#one of these days I’m not going to be able to do it and it’s going to make me immensely sad | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

explicit-tae · 2 days ago

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Family Matters

The only way Yoongi, your brother-in-law, would agree to be your sperm donor is if he could be the one to fuck said sperm into you.

Word Count: 8.686

Warning: affair/cheating, kissing, light alcohol intake, dirty talking, impregnation kink, oral sex (f/m) nipple sucking, unprotected sex, creampie, missionary, cowgirl, overstimulation, fingering, doggystyle, orgasms,

Valentine's Day Masterlist

“Y/N…?”

The last person he was expecting to see at his door was you, his brother’s wife. The same brother he is currently estranged from thanks to his parents, who had pinned them against one another the entirety of their lives.

Yo-han, Yoongi’s older brother, wasn’t the prodigal son in their parents' eyes. Yoongi was. Yo-han did exactly what was expected of him. He had high grades in school while Yoongi didn’t, though it didn’t mean he didn’t pass. Yo-han went above and beyond with his studies while Yoongi did enough to pass. His B’s didn’t compare to his brothers A’s.

Yo-han went to college and was on the dean’s list. He worked his way up from the bottom just as his parents desired. He had a high paying job right outside of college and was able to give back to the parents that gave everything they could to their two sons.

Yoongi, however, went down an unforgivable path. How dare their son have his own dreams and aspirations. How dare he not want to go to college like his elder brother and work his way up the corporate ladder? Why would he spend nearly a decade of his life pursuing a career in music when obviously that wasn’t going to take him anywhere in life?

Even now, after his music did take off and touring the world, there was a loneliness in him. He felt that even now that he’s proven himself worthy, his parent’s didn’t think so.

“Yoongi.” you flash him a smile, holding onto your purse a bit tighter. You’re unsure if you being here was appropriate. You’ve only ever seen Yoongi a handful of times, all in which was left with the man leaving far too early. He wasn’t even present on your wedding day. “Are you busy?”

Yoongi blinks a few times and proceeds to open the door to his home a bit wider. “Did you want to come in?” he asks, uncertain if that’s what you wanted.

“Yes, thank you!” you nod. “I wanted to talk to you about something if that was okay with you?”

Yoongi steps out of the way as you enter, your heels clicking against the hardwood floor as you enter the foyer of his home. You take them off, turning towards Yoongi with a small grin.

“I don’t mean to seem rude, Y/N,” Yoongi begins, closing the front door to his home. It’s lavish, you’d admit, high ceilings and furnished quite modernly. “but why are you here? Is Yo-han okay?”

Yoongi allows you to come deeper into his home. The living space is large and homely. He offers you a seat on his leather chair and he rounds the corner to a bar area where there’s an array of wine aligning the wall.

“Wine?” Yoongi questions. “I have…harder liquor, too.” he’s a bit awkward when speaking with you. You were his brother’s wife for nearly five years now and he has no relationship with you.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Whiskey it is then.”

Wasn’t expecting that, especially at this time, but you aren’t going to complain. Yoongi places two clear cups onto the coffee table in front of each of you as he sits across from you. He pours the whiskey in two clear glasses and slides you one.

“What do I owe the visit, Y/N?” Yoongi asks, taking a sip of his drink.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.” you murmur, manicured hands grasping the glass and shaking it around a bit. “Yo-han doesn’t know I’m here. He’s on a business trip.”

Yoongi furrows a brow. He watches you for a moment, pondering why you are telling him all of this and what was the real reason you were here.

“You…are a very amazing artist.”

Yoongi blinks.

“Did you come all this way to tell me that?” Yoongi questions with a scoff.

“No, I’m sorry.” you murmur. You drink the whiskey in whole. It hits your throat and burns immediately, but you need all the liquid courage available. “Can I have more?”

Nodding slowly, Yoongi watches as you pour yourself more and down half of it. Your chest heaves a bit.

“Is everything okay, Y/N? You look nervous?” Yoongi notes. “Is everything alright with you and Yo-han?”

You nod hastily with a wave. “Yes, everything is fine. Promise.” you laugh, but even you sound unsure of yourself.

Yoongi doesn’t pry any further.

“You don’t come around often, Yoongi.” you state. “I feel as if I don’t truly know you personally. I see you as Suga. Or Agust D.”

Yoongi furrows his brows. Was that why you’re here? To get to know him better? Even after all these years he finds it unbelievable, but possible.

“I’m aware. I’m sure you know I’m not the favorite.” Yoongi responds, almost bitterly. “Even after the home I bought my parents.”

The last line was uncalled for. By social media posts, Yoongi’s sure you have a good relationship with his parents, but everything that glitter isn’t exactly gold, right?

“Yo-han speaks of you fondly.”

“Does he?” Yoongi snickers. He drinks the whiskey and decides that he should probably follow your lead. “That’s nice to know, right? My older brother finally sees me as worthy enough to speak about after my success.”

Your foot taps lightly against the floor in nervousness. You bite your lip. Was this the right thing to ask without your husband's approval? You knew Yo-han loved his brother, but at times he would joke about how long it took for Yoongi’s music to take off, no matter how good said music was.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

Yoongi is silent on your question. It comes randomly after a few moments of silent drinking.

“I apologize if that’s too personal-”

“It’s fine, Y/N.” Yoongi shakes his head. “No, I do not. I often shut myself into my craft too long. I’m a perfectionist and I don’t really have time to settle down.”

You nod in agreement. You noticed in Yoongi’s music how serious he took it - the touring, as well. Having a family wasn’t something he desired now and you could respect it fully.

“What about you and Yo-han?” Yoongi speaks up. “Are you trying for a baby? My mother always said she wanted to be a grandmother.” he chuckles a bit at how hard his mother can be.

You inhale deeply, placing the cup onto the coffee table. Exhaling, you nod your head.

“That’s what I wanted to speak with you about, actually.”

“Oh?” Yoongi furrows a single brow. He leans back into his seat. “I take it as you aren’t pregnant now for obvious reason.” he says, motioning to the liquor on the coffee table and your empty glass.

“You’re right, not yet.” you chuckle humorlessly. You needed to do this. No going back. After all, the worst thing Yoongi could say was “no” and that would be perfectly fine with you. “Yo-han works a lot.”

Yoongi nods a bit. “I understand. Our family can be workaholics.” he says. “He couldn’t take Valentine’s Day off?” he jokes a bit. Valentine’s day didn’t matter to people like him. He was single.

“He never does.” you admit, crossing your legs. Yoongi tilts his head, observing the look in your eyes. “We tend to celebrate it the first week of February then he’s out of town for work the following week.”

“You can’t go with him?” Yoongi questions with a shrug. He knows you don’t work. Yo-han had always stated that he wanted a stay at home wife. Life could be boring for you, he’s sure. You were alone often and didn’t have anything to do if you weren’t one that was big on hobbies.

“Yo-han prefers for me to stay home.”

“You say his name a lot.” Yoongi hums. He pours himself another shot. “You say what he wants a lot, too, Y/N. You haven’t said anything you wanted yet.”

You bite your bottom lip as Yoongi states the obvious. He drinks his whiskey as he watches you, awaiting for you to respond.

“I want a baby.”

Yoongi licks his lips of the whiskey. It’s beginning to fall down his throat like water now.

“That’s nice. Are you two trying for one?”

Speaking with you was becoming more relaxing. He wished he would have more of a brother/sister-in-law relationship with you prior to now, but maybe you coming here was an attempt in doing just that.

“Yo-han-”

“Doesn’t want kids? Doesn’t want kids now?” Yoongi finishes your sentence with a furrow of his brows. His lips turn into a smirk. “Am I right?”

“You are.” you sigh, body warm with embarrassment. “He…he’s very cautious. He doesn’t even…” Should you be discussing your husband with his brother like this? “...allow himself to not wear condoms.”

Yoongi doesn’t want to appear rude when he laughs, but it sounds exactly like the Yo-han he knows. The same Yo-han that doesn’t want to have anyone stop him from climbing to the top - not even if it’s what his own wife wants. The same wife he forces to stay home alone half of the time. You couldn’t make any of this up.

“I was correct when I said everything that glitter isn’t gold.” Yoongi murmurs to himself, deciding to pour himself another shot. This time, he pours you one. Seemed like you needed it. “Do you have friends?”

You scoff at his question, taking the glass and downing the shot alongside him. “Are you calling me a lonely bitch?”

Yoongi laughs aloud while shaking his head. “Of course not!” he exclaims. “You being here…is not what I expected. It’s nice, though. Not everyone can keep up with drinking with me.”

You notice how much Yoongi and Yo-han looked alike. The dark hair that frames their face with eyes to match. Pale, smooth skin that appears like glass as it’s clear of blemishes. Yoongi was much more youthful, allowing himself to joke with you in a way your husband doesn’t.

“My friends are all busy with their own lives and children.” you state with a shrug. “I’m sorry I’ve come unannounced.”

“You’re always welcomed, Y/N. You’re family.” Yoongi waves off. “You’re the only family that comes.”

The pair of you both sound bitter for your own reasonings. Wishing to ask him something makes your heart jolt in betrayal as you hadn’t bothered to gain a relationship with your brother-in-law prior to now. It made you appear selfish as this was your only goal.

“Why the long face?”

Yoongi’s voice brings you out of your thoughts.

“I feel selfish for being here.” you admit. ‘’I came…to ask you something.”

Yoongi blinks. “That’s okay.” he says, placing his glass down onto the coffee table. “What do you need?”

Your palms grow sweaty as Yoongi appears genuinely willing to help. The years you’ve sat and listened to your husband bash his younger brother for not having the same aspirations of him makes you wish you spoke up on his behalf more often.

“Y/N…?”

“I wanted your sperm so I can have a baby.” you blurt out, embarrassment flowing throughout your entire body. He possibly thinks you’re in need of money and here you are asking for his sperm. “But now I know I sound like a fucking lunatic asking you-”

“Y/N,”

“-and I should just go now, right?” you laugh nervously with a shake of your head. “Yo-han doesn’t want kids and me pretending that this child is his isn’t fair to him or you-”

“Y/N.”

“-and I’m such a bitch for-”

“Y/N!”

You stop your rambling with Yoongi’s voice echoing off of his walls and high ceiling.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice. You weren’t listening to me.” Yoongi apologizes.

“You’re not the asshole they make you out to be.” you blurt out. Maybe this was the alcohol talking now, allowing you not to hold in anything any longer. “I’m sorry-”

“None taken.” Yoongi snickers. He knows how he is spoken about in his family and it doesn’t bother him as it once did, even if it does still sting a bit.

“Please forget I said anything, Yoongi.”

“Why?”

You freeze at Yoongi’s question. Slowly, your eyes lift to his, to find that he’s already looking your way.

“You want a baby, right?” Yoongi asks. “You’ve come to me for help.”

“I do…” you trail off. “But coming to you was selfish-”

“I’ll do it.”

You stare at Yoongi in disbelief. Maybe he was just drunk and agreeing to it because it sounds like the right thing to do at the moment.

“Do you know what you’re saying?” you queried.

“Do you know what you’re asking of me?” he shots back. “I agreed.”

“I…I wasn’t expecting to get this far, Yoongi.” you murmur. You lean up a bit, eyes cloudy.

Yoongi chuckles at your reaction. It’s sad that he was going to make his own proposition to this.

“How did you expect to go about this exactly?”

“Well,” you lift yourself up to round the coffee table to sit beside Yoongi on his loveseat. “we can go to a clinic, right? You can…ejaculate-”

“Cum.”

Your body warms once more, but you nod your head with a little laugh. “Yes. Cum.” you say. “In a cup and I suppose the doctor can-”

“I don’t want to do that.”

Yoongi thinks for a moment that it isn’t fair to you with what he’s about to say next. It isn’t your fault that you were married into this family of his, nor should he take the frustration of his brother out on you. But he wouldn’t force anything onto you, and once he sobered up more, he would do as you asked and go to a clinic.

But as for now, Yoongi was being selfish.

“I want to do it naturally.”

The silence that comes afterwards is telling. You could hear a pin drop in the living area. Your eyes slowly wide towards Yoongi as he watches you as relaxed as ever.

“You want to fuck me?’

Maybe your response is crude, but his proposal was, as well. You were married to his brother and this would obviously be inappropriate.

However, so were you coming here behind your husband's back. It was a lose-lose situation either way.

“I know it’s wrong to want.” Yoongi admits, leaning into the leather couch. “But…”

Yoongi doesn’t finish his statement but you’re positive you understand what he’s attempting to say. You admitted to the things said about him and now it’s a form of revenge. You couldn’t be upset about it, truly.

“You…you won’t tell anyone?” you whisper, so low that it barely catches Yoongi’s ears. “It’ll be a secret you and I die on, right?”

Yoongi himself is astonished that you’re even considering it. He leans forward a bit with a lick of his lips.

“I won’t tell a soul.” Yoongi murmurs. “I’m not forcing you into doing this, Y/N. I’m a little drunk, I’m not going to lie.” he advises. Looking into your eyes, he doesn’t want to be that person. You’re already taken advantage of enough by your husband. “You can come back in a few hours when I sober up and we can set up a meeting-”

“I want to.” you place a hand onto Yoongi’s cheek to silence him. “I want you to fuck a baby into me.”

Yoongi is but a man, and the words alone cause him to grow hard. He doesn’t act first, you do. You place your lips onto his, deepening the kiss needily. Maybe it was because you wanted to feel a man's hands on you, as selfish as it was. You missed your husband and only sleeping with him once a month before he eventually goes on another work trip causes you to be lonely.

Yoongi himself cannot remember when he’s been with a woman. He has random hookups that always signed with an NDA before anything happens, but that’s during tour, not as he’s recording an album. The liquor flowing through him adds the courage to wrap both arms around you and bring you into his lap.

Yoongi’s hands are large as they rub along your body, causing moans to bubble up your throat but fall silent at your lips. This was wrong in so many ways. You are his sister-in-law, and beyond popular belief, he held a lot of respect for you. Only a strong woman could deal with Min Yo-han and his parents. However, the dirty words that you spoke to him were so tempting. He believes every man - even if they want a child or not - has a certain kink to them that is excited to impregnate a woman.

Yoongi isn’t alone with the same thoughts. Yo-han and Yoongi favored each other so much, but were so different. Yo-han is often straight to the point, sometimes not even kissing you. Yoongi is different, he takes this slow. He allows his hands to roam your body with such greed, as if it belongs to him - and for tonight, it does. He kisses your lips needily, but he savors the taste of them. He allows his lips to fall onto your chin to leave wet little pecks that lower to your neck.

“There’s no going back, Y/N.”

Yoongi’s voice is so deep against your neck. He’s fighting against his morals now, wanting nothing more than to fuck you like you want him to. Yet, he understands that this is wrong to take advantage of you in a vulnerable position. You didn’t come here for this.

“I know.” you moan back, your hips buckling. “Do you want to stop?”

Yoongi swallows. His hands settle onto your waist. “We…should…” he murmurs. As painful as it was for him to say. His hands grip onto your waist, his body going against what his mouth is speaking. “...we should stop this but…” he groans, his lips kissing against your neck.

“No one has to know.” you respond, your own hands tugging at Yoongi’s dark tresses a bit.

Yoongi will know, and so will you. When you fall pregnant and grow round with his child, he would know that it was him who did it for you. When you hold the child and raise it, it would be dark eyes that belonged to Yoongi, not Yo-han.

Was that something both of you could fathom?

“If this is truly what you want.” Yoongi mumbles. “We don’t have to do it here.”

Yoongi leans his head back to study your expression.

“We can go to my room.” Yoongi continued, unsure if that was too much. Yet, all of this was too much to begin with.

“Okay.” you nod your head.

“How do you want to do this?”

Yoongi’s room is large, even bigger than your room at your home. It’s simple and screams Yoongi with a dark aesthetic. The bed is large for one man and is neatly made, as if he doesn’t sleep in here often. Maybe he didn’t as even if Yoongi and Yo-han were different, they were both Min’s and they worked their asses off.

“What do you mean?” you ask, sitting on his bed.

“We can just…have sex for the sake of me cumming in you.” Yoongi does the same as you. “Or we can do more…”

Your thighs clench together a bit, body warming.

“What do you want to do?” you ask him with a tilt of your head.

“I want to eat you out.” Yoongi responds bluntly that it causes you to laugh at how straightforward he was. “But I understand if that’s too much to ask.”

You remove your shirt and throw it aside and go to do the same for your pants. Yoongi watches with low eyes as you begin to undress.

“Yo-han is too straight-forward.” you say to Yoongi, inching your way towards him. You place a hand onto his shoulders, placing your lips on his in a short, but needy kiss. “He doesn’t tend to do…a lot.”

