that deserves its own warning) SMUT: kissing, sexually implicit language, touching, dirty talk, phone sex, masturbating (f. & m.), fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (f. receiving & m. receiving), unprotected sex, slight biting, choking, praise kink, a touch of orgasm denial, a hint of a breeding kink, a bit of voyeurism

a/n: hi! it's been a while, i know. but trust me, this chapter is worth it... you're gonna love it. this chapter is pretty much all jake, sorry josh lovers! you'll see more of him next time ;) don't worry, the next part will not take as long. love ya! <3

listen to the official playlist on Spotify here

read part two here

✺⋅∘⋅•⋅∘⋅✧⋅∘⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅∘⋅✧⋅∘⋅∙⋅∘⋅✺

As you toss and turn in your bed, your mind isn’t thinking about anything but Jake. The feeling of his lips on your skin is burned into the back of your mind and threatens to take root there forever, and that scares you. It’s been over a month now since you’d last seen him– you and Josh have been taking advantage of his time off before he inevitably had to go back on tour, and luckily, it gave you an excuse to avoid his other half. 

From the bits and pieces you’ve heard from Josh, it seems like Jake has been out of town for a few weeks on a solo trip, making his rounds at a few studios and music stores in New York City and doing some recording on his own. Josh beamed when talking about it, it’s clear how proud he is of his brother and his dream. You just felt relieved that Jake’s presence wasn’t there to threaten your composure and complicate your relationship with Josh. 

You turn over on your side to look at Josh next to you, fast asleep. Every once in a while, you hear him breathe in a loud snore, making you giggle to yourself. You’re not sure what it is exactly that is keeping you up at night, but you just want to be rid of it. You didn’t have any room for distractions right now, between work and spending every waking moment with Josh. He hasn’t caught on to your off mood yet, for now. You hope to keep it that way. 

Josh stirs in his sleep, taking in a deep breath and then turning over on the bed, facing away from you. At that moment, your attention is pulled away by the constant buzzing of your phone on the bedside table. You roll over reluctantly to pick it up, the brightness of the screen nearly blinding you. You squint to see better and your breath gets stuck in your throat as you see the name, large on the top of your screen. Jake. 

You look in the corner to check the time: 3:37 am. Why on earth is he calling me this late? you think to yourself, shaking your head. You start to feel concerned that it might be serious or an emergency, so you quietly rise out of bed and tiptoe off to your bathroom, closing and locking the door behind you. Josh is still fast asleep, but you couldn’t risk it. You sit on the toilet seat and then apprehensively slide your finger across the screen, picking up the call. 

“Hello? Jake?” you whisper, trying your best to keep it down. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says, his voice sounding hushed and deep. It’s silent for a moment before you decide to break it yourself. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, not even bothering to hide the concern in your voice. You hear him chuckle on the other end and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m okay,” he answers. You can practically see the smirk on his face through the phone. “Just wanted to hear your voice, that’s all. Is that a crime?” You breathe out a quiet sigh as you attempt to think through your words carefully, not wanting to inflate his ego more than you had to.

“No, Jake. It’s not a crime. It’s just nearly 4 in the morning,” you say, a bit of sarcasm dripping off the end of the sentence. It’s quiet again for a few beats before he takes a deep breath and continues.

“I know. I know, it’s late,” he says, and you can hear a twinge of disappointment in his voice. 

“Are you still in New York?” you ask, trying to change the subject to not keep him feeling down.

“I am. My flight is on Sunday,” he says, pausing before he continues. “Why, did you miss me?” You can’t hold back the giggle that comes out and your hand rushes to your mouth, covering it and composing yourself. 

“I was just asking because of the time difference, Jacob,” you answer snarkily. “You wish.” Another laugh comes through the line.

“Maybe I do,” he says, clearly smiling again. You sit there in silence briefly, not knowing what else to say. Before you can attempt to end the call, he cuts you off.

“Listen, Y/N…” he starts. “I wanna see when I get back. And not just in passing, not just at a party. I want to take you out. Let me take you out, baby.” If you didn’t know any better, it almost sounded like he was pleading with you. But you do know better, or at least you think you do.

“Jake, are you drunk?” you ask, rolling your eyes. 

“No. I’m not,” he answers firmly. He’s never called you sober before, which takes you aback. You can’t help but feel the butterflies start to float through your stomach, threatening to rise up your throat and escape. The thought that he’d think to pursue you while sober was one that you never expected. No, you think to yourself, shoving the imaginary butterflies back down. I am not falling this easily. 

“Jake…” you whisper. “Why would you want to take me out? Why now?” You look down at your lap as your fingers fiddle with the hem of your oversized t-shirt. 

The idea that he would be actually pursuing you at all felt like a fantasy. After your past two interactions over the holidays, you had convinced yourself that he was just using you. Hell, maybe he still is. But something inside you was tempted to let him try his luck. You were with Josh, it was wrong, you knew that. But he was leaving soon, and he hasn’t shown any interest in getting serious with you. You were just a companion and a good lay for Josh, nothing more. Just a constant. You didn’t owe him anything. But still, you can’t help but feel guilty even considering it. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. I’m going out of my mind here, thinking about you being with my brother and not me. You’re mine– I want you to be mine,” he says, his voice dripping in desire and candor. You knew he was being honest. Your heart sinks at his words and the idea of being the one causing him pain. You can’t bear it. Before you can stop yourself, the word vomit starts coming. 

“There hasn’t been a single night in the past two months that I haven’t thought about you. Every single night. I go to bed thinking about you, and I wake up thinking about you. My mind is full of you, Jake. Only you,” you admit, almost hastily, like you would die if you didn’t let it out. You hear him sigh on the other line, feeling nervous about how he might be reacting. 

“God, sweetheart. You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he mumbles, his voice deep and hoarse, sending a bolt of lightning through your body. His voice alone makes your whole body tingle, going straight to your core. It was ridiculous how easily he could turn you on, he does it without even trying. You fail to stifle the quiet whimper from coming out of your mouth at his voice and you know it’s too late to backtrack now.

“Fuck, you like that, baby?” he whispers, letting out a low groan himself. You picture it in your head as your eyes start to close, thinking about the possibility of him palming himself through his pants while he talks to you on the phone. “I know you miss me. Go ahead and touch yourself for me, sweetheart. Be nice to her just like I would, I know she needs it.” 

Another moan leaves your mouth as he talks to you, and you allow your hand to drift down as you hold the phone to your ear in the other. You lift up your shirt slightly and let your fingers dip into your panties. Your head leans back against the wall and a soft whine leaves your lips as your fingers graze your clit. 

“Are you touching that pretty pussy for me, baby? You gonna be sweet to her?” he asks, the rasp in his voice sending shivers down your spine. You run two of your fingers through your folds, collecting the wetness that has begun to pool there and then slowly inserting them inside you. A moan starts to slip past your lips but you catch it, biting your lip as you start to move your fingers in and out of you.

“What is it, don’t want my brother to hear?” he teases. You roll your eyes as you work yourself slowly, your thumb rubbing circles along your swollen clit. You can hear his labored breathing over the phone, and you know that he’s touching himself too. It was all so taboo, almost turning you on even more. 

“Fuck, I wish I could feel your lips wrapped around my cock right now, baby,” he groans, panting quietly into the phone as he works himself closer. You whimper quietly, but loud enough for him to hear.

“God, me too… you feel so good, Jake,” you whine, getting closer and closer to the edge. “Please, keep talking, don’t stop.” He groans deeply at your words, you can tell he’s getting close.

“Y/N, when I see you… I’m gonna wine and dine you, make you feel so beautiful,” he whispers, you can hear him struggling to get his words out. “Then I’m going to take you home… and I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to even remember Josh’s name… Just me, only me.” His words are getting you so close, thinking about him branding you and keeping you for himself. You moan, almost too loud, as you start to reach your peak.

“Jake, fuck! I’m yours. I’m yours.” You finally go over the edge, coming all over your fingers and soaking your underwear as you slowly still your fingers. You hear a stifled moan on the other line as he finishes with you, spitting out curses and breathing heavily.