Keyword for he tends to just worry about his own needs; Yoongi understands. He acts in a way he interprets you want him to. He pushes you onto his bed, the silk sheets cool at the touch, but otherwise comfortable. He wraps your smooth legs around his waist, his bulge pressed firmly against you.

You groan at how hard Yoongi was, arms wrapped around his neck.

Yoongi is a man starved, his hands going to remove your bra and throw it aside.

“I’d fuck you every night if you were my wife.” Yoongi gruffs, his tongue trailing down to your chest. Your nipples are hard for him and he wastes no time in suckling on the first one he finds.

There’s adrenaline flowing through the both of you at this forbidden act. The way you moan so loudly for Yoongi to continue to suckle on breasts that didn’t belong to him. The way he does so effortlessly, appearing as starved for this as you were.

Yoongi can suckle onto your breast all night until they’re swollen, but there’s another place he wants to put his lips on.

The feeling of Yoongi’s wet lips against your skin causes you to groan. It’s all entirely too surreal to fully grasp, especially on how willing Yoongi is to do this with you. How sudden it happened, without much thought. You could blame this on a drunken night, but that would only be a lie. You both were coherent enough to know what you were doing - and how much the both of you truly wanted to do this.

“W-What?”

Yoongi blinks his eyes a few times as your voice reaches his ears.

Your head lifted a bit from his bed when you noticed Yoongi had stopped between your legs and hadn’t done anything.

“Sorry,” Yoongi murmurs, placing his lips onto your inner thighs and gently pressing a kiss. “You’re very….pretty.”

Yoongi’s cheeks dusted a soft pink color at his own words and before you can react and possibly make this entire situation more awkward, his tongue licks between your folds. Your back arches a bit at the warmth of his tongue, but you don’t have time to process it.

Yoongi suckles onto your clit with such determination, large hands grasping both of your thighs so you aren’t able to move from him.

Yoongi misses hearing a woman move for him. He was prone to lock himself away when he was busy working for months at a time. He was dedicated to his craft and while he was in the midst of recording an album, he didn’t need to be distracted. You, however, were the perfect distraction.

Yoongi focuses solely on the way your thighs quiver as his tongue toys with your clit. His eyes flicker upward a bit, catching a glimpse of the way your mouth falls open to let out such melodic moans.

“I want you to cum on my tongue before I fuck mine in you.”

Your body shudders at such dirty words coming from your brother-in-law. Yoongi wasn’t a man of many words, especially not the times you’ve met him. Yet, here he was now. So confident and cool, a side so different from the mysterious demeanor he always held.

Dare you say you liked this Yoongi.

“Your tongue feels so good.” you gasp out, your stomach churning. Were you making it obvious that you weren’t used to this?

Yoongi already knows, of course. Even if you didn’t tell him, he notices just by the way you continue to act. Your hands are unsure where to go - one moment they’re clenching the bedsheets to yanking at his scalp; acts he doesn’t mind.

Yoongi leans back a bit, licking his lips of your juices. “Yeah?” he says smug, thumb pressing against your swollen clit. He rubs it gently just to tease you, tilting his head. “You wanna sit on it?”

The seriousness of Yoongi's tone stops you from giggling at what sounds like it could be a joke. You blink your eyes open.

“On your…” you’re confused on what exactly he wants you to sit on.

“My face.” Yoongi deadpans. His dark eyes reach yours and he offers a low smirk. “Mind as well make the most of it.”

“Oh…okay.”

You don’t want to sound too eager, but it’s not a position you’ve ever been in. After all, Yoongi was right. The both of you mind as well make the most of this fucked up situation.

“Good.” Yoongi hums, lying beside you. “Face me.”

You’re far too conscious to actually sit on Yoongi’s face as he wants you to as the position itself is awkward. Your thighs quiver slightly and before you can ask if this was right, Yoongi’s hands - large and veiny - grasp onto your hips to press you down against his tongue. His eyes watch for your reaction, especially when you gasp out at his actions.

Yoongi’s willingness to eat you out is beyond the alcohol now - he actually wants to do this. He licks onto your clit as if he’s starved, his large hands gripping your hips to roaming down to your thighs.

It’s deeper than that, of course. It’s deeper than Yoongi just wanting to pleasure you. He does, of course. But down within his core that he doesn’t want to admit, even to himself, Yoongi knows it’s about his brother. Even if Yo-han was the preferred son with a high paying job that his parents preferred, it was him you chose to go to. Min Yoongi, the younger Min son who decided that his love for music outweighed what he felt for his own family that dubbed him an outcast.

It was Yoongi who was pleasuring you now, his tongue flat against your clit, his head bobbing from side to side as his large hands grip at your naked skin.

It was Yoongi who you were moaning so lovingly for, your delicate hands gripping his hair in your grasp, fluttering eyes watching him.

It was him - Yoongi. The one who his family deemed unworthy and yet, here you are. You sought him out to impregnate you - something his brother couldn’t (or refused) to do. And he was going to enjoy every fucked up minute of it. In the end when it was time for him to meet his maker, he would pay for this sin he willingly partaken in.

Yoongi is painfully hard, his cock tight in his sweatpants. It twitches to be released - but he had all night with you. His brother wasn’t home and there wasn’t a rush, right?

“Yoon…Yoongi…” you moan his name so sweet that Yoongi groans against your clit, his hands roaming towards your ass. When he grips it do you moan his name once more, your eyes clenching shut.

Your hips begin to buckle a bit against his tongue, and Yoongi further encourages you by slapping your ass a bit teasingly. Your head hangs back a bit, soft “fuck” and “shit” coming from your gasping lips. You don’t realize just how loud you were becoming after each buckle of your hips, no longer feeling as self-conscious as you were originally - nor did Yoongi mind, either.

“Feels so good…” you hum, your hanging head now falling forward to look down at the man who’s causing you such great pleasure. Your eyes lock with his dark ones and you bite your lip a bit. “...we shouldn't be doing this.”

It was a statement. Neither of you stop and Yoongi’s hands only glide upwards to grasp your breast in his hands, squeezing them with such need. Your free hand places itself on top of his larger one, your walls clenching around nothing in general and you’re positive that you were going to cum soon.

You never cum from oral before and the thought just causes you to squeal.

You were hot, Yoongi thinks. Utterly gorgeous that it upsets him that this was going to be the only time he was going to have you on his tongue. His tongue laps between your folds with such haste and need, determined to make you cum so he can taste what his brother doesn’t deserve. To think that his brother once flaunted you around with his arm around you just for you to be here with him.

You’re cumming entirely too fast for your liking, your toes curling. You stopped grinding against his tongue and instead allowed Yoongi to regain control, his free hand gripping your outer thigh and slightly lifting himself forward. He suckles roughly onto your sensitive bud until your thighs are shaking with overstimulation. Your breathing is hitched, your stomach clenching.

Yoongi is satisfied when you cum, spewing a line of curse words that a woman like you surely would never use. His entire lips and chin is coated with your juices when he finally allows a moment to rest, your body falling onto his bed.

Licking his lips, Yoongi glances your way.

“My brother must not make you cum enough.” he murmurs, dark eyes watching with satisfaction.

You don’t respond to Yoongi. You understand the bitterness in his tone. You don’t blame Yoongi for speaking of his brother the way he does. Your husband, in shorter words, can be an asshole. Especially to those he feels as though he is better than.

Or jealous of.

“I love him.” you say. It’s been a full five minutes before you respond to him. You managed to stop your thighs from quivering enough for your body to sit up. “I don’t doubt it.” Yoongi says. He watches you with hooded eyes as you crawl towards him until you’re hovering above him.

“He’s jealous of you.”

You’re unsure why you’re telling Yoongi this. It’s going to do nothing but feed his ego more in knowing this along with fucking his wife.

“He…would say he never knew you would be this successful.” you tell him, leaning down to press a deep kiss against his lips. You can taste yourself, and the act turned you on even further.

Instantly, Yoongi wraps his arms around you. His hands rub along your smooth skin.

“I always knew you’d be successful.”

Your words cause Yoongi’s breath to hitch when you lean yourself away from him. Your lips kiss along his own jaw.

“The way you speak makes me feel like you wanted this longer than you make out.”

Your tongue slowly trails along his chin before dipping down to his neck.

“And if I did?”

Your tongue proceeds to trace the outline of his ear. Goosebumps erupt on his skin.

“I’ll fuck you right now, Y/N.” Yoongi grumbles, his fingernails digging into your hips and he thrusts his clothed cock towards your naked clit.

“I want to suck your cock first.”

You move faster than Yoongi can process. You’re already sliding down his body and hooking your hands beneath his pants to tug them down.

You should be expecting Yoongi to be aroused, but not this erect. His cock looks like it hurts with how fast it springs out of his underwear. The tip is leaking pre-cum and it twitches when you wrap a hand around the base.

Yoongi hisses when your warm tongue wraps around his tip, suckling it like a lolipop. His eyes instantly roll, not remembering the last time he felt a woman’s mouth. He always was told that he worked too hard and he couldn’t help it - especially since he was a Min. You came to Yoongi during a vulnerable time of need and it was no wonder he didn’t deny you.

“Shit, Y/N…”

You take his cock deeper into your mouth, bobbing your head sloppily as you suckle on his cock. The sounds of your gurgling mixed with Yoongi’s moans and curse words has you dripping down your thighs. You couldn’t recall the last time you were this wet for your own husband.

Your eyes flicker upwards to watch Yoongi’s face. So handsome and reminiscent of Yo-han. His dark hair falls into his eyes, pink lips falling open to let out lustful moans.

Your sucking and slurping erupted throughout the room, sounding just as sloppy as it looks.

You don’t usually do this yourself - not because you don’t like it. You enjoy the lewd act immensely. You just refused to do it if your husband wouldn’t do the same. Yoongi so willing to go down on you caused you to want to do the same for him, the tip of his cock deep in your throat now. Your eyes are glossy with tears and determination, wanting to please the man just as he was determined to pleasure you.

“I’m not…” Yoongi hisses, a veiny hand going to grasp your hair to stop you. “...not cumming in your mouth, baby.”

Yoongi forces his cock - as much as he didn’t want to - out from your greedy lips. Saliva draws down the corner of your mouth, connecting it to his tip. Yoongi pants and shakes his head.

The pet name Yoongi calls you wants you to bring the cock right back into your mouth. It sounds so good coming from Yoongi, so natural. As if it’s a pet name he called you often.

“I’m gonna cum in you.”

“Please.” you beg, licking your lips. “Want you to fill me.”

Yoongi groans, his cock twitching. His hand is still tangled in your hair and he grips it a bit tighter. He takes a deep breath.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” Yoongi questions. “I’ll follow your lead.”

Yoongi and his need to assure that you were comfortable was heartwarming. It nearly causes you to smile.

“Are you the vanilla type?” you joke.

“I’m whatever you’d want me to be.” Yoongi chuckles. His mind flashes with different ways he could have you - both passionately and disrespectfully.

Your hands, that lay on his thigh, slide forward. Past his torso to grip his shoulders.

“Follow my lead.” you say, getting to your feet just to sit onto his lap. Your clit is directly against his cock and you want nothing more than to grind against him, but this wasn’t the moment. You needed to feel him inside of you.

Yoongi does as you say, going to push off his pants so he can maneuver better. His hands lay upon your hips as you sit upon him, bringing his cock inside of you slowly. Yoongi lets out a low and deep groan, your pussy gripping around him so tightly.

Yoongi didn’t have a wife and that meant the sex he did have was just casual sex with women who signed NDA’s and wore condoms.

Now, however, it was different. This might be a one time thing, but to get to feel your pussy, so wet and warm wrapped around his cock was amazing. How could his brother not want to be inside of you at any given moment? How could he restrain himself from feeling you raw? Surely there had to be other forms of birth control besides a condom.

You’re needy to feel him deep inside of you, your arms wrapping around his neck as you begin to pounce. Your pussy clenches with each thrust, rising and falling sloppily.

“Your pussy’s so wet.” Yoongi quips, voice deeper. His breathing is deep and his arms only tighten around your frame. His palms roam your naked skin greedily.

You lean forward to place your lips against his, your tongue forcing your way through his lips. Your bare chest presses against his clothed one.

“Your cock feels so good.” you say between hushed kisses. You begin to shift yourself, your feet planted on the bed either side of him.

This was bad.

You shouldn’t be here or agreed to this.

You shouldn’t have allowed Yoongi to eat you out and you shouldn’t have sucked his cock.

It was far too late now, of course. There was no going back; especially with his cock plunging so deep inside of you.

Yoongi’s eyes roll with pleasure with each rise and fall of your hips. Skin slapping erupts throughout the room, followed by your squeals and his grunts.

“My brother doesn’t deserve this.”

It’s difficult for Yoongi not to mention your husband, and maybe the sick side of you that knew this was wrong acknowledged that deep down, you enjoyed Yoongi’s praises. It was something you didn’t experience at home.

“You do?” you ask with a curt, smug snort and soon a soft moan.

Yoongi’s cock was stretching you out in a way you needed, even if it had been just a few short weeks. Sex with Yoongi, though a one time thing, was something you didn’t know you needed until now. You rise and fall against his cock, pussy squeezing with such pleasure and desire that Yoongi’s nails dig into the skin of your hips. It was evident that neither of you wanted to stop.

“I do.” Yoongi hisses, this time meeting you halfway. The added thrusts coming from the man has his cock digging even deeper, hitting a spot that you weren’t sure was possible until now. “Isn’t this what you’re here for?”

You don’t respond to him, and it causes Yoongi to become even more smugged. You never took Yoongi as the dominant type - yet again, you never thought about sex with Yoongi until the possibility presented itself to you.

Yoongi hooks both arms underneath your thighs and flips you and him. You’re on your back now and him hovering right above you. You gasp at the sudden change of position. However, having Min Yoongi hovering above you was well worth it. He enters you without a second thought, the feeling intensifying when he begins to thrust in you.

“Fuck,” Yoongi growls, his head hanging as his eyes watch the way the both of you connect to one another. His cock springs in and out of you needily, your cunt so wet and gushing with juices. “your pussy is so wet and ready to be bred.”

Yoongi feels the way you clench around him at his words - such filthy words that turn the both of you on. You didn’t know just how much you enjoyed the dirty talk and it causes you to think vaguely of how your sex life with your husband always appeared so rushed. He was tired as he worked himself hard and at the end of it all, sex was more about him than you.

“You want that, huh?”

Yoongi wouldn’t say that he’s waited for this moment. He wasn’t aware a moment like this would ever present itself to him. However, he finds that he enjoys the closeness that you and him share. How open you and he are, even after not fully accustomed to the other prior to now.

Yoongi finds that he enjoys littering your naked skin with kisses and soft bites that don’t linger. When his hands wander around your skin, goosebump litter his own at how soft and warm it is.

“I do.” you quip when Yoongi pounds deeper into you, so deliciously that it causes your eyes to roll a bit. “Want you to cum in me.”

Yoongi groans with a shake of his head. Not because he doesn’t want to cum in you, he does. He has a deep desire to fuck his seed into you so deep until there’s nothing left, but that meant that it would all be over. His high (and yours) would die down and you would go home.

There wouldn’t be a next time as you weren’t his wife. And even if he talked down to his brother, at the end of the day, his brother was who you belonged to.

Something gold touches your face and causes you to flutter your eyes open. Yoongi hovers so close above you that his chain, a diamond chair that was once tucked underneath his shirt, slides across your warm face.

“K-Kiss me.” you say - more like demand - to Yoongi. Your shaky hands place themselves onto his cheeks so he’s looking right at you.

Yoongi connects his lips onto yours, his hips snapping forward. He groans against your soft lips, your velvet walls drawing him deeper and deeper into you.

“You’re so beautiful.” Yoongi grunts against your lips. “You take my cock so well.”

You press your lips deeper against his, arms wrapping around his neck. Your body intensifies, quivering right beneath the man. Your back arches a bit and you hold onto Yoongi a bit tighter.

“You’re…fuuuck,” your words drag out, stomach churning. “you’re beautiful, too.”

Yoongi, against his body’s best judgment, pushes you back against his bed. He leans back to admire your naked body, breast bouncing erratically as he fucks you. He licks his lips, dark eyes boring right into you. His right hand places onto your stomach, cock grinding.

“Yeah?” Yoongi tilts his head a bit. “Our baby would be beautiful, too, then.”

“You can’t say things like that.”

Your pussy clenches harder, however, despite your words.

“Your pussy says differently, baby.” Yoongi chuckles. “You like that, wouldn’t you? Fucking a baby into this sweet pussy.”