“You’re so fucking hot, Y/N, my God,” he mutters, slowing his breathing as he comes down from his high. You pull your fingers out, wiping them on your hand towel then pull your shirt back down over your thighs and take a deep breath. 

“Monday? Pick me up at 8?” you ask quietly, smiling softly as you await his response. You can hear the smile in his voice as it comes over the other line.

“Of course, baby… 8 o'clock sharp,” he says, still lingering on the end of the line. You want to say more before bed, but you’re interrupted by a voice on the other side of the door. 

“Y/N? Is everything okay?” you hear Josh whisper outside the bathroom door. Fuck.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m okay, I’ll be right out,” you answer, hastily standing up from the toilet and running the water at the sink to make it seem like you were using the bathroom. 

“Sounds like duty calls…” Jake teases. You scoff at him and then hastily end the call. You shut the water off and unlock the door, opening it to see Josh standing there waiting. His eyes look groggy and his hair is a curly mess from tossing around on your pillows. You can’t help but smile at his tired appearance as you approach him and wrap your arms around his waist. 

“Sorry, honey… I was just going to the bathroom, you know how I get in the middle of the night,” you whisper, knowing he’ll believe your excuse. He smiles softly as he places a soft kiss on your lips.

“Come cuddle,” he says, turning to walk back to the bed. You both lay back down and you place your head on Josh’s chest as you finally drift off to sleep. 

This is never going to end well. It can’t. You’ve seen all the movies and you know how they end. You can’t possibly see both brothers at once, it just can’t work that way. You have a decision to make, and you’re absolutely dreading it.

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You get home from work Monday night, tossing your keys onto the bowl in your foyer then slipping off your heels with a grown. Why you ever suggested a date on a weeknight, you’ll never know. Nonetheless, you only have two hours to shower and get ready before Jake arrives to pick you up, so you have to get to it. 

You walk up the stairs sluggishly and walk into your room, sliding off your skirt and button-down shirt from work and then heading into the bathroom. You start the water, take off your undergarments, then slip into the shower. You lean your head back as the water hits you, warm and harsh. You let it wash over you as you go through the motions, washing your body and then pausing when looking at your razor.

You scoff and then pick it up. You suppose you should, knowing that there’s a very strong chance that you’ll be seeing Jake intimately tonight. You decide to do a full-body shave, which takes longer than you wanted it to. You quickly wash your hair and then step out of the shower and dry off. 

You take a look at your phone for the time: 7:05 pm.  You quickly blow dry your hair then curl it loosely, just enough for some volume. With your hair done, you apply your makeup– more than your usual look, but not too much. When you’re satisfied, you exit the bathroom and walk toward your closet to pick out something to wear. 

You sift through your various dresses and then your eyes fall on the perfect choice: a red bodycon dress, with thin straps and a v-neckline. From what you know about Jake, you know that this is just the dress to drive him crazy. You weren’t going to make this easy on him, planning to play as hard to get as possible. At least, that’s what you planned to do, but in reality, you struggle to compose yourself in his presence. You try to brush that thought off, slipping the dress on and zipping it up. You reach down for your favorite pair of black heels, slide them on, and then walk over to your bed to grab your wristlet.

You grab a tube of lipgloss from your makeup bag and apply it to your lips thoroughly then slide it into your bag. You check your phone, seeing that Jake should arrive in five minutes, then put your phone inside your bag as well. You walk out of your room and shut the door behind you. As you walk down the stairs and peek through the small window beside the door, you can see the headlights of a car out front. With a smile, you grab your keys and open your front door, locking it then walking out onto the porch. 

As you walk down the porch steps and approach his car, you notice that he’s looking down at his phone, not noticing you just yet. You wrap your hand around the door handle and pull it open. Jake finally looks up from his phone and sees you, a small smile growing across his face as you sit in the passenger seat and shut the door behind you. 