The hand that presses against your stomach to keep you in place trails down to your clit. His thumb places firmly against your wet clit, swirling the sensitive bud that has your back arching against. When you’re about to shut your legs - because fuck was the pleasure overwhelming - Yoongi’s free hand slaps against your thigh to keep you from doing so.

“You’re going to be so beautiful round with my baby.” Yoongi’s thumb twirls your clit roughly. The way you’re taking him now he knows you’re going to cum soon. “You think the baby would look like me?”

Yoongi grunts once more, thrust becoming sloppy. He was going to cum himself at just the thought of witnessing you swollen with his seed. Just the thought of you holding a baby with the same eyes as him was enough for him to want to breed you right here and now.

“It doesn’t matter who you’re married to, baby,” Yoongi says, marveling at the sight of your juices leaking onto his sheets as you were cumming. The filthy and demanding words mixed with the overstimulation he forces upon you was too much. “I’ll always be the one that got you pregnant.”

Your hand reaches out for Yoongi’s shirt for support. His words were too much and would be added to the list of fucked up things you were doing now - that you enjoy.

“I want your baby, Yoongi.” you cry, squirming beneath him. “Want your cum in me.”

“Fuck, baby.” Yoongi shakes his head, his entire body shuddering as he cums not even a minute later. Milky ropes of warm cum coat your walls fully.

Hanging his head back, Yoongi pants. He doesn’t move and neither do you. There’s sweat lining his forehead and he’s trying to calm himself down before he does anything more.

Your chest rises and falls when you feel Yoongi lay beside you. You feel his cum ooze out of you - but still feel so full of him. You shut your legs, the selfish part of you not wanting to waste not a drop of it.

“Are you okay?”

Yoongi’s hand is soft, even if it was a bit callosed, against your cheek. He gently turns your head to look at him.

“I’m sorry if I was a bit…much.” Yoongi’s cheeks reddened and he chuckled a bit.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” you murmur to him, moving a bit closer without much thought. “Thank you…?” you’re unsure what to say and thanking him sounds a bit foolish, however when Yoongi laughs, so do you.

“You don’t need to thank me, Y/N.”

You bite your lip and once more, without much thought, you kiss him. You inhale into the kiss, your hand holding onto his cheek before you disconnect your lips from his.

Yoongi licks his lips as if to savor your taste. He hums. “You can stay the night…if you want.” Yoongi adds the last part. “Or you can go home…but I’m not forcing you to.”

You allow yourself to smile at Yoongi.

“I can show you my studio. You can see why the world doesn’t see me for months at a time.” Yoongi jokes. Did he sound desperate for you to stay with him? Was he that lonely and pathetic?

“Okay.” you say a bit too quickly. You hoped you didn’t sound desperate yourself.

“Okay.” Yoongi repeats, his thumb trailing the outline of your lips.

Yoongi’s fingers are going to bruise your skin with how tight he holds them. His hips are snapping once more, drilling into you at an alarming speed. From the outside looking in, the sight could be seen as alarming with how rough Yoongi is. Your skin is flushed with hand marks by the man, yet neither of you could be bothered to care right now.

Your back arches and your arms struggle to keep yourself in the position as yoongi pounds into you. You’re squealing with each powerful thrust his hips send your way.

You are unsure how many times you allowed Yoongi to fuck you - you lost count since the following night. You didn’t need to go home because there wouldn’t be anyone waiting for you anyways. Yoongi had done what he promised and showed you his studio. It’s dimly lit with several computer screens. He showed you how he mixed and produced different sounds together and played snippets of music that he had yet to release.

How you and Yoongi became entangled after that - and for the first time - is beyond you. In a short amount of time, the chemistry was there. Obviously.

Now, the following morning, you and Yoongi were yet again doing the forbidden act that should’ve never happened in the first place. Now, you and he were further disrespecting your marriage, but you cannot bring yourself to care now.

“Your cock is so deep in me.” you squeal, your face burying into the soft bed sheets.

Your fingers dig into them as Yoongi forces your legs apart further. Both of his hands allow you grace and slams against his bed. That meant that now Yoongi could go even deeper.

“I’ve fucked you all night, baby, and you keep coming for more.”

Your ass is amazing, Yoongi thinks, the way it bounces off of his abdomen. He cannot count himself how many times he held it in his hands as he fucked you, finding that it fits perfectly in his hands just like the rest of your body did.

“I can’t help it…feels so good.”

In the short amount of time you stopped the bashful act and fully allowed Yoongi’s dirty words to get to you. You entertained him fully, finding that it made the entire situation better.

“You’re such a whore, Y/N, allowing me to fuck a baby in you over and over again.”

As many times as Yoongi’s fucked you, he hasn’t kept his lips off of you for long. He had eaten you out right in his studio, his fingers plunging so deep in you that you made a mess all over his chair - and he’d have it no other way.

“It’s going to be sad when you go back to your husband, right? You’re gonna fuck my brother but think of me the entire time.”

Your hair is being yanked this time and you are forced against Yoongi’s chest. His cock plunges deeper in you so heavenly that you’re seeing stars. While one hand is entangled into your hair, the other one roughly tugs at your breast.

“And when he doesn’t fuck you good enough, baby, just come back to me.” Yoongi’s voice is so deep and full of lust that it shivers down your spine and juices erupt down your thighs and leak into his sheets.

You don’t intend to stay another day. Yoongi had allowed you to borrow clothing and you had showered in his master bathroom before meeting him for breakfast. The aroma greeted you upon entering and Yoongi spares you a single glance.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.” you admit, seating yourself on the island chair and watching as he plates your food. “Smells nice…” you trail off.

You and Yoongi eat mainly in silence when you’re unsure if it’s a comfortable one or not. Your mind races with questions that you’re unsure how to ask.

“There’s no doubt that you’ll have a positive pregnancy test.”

Yoongi breaks the silence first once he finishes his food, drinking a dark liquid that you’re sure isn’t juice like you had.

You snicker a bit, body flushing. “Yeah. No doubt.”

Yoongi is quiet for another moment, his eyes roaming your facial expression.

“Do you regret it?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, glancing away for a moment.

“It’s…I feel terrible.”

Yoongi inhales, his leg shaking a bit at your words.

“I…I feel terrible because I enjoyed it too much and…” you meet his eyes now. It was an eventful two days away from the reality that was your life. Yoongi was more than what his family made him out to be - even outside the sex. He was an amazing person to speak with. When you spoke, it’s as if he cared about what you had to say; no matter the topic. He gives you undivided attention that you never got from your husband. “...now I have to just forget it didn’t happen.”

Yoongi takes a deep breath. His heart jolted a bit at your confession.

“You know I’m never too far.” Yoongi murmurs. He feels foolish for stating it. It would be weird that you and he are suddenly so close that it would obviously draw attention.

“I know.” your voice is meek and small.

“I want to give you something.”

Yoongi doesn’t meet your eye when he lifts himself from the island table beside you and takes your plates and his. He washes them to further leave you in agonizing suspense.

Once Yoongi is done, he dries his hands and goes through his pockets. He’s wearing baggy sweatpants with deep pockets. He pulls out a rectangular pad and opens it, ripping a piece of paper out of it.

“Here.” Yoongi holds the paper out for you to take. You notice instantly that it’s a…check.

Your eyes scan the check, slowly widening at just how much money is on it.

“What is this?” you say hastily, squinting your eyes at Yoongi.

“A check.” Yoongi responds matter-of-factly. “For…the baby.” he nods his head a bit.

You drop the check onto the table and swallow. “I’m…not even sure if you got me pregnant.” you say, but then again it was no doubt Yoongi had. The amount of times he milked your walls in 2 days, there was no doubt that a month from now you would surely receive positive news. “I can’t accept that, Yoongi.” you shake your head.

“Why not?”

You scoff. “Why not? Why would I?” you quip. “I…I…the agreement wasn’t this.” you continue as you’re pointing at the check. “I…we didn’t really think any of this through.”

“Of course we didn’t,” Yoongi snickers but agrees nonetheless. “We acted out of lust and attraction. However…I want to help you.”

You’re silent as Yoongi continues on.

“I…it’s going to be hard, Y/N. Watching you raise a kid that’s mine but…I understand. You’re married to my brother and that’s not going to change. You came to me for help and I intend on doing just that. Deposit the check into a savings account. Over time it’ll accumulate interest and more money for the baby…”

Yoongi’s tone is serious. Your eyes glance down at the check.

“Yoongi…” you trail off.

Yoongi stands a bit straighter.

“Think about the baby, Y/N.” Yoongi murmurs. “You trusted me enough to come to me. Trust me enough to know that I’ll always help you if you need it.” he states. “I’ll be the best uncle there can be.”

Yoongi’s tone doesn’t match his words, and you aren’t sure if your own feelings would match the reality that you’re about to put yourself through.

@whipwhoops @seokjinkismet @bloodline1632 @darkuni63 @babycandy111 @investedreader

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #family matters #bts smut #btswritersclub #bangtan smut #btswritingcafe #bangtanwritershq #btswriterscollective #trivia-yandere #explicit-tae #trivia-yandere valentine's day masterlist #suga smut #suga x reader #bts affair au

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peachesofteal · 3 days ago

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Tip of my Tongue - Azriel/single mom reader

He puts you out of his mind.

Or tries to, at least. His thoughts stray, at night, in quiet moments, and he catches himself thinking about you, wondering if he should have done more, pushed harder, tried to get you to talk to him even though he understands your reluctance. It didn’t surprise him how you avoided his eyes, turned away.

Illyrians both hate and fear him, and Azriel despises them in return.

Cauldron only knows how you may have suffered in their hands.

It’s not his business.

Illyrians are not unwelcome in Velaris, it is your right to live in the city if you so choose.

Let it go.

His effort is in vain, crumbling only two days later when he comes across you on the street, half open bag spilled out across the sidewalk.

Leave her be, it’s not your business, not your-

You’re crouched, baby in one arm while trying to gather up your things with another, and without thinking, he swoops down at your side, picking them up quicker than you can protest. “Are you alright?”

This time, there’s no opportunity for you to cut him off, or run. He’s holding a stuffed rabbit in his hand.

“Yes, I’m…” you reach for the toy, rising to stand at the same time, and blood rushes in his ears. “We’re okay, thank you.” You watch him carefully, but for some reason, less guarded than that day in the market, a little more brave, open.

“I’m Azriel.” You probably already know that, he’s sure.

You bite your bottom lip and practically whisper your own in return before bouncing the baby on your hip. “This is Luna. Or Lulu.” You cup her cheek, and her head tips back, wonder in her eyes as she stares at you.

It does something to him, breaks a dam of emotion inside his heart, warmth flooding through his body from fingers to toes, and his voice is rough when he speaks.

“She’s beautiful.”

“Thanks, she’s a handful.” You hoist her higher, wincing. “And heavy. Aren’t you, Lu?” You smile, but it barely touches your eyes, their corners tight with stress.

He wants to know why, wants to know you-

wants to fix it.

“Thanks for,” you gesture to the bag with your free hand, “helping. And for yesterday, too. You didn’t have to.”

“He was ripping you off.” He’s stern, almost reproachful, and you avert your eyes, guilt pinging through his bones as a result. He shouldn’t expect you to be able to hold your own in a city who undoubtedly turns their nose up at you. You’re vulnerable here, to no fault of your own. He shouldn’t chastise you for it, so he switches tactics. “Do you live in the city?” You nod.

“We’ve been here for a few weeks.” You shift uneasily. There’s so much left unsaid, and he wants to peel away the layers hiding it all, dig to the bottom and learn every bit of it.

Of you.

“Which village?” Your gaze turns bleak and then clears, clouds revealing the sun.

“Stoneguard.” His control is the only thing that smothers his surprise. Stoneguard.

No wonder you were so tense in the Palace. No wonder you practically ran away.

It’s an insular northern village with its own camp, positioned deep in the mountains, sheltered by rock and forest. One of the most brutal, and backwards, one of few still left unchanged. The miniscule progress happening in Windhaven and Ironcrest is still progress, but it doesn’t reach the more isolated villages or their camps. Rhys’ and their efforts to corral them, change them, have been in vain for centuries. They subscribe to the traditional practices, brutality and clipping, abuse running rampant without care.

You grimace, like you can read his mind, and another thought occurs, striking his soul with dread.

How did you get here? You have no wings. Did you walk, all this way, with Luna? Alone?

“I have to get going,” you break through his spiral with an apologetic glance, “she’ll need to go down for a nap here soon.” As if she insists on making your point, Luna’s lashes flutter, eyes struggling to stay open.

“Right, of course.” He should let you go, should be satisfied by your answers, but the brief interaction only leaves him wanting more. Leave her be, leave her be, leave her- “Have you seen much of Velaris?” You blink, and shake your head. “I could… show you around, if you’d like.” Luna hiccups, a high pitch frequency akin to a squeak, and a smile tugs at his mouth, trying to pull it upward into something genuine. It’s a hard fought battle for a male who rarely does such a thing. You stare at him, considering, examining, like you’re trying to peer inside his soul and determine if he’s to be trusted, and then you sigh.

“Okay.”

#peaches writes #azriel x reader #acotar #azriel x you

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theemporium · 3 days ago

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[11k] a seemingly random attack seems to be the start of a big problem for the new jersey devils and you find yourself one of the main targets. fortunately, you have one of the team's best as your appointed bodyguard. unfortunately, he seems to want nothing to do with you.

new jersey mob masterlist || nhl mob masterlist

warning: this is a mob au. topics and themes such as violence, blood, murder and gun use are prevalent and constant throughout the fic. please keep that in mind if you choose to proceed with this fic and the whole series.

“Did no one ever tell you as a kid that this much sugar is going to rot your teeth?”

“Well, brother dearest, considering you were the one who raised me, I think that’s a question you should be asking yourself.”

“You know, it’s kinda your fault her nickname is Candy,” a voice sounded from the background of the phone call. You beamed, almost imagining your brother’s face scrunching up at the callout. “Her sweet tooth is strongly encouraged by you.”

“Shut up, Jack.”

“Just pointing out the facts.”

“No one asked.”

“I assume you don’t want an eclair then?” You questioned, interrupting the bickering boys on the phone. The silence that followed made your grin widen.

“Tell Peter to give me the biggest one.”

“He always does,” you retorted, phone tucked between your ear and shoulder as the small bakery came into view. “Tell Jack I’ll get him those lemon muffins he likes.”

“You’re the best, Candy!” Jack’s voice rang through the phone.

“I know,” you answered simply, letting the bell ring above your head as you pushed the bakery door open.

You smiled when you saw Peter—a sweet boy, no older than his mid-twenties with ruffled hair and constantly flushed cheeks—standing behind the counter with a stained apron on and a determined look on his face that softened when he saw you.

“The usual?”

“You know it.”

“Coming right up, Candy!”

“Luke thinks Peter has a crush on you,” Jack’s voice came through the phone once again.

“I’ll shove a cupcake down his throat before he can try anything,” Timo grumbled.

You rolled your eyes. “You’ll do no such thing, I’d rather not get banned,” you said, grinning a little when you heard Timo scoff. “And as flattered as I am, he’s a bit too soft for me.”

“I bet he wouldn’t be so soft if you—”

“Zip it, Hughes.”

You snorted. “I’m high maintenance. Peter couldn’t handle that.”

“No one in their right mind can.”

“I can think of a few who could.”

Timo huffed. “It’s like you’re trying to make me feel murderous on a Sunday. It’s God’s day. I don’t kill on Sundays.”

“Well,” Jack started. “You did kill that dodgy fisherman a few weeks back on a Sunday—”

“Do you ever shut up?”

“Pete is a good guy, surely you’d want her to date him over anyone else—”

“It’s like you have a death wish.”

“He’s winding you up,” you snorted, making yourself comfortable since the bakery was empty and settling on the counter by the cash register. “And you fall for it every time.”

“Whatever,” Timo grumbled, and you could almost imagine the frown on his face. “Why are you over at Peter’s anyways? I thought Nico sent you to Philly.”

“Jonas went alone instead,” you shrugged, despite the fact the boy couldn’t see you. “Apparently back up wasn’t needed and the negotiations were going fine. He wants me to head towards Buffalo instead. They are avoiding his calls.”

Jack snorted. “Leave it to Nico to send Candy instead of leaving a voicemail.”

“I’m scarier,” you grinned.

Timo laughed. “Yeah, just as terrifying as a pink poodle.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ll suffocate you with my fur coat.”

“You wouldn’t be able to catch me in those heels.”

“You underestimate me, Tims,” you grinned.

He let out a disgusted groan. “Don’t call me that.”

When it came to life in the mob, there were a few rules you had to always remember.

One: never trust someone not sworn in. No matter what they say and no matter what they do to try and prove themselves, no man or woman not under that same oath and protection will ever have your back.

Two: make alliances with your brain and not your heart. It sounded stupid but far too many times have people found themselves entering stupid deals and negotiations to get what they wanted, far too blinded by their own desires to take off their rose-tinted glasses.

Three: always—and emphasis on the always—be alert. You never know when an enemy can strike. You never know who’s lingering in the shadows, ready to catch you off-guard.

Unfortunately for you, it was the third rule you found yourself forgetting as the sound of glass smashing echoed through the small bakery.

There was a ringing in your ears, muffling the sounds of screams and yells and gunshots as the world seemed to move in slow motion around you. You were distantly aware that one of the voices was your brother on the phone, the other Peter somewhere in the back. But you could barely focus on your own thoughts as you quickly dropped to the ground, your back pressed against one of the booths as the gunshots continued to rain through the shop.

You cursed yourself for not being alert. You cursed yourself for leaving your gun in your car. You cursed yourself for not even peeking to see how many men were shooting before you ducked to safety.

You were so far in your own thoughts that it took a while to realise the gunshots had stopped.

You jumped out of your skin when you felt a hand on your shoulder, turning to find Peter staring back at you with a pale face and wide eyes. His lips were moving but you couldn’t seem to process the words he was saying.

“Calm down,” you managed to mutter out, placing your hand over his and squeezing. “You’re gonna be okay.”

But the boy shook his head. “We need to get a doctor.”

You blinked, your brain hardly keeping up with him. “What? Why?”

Peter almost looked nervous as he spoke, as white dots began to blur your vision and his face morphed into blobs of colours. His mouth was moving, a pink and reddish blob that kept changing shape, as you strained to hear what he said.

And then, your vision went black.

…

“You were hurt!”

“Timo—”

“Seriously injured! Hospitalised!”

“It doesn’t count as a hospital if it’s just in the house—”

“You were shot!” Timo gritted out through clenched teeth, his fists clenched at his side so tight that his knuckles were white.

“Shot is a bit of an exaggeration,” you murmured under your breath.

Timo turned on his heel, his eyes narrowed in a glare. “A fucking bullet went through you, how the fuck would you describe that?”

“An unfortunate occurrence,” you retorted despite Nico shooting you a look to behave, to not wind your brother up any further. “It hardly warrants the need of a babysitter.”

“A bodyguard,” Nico corrected.

“Semantics,” you waved him off.

“You were a part of a targeted attack against us,” Timo hissed, the vein on his forehead starting to pop out. “A bodyguard is exactly what you need right now.”

“Everyone in this fucking room has been a part of a targeted attack,” you snapped back at your older brother. “News flash! It comes with the fucking lives we live! You are being far too dramatic over one little bullet wound.”

“My mistake for caring,” Timo deadpanned.

“It’s not the worst I’ve experienced and you know it,” you retorted, watching the boy’s mouth snap shut. You let out a sigh, a wave of guilt washing over you as you pushed yourself off Nico’s couch and walked closer to your brother. “I’m fine. I promise.”

Timo opened his mouth.

“Timo,” you said in a softer voice, watching his shoulders drop. “Look, if anything weird happens in the next few weeks or if we have any reason to believe they will specifically attack me again, then I’ll agree to a bodyguard.”

Timo looked conflicted. “Promise?”

“Pinky promise,” you replied, grinning far too wide for someone who was barely allowed out of bed so soon. “Now, put your big boy pants on and go do something productive.”

Nico’s brows furrowed together. “You know I’m the boss here, right?”

“Send him somewhere far away for the week!”

…

“You promise you’re okay?”

“Geez, what are you, my mother?” You grumbled, your fingers dancing over the hangers on the rail as the boy followed behind you. “I’m okay. Doctor just said no strenuous activities.”

Alex raised his brows. “Are you mentally okay? Emotionally okay?”

“Forget my mother, are you my therapist?” You muttered, turning to look at the boy with narrowed eyes. “How much did Timo pay you?”

Alex scoffed. “What makes you think he paid me anything?”

“Because you never come shopping with me, let alone willingly,” you retorted with something quite triumphant in your smile.

“Yeah, well, shopping is a strenuous activity when it comes to you,” Alex grumbled under his breath, readjusting the countless bags and hangers in his hands. “I couldn’t let you hurt yourself any more than you currently are.”

You beamed, lightly patting his cheek. “That’s why you’re my favourite, Holtzy.”

“Timo also threatened me,” he added, a small smile tugging on his lips when he saw you roll your eyes and turn back around. “He can be scary, even when he’s across the country.”

“Nico should’ve sent him somewhere further,” you sighed, shaking your head before turning your attention back to the dresses on the rack. “Speaking of, I thought Nico put you in charge of checking up on Peter.”

“Jack and Luke wanted to take over,” Alex shrugged. “They wanted to make sure he was actually okay.”

You pressed your lips together in a frown. “Is that even safe? Both of them to be seen with Peter?”

“You think someone from Toronto is lurking in a bush outside the bakery, just waiting to see the three of them together?” Alex deadpanned, unphased by the look you gave him. He had been on the receiving end far too many times. “They’ll be fine. Nico wouldn’t have allowed it if it was unsafe.”

“Nico is also completely distracted by the fact Trouba supposedly wanted to meet to talk about some alliance or something,” you snorted.

“How do you know these things?” Alex questioned, his head tilted in curiosity.

“I have my ways,” you grinned knowingly. “And I have my ways of knowing if you repeat any of this to anyone. Especially Curtis. He is such a gossip.”

Alex paused before nodding. “Yeah no, that is fair. You think he will take Trouba up on the offer?”

“If the incentive is right.”

“That was frustratingly vague.”

“I know.”

“Well, distracted or not, Nico would never let anything bad happen to Jack and Luke, or Peter by extension,” Alex said, sounding so sure of himself. “He has worked hard to keep Peter’s presence in Jersey under wraps. He wouldn’t let Jack or Luke ruin that, not when they were the ones who asked for it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you hummed, waving him off. “You’re right. Blah blah blah. You done yet?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “You asked.”

“Yeah but I was hoping you’d agree with me it was unsafe so we had an excuse to visit after this,” you retorted, flashing him an innocent smile over your shoulder. “Wanna split an apple pie?”

Alex sighed but he agreed.

…

Just like you assumed, the next two weeks passed without a hitch or whisper of another attack.

After Nico practically threatened to make Timo your round-the-clock bodyguard, you got the proper rest and care needed for your wound to mostly heal. You were still a little tender—and banned from your and Dawson’s weekly yoga sessions—but you felt close to your normal self, able to join some of the others on the less physical jobs, like visiting the factories and handling negotiations.

Unfortunately for you, it was week three when disaster struck again.

“I’m surprised Nico even let you step foot into this place,” you teased as you closed the car door behind you, finding the boy already rolling his eyes at you.

“Sometimes a pretty boy has to do some dirty work too,” Jack replied, grinning boyishly as he looped his arm with yours before walking towards the warehouse.

“Your ego truly astounds me,” you commented.

“Says you,” he retorted, laughing as he tried to ignore your heel jabbing into his toes.

It was a routine check-up, something that wasn’t meant to take longer than thirty minutes—forty tops, if you left Jack to do it alone and get distracted. But the shipment had just left and you needed to make sure nothing was left behind and assure no tracks were left behind. Nico preferred people close to him doing the checks.

You had been mildly surprised that he sent you and Jack together, though, you had a feeling that the whole peace treaty with the Rangers was taking over Nico’s plate.

“Everything looks good,” Jack said as he jogged back towards you, pushing some hair out of his face. “What about your side?”

“All good,” you confirmed. “Let’s head back before Timo gets there. The dick made a bet with me that he would be back from Washington before us.”

Jack paused. “Isn’t he meant to be staying the night?”

You huffed. “Please, the boy has been like a fucking helicopter parent. Unless it’s on the west coast, he doesn’t like being away for a day because apparently something will happen to me if he’s not here.”

Jack shook his head fondly but his hand rested over yours, giving it a small squeeze. “He just cares, Candy.”

You felt a flash of guilt in the pit of your stomach. “Jack—”

“Take it from a guy who lost a sibling, it isn’t fun,” he said, trying to smile and laugh through it but it fell flat.

You frowned, not giving the boy a chance to run off before you wound your arms around him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” you murmured softly.

“I know,” Jack whispered, his arms wrapping around you in return. “He just wants to know you’re safe. God knows I’d freak out the same if it was Luke in your position.”

“A pair of overbearing brothers you are,” you teased, pulling back with a softer smile on your face. “You’re a good brother. And a good friend.”

Jack raised his brows. “Wow, I didn’t even have to pay you for that compliment.”

You rolled your eyes. “I meant you’re a good friend to Peter. How’s he holding up?”

“A bit shaken,” Jack confessed as you both walked back towards the car, his lips turned downwards. “The damage to the shop wasn’t too bad, mostly just replacing the windows and cleaning up. But he’s freaked out that people are on his tail.”

You hummed, nodding. “And you? How do you feel?”

Jack couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “I’m not the one that got shot.”

“Yeah but,” you paused, waving your hand around. “If Peter is freaked out—”

“Anything freaks him out,” Jack mused. “It was just a normal, run of the mill, everyday kind of event that happens when you’re in the mob. There’s nothing or no reason to believe it was anything but a fluke—”

BOOM!

You felt Jack’s body covering yours before you even realised you were on the ground. You managed to peek over Jack’s shoulder, your eyes widening at the sight of the warehouse—the same one you were inside mere minutes ago—bursting into flames that were growing and spreading and burning wildly.

“Okay, I take it back,” Jack muttered, his eyes glued on the burning building. “Not a fluke. Definitely targeted. We are fucked.”

You swallowed. “Dibs on not calling Nico.”

…

“I knew it.”

You rolled your eyes at the cock-sureness in your brother’s voice.

“This is serious,” Nico spoke up, shooting Timo a look before he went on a rant—again. “That’s two attacks in three weeks. And we have no fucking idea who’s behind them. Or if they are even linked at all.”

“It’s hard when we have a plethora of enemies,” Jesper deadpanned, raising his hands in mock surrender when Nico shot him a look. “Just saying.”

“Stop reminding me,” Nico grumbled.

“Guess we can cross the Rangers off our list though, right, Boss?” You teased, wiggling your brows despite the glare you were receiving.

“Candy,” Nico sighed. “Your brother is right. I think it’s best to have a bodyguard around, just for the next few weeks until we work things out.”

“Yeah because a bodyguard is sure gonna help when the building blows up, this time with us in it,” you deadpanned.

“I’d be more observant than Jack,” Timo commented.

“Hey!” Jack frowned.

“Absolutely fucking not,” you quickly stood up, shaking your head. “You’re not going to be my bodyguard. I’m not having you hovering over me twenty-four-seven. You’re bad enough as it is.”

Timo clenched his jaw. “Yes, I am—”

“No. She’s right. You’re not,” Nico spoke up, quickly interrupting you both. “But you are getting a bodyguard. Just to take precautions until we confirm whether you’re a target or if you just happened to be at the targeted places by chance. Maybe having another pair of eyes around you, someone who’s vigilant, will be insightful.”

“I’m not five, Nico, I can take care of myself,” you insisted, your arms crossed over your chest. “A babysitter isn’t going to do anything other than be a nuisance.”

“The bodyguard,” Nico corrected with a pointed look. “Is necessary and will not be negotiated.”

“This is ridiculous,” you said to him.

“And he’s going to be with you around the clock, always by your side,” Nico said.

Your nose scrunched up. “No.”

“Every shopping trip, every little run into town,” Nico continued.

You could feel your skin prickling. “Nico—

“And I’m moving him into your room to sleep, armed and ready just in case,” Nico insisted.

This time it was Timo who stepped in. “Woah, wait a second—”

“And I know the perfect guy,” Nico grinned. “Marino will be your bodyguard.”

It was like a switch flipped in your head, your irritance and fight disappearing as you grinned at him. “Okay.”

“I—” Timo narrowed his eyes at you. “Why are you suddenly okay with this?”

“Because I know how to listen to my boss, Timmy, you should try it some time,” you grinned at your brother, patting his shoulder before you sauntered out of the office.

“Stop calling me that,” Timo groaned as he followed you out.

Jesper waited a few moments before your voices were clearly down the hall. “You did that just to stir some drama, didn’t you?”

“Yup,” Nico answered quite happily.

“Thank god, everyone was sick of the pining puppy dog eyes,” Jack grumbled from the spot on Nico’s desk he was sitting on.

…

You had known John Marino for as long as you had been with the Devils.

He was quieter than the rest, happy to linger in the corners of the room and observe everyone. It makes sense why Nico had chosen him as the role of your bodyguard, it was John’s nature to notice things most people missed. But, ultimately, it confused the fuck out of you.

Because for as long as you had known John, you were also certain the boy didn’t like you.

You could count on one hand the amount of conversations you shared with the boy, and even those conversations lasted thirty seconds at most. And for a majority of those thirty seconds, it was you talking and him saying three words in response, if even that.

You had eventually accepted the fact that some personalities just clashed, that maybe you were too loud or too energetic or too extroverted for John’s liking. You tried to tell yourself you were okay with it because, at the end of the day, he was still polite and curt with you.

But you would be lying if you said a small part of you wasn’t offended that you were nothing more than a glorified acquaintance with John Marino.

So really, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone that you were going to use the next few weeks with him to get him to like you. Or figure out what the hell his deal was.

“You think John hates you?” Dawson repeated, like that was the detail he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around in your whole plan.

“Hate is a strong word,” you said in response. “I’m simply going to get him to come out of his shell a little. With me specifically.”

“Not the kinda coming he wants to do with you,�� Dawson muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” Dawson quickly cleared his throat. He turned his gaze back towards the corridor the two of you were currently walking down. “How do you plan to get him out of his shell?”

“I don’t need a strategy to make friends,” you mused, grinning a little when the boy rolled his eyes in response. “My plan is to not have a plan. I am sure with the time spent together, he will eventually open up.”

“That still sounds like a strategy,” Dawson commented but you didn’t get the chance to reply, the door to Nico’s office swinging open and a beaming Nico taking the focus of your attention instead.

“Candy, brilliant, you’re here!”

You blinked. “Yes, you asked me to be. You literally sent me a text ten minutes ago—”

“Anyways!” Nico spun around, still grinning a concerning amount as he wandered back into the office, a few of the other boys already inside. “I don’t like the idea of waiting around for another attack to get answers.”

Jesper raised his brows. “Meaning?”

“Meaning I want both attacks investigated separately so we can see if there are any dots joining,” Nico stated simply, leaning against his desk. “Bratter, you and Jack are on warehouse duty. I want to know everyone who stepped foot in that place in the last month.”

“Bit hard to do when the cameras blew up with the building but sure,” Jack grumbled.

“Candy,” Nico’s eyes shifted to you. “You and John will be on the bakery.”

“Is it really a good idea to send her back to the bakery?” Timo interrupted, stepping forward.

“I’m not ignoring it for the rest of my life because of one attack,” you told him. “Me and Johnny can handle it.”

“Johnny?” Timo repeated incredulously before spinning around to find John, who was standing near the back of the room with a blank expression on his face. “Since when were you Johnny?”

John only shrugged in response.

Timo’s eyes narrowed.

“As I was saying,” Nico spoke up again. “This is how we are doing it.”

“What about the rest of us?” Timo asked.

“You have other jobs to do,” Nico said simply. “I am not putting our lives on hold over a few attacks. We continue everything else like normal. I don’t want it to get out that we are concerned over these attacks, they will make us look weak.”

Jonas’ lips twitched upwards. “And god forbid you look weak before you have the chance to woo the Rangers—”

Nico had elbowed him in the gut before he managed to finish that sentence.

…

“You’re staring.”

You blinked, wondering for a few moments if you had imagined the boy speaking. The two of you had been sitting in your room for the better part of the last two hours, combing through the security footage from the bakery that Peter had sent you.

And in that time, John had said two words, a simple ��on it’ when you sent him half of the security footage to watch over.

Somewhere in that time, you found yourself sitting against your headboard, watching the boy sitting at your desk with narrowed eyes like you would somehow be able to figure him out through observation.

Clearly, that didn’t work very well.

“Staring is considered a compliment,” you replied, watching the way his lips twitched upwards. You waited for him to turn around and go back to the footage, but you were surprised when he leaned back in his seat to look at you.

“And are you?” He questioned, watching your head tilt in confusion. “Complimenting me?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I’m wondering why you’re here.”

John raised his brows. “You are aware you were shot a few weeks ago, right?”

“Yes but you didn’t have to say yes to Nico,” you pointed out.