His eyes trail down your bare legs, back up to your chest, then meet your gaze. His lips turn upward into a smirk as he extends his arm to rest on the back of your seat, grazing your bare shoulder lightly. Shivers shoot down your spine at his touch and you look up at him with a smile as he breaks the silence.

“You look… breathtaking,” he says, reaching over to place a finger underneath your chin. He leans down and kisses your lips lightly, his fingers brushing your cheek as he cups it softly, then pulls away, turning toward the front of the car. “Shall we?” You smile and nod, then he puts the car in drive and turns off of your street toward downtown. 

“I hope you like Italian… I’ve had this place in mind for a while, been meaning to try it,” he says, not taking his eyes off the road. 

“I do,” you answer, looking over at him. “I’m okay with anything really.” He stops at the stoplight and turns to you with a smirk across his face.

“Good girl,” he says, reaching his right hand over to sit on your thigh then turning back to the road as the light turns and he continues to drive. His fingers grip your thigh tightly as one of them reaches slightly under the hem of your dress to tease your clothed core. You suck in a deep breath and look over at him to see that he’s completely unaffected. 

Jake is wearing a cream-colored button-down shirt, paired with a pair of black slacks. Despite the long, black overcoat he has on, he still managed to leave a few of the buttons on his shirt undone. At least he’s consistent, you suppose. 

Soon enough, you pull into a parking spot in front of the restaurant and Jake removes his hand from your thigh to park. Jake turns the car off and opens his door, stepping out onto the street and walking around to the sidewalk, waiting for you. You open your door and get out of the car, closing it behind you and walking behind him as he takes your hand in his and guides you to the entrance of the restaurant. 

He greets the hostess and gets you a table, then she walks you both to a secluded table in the back corner of the restaurant. The tables are dimly lit by a singular candle, and there are a few chandeliers throughout the room. As the two of you get situated at the table, a waiter comes up to ask for your drink order. Jake orders a bottle of pinot noir and the waiter pours you both glasses of water before retreating to the cellar to get the bottle. Once he returns and pours you both a glass, he sets it on the table for you and then gives you time to look over the menu. 

As you peruse the menu, you can’t decide on what you want to eat. You look up from the menu at Jake, whose eyes are glued to his menu, and decide to ask him what he thinks.

“What are you going to get?” you ask as his eyes flick up to meet yours. 

“Hm,” he says, looking back down at the menu before answering. “I think I might go with the roasted tomato and grilled chicken with fettuccine… What are you thinking of getting?” 

“I’m not sure. I can’t choose between the shrimp scampi and the penne alla vodka,” you say, as he seems to ponder the idea. 

“Get the penne alla vodka,” he says curtly, looking back down at his menu then closing it and placing it on the table. You nod and do the same, crossing your legs under the table and folding your hands together atop the table. He looks up at you with a smug smile, his eyes wandering to your chest briefly before the waiter returns and asks for your meal orders. 

Once he leaves, it falls silent for a moment as you both study each other. You’ve never spent this much time alone before, and frankly, you’re not sure where to begin. Your relationship thus far, if you can even call it that, has been very impersonal and strictly physical. To ease the tension, you raise your foot and graze against his calf softly, which certainly gets his attention. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” he warns, leaning over the table slightly as he folds his hands to mirror yours. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” He raises his eyebrow at you as a smirk washes across his face, but you know better than to let him win like that. 

“I can finish it,” you say, smiling smugly back. 

“Yeah? You think so?” he asks sarcastically. Game on, Kiszka.

“I know so,” you answer confidently, brushing your foot against his calf yet again. 

“We’ll just have to see about that,” he says, taking a long sip of wine and leaning back against the chair. You smirk and take a sip out of your own glass.

“Good choice. This is delicious,” you remark, taking another sip. 

“I know,” he says bluntly, smirking at you from across the table. Before you have the chance to make a snide remark, the waiter approaches the table with your food, placing it in front of you before walking off. The two of you eat in silence for a while before you decide to say something.

“This is really good,” you say after you take a bit of your dish. “I appreciate you taking me here, I’m sure it’s so expensive…” You trail off as you start to feel bad, but he interrupts. 

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I should consider myself lucky to be able to take you out to dinner,” he answers, a hint of his teeth peeking out as he smiles at you– something that you weren’t used to. 

“You look phenomenal tonight, Y/N. Truly,” he continues, reaching over the table to place his hand on top of yours, squeezing it.

“Thank you, Jake,” you reply, smiling before taking another bite of your food.

“My pleasure,” he says with another, then turning his attention back to eating.

You both finish your food, then conversation sparks as he pours you both another glass of wine. You talk mostly about tour, and the new album that they’ve been working on, which you’re interested to hear about. He does ask you briefly about your job and your family, but you honestly don’t feel like talking about that stuff– not when his life is so much more interesting. You’d never say that to his face, though.

Once the wine bottle is finally emptied, he hands the waiter his credit card and then signs the check. He rises from the table and extends his hand out to you, which you take. You stand up and follow him out of the restaurant hand-in-hand. As you approach his car, he wraps his arms around your waist and leans you back against the back passenger-side door. 

“Let me take you home with me, baby…” he whispers, leaning down to brush his lips delicately against your neck. You lean your head back against the car as his lips start to kiss down your neck to your exposed collarbone, making you suck in a sharp breath. “Take me home,” you answer, and he reaches behind you smoothly to open the passenger-side door. You smirk at him as he backs away and you get into the car, and he follows suit. 

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The ride to Jake’s place is silent, but comfortably so. His hand rests firmly on your thigh as he navigates you there, and you can tell that he’s feeling quite impatient. He squeezes your thigh every few seconds with such vigor that you almost fear that it will leave a mark. The anticipation is killing you, everything since Thanksgiving has led to this moment, and it’s finally happening.

He pulls into his driveway and presses the button to open his garage, then pulls into his spot inside and turns the car off. He gets out of the car first and goes around the front to open your door, taking your hand and helping you up out of the seat. He shuts the door behind you quickly then leans your back against it, cupping your cheeks as his lips race toward yours. 

Your hands lace through his hair as his body overtakes you, pinning you against the car. Jake grips your neck tightly, almost as if you might disappear if he didn’t. His sense of urgency and desperate hold on you tell you that he worries that you could leave.

With the hope of reassuring him, you retreat from his lips and grab his hand, walking toward the door that enters the house and opening it. You look back at him and smile confidently as you yank his arm to drag him up the stairs hastily. 

As you reach his bedroom, you swing the door wide open and once you enter the room, he snakes his arms around your waist and pulls your flush against him. His lips find your neck, kissing softly down from your chin to your collarbone, sinking his teeth in ever so slightly. One of his hands travels upward to rest atop your breast as the other reaches for one of your straps, sliding it down your shoulder. 

A shiver bolts down your spine as he repeats the action on the other strap then takes the zipper on the back in his fingers. He slides the zipper down about halfway before he stops and you let out a frustrated sigh. His other hand squeezes your breast harshly as the other grips your waist tightly. As his lips ghost over your skin, they move to rest right on the shell of your ear. His breath is hot and fast, sending your head spinning as he finally breaks the silence.

“Tell me you want me,” he whispers against your ear, his voice raspy and low. You breathe out a stifled sigh as his hand moves from your hip to your outer thigh and squeezes it tightly. His lips work down your neck to give you a moment to respond, but he’s not that patient.

“Tell me,” he growls against your skin, using his grip on your body to pull you against him. You can feel his thick, hard cock against your ass, eliciting an uncontrolled whimper from you. 

After all this time of secret rendezvous, you still had yet to touch him. You haven’t even been able to see him, not fully. The anticipation was killing you, and after the last few times when he’s focused solely on your pleasure, you wanted desperately to return the favor.

“I want you, Jake,” you finally answer, leaning your head back in ecstasy as his lips continue to explore your neck with haste. Not wanting to waste any more time, you flip around and capture his lips in yours, pulling him closer to his king-sized bed.

Your fingers move to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt, reaching down to untuck the shirt from his pants. He smirks against your lips as you remove the last button and slip it over his shoulders and down his arms slowly. 