John stared back at you for a few moments before he spoke. “I wanted to, Candy.”

He didn’t give you the chance to reply before he turned back around, his focus returning to the hours of security footage he had been watching minutes before.

…

It took a little over three days to watch all the footage from the bakery’s security cameras just for it to come up with no leads. The warehouse was no better, with no real evidence or clues on who set up the attack.

Nico was trying to keep a brave face and pretend like it wasn’t that big of a deal but you could see that it was unsettling him. Someone clearly had a target on the Devils’ back and the reason was unclear, which made it ten times harder to anticipate what the next move would be. And with the deal with the Rangers coming up, the last thing any of you needed was a weakness to be exposed.

“We will figure it out,” Nico kept saying whenever it was questioned by some of the other members, the ones not as privy to the inner circle talks in his study late at night. “We will be fine.”

You were pretty sure he was trying to convince himself of that fact too.

“We need to do something,” you said around a week after the investigation into the attacks began, lying on your bed with your head hanging over the edge. “How the fuck have we not found anything?”

“Because whoever is behind it is good at covering their tracks?” Jack suggested from his spot beside you on the bed.

“Or because we are trying to catch them with little to no evidence,” John added, standing by the door of your room with his hands obediently behind his back. “You know, since everything was either burned or destroyed or has a million bullet holes in it.”

“Will you sit down? You’re stressing me out,” you muttered to him.

“No,” John stated simply.

Jack snorted. “He is jealous I took the bed.”

“I am not.”

Jack shot you a knowing look. “He totally is.”

“There has to be something else,” you sighed, your eyes fixed on the massive pile of clothes you had thrown over the back of your desk chair. John had wrinkled his nose at all the sequins and glitter, a look which soured when you suggested he add some colour to his outfits. The constant all black was starting to make you feel angsty.

“We’ve tried everything, bar kidnapping random people off the street and interrogating them,” John retorted.

“My plan was way more nuanced than that,” Jack insisted. “Stop making it sound dumb.”

“He can’t make it sound dumb if it is dumb,” you pointed out.

John’s lips twitched upwards.

Jack scoffed. “Since when did you two agree with each other?”

“Since you became an easy target,” you retorted, hissing when the boy reached over to pinch your arm. “Ouch, asshole.”

“It was deserved,” Jack insisted.

You turned your head to look at John. “I thought my bodyguard was meant to protect me.”

“Because Jack and his noodle arms are such a big threat,” John deadpanned.

Jack quickly sat up in bed. “Woah, now wait a second—”

“It would take more than a second to fix your noodle arms.”

Jack narrowed his eyes at the boy. “I do not know why Luke likes you so much.”

John shrugged in response.

“Is Peter’s shop still under renovation?” You questioned, interrupting whatever weird staring contest the two of them were doing. The mention of his friend was enough for Jack to tear his eyes away from John to focus on you instead.

“What? Yeah, they are,” he nodded with his lips turned down. “Why?”

“Good,” was the only response you gave, quickly swinging your legs over the side of the bed as you sat up. Both boys looked at you with confused expressions, watching as you hooked the straps of your heels on one finger and reached for one of your coats with the other hand.

John straightened. “What are you—”

“Hurry up, Johnny, we are leaving in five,” you stated, grinning when you noticed him let out a heavy sigh like he accepted the fact he wasn’t getting answers from you.

“What about me?” Jack called out.

“Don’t know and don’t care!”

…

Peter’s Bakery was a cute and quaint shop that didn’t stand out amongst the others on the street. It fit right in with the friendly, homely neighbourhood and was a huge hit with the locals. It was a simple place, hidden right in plain sight.

Despite the connection to the Devils, there was no reason for it to be targeted in an attack.

“Eighty percent of Peter’s customers are locals,” you told John as you walked towards the bakery, your heels clicking against the cement in a melodic pattern. It was comforting, something to hold onto as memories of the last time you were here flooded to the front of your mind.

“So?” John questioned, his eyes hidden behind the sunglasses he had slipped on before the two of you left the house. You could bet your bottom dollar that he was already analysing everything, probably had been since the second the two of you got out of the car.

“Ten percent are people from surrounding areas and the remaining ten are tourists from states excluding the ones in the immediate surrounding area,” you continued. “And the chances of the attacker being a local is slim to none so—”

“You think the person behind all this visited the bakery before the attack?” John finished for you.

“Bingo, Johnny,” you grinned at the boy, watching as he simply pressed his lips together.

“And you think he is just going to remember every customer he interacted with?” John asked, the judgement clear from his voice. “We already combed through the CCTV footage, we know there was nothing weird—”

“That was on camera,” you pointed out. “They could have given a different vibe in person.”

“A different vibe?” John repeated in a dubious tone.

“I don’t see you jumping with any better ideas,” you retorted as the boy just sighed in response. “Cheer up, Johnny, the ever present frown is going to give you wrinkles.”

John didn’t get the chance to even try and respond before you were pushing the door to the bakery open. Despite the damage to the shop, the bell above the door remained intact and dinged as the two of you walked in. It was a mess, with cans of paints and planks of wood and tools sprawled over the place, but the vague smell of cookies still somehow lingered in the air.

“Sorry, we are closed for—oh,” Peter poked his head out from the back of the store, his lips twisting into a smile when he saw you. “Candy, I didn’t know you were stopping by.”

“We just had a few questions for Jersey’s favourite baker,” you smiled innocently.

“We?” Peter repeated, his eyes glancing past your shoulder like he was noticing John for the first time. A look passed over his face before he cleared his throat. “Marino.”

“Perry.”

“It’s Peter.”

“Whoops.”

“Play nice,” you pouted, lightly elbowing John’s side before turning your smiling face back to Peter. “Excuse him, he gets pissy if he misses his afternoon nap.”

John’s jaw clenched as Peter laughed.

“Come on in,” Peter smiled back. “I’m all yours for the next hour before the builders come back from their lunch break.”

“How convenient,” John murmured under his breath, lifting his hands in mock surrender as you shot him a look before the both of you followed him into the back of the store.

…

“So, that was useless.”

“No surprise there.”

Your eyes narrowed into a glare, your mood only souring further when you found the boy wasn’t even looking back at you. His gaze seemed to be glued ahead, his jaw still clenched like it had been the whole time you had been in the bakery.

“What is your problem?” You asked, wrapping your coat further around your body as the wind began to pick up. “You have been in an awful mood since we arrived.”

“I’ve been completely normal,” John answered. Those stupid sunglasses on his face were starting to piss you off.

“You have not,” you scoffed, shaking your head. “You were fine joking around with Jack back in the house but the second we left, you were in a downright horrible mood—hey!”

“Keep your voice down,” John grumbled, his hand now locked around your arm as he tugged you closer to his side.

You let out a snort of laughter. “You’re funny if you think—”

“Someone has been following us since we left the bakery,” John said, his voice low and barely a muscle on his face moving as he spoke. “Lower your voice and follow me.”

And for once, you listened.

There was a growing temptation to look back. To just take a peek over your shoulder and see the face of the person who was following you, to try and get an idea of who it was. There was no coincidence that the two of you were being followed the second you left the bakery, the same goddamn place you were first attacked.

You wondered if it was the same person. You wonder if they were the one that shot the gun that hit you. You wondered if—

“You’re spiralling,” John’s voice cut through your thoughts.

“Am not,” you retorted, but it sounded weak to your own ears.

“Lie better,” John insisted, his hand tightening around your arm as he spoke.

It was like you could hear the footsteps behind you now, like they were loud and clear the second John had pointed them out to you. When you sped up, so did they. When you slowed down, so did they. They were matching your moves and following the two of you and the car was too far away and you couldn’t call for backup without alerting the person and—

“Shhhh, breathe for me.”

You blinked before you even realised what was happening. Torn out of your own spiralling thoughts, you found yourself pressed against a wall, the cold bricks jabbing into your back but the comfort was the least of your problems. John was pressed up against you, not an inch of you exposed to the rest of the world as he kept you pinned between him and the wall.

You lifted your head to watch his side profile, watch the way he kept his eyes on the entryway to the alley he had pulled you down before you even realised what was happening. You watched the way his cheeks flushed pink, probably from the nipping weather (though it was hard to care about that when he was like a furnace against you). You watched the way he looked so focused, so in his element.

It was hard to doubt Nico’s choice when you were seeing John do just what he did best.

“I think it’s all clear,” he eventually said, breaking the silence that had been lingering since he dragged you into the alley.

You swallowed harshly. “You sure?”

“Have I given you any reason to doubt I wouldn’t take your safety seriously?” John asked, turning his head so he was finally looking at you. You watched him closely, watched the way his eyes darted over your face and lingered on your lips for a moment too long before returning to your eyes.

“No,” you replied honestly.

“Then there’s your answer,” he murmured, lingering for a few moments before he took a step back. “Let’s go back to the house.”

You tried not to think about how cold you were the second he stepped away.

…

Things were starting to heat up with the Rangers deal.

Which, considering the faces of everyone in Nico’s study at that current moment, was incredibly fucking shocking.

“You’re actually going through with it?” Jesper was the one to speak first, staring at Nico with wide eyes. “I thought we were just entertaining them to see what they want.”

“Yes, and I listened and I agreed to it,” Nico said as he leaned back in his chair. “So we are going forth with the deal.”

“We have been fighting them for years,” Jack piped in, his brows furrowed together like he was trying to piece together a deal he didn’t even know the terms of fully. You weren’t even sure Nico knew the details of the deal yet.

“Exactly,” Nico nodded. “And look how much we have lost, both of us. It’s time to turn a new leaf.”

Jack flinched.

You pressed a hand between the blades of his shoulders, leaving it there until you could feel the boy slowly start to relax under your touch.

“This isn’t sustainable for either of us,” Nico continued, though it was softer this time. “We need to start thinking about what’s best for the Devils.”

“And buddying up with the Rangers is the solution?” Jonas asked, no judgement in his voice (yet). Just curiosity.

“Not just with them,” Nico admitted. “I want to start solidifying our relationships.”

And it was that exact reason that Nico decided to send you to Pittsburgh.

The members of the Steel City mob were not ones the Devils knew well, nor did they have much of a history with. It was good, in the sense that there was no awkward bad blood to get over (read: like the current Rangers deal Nico was trying to pull). But it also meant there was no reason for either group to want a relationship.

Not unless you were Nico Hischier and Sidney Crosby, suddenly interested in creating an alliance that would somehow benefit both groups involved.

It was weird travelling with John. Usually when Nico sent you on missions like this, you were alone. On the off chance you needed back up, it would be Timo or Dawson or Jack by your side. It should have felt unsettling to have John, but it was comforting.

It was comforting to know he had your back, that you didn’t have to spend the whole trip looking over your shoulder.

And it was better than when one of the others were with you. John let you take control, let you do the talking, let you sit across from Sidney and say what you wanted without trying to cut in or take over the conversation.

It was comforting but also such a mindfuck to know this was all from the same boy who practically avoided you until a few weeks ago.

Where was this John before?

All in all, the meeting went well. There was still a lot to discuss, to negotiate, to consider. But it was the start to an alliance between the Devils and the Penguins, a welcome and positive start. And that was more than enough for an overnight trip. Sidney had even been kind enough to offer a place in one of the countless establishments owned by the Penguins.

“Two rooms?” He said like it was a nicety, rather than a fact he already knew.

“One,” John corrected, his face remaining blank as he spoke. But there was a hint of ‘no further argument’ in his voice.

Sidney’s lips twitched upwards. “One it is, then.”

…

The hotel room was nice. More than nice, if you were being completely honest.

It felt far too fancy for a single night’s stay but you assumed the Penguins were wanting to keep the good relationship going, to show they were serious, to show how well they could treat those they shared a good alliance with. It felt more like a studio apartment than a hotel room.

And despite it all, there was only one bed.

It had taken around thirty minutes of arguing before John accepted that the bed was large enough for you both to share for the night. He had been insistent he could use the couch by the window, that it was big and comfy enough for him.

It made you want to scream.

You didn’t get it. You really didn’t fucking get it.

If someone had asked you a few months ago, you would have bet your life on the fact that John didn’t like you. He was clearly quite quiet and reserved, preferring to keep to himself. You would have assumed the reasons he stayed away from you were just that—that you were too loud, too out there, too flashy.

And then he became your bodyguard. And there were these moments where you thought you were seeing a different John, a John that you could get along with. A John that would maybe even be able to handle how loud and out there and flashy you were.

Until moments like this, moments where it felt like he would rather be anywhere but beside you. Where it felt like he was here out of obligation because of Nico’s orders.

“Why do you hate me?”

It had been over an hour since the two of you turned the lights off and settled down for the night. If you were being honest, you assumed he had fallen asleep a while ago but it still hadn’t stopped you from blurting the question out into the dark room, to get it off your chest before you felt like you would explode.

You hadn’t expected to feel him tense up beside you. You hadn’t expected him to still be awake.

“What?”

You remained silent.

You could hear shuffling from his side of the bed. You wondered if he was turning to face you. You couldn’t bring yourself to look.

“Candy,” John said, his voice heavy with an emotion you couldn’t quite pinpoint. “What makes you think I hate you?”

“Because what else am I to think?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you spoke. “You ignored me before this, before Nico told you to watch over me. You barely said three words to me in the years I have been here and—”

You cut yourself off. The silence remained for a few minutes and you wondered if he had genuinely fallen asleep in that time. You still couldn’t bring yourself to look.

“I don’t hate you,” John whispered. “I never did.”

You let out a shaky breath.

“You were just so…you,” John confessed. “It was intimidating. I guess I didn’t think I was interesting enough.”

You frowned. “What?”

“I never said my reason made sense,” John retorted and you couldn’t help but snort a little. “I promise that I never hated you, Candy. Nobody could hate you.”

You swallowed. “And I’m meant to believe that?”

“I would never lie to you,” John said confidently. “Never have and never will.”

“Okay,” you whispered as you reached your hand back. It took a few seconds of patting the space between you both before you found his hand and gave it a small squeeze. “I don’t hate you either.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

“Goodnight, Candy.”

…

“We think we have found a link between the attacks.”

“We?”

“Apologies,” Nico corrected, letting out a sigh as Jesper glared at the side of his head. “Jesper thinks he has found a link.”

“It’s a guess,” Jesper admitted after a few moments as the lot of you surrounded the map that was currently sprawled out over the length of Nico’s desk. “But it’s better than nothing.”

“What makes you think they will even attack again?” Jonas questioned as he glanced between the circled locations with a frown.

“We don’t,” Nico answered.

“Well, we can assume they will try again considering none of the other attacks ended with what they wanted,” Jack spoke up, catching your eye as he sheepishly shrugged. “Sorry, Candy.”

Timo’s frown deepened.

“Each of these locations would fit their agenda,” Jesper said as he rapped his knuckles against the map before frowning. “If we have guessed their agenda correctly.”

“You will have,” you assured, squeezing the blond’s shoulder with a smile. “Good job, Bratter.”

“We are going to have these locations on a constant patrol for the next week,” Nico said, frowning down at the map like he was already organising the patrol schedule in his head (even though Jonas would be the one to have a printed and laminated version on the notice board in the foyer by that very evening). “We are due another attack soon, if these people are sticking to a schedule.”

“Dibs the club by the Italian place,” you spoke up, flashing Jack a grin where he let out an exaggerated groan. “Their garlic bread would be the perfect stakeout snack.”

Nico opened his mouth but Timo was already talking before he had the chance to say anything.

“What makes you think you’re a part of this?” Timo asked with a frown.

You raised your brows. “Maybe the fact I am in this room right now.”

“No,” Timo shook his head. “Absolutely not. You’re not getting involved in this.”

“Timo—”

“You are one of their targets,” Timo gritted out between clenched teeth. “It would be fucking stupid to put you on patrol. We may as well hand you over on a silver platter.”

“You’re being dramatic,” you said. “I’ll be with John—”

“No, I am being realistic,” Timo corrected. “You’re staying behind. End of discussion.”

You could feel your temper starting to rise, feeling that itch under your skin that was biting to fight back. “What? You suddenly don’t trust John?”

“No, I don’t trust you,” Timo retorted, the muscles in his jaw clenching. “You’re a liability, Candy.”

You froze for a moment before scoffing. “Wow. Wow.”

To his credit, Timo did look apologetic the second the words settled in the room. “Candy, I didn’t—”

“What? You didn’t mean it?” You let out a humourless laugh, shaking your head. “No, you meant it, Timo. You meant it just like you meant it in San Jose and look where that got us.”

A look of hurt flashed across your brother’s face. “That’s not fair—”

“Whatever,” you gritted out, stepping back when he tried to reach you and turning on your heel before anyone else had the chance to say anything. You turned and walked towards the door and kept walking, blood roaring in your ears and tears welling in your eyes with every step.