His hands work to unzip your dress the rest of the way and you let it slip down your shoulders and fall at your feet. Now left in only your red lace panties, matching perfectly with the dress, you work quickly to unbutton his slacks and pull down the zipper. 

“Let me make you feel good,” you whisper against his lips. 

“You wanna put your mouth on it, sweetheart? You gonna be sweet to it?” he asks as you back away and he leans his arms against the bed, his eyes darkening as he looks down at you kneeling before him. You nod, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you slide his pants down his thighs. 

He doesn’t take his eyes off of you for a second as his pants drop to the floor and you start to palm him through his briefs. His eyes are dark and full of lust and desire, his lips are turned upward slightly into a smug smirk. 

Your hands are planted firmly on the outside of his thighs as you lean upward and place small, soft kisses along his length through the thin barrier of his underwear. His eyes roll back at the action, a muffled groan leaving his lips. 

You dip your fingers into the waistline of his underwear and slide them down his thighs, letting them fall atop his pants. You can’t stop your jaw from dropping as you finally see the reality of his size firsthand. Your eyes flick up to meet his gaze and you see him smirking above you– great, as if he needed an even bigger ego.

You reach up to stroke him, slowly at first as your eyes are locked with his. You can tell that he’s trying to keep his composure, but you’re determined to crack it. Gripping his thigh with your free hand, you lean forward and lick a long stripe along his length, eliciting a deep groan from his mouth.

His eyes shut for a moment but he resists, opening them back up to look down at you, half-lidded. You wrap your lips around the tip, swirling your tongue around it as your eyes are glued to his. Then, you lower your head and take him in your mouth fully, moving your hard to his other thigh and letting his hard cock push to the back of your throat until you can’t fit any more. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, that’s it,” he mutters, shutting his eyes again as his face contorts from the feeling of you beginning to bob your head slowly along his length. Y/N 1, Jake 0. 

His right hand reaches down to gather your hair into a makeshift ponytail as the other holds him up on the edge of the bed. Unable to restrain himself, he thrusts harshly down your throat and you gag around him, tears forming on the corners of your eyes. Your grip on his thighs tightens as you allow him to take control, fucking your mouth harshly.

You look up at him and watch as his face contorts in pleasure. The front pieces of his hair frame his face as his face angles downward, with his eyes shut tightly and his eyebrows furrowed. You feel like you could cum just from the sight of it, squeezing your thighs together to get any sort of friction. As his eyes open slightly to look down at you, they trail downward to see you struggling to get off below him.

“Am I neglecting her, baby?” he asks, dropping your hair to cup your cheek and rub his thumb along it softly. “Do you need me to take care of you?” You nod feverishly and he bites his lip as he pulls you off of him and back up onto your feet. 

He places quick, soft kisses on your lips as he turns you around and lays you down on his bed, letting your head rest on the large, fluffy pillows as he climbs onto the bed and kneels at your feet. He kisses up your legs to your thighs, using his rough, calloused hands on the outside of your thighs to spread your legs widely for him. 

His hands move to grip your ass tightly as his lips travel up your thighs, to the inside, then to your lower abdomen, right above your clit. You lean on your elbows as you try to be able to see him, not wanting to miss what he looks like with his head between your thighs. You knew you had to commit this to memory while you still could. 

He flashes you a smug smile before wrapping his lips around your clit, starting a fast, unbearable pace as his tongue swirls around your swollen bud. You let out a breathy moan as you feel his pointer finger brush against your folds and then push into you slowly. He curls his finger inside you, hitting you right at your G-spot repeatedly. 

Your eyes fall shut as he adds a second finger, curling deep inside you and bringing you closer and closer to the edge. As you start to clench around his fingers, he swiftly removes them, crawling up your body to lean over you. 

“Uh-uh, baby,” he scolds, placing hot kisses down your jawline to your neck. “The only place you’re allowed to cum tonight is around my cock.” A quiet moan leaves your mouth as his knees push your legs open wider and he grips your waist tightly. He leans over you, his other hand moving from the back of your neck to reach down to stroke himself briefly, groaning before lining himself up with you. 