…

“Got room for one more?”

John didn’t wait for your response as he settled down on the spot beside you. He glanced around, letting out a hum of amusement as he took in the full brunt of your wardrobe. It had been its own room at one point, before you had taken it over and connected it to your bedroom. Now, it was full of rails and shelves bursting with clothes and shoes in so many colours that John was surprised his head didn’t hurt the second he walked in.

He leaned back against one of the set of drawers, laughing a little when he felt a couple of feathers brushing against the back of his neck. “Do you actually wear feather boas?”

Your lips twitched upwards. “I got them when Luke and Curtis bet fifty bucks that I didn’t have them ‘in my collection’.”

John smiled a little. “So you have them to help Luke in a bet?”

You shot him a look. “Don’t be silly, I was helping Curtis win the bet.”

John did laugh this time, a proper laugh that caught you by surprise. Not that he seemed put off by the way you were blatantly staring at him. Instead, he nudged his shoulder against yours and just smiled.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned your head against his shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?” John asked in a soft voice.��

“I just…” You trailed off, trying to find the words to describe everything racing on inside your head. “I was just so pissed off and he wasn’t listening to me and I…I knew it would hurt. I wanted it to hurt.” You paused. “Does that make me a bad person?”

“Maybe,” John whispered. “But I don’t think he was a great person at that moment either.”

“I know the San Jose stuff upsets him,” you whispered, pressing your cheek further into the fabric of his shirt until his cologne and the vague scent of fabric softener was the only thing you could focus on. “He regrets it every day. He regrets that he left me behind that day, that he thought I was too much of a liability to go away with him.”

John pressed his cheek against the top of your head. “What happened in San Jose wasn’t your fault or his. It was them. It was the Sharks and their twisted morals over there and—”

“I’m his sister and I almost died because of a decision he made,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you spoke. “He will always blame himself, even if no one else thinks it. Even if he is the reason I’m alive now and we got out of there.”

John didn’t say anything.

“Just like I will always blame myself for trusting them blindly,” you muttered, swallowing the words that felt like they were stuck in the back of your throat. “I forgot the basic rules of this life. I forgot then and I forgot when I was at Peter’s when the attack happened and—”

“Candy,” John murmured, his arm winding around your body and pulling you further into his side. “It wasn’t your fault.”

You pressed your face further into him, your tears beginning to soak the shirt he was wearing but he didn’t care.

“You’re a force to be reckoned with, Candy,” John continued, his lips pressed against the top of your head as he left a lingering kiss. “None of it was your fault.”

You stayed silent.

“And you’re not a bad person. You’re allowed to get angry and upset. You’re allowed to lash out.” John pressed another kiss to your forehead. “Your brother loves you and nothing will ever change that.”

John held you in his arms as the two of you sat on the floor of your wardrobe. He held you as you cried and cried until you couldn’t anymore. He held you until keeping your eyes open was too much. And then he carried you to bed, taking his spot in your room and letting the silence settle over the room until the next morning.

The apology from Timo didn’t really come in the form of words, maybe because you and your brother both knew that more than words were needed. It was at the next Devils Sunday dinner. He didn’t say anything as he placed a box on your plate (a box you recognised with the logo of Peter’s Bakery) and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“We will never let them win,” he murmured, the same words he whispered that fateful night in San Jose before the two of you escaped.

“Never,” you whispered back.

Timo just smiled, soft and genuine and just as forgiving as it was apologetic, before he settled down in his spot at the table.

He didn’t even say anything about John’s arm wrapped around the back of your chair for the duration of the whole dinner.

…

The days passed and still no attack came.

The deal with the Rangers was becoming more serious. Not that you doubted Nico’s word at all. It was just…rivalry against the Rangers was all you had known. You heard whispers about them when you were on the west coast. You saw the extent of their violence when you and Timo fled to New Jersey.

It was hard to imagine a life where that violence wasn’t instigated, wasn’t retaliated against, wasn’t sought out.

“It will work.”

You raised your brows, watching the way Nico was nodding to himself as he glanced over the papers in front of him. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

Jack snorted. “More like Jesper. He doesn’t think it’s a good idea.”

“He doesn’t trust them,” Nico corrected.

“And, to be fair, they have given us no reason to trust them,” you added.

“Just as much as they should trust us,” John deadpanned, once again refusing to sit down as he stood left to your chair.

“They need it as much as we do,” Nico pointed out.

“What stock could they possibly need from us?” You questioned, watching the way the boy paused before clearing his throat. Your eyes narrowed at your boss, like it would be enough to see the thoughts whirling around in his head. “Nico, what did you agree to?”

Nico let out a sigh, leaning back in his chair. “A marriage.”

Jack blinked.

“A marriage?” You repeated, hissing. “Are you crazy? You want to join us to them forever like that?”

“It’s an alliance, Candy,” Nico stated simply. “The idea is that it would be long lasting.”

“But a marriage, Nico,” you shook your head. “They wouldn’t just accept a random marriage, not unless Trouba thought he could find a way to get into the top circle. Who did you offer up?”

“Why? You offering yourself?” Jack asked, his lips twitching upwards.

But the joke fell flat when John stepped forward, stepped closer to you. “No. She’s not.”

Your eyes widened a little at the biting tone in his voice. “Hey—”

“You are not marrying any of them,” John gritted out through clenched teeth. “I refuse.”

“You refuse?” You repeated, your head tilting as you turned to look at the boy in disbelief. “Pretty sure it’s my decision, Johnny.”

“Yeah, Johnny,” Jack said, his eyes glittering in amusement. Not that you could see it, with your focus now turned to the other boy. But John could see it. He could see it and could see the way Jack was actively holding back his laughter. “If Candy wants to marry one of Trouba’s men, then who are we to stop her?”

John’s jaw clenched, an emotion you couldn’t quite read shining in his eyes. “No.”

Nico sighed deeply.

Jack snorted. “You’re not even being subtle about it, bud.”

You whirled around. “Subtle about what?”

Jack simply lifted his hands in mock surrender.

You turned back to look at John, a mix of emotions flooding through you when he failed to meet your eyes. “I thought you never lied to me.”

“I’m not lying,” John said, his eyes locked on Jack, who was beaming in response.

“No, he’s just omitting to tell the truth,” Jack retorted.

“Jack,” Nico said in a warning voice.

“Oh, come on,” Jack whined, turning to pout at the older boy. “We all know John is just—”

“Enough,” Nico interrupted, shaking his head. “Go to Peter’s.”

Jack frowned. “What?”

“I’m telling you right now to go stake out at Peter’s tonight,” Nico said—or, more accurately, commanded. “I want you to stick to the post for the rest of the night.”

Jack opened his mouth to argue but noted the glare Nico was sending him and—smartly—decided to keep his mouth shut. He glanced between you and John, muttering something under his breath before he jumped off his spot on the desk and made his way towards the door.

“And just to be clear,” Nico spoke up before Jack could leave the room. “Candy is not the one marrying a Ranger. None of you are.”

John’s brows furrowed together. “So who is?”

“Me.”

…

You hadn’t said a word to John since the two of you left Nico’s study.

It was one thing to make a deal with the Rangers. It was another for that deal to include an arranged marriage, something that seemed so archaic and old-fashioned for Nico’s taste. But for Nico himself to be involved? To tie himself to the Rangers in such a way?

It was fucking mind-blowing.

You could only imagine the kind of girl the Rangers would offer to play the part of Nico Hischier’s wife.

But despite the revelation, your mind was reeling for a very different reason. And said reason happened to be just behind you, dressed in all black (no surprise there) and looking like a damn kicked puppy at the silent treatment you had been giving him.

John watched you with careful eyes as you swung the door to your bedroom open, barely acknowledging the small ‘ooft’ he let out when the rebound of the door almost hit him in the face.

“Candy–” John started the second the door clicked shut behind him.

But you barely gave him the chance to continue, already spinning around on your heel to glare at him. “Do not even try it.”

“I meant what I said when I told you I would never lie to you,” John said, staying rooted in his spot even though his stomach twisted at the hurt written across your face. “I have never lied to you. I swear on my life.”

You watched him for a few moments, a muscle in your jaw ticking before you asked him something that completely caught him off guard.

“Why did you take this job?”

John blinked. “What?”

“Why did you take this job?” You repeated, keeping your eyes locked on him as you took a step closer.

“You know why,” John said, swallowing harshly. “You were a target and Nico appointed me as your bodyguard—”

“That’s not the only reason,” you said bluntly. “There is more to it. You know it. Jack knows it. Hell, everyone but me seems to know it. So what is the reason?”

John let out a breath. “I can’t tell you.”

You took another step towards him, eyes narrowed in determination. “Can’t or won’t?”

John could feel his chest tightening. “Candy, please.”

“You may not have been lying before but you weren’t telling me the truth,” you questioned, pausing when you were right in front of him. “Why did you take this job?”

John shook his head.

“John,” you rasped. “Tell me.”

He kept shaking his head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because it will change nothing!” John frowned a little, clearing his throat as he lowered his voice. “Because I can’t do anything about it.”

You blinked, confused. “What?”

“Can we please just drop this?” John whispered, his voice cracking a little.

“No,” you shook your head, determined. “What won’t it change?”

John pressed his lips together.

You sighed. “Johnny—”

“Us,” John finally muttered out. “It won’t change us. It won’t change how I feel about you. It won’t change the fact that you’re you and you’re Timo’s sister and I shouldn’t want you but I really fucking do and—”

“Kiss me.”

John blinked, stuttering over his choked breath. “Candy, you don’t mean that.”

“Did I stutter?” You retorted.

“We can’t,” John tried again, but you could see his resolve crumbling. You could see the way his eyes dropped to your lips, the way they lingered on your mouth.

“Says who?” You asked, watching as the boy failed to find a response. “Kiss me, Johnny.”

John waited one, two, three seconds before he surged forward, before his hands cupped your face and his lips were pressed against yours with a passion you had never experienced before. You barely had a chance to grip his shirt before he was tugging you closer, before he was tilting his head and deepening the kiss and moaning against your lips like it was the hottest thing he had ever done in his life.

In some ways, it was.

Years of fantasies and feelings and thoughts and dreams lead to this moment. Years of John keeping his feelings hidden, keeping them locked away, thinking he never stood a chance. Years of him hopelessly pining and wanting and wishing. Years of just loving you just how you were.

His fingers entangled themselves in your hair, tilting your head to match his pace as his other hand slid down to wind around your waist and pull you closer. He heard the little gasp you let out, felt the way you fisted the fabric of his shirt, listened to the little breathless ‘Johnny’ you sighed against his lips.

He felt feral.

He hadn’t even noticed you slowly leading him deeper into the room, step by step, until your knees hit the back of the bed and you were dragging him down with you. Only then did the last few minutes seem to hit him like a freight train. He pushed up onto his elbows, chest heaving with soft pants and face flushed as he stared down at you.

“Candy—” He started but you quickly placed your finger over his lips..

“I want this. I want you. I don’t want to hear whatever noble bullshit you have been telling yourself to hold yourself back. I just want you, Johnny,” you said, breathing heavily as your eyes lingered on his kiss-swollen lips before returning to meet his gaze. “If you don’t want this, then I get that. But only if you don’t want this. Nothing to do with my brother or some bullshit sense of morality or the rest of this damn house.”

John swallowed, lifting one hand to slowly push some hair away from your face and tuck it behind your ear. You waited with a bated breath, watching as his eyes took in every single detail of you before he leaned down to kiss you—sweeter, softer than before.

“I want you more than you could ever know,” he whispered against your lips, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he spoke.

“Kiss me again,” you murmured, pushing your cheek further into his touch.

“Whatever you want, Candy,” John murmured before leaning down to kiss you again.

…

The attack happened three days later.

It was anticipated, just not on a warehouse you were expecting. The knowledge that the pattern you thought you had noticed was actually false laid heavy on all your shoulders, as the realisation of something much bigger than any of you were anticipating settled. This went beyond a few targeted attacks, this went beyond you.

This was the start of a war, and even if none of you wanted to say it out loud, you were all thinking it.

“What now?” Jack asked as you all stood around Nico’s study, staring helplessly at the map laid out on Nico’s desk.

“We prepare ourselves,” Nico said, his voice sounding heavy and tired. You didn’t even blame him. He had been keeping on a confident front, letting the others think that they had this all under control because he couldn’t spiral. He couldn’t let them all think there was a reason to panic. You could only imagine how much harder it was getting with each passing day, with each attack.

Jesper raised his brows. “So you’re breaking the deal with the Rangers?”

“No,” Nico shook his head, letting out a long sigh. It had been a recurring argument between the two of them for the last few weeks. “If this means what we think it means, it would be more beneficial to us to have the Rangers as allies.”

“Unless they are the ones behind it,” Jesper retorted.

“I’m going through with the deal and that’s final,” Nico said, raising his voice a little. It wasn’t a lot. But it was enough for everyone else in the room to fall silent. “And if you keep being pissy about it, I’ll make sure you sit next to Timo at the wedding.”

Jesper gaped. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Nico’s eyes glimmered. “But I would.”

“Woah, why is that a bad thing?” Timo scoffed, looking between the two of them with a frown. “I’m a fucking delight.”

Suddenly, everyone else looked away.

Timo’s frown deepened. “What? What is everyone not telling me?”

It was at that very moment Luke walked through the door, foil packet rustling loudly as he shoved his hand in it and kicked the door closed behind him. He paused when he noted the tension in the room, glancing between everyone with pinched eyebrows.

“Damn, I didn’t know getting snacks for a team meeting was illegal.”

“Rusty!” Timo whirled around, his eyes gleaming. “Did they tell you too?”

“Tell me what?” Luke questioned before his eyes widened. “Oh shit, they told you John finally grew a pair and made a move on Candy? Huh, you’re much calmer than I—”

“JOHN DID WHAT?!”

Luke paused, his lips parting in realisation. “Oh. Whoops.”

Timo whirled around to look at you and then John, seeming to finally notice the arm the boy had wrapped around your waist. He gasped loudly, shaking his head as he placed a hand on his chest.

“And you all fucking knew? Oh god, the betrayal! It hurts! It physically hurts!”

“I am not sitting beside that at the wedding,” Jesper said, shaking his head. “Look how dramatic he is being!”

“He will mellow out by the wedding,” Nico responded, looking far too amused by the theatrics playing out in the middle of his study.

“It’s Timo. When the fuck as he ever mellowed out?” Jesper retorted with a scoff.

You turned to find John watching your older brother with a pinched expression. It would have made you snort if you couldn’t feel the way he was gripping your hips, like he was ready to put you between him and your dramatic brother.

“Welcome to the family, Johnny.”

John’s nose scrunched. “I take it all back.”

You snorted. “Too late. No returns. You’re stuck with me.”

“It’s not you I want to return,” John retorted, pulling you closer to him. “I’d do it all over again if I could be stuck with you for the rest of my life.”

“Sap,” you grinned, looking far too pleased with his admission. “Even if you have to take on my brother?”

John’s eyes softened as he turned to look at you. “Nothing could scare me away from you, baby. Nothing.”

You beamed. “Good, because you have about thirty seconds before Timo realises he has free will and a gun in his left holster.”

There was a lot that was uncertain about the future, but you were pretty damn confident that John Marino was not one of them.

#john marino #nhl #john marino x reader #john marino x you #john marino x y/n #john marino fic #john marino one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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writingforstraykids · 20 hours ago

Text

Step by Step

Pairing: Minho x 9th member gn!Reader

Word Count: 2181

Summary: Minho's whole purpose is based on his dancing ability. When an injury slows him down he draws back from everyone until Chan sends you his way to get him back.

Warnings/Tags: 9th member fic, angst, fluff, self doubt

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Minho was born to dance.

From the moment he first stepped into a studio, it became his second home, the rhythm of music entwined with the rhythm of his heartbeat. Every movement was precise, every routine a masterpiece, crafted with the kind of dedication that only came from true love for the art. And for as long as you had known him, that fire had burned unshakable.

Until the accident.

It happened in an instant, a moment so brief yet devastatingly permanent. One mistimed landing, one sharp cry of pain, and suddenly, the invincible Lee Minho was reduced to someone broken. The doctors assured him he would recover, but the damage had already been done-not just to his body, but to something far more fragile: his confidence.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and though his body healed, his soul remained fractured. He refused to return to the studio, refused to do so much as talk about dancing, leaving Hyunjin and Felix to figure out your newest moves by themselves. He stayed away from the studio, not really seeing the use in recording new songs when he wouldn't be able to perform them on stage - which drove first Changbin and then Jisung crazy, whilst Chan worried too much for his own good. And what was even worse - he pushed everyone away. Even you. You, his fellow dancer who had always admired him the most.