He brushes the tip against your clit and your eyes roll back as he smirks, rubbing it against you again before slipping it into you slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. God, he was thick– much thicker than Josh. You hated the thought of it, trying to push any comparison out of your mind. But Jake felt so different than Josh ever did. You hate to admit that he was right. 

Jake’s hand finds its place back behind your neck, gripping your hair tightly as he starts thrusting into you, harsh and deep. Your eyes stare into his as he pounds into you furiously, holding your waist so tight that you’re sure it will leave a bruise. 

“You feel even better than I imagined,” he groans, pulling out almost completely before slamming his hips harshly against you, making you yelp in pleasure. “So fucking good for me.”

His hand leaves your neck to grab your leg and lift it up to rest on his shoulder, adding a new angle as he fucks into you relentlessly. He reaches down for your breast and squeezes it harshly, lowering his lips to wrap around your hardened nipple. He sucks harshly and you whine under his touch, the sensation of feeling him everywhere starting to completely overwhelm you. 

“I feel you clenching around me, baby,” he mumbles against your skin, removing his lips from your breast to kiss hot kisses along your jaw. “You gonna cum for me?” You nod hastily, unable to even form any words as you start to feel that burning feeling in your core. Jake’s hand wraps around your throat as his pace quickens inside you.

“Come on, sweetheart, fucking soak me,” he growls, his fingers tightening around your neck as he pushes you over the edge. Your mouth falls open as your orgasm rushes through you like a flood, Jake’s pace still at an overstimulating speed.

As you start to come down, he slips out of you and flips you over swiftly, gripping your hips harshly as he slams back into you from behind. You hold yourself up on your elbows as Jake’s hards burn into your sides, pounding into you quickly. 

A yelp leaves your lips as his hand comes down and cracks against your asscheek. He rubs the spot softly, soothing the sting before bringing it down once more, repeating the motion several more times. His hips start to falter and you can tell that he’s close as he fucks you harshly into the mattress. You hear a moan fall from his mouth as his pace starts to slow. 

“Where…” he starts, letting out another groan as you clench around him, then continues. “Where do you want me to-”

“Inside, cum inside me, please,” you plead, which is enough for him to pick his pace back up and slam his hips harshly against your ass. 

“Fuck, baby… you want me to pump you full of my cum?” he mutters, groaning as he pounds into you, getting closer and closer to the edge. “Gonna get you pregnant… that’ll show my brother exactly who you belong to.” He spews out a string of curses and you know he’s nearly there.

“You’re mine,” he growls, leaning over you and brushing your hair out of your face, placing a kiss on the back of your neck as his body is flush against yours.

“I’m yours,” you answer as he thrusts one final time, pushing inside you deeply, coating your walls. He places soft kisses down your neck and along your back, thrusting inside you a few more times before pulling out slowly. 

“C’mon, let’s go get cleaned up,” he says, turning you over then taking your hand in his, guiding you to the bathroom. You stand behind me, placing soft kisses along the side of his neck as he reaches into the shower and turns it on, adjusting the temperature. You both step in, closing the glass door behind you then wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you and capturing his lips in yours. 

The two of you help clean each other up, sneaking in kisses and touches along the way, making the shower last much longer than necessary. Once you finally pry yourselves away from each other, you step out of the shower and Jake hands you a towel, taking one for himself. 

You wrap the towel around your body, tucking the corner into the top and Jake does the same. You walk to the bathroom door to step out into the bedroom and gather your things. You have no plans to stay the night.

Your hand wraps around the doorknob and turns it, pulling it open all the way. As the door swings open, your jaw drops when you see Josh sitting on the edge of the bed, arms crossed across his chest. Much to your surprise, his expression isn’t one of anger– he’s smirking. 

Absolutely stunned, you turn over your shoulder to look at Jake, your eyes pleading for help. Jake’s hand rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, making eye contact with his twin as he walks past you into the bedroom. You can’t seem to move from your spot, mortified.

“Well, well, well...” Josh says, his voice deep–something you’re not used to. “What do we have here?”

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