But you weren’t about to let him go so easily. Not when your maknae had asked you to check on Min, not when Chan had told you, you were their last hope.

Knocking on Minho’s door has become part of your routine. Every day you found yourself in front of that wooden door, knocking firmly against it.

It always ended the same way. A muffled "go away," sometimes accompanied by the sound of his cats padding across the room, as if they alone were allowed to witness his pain. But today, you didn’t walk away. You could tell the others were beyond worried and you've had enough.

“I know you’re in there,” you said, arms crossed as you leaned against the frame. “You can’t ignore me forever, you know.”

Silence.

You exhaled sharply. "Lee Minho, I swear—"

The door finally cracked open. Just a sliver, enough for his sharp brown eyes to glare at you. His hair was a little messy, and there was an exhaustion about him that had nothing to do with sleep.“What do you want?” he muttered.

You ignored the irritation in his voice. “To see you. To talk to you.”

His grip on the door tightened. “There’s nothing to talk about. You've seen me now.”

“Minho, you—”

“I said there’s nothing to talk about.” His voice was hard now, like stone, cold and unyielding. “Just leave me alone.”

He started closing the door, but you pushed against it before he could. “No.”

That made him pause. “No?”

“No,” you repeated stubbornly. “I’m not going to leave you alone just because you decided to shut yourself off from the world.”

His jaw clenched. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Your voice softened, the anger ebbing away into something closer to sadness. “Minho, I know you. You’re not okay. And pretending you don’t care doesn’t make it any less true.”

His gaze flickered. For the briefest moment, something in his expression cracked - but just as quickly, he rebuilt his walls. “I don’t need your pity,” he muttered.

“I’m not here because I pity you,” you shot back. “I’m here because I care.” The words hung in the air between you, heavy and unspoken for far too long.

Minho looked away first. “I don’t need anyone.”

You sighed. “You can keep saying that, but it won’t make it true.”

Silence stretched again. He was staring at the floor now, his fingers curling into fists. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. “I can’t dance anymore.”

Your heart clenched at the defeat in his voice and you shook your head. “Yes, you can.”

“No,” he said, sharper this time. “I can’t. I’ve tried, and it’s not the same. My body - it doesn’t move the way it used to. I’m slower, weaker. I mess up things that were second nature before. It’s gone.”

Your chest tightened. You had seen him try - alone in the practice room when he thought no one was watching. The frustration, the way he’d stumble and curse under his breath, the way he’d leave without looking back. You took a step closer. “Minho-”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” He turned away, gripping the door as if he wanted to slam it shut again.

But you weren’t done. “Minho.” Something in your voice must have made him pause. “You don’t have to be perfect right now,” you said softly. “You just have to try.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move. Then, with a sigh, he muttered, “You’re exhausting.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, knowing you won. “I know.” And this time, when he closed the door, it wasn’t all the way.

The next day, you found Minho sitting in the practice room. Not dancing. Just sitting - back against the mirrors, legs stretched out, watching his reflection like he didn’t recognize the person staring back.

You sat down next to him without a word. For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, just heavy. Finally, you broke it.

“You know,” you said, hugging your knees, “when I first joined the group, I thought you hated me.”

Minho blinked, caught off guard. “…What?”

You smiled faintly. “You were so intimidating. Always so serious, so good at everything. I was scared to mess up in front of you.”

Minho scoffed. “You? Scared? Yeah, right.”

“I mean it,” you admitted. “But then I realized something - you weren’t actually scary. You were just focused. Because you cared that much.”

He exhaled, looking away. “Doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Yes, it does.” You turned to him fully. “Minho, dancing is you. It’s in your blood, in your bones. An injury doesn’t change that.”

His jaw clenched and he shook his head firmly. “You don’t get it.”

“Then make me get it,” you pleaded with him. “Make me understand what's keeping you from your passion.”

His hands curled into fists. “What if I’m never as good as before?” The raw honesty in his voice nearly broke you.

“What if you’re better?” you countered and Minho froze. You reached out, your fingers brushing his lightly. “You’re not starting over, Minho. You’re growing. And yeah, it’s going to be hard, and it’s going to hurt. But you’re still you.”

For a long moment, he just looked at you. And then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded. It wasn’t a promise but it was a start.

The next time you found Minho in the studio, he was standing. Not dancing. Not stretching. Just standing like a soldier preparing for battle, shoulders stiff, fists clenched.

You watched from the doorway, waiting. If you pushed too hard, he’d shut down again.

Slowly, he raised a foot, testing his balance. Then he tried a step - hesitant, uncertain. Another. And another. But the moment he attempted a turn, his body faltered. He caught himself before he could fall, but you saw it. The frustration. The fear.

Before he could storm out, you stepped forward. “It’s okay.”

Minho flinched, shoulders tensing. “Go away.”

“No, Min,” you told him firmly and gently cupped his face.

Minho's eyes grew wide as he swallowed softly, the warmth of your hands oddly calming. He exhaled sharply. “Why do you keep-”

“Because you’re worth it,” you said firmly, thumbs drawing a small pattern against his skin. “Because I know you. And because I refuse to watch you give up on yourself.”

He stared at you, something in his gaze unreadable. Then, finally - finally- he lowered his gaze to the floor and whispered, “I don’t know how to do this.”

Your chest tightened. “You don’t have to do it alone, Min. We can work on this together.”

For a moment, he hesitated. And then, without another word, he let you wrap him into a firm hug, enjoying your soothing presence for a moment.

The days passed in a rhythm of their own. Some were good. On those days, Minho moved with a shadow of his old self, the precision of his steps slowly returning. You saw glimpses of the dancer he had once been - the fire, the grace, the intensity.

But some days were bad.

On those days, he couldn’t even make it through a routine without stopping, his frustration boiling over. He lashed out - not at you, but at himself. And then one day, everything snapped.

It was late, the studio dimly lit. You had been practicing together for hours, working through a routine, when Minho’s footwork slipped on a turn. It wasn’t a bad fall, but it was enough. Enough for his patience to shatter.

“Damn it!” The sound of his voice - raw, broken - echoed through the room. Before you could react, he slammed his fist against the mirror. Not hard enough to break it, but enough to send a painful thud through the air. “I can’t do this,” he growled out, voice shaking. “It’s not working. I’m-” His breath hitched. “I’m not me anymore, I'm fucking broken.”

Your heart clenched as you hesitantly took a step forward. “Minho-”

But he wasn’t listening. He pressed a hand to his forehead, eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving with the weight of something far deeper than just dance. And then, so quietly you almost didn’t hear - “I don’t deserve this.”

Your breath caught. “Deserve what?” you whispered.

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Anything. The group. The stage. You. I was already expendable before,” he said, voice hollow. “Now? I don’t even belong here.”

Something in you snapped, eyes burning fiercely. “Don’t you dare say that.” Minho looked up, startled. “You think you don’t belong?” you demanded. “You think we wouldn’t be less without you? Minho, you’re the main dancer of this team. You always have been. You're our friend..And nothing can change that.” His lips parted slightly, but he didn’t speak. You swallowed hard. “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be you. And that’s enough.”

Minho exhaled, something crumbling in his expression. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted, so quiet it was almost a plea.

You reached for his hand. “Then let me believe for you until you can.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move. But then - slowly - his fingers curled around yours. And for the first time, he truly didn’t push you away.

Things changed after that night. Minho still struggled, but he let you see it now. He let himself lean on you, even if only a little. And somewhere along the way, between long hours in the studio and late-night conversations, you realized.

The pain he carried wasn’t just from the injury. It was older. Deeper.

One evening, as you sat side by side in the practice room, Minho finally spoke the words you never expected. “I was ten the first time someone told me I wasn’t good enough.” You turned to him, heart pounding. “My teacher,” he continued, voice eerily calm. “She said I had talent but not drive. That I’d never make it unless I proved I deserve it.” He let out a breath. “She wasn’t wrong.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “Minho, you can't be serious.”

“I’ve spent my whole life proving I belong here,” he murmured. “And now? Now, I don’t even know who I am without dance.”

Your chest ached. “You’re our Minnie,” you whispered. “That’s enough.”

He looked at you then - really looked at you. And for the first time, you saw something fragile beneath the confidence he always wore like armor. Something scared. Something hopeful. And that was when you knew he was healing. Maybe not all at once. Maybe not even soon.

But he would.

The day of the showcase arrived faster than either of you expected. Minho hadn’t performed in months. This wasn’t an official stage - just a small even for fans. But it was the first step. And he was terrified.

You found him backstage, pacing. “You okay?” you asked gently.

He exhaled sharply, his hands trembling slightly as he looked at you. “No.”

You smiled fondly and nodded gently. “Good. That means it matters.”

He scoffed. “You and your stupid optimism.”

You took his hands, feeling the soft tremor in them and squeezed them. “Minho, you can do this.” He hesitated. “You don’t have to be perfect,” you reminded him. “Just dance. I'll be right there with you.”

Minho swallowed harshly. Then, slowly, he nodded. When you two stepped onto the stage, the music began.

And when he moved - hesitant at first, then stronger - something changed. The fire returned. Not the same as before, but something new.

And as you caught the beaming faces of the others at the side of your stage, you realized that Minho was back on track.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

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wosospacegirl · 3 days ago

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I don’t even like boys - Arsenal teen! r

Summary: Reader has sex with a boy because she is confused about her sexuality but ends up having a pregnancy scare. Leah and Katie comfort her through it.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Talks of teenage pregnancy (but she’s not pregnant!!) a little bit of good luck, baby vibes?

Masterlist here

This was based on a request! Hope you guys enjoy it.

The Health check day at Arsenal was awkward. The team was split into groups of three, each assigned to a general practitioner, a physiotherapist, and a gynaecologist. All the girls had to be examined by all three before returning to training, as per house rules, Y/n guessed.

Y/n, Leah, Katie, and Kyra, sat bored in the gynaecologist’s waiting room. Leah tapped her foot in frustration. “This is ridiculous. We could be training at the gym instead of waiting here,” the blonde muttered.

“You say that every season,” Katie said, rolling her eyes. The Irish woman had a small rubber ball, which she kept bouncing back and forth against the wall.

“Yeah, because every season we lose at least two hours here just so we can go inside and answer the same questions Dr. Smith always asks,” Leah grumbled. “I know she is old and all that, but she always asks me if there is a chance I could be pregnant!” The captain continued, looking at the door as if making sure Dr. Smith wouldn’t hear her.

“I’ve told her I’m just into women like twelve times already,” Leah complained.

Leah wasn’t the chattiest person around, but mate —she could talk when she was annoyed at something.

“Don’t give the woman a hard time,” Kyra said, smiling at Leah. “It’s bureaucracy, they must keep records and stuff like that. Plus, you can’t just expect Dr. Smith to remember everybody’s sexuality. Not everyone in the team is gay.”

“The kid’s right for once,” Katie agreed.

“For once?” Kyra asked, noticing the teasing. “Shut up, McCabe.”

“You might have a point, Kyra,” Leah said, turning slightly to Y/n, who hadn’t said a word since the groups arrived at the waiting room. “Why are you so quiet, Y/n?”

“Maybe because I have nothing to say?” Y/n answered sharply, rolling her eyes.

“Someone’s in a mood,” Katie said.

“Shut up,” Y/n mumbled.

“Ouch!” The young girl exclaimed as she felt Leah pinching her arm. “Why would you do that?” Y/n snapped, looking at the captain and then at the sore skin on her arm.

“Don’t be rude,” Leah warned firmly using her captain's voice.

“I’m not being rude; you guys are just annoying to be around!”

“You guys? I haven’t done anything to you?” Kyra defended herself, a pout on her face.

Y/n hadn’t been in a mood when she woke up, but her day took a turn for worse when she received a notification on her phone from her period-tracking app.

Your period is a week late

She hadn’t realized it, being too caught up with training and school to notice how her menstrual cycle was irregular. Y/n wouldn’t have to worry about it if she had stuck to her rule —not having sex with boys — but it just happened.

Y/n wasn’t sure about her sexuality yet, but she knew she liked girls more than boys. Until last month, she had never kept any type of physical intimacy with a boy before, but it all changed when she met this nice boy from her school. He was a year old and just very kind to her.

The girl wouldn’t say she was attractive to him or anything, she actually didn’t want to have sex because she was horny, or any other reason teenagers normally have sex.

She just wanted to see if she would enjoy herself or not. If she was able to like boys or just girls.

Y/n was curious.

One thing led to another and when Y/n realized she and Chris had sex with the during a very cold Saturday afternoon. After they finished, well, he finished, Y/n put on her shirt and underwear, staring at the boy sleeping in her bed.

It felt wrong.

Not because he was rude to her or bad at sex, but because he just… wasn’t a girl.

“Hey, Chris,” Y/n poked the sleeping boy. “Mate, wake up.”

“Hm?” the boy mumbled, slightly opening her eyes. “What? Is it morning already?”

“What? No, of course not, it’s been just15 minutes since we—”

“Had sex?” The boy finished her sentence, a smirk displayed on his face.

“Well—Yeah! That’s why I need you to leave,” Y/n could see the smirk disappearing from the boy’s face, disappointment settling in.

“Leave? Like… back to my house?”

“Exactly.” Y/n left the bed, looking for her pants on the floor. Where were they? She could swear she had put it on her desk chair.

As Y/n looked around, she felt Chris’s eyes on her body. She didn’t like it.

“Did I do something wrong?” Chris finally asked, sitting straight on the bed, back against the headboard. “It was my first time too, but I hope I didn’t hurt you or anything.”

Y/n’s face soften. Maybe she was being a bit rude.

“No, Chris, it was alright, I just—I don’t think I really like…boys.” Y/n confessed, finally finding her pants under her bed.

“Oh.”

“Yeah mate, I’m sorry.”

Chris left the bed and began looking for his clothes, while Y/n stood there awkwardly. She shouldn’t feel awkward in her own house. When Chris was dressed and ready to go, Y/n led him to the front door.

“This could stay between us, right?” Y/n asked softly as she opened the door to the boy, the cold winter breeze meeting her face. She was just now realizing that Chris could very much tell anyone what they did.

Even the Media.

“I—I can’t have people knowing about this… the team and the contract—” Y/n continued.

Chris gave her a sad smile. “Don’t worry, Y/n. Let’s just pretend it never happened.”

After a clumsy goodbye, Chris left, and Y/n was finally alone again. She desperately needed a shower.

And that’s how Y/n realized she was going through a pregnancy scare.

Y/n didn’t feel different, she hadn’t had any weird cravings. She hasn’t gained or lost any weight. Surely, she wasn’t pregnant. She wasn’t on any birth control, but she had made sure Chris was wearing a condom.

They were both a bit clumsy, but they had remembered to check if the condom had a hole or not before Chris threw it away. At least they’d done one thing right.

So yeah, Y/n didn’t know why she was so nervous. She didn’t have any reason to be. She followed the Sex Education’s rules to the letter… but, what if something had gone wrong? Was she even ovulating that day? She couldn’t be sure.

Y/n began biting her nails. Her teammates could sense Y/n’s tension, but they didn’t want to make the younger girl angrier than she already was — although they were all very curious about the reason for her foul mood.

After what felt like centuries, Alessia appeared in the waiting room, having just left the gynaecologist’s office. The blonde exchanged a few words with the other girls before leaving. Now Y/n just had to wait — Dr. Smith would call one of them soon.

Within minutes, the girls heard Dr. Smith’s voice through the door. “Next!” The old lady called.

Y/n probably got up too quickly from her chair, because Leah, Katie and Kyra looked at her like she was crazy. “I’ve never seen you so excited to go see Dr. Smith before,” Kyra said.

“You almost took the chair with you,” Katie added suspiciously.

“I—I just want to be one of the firsts! The last time we had check-up day, I was the last one to go,” Y/n said defensively, taking small steps towards the office.

“You were the last one because you were terrified of going to the gynaecologist,” Leah said, raising an eyebrow. “I literally had to go in with you. “

Did the older girls really need to remember everything all the time?

“I’m just a changed woman now,” Y/n sighed. “You all might see me as some kid, but I’m almost 18 —things change.” The defensiveness in Y/n voice was unmatched, so Leah just let her go without pressing any further

“Something happened to her.”

That was the last thing Y/n could hear before entering Dr. Smith’s office.

After completing the physical part of the exam, Dr. Smith sat across from Y/n at her desk, her notebook open on Y/n’s medical files. Y/n couldn’t pay attention to what the old woman was typing —she was too distracted by the sight in front of her: a replica of a uterus with a baby inside.

“Darling, I’m just going to go through the same questions as always, okay,” Dr. Smith said with a smile.

Y/n answered all the questions honestly. Yes, she had bad period cramps. No, she didn’t have migraines. Yes, it bothered her to play during her period. No, the training didn’t make the cramps go worse.

Everything was fine until Dr. Smith asked:

“During your last check, up you said you weren’t sexually active, right? How about now?”

Y/n blushed, staring at the doctor in front of her. Did she really have to go through this just to play professional football?

“Hm—So about that—yes,” Y/n fumbled over her words. She scratched the back of her head nervously.

Dr. Smith remained silent, waiting for Y/n to continue, but the young girl clamped her mouth shut, looking at the walls instead.

“Yes what, darling?” asked Dr. Smith. “This is a private space; you don’t need to be embarrassed.”

Private space? As if! Y/n thought, Dr. Smith had her whole hormonal history — and now sex life — written up in her file.

“I’ve had had sex since the last time we talked.” Y/n explained, no emotions on her face. She just needed to be direct.

“Would you be okay telling me if it was with a boy or a girl?” The poor woman was really trying to get Y/n to open up— Y/n had to give her that.

“Hm—” Y/n bit her nails. “Two months ago, I was with this girl. She was my first. And then last month, I had sex with this guy, but it was only once,” Y/n explained.

“So, you’ve had two sexual partners, correct?”

“Yes, but the girl was the only one who I slept with more than once.” Y/n was going to die of embarrassment, — she was sure of it.

“Alright darling, had you had any STI test after then?”

“Yes, everything’s fine.”

“Great! That’s great. What about your period? Have you noticed any changes in your cycle after having intercourse?” Dr. Smith questioned.

Y/n stared at the women. She had to tell her.

“Well, about that,” Y/n laughed nervously. “My period is kind of late, but it’s probably nothing, right? We used condoms, and not throwing up or anything, I just have to wait, don’t I?”

For a moment, all they could hear in the office were Y/n trainers tapping the floor.

“How late are you, Y/n?” Dr. Smith asked, a frown on her face.

“A week.”

“Hm,” Dr. Smith mumbled before getting up from her chair and opening a white cabinet. The older woman held a box with a baby printed on it and handed it to Y/n

Y/n started at the pregnancy test, not wanting to take it.

“We’ll have you doing this test, okay? Just go to the bathroom and pee on it. It will take 3 to 5 minutes to get the results.”

Y/n said nothing.

“You need to do it, Y/n, I know you are scared, but we can’t be sure why your period is late if you don’t take.”

Y/n took the pregnancy test, tears in her eyes.

Before Dr. Smith could say anything, Y/n was already bolting through the office door, straight to the bathroom. She heard Leah and Katie behind her. The older women were calling for her, asking what had happened, but Y/n didn’t look back.

When she got to the bathroom, she locked herself in one of the stalls, it wasn’t long before she heard the door open. Before Leah or Katie could say anything, Y/n was already crying.

Leah and Katie looked at each other, both very worried. They didn’t know what could have possibly happened back at the gynaecologist’s office, but they were sure it was bad by the way the young girl reacted.

“Hey babe, what’s wrong?” Leah asked softly. “Did something, why are you crying?”

“I’m an idiot,” Y/n answered, her hands shaking. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Katie and Leah shared an apprehensive look.

“And why do you say that kid? Leah questioned, trying to get the stall to open. “Come talk to us.”

Y/n was so distressed, she just wanted to get this test done over with.

“I—I had sex with this boy from my school,” Y/n confessed, tears running down her face. “I’m not even sure why, I know I don’t like boys, but I just wanted to be sure.”

“Okay, that okay, that’s completely normal,” Katie said. “It’s that why you are crying?”

Half the Arsenal team were lesbians. They’d been Y/n’s age once and knew how confusing it is to understand one’s sexuality.

“Did the boy do something to you, Y/n?” Leah asked, her voice angry. “If he did, we can find him and go to the police—”

“It’s not that,” Y/n said through tears. “My period is late, and Dr. Smith gave me a pregnancy test, but I’m just scared to take it.”

The bathroom was silent again.

“Did you use protection?” Leah asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes,” Y/n answered through the door.

“Okay, so the odds are in your favor, yeah, kid? Go take the test, and when you’re done, we’ll be right here with you.” Leah said.

“I’m sure it’s going to be negative, babe, don’t worry, take the test, and then we’ll figure stuff out.” The Irish women added.

That’s what Y/n did. She followed the instructions written on the box and just waited. She could see Katie’s and Leah’s shadows through the door opening. Who would have thought that shadows could be comforting?

A minute passed. Then two. And then five.

Just one bright pink line.

Not pregnant.

Y/n yanked the stall door open and threw her arms around Leah and Katie, who weren’t expecting the sudden embrace. The girl felt like she could finally breathe again, her heart slowing doing as her chest relaxed against Leah and Katie’s embrace.

“I’m not fucking pregnant,” Y/n said, hugging the women tight. “I might start crying again.”

“See, we were right, nothing to worry about,” Leah patted Y/n’s back

“I told you, no drama.” Katie said playfully. “Pregnancy tests are overrated anyway.”

After Y/n calmed down, the three women went back to the waiting room. Y/n had to go back inside the gynaecologist office to tell Dr. Smith she wasn’t pregnant after all. After a few minutes, Dr. Smith let Y/n go and told advised her to use birth control or IUD is she wanted to feel more protected against any potential pregnancy.

“Oh Dr. Smith, don’t worry, now I know I don’t even like boys,” Y/n said before leaving the room.

#woso fanfic #woso x reader #arsenal fanfic #arsenal women #woso appreciation #women soccer #women's football #woso community #woso

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leonardalphachurch · 23 hours ago

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Burnie’s AMA podcast about Rooster Teeth’s revival is now available to the public and so I’m going to summarizing the relevant questions that were answered here.

Why?

“It’s because we could […] If we don’t do it who will?” Throughout the episode, Burnie also mentioned: not wanting RT to become lost media; wanting to create opportunities for himself/past employees of the company; wanting to work with old properties again; being able to collaborate with new talent; and the Rooster Teeth brand being good marketing. “One of the main motivators for this was preserving the media, and I’m happy to say, it is preserved.”

Also spoken about over multiple questions, Burnie says that Warner Brothers might have been planning to sell off the whole company, including employees etc., and he did not want (/couldn’t afford) to buy it then. It was only after the shutdown, after it became clear the WB was selling off individual shows, that Burnie started trying to buy things. I mention this specifically because I’ve seen a lot of people talk as if the company itself is coming back; it is not. What Burnie owns right now is the brand and IP rights to a lot of the properties. The actual “company” of Rooster Teeth is actually Burnie’s production company “Box Canyon Productions” and right now only has two employees.

What properties does Rooster Teeth still own?

“It’s a very, very long list.” Burnie says they have the rights over 50 shows, some specifically named ones being The RT Podcast, Red vs Blue, and The Know. Most of the shows that were hosted on the Rooster Teeth YouTube channel were a part of the acquisition. Nothing from Achievement Hunter, Funhaus, or RWBY are owned by RT anymore. Heavy emphasis was put on AH no longer being under RT’s brand anymore.

Are the scope of these new projects going to be more in line with smaller content like the RT Shorts, or is the hope to try and focus on larger productions like Day 5, The Schedule, or Lazer Team?

“The sweet spot for scale is going all the way back to the early episodes of Red vs Blue.” The focus is going to be on “compelling writing and great characters,” and making projects with smaller productions. Throughout the episode they reiterated that their main focus is going to be on individual projects and shows.

Does this mean there are hopes of getting a complete boxset of RvB?

“I also would love a complete boxset of Red vs Blue.” Burnie says he wants to do this, but doing physical media in 2025 is complicated and a financial risk, so they’re going to have to figure out how it would be done. He mentions possibly doing a preorder for it.

What happens if this just fails again?

“It’s not bulletproof, but I don’t know what it would take for us to have to shutter this thing at this point.” Burnie says that they’re already profitable, that they maintain themselves, and that unless they do something that would put them in tremendous amounts of debt, as long as YouTube still remains a platform that lets them host videos, he’s not worried about the company shutting down.

Could this lead to some of the old RT merch being available again?

“Yeah, it would have to be within the brands we’re talking about.” They talk about there being a lot of old merch, so figuring out how to provide the specific pieces that people want will be a challenge. Burnie how his personal philosophies on making merchandise in a way that does not produce “junk” may also make selling merch more difficult. Ashley says it is going to be a “slow start.”

More questions were answered and things discussed on the episode but this is what I found to be important to share here.

The TL;DR of RvB news: They do own the Red vs Blue IP. There was no confirmation or denial of any future continuations of the show, but we will very likely be getting a boxset and some old merch returning.

#rvb news #roosterteeth #rooster teeth #rvb #red vs blue #i caved i’m writing up a news post for this LOL #i just got so insane seeing all the ppl not understanding that this isn’t the ‘company’ coming back it’s just someone buying the ip rights

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bookworrm1999 · 2 days ago

Text

How Far Away? Part 1

Caleb x Mc Fanfiction

Tags: unplanned pregnancy, presumed death, depression, miscommunication

Summary: Mc and Caleb fight right before he goes on a long mission into space. Caleb ends up MIA while Mc finds out she’s pregnant.

She struggles to deal with the grief while Caleb is fighting for his life to make it back home to her.

AO3

Part 1| Part 2|

Caleb and you usually get along quite well. Ribbing each other, demanding little favors, holding things hostage until the other breaks down in laughter as you keep them in suspense.

This was not one of those days though. He was set to leave tomorrow but all of your emotions about him leaving for 4 months, leaving you behind again with no communication.

It was too much.

You should be better than this, you should be able to just tell him like an adult. But something about Caleb always brought out the dependency in you.

He was the one who danced around the conversation about finalizing what your relationship was.

He was worse than you in this.

So instead of following him to the living room to help him make breakfast one last time before he leaves. You stayed in bed, you didn’t make a peep when he pulled away from cuddling you to go out.

“Baby?” Caleb brushed your hair back but you didn’t answer. Pretending to still be dead asleep.

He sighed affectionately and kissed the corner of your mouth before leaving the room.

Opening your eyes to stare out the window, you let a small tear slide out. But you hastily wiped it away, he was being stubborn. He was the one who refused to communicate and talk out exactly where you wanted to go in life together.

That was your justification to yourself, why you felt like you had to pull away a bit.

A small voice still whined inside to go hug him like a koala and beg him not to leave you. The voice got thoroughly smushed by your inner realist.

It was his job but you still hoped he’d say something, anything.

You sat up and stretched but that brought about a new problem. The world tilted as you instantly felt nauseous.

A bit of bile slid up before you quickly swallowed it. Coughing now, you reached for the water on the side table to soothe your stomach.

“You okay?” Caleb called out to you from the other room.

“I’m fine!” You call back, yeah you’re just peachy.

Sighing once more, you let the melancholy hold you for just a second more before you head out the door too.

“Good morning!” He turns to look at you with a bright smile before turning back to his task of making breakfast.

The smell turns your stomach, your nose wrinkles as you heave a bit into your hand.

He turns at the sound so you quickly assume a neutral face.

You were upset with him still so you didn’t need Caleb to turn on his safety above all else mode.

Knowing him, he’d probably try to keep you in the Fleet’s medical ward and monitor you through channels. Even while he was away.

Stupidly overprotective man who can’t even tell you that he wants you to be his girlfriend.

“Your food is served milady!” He makes an over dramatic bow and places down dishes onto the table.

You sit down thinking that this is where you usually respond with something along the lines of- oh good sir, you flatter me!

Caleb and you usually love to ham it up together, it’s what makes life together so fun.

Staying at his house for stretches of time before going back to your own place for work.

He won’t be here for a while though and everything that reminded you of what you’ll be missing, just made you depressed. So you just sit down at the table silently, picking up a small bowl of rice with your chopsticks. Caleb stares at you for a moment before asking quietly

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you think Caleb?”

He sighs deeply as he takes his seat across from you. The food looks delicious but the smell and the turmoil of it all sent your stomach twisting. You swallowed back a gag but he noticed your discomfort.

“What do you want me to do? I wish I could stay home but-“

“I get it. I’m just tired of you not talking to me. That’s all.”

“Not talking to you? What do you call this?” He flicks his finger between the two of us with a half grin, but his eyes are a little panicked.

“Talking out of your ass is what it is…” you mutter barely audible even to yourself.

“What was that pipsqueak?”

“Nothing!….panty sniffer.” You give him an over the top toothy grin while saying the last part just loud enough for him to hear.

“Hey! That was once!”

“You mean the only time I caught you?!”

“I-I well don’t call me that!”

You sniffed derisively, “Don’t call me pipsqueak then.”

He glares at you a bit for bringing it up in the first place before reaching over and yanking your hair a bit.

“Childish much?” You scoff at him, just nibbling at your rice, not really touching much else.

“Says the one who won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“So the pot calls the kettle black! I did tell you what’s wrong.” He narrows his eyes at you

“There’s more to it.”

“Yeah, you keep avoiding me when I want to talk about our relationship.”

Caleb waves his hand dismissively

“What’s there to talk about? I love you and you love me right?”

“There’s more to this than that Caleb! You’re just scared of something. Are you really that scared of committing to me?!”

“Of course not!”

“Then what’s wrong? Why won’t you talk to me about it?”

He wilts like a flower in the hot sun

“I just can’t.”

“Because of the fleet? Because of the chip? Because of the professor?”

Caleb stiffens with each word you spit at him.

“Do you really think that I don’t know? I’m not stupid!”

“I never said you were.”

“Well you sure treat me like I am. Keeping me in the dark for my own safety. I’m sick of it!”

“Sick of me, you mean?” He’s angry at this, standing up from the table and leaning over it, muscles taut. You can tell he’s not trying to intimidate you because he’s looking at his hands, quivering a bit.

“I never said that.”

“It sure sounded like it to me.” He spits this but not towards you, more to himself. The thought of you leaving has always terrified him.

You didn’t mean to make him feel like that, but it won’t get him out of the conversation you needed to have.

“I’m sorry if that’s how it came across. However, I just want to talk about this. Properly. Please….” You beg him a bit, standing up and laying a hand over his trembling one.

You sit in silence for a minute, just looking at his faraway eyes. He can’t look at you in the face as he says quietly

“I just can’t right now.”

You pull away from him, distraught now. He’s leaving for 4 months and this is how he acts? Fine.

“I can’t do this.”

You walk away, not giving him a chance to reply as you latched the door behind you. Your ears caught the end of a choked sob come through the wood of the door.

Hearing him cry makes you want to cry. You really just want to go out there and hug him, cry it out together. But you know that he would still find someway to weasel out of discussing it again.

Using your sympathy to keep you to himself for the day. Not acknowledging the problem.

So for the rest of the day, you ignored him. Staying in the room. His bag was already packed and in the living room so you never even bothered opening the door.

It hurt your insides but you wanted to be firm about this. But you knew that he’d be leaving early tomorrow. You might not have a chance to say goodby if you don’t go out now.

Your pride keeps you in the room though. Caleb’s presence lingers by the door a few times. Feeling like you could see him through the wood, raising his hand to knock but stopping just before.

The quiet and the sadness stretching long between you, permeating the air of the house.

You don’t break.

Night falls, you can hear him opening and closing another door in the house. Presumably to sleep in another room.

You go to bed that night, heart, head, and stomach empty. Tears soaking into your pillow.

You don’t sleep well, so you can hear the startup of Caleb getting ready to leave. The engines thrumming outside the house.

Wait! You bolt up and skid out the door. Flinging the front door open, you start waving your arms frantically but it’s too late.

He’s already in the air.

He starts to fly away. You don’t know if he glances back to look but you wave your arm as you yell

“I love you!”

He fades into the distance, leaving you alone with a hole in your stomach.

Going back into the house after a minute, you notice a small piece of paper left on the coffee table. Picking it up, you notice his handwriting immediately.

‘I’m sorry’

You fall to your knees, sobs wracking your body. Heaving a bit as the nausea in your stomach hits you with a vengeance.

Please come back safe Caleb.

Let me know what you thought! I’m going to make this a series, it’s also on AO3. Thank you for reading🤗

Tags: @moonberry69 @supermyeon22

#love and deepspace caleb #love and deepspace #lads caleb #caleb x mc #love and deepspace fanfiction

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 3 days ago

Text

todays the day | s.r. x fem liaison!reader

something in the air told you. today was the day. you were gonna marry spencer reid, well first a proposal should happen then the marriage. but you didn’t need a huge wedding anyway, you just wanted to marry that man.

last month marked three years of dating, this month marked a year of living together, and today will mark a new occasion. you knew after your first anniversary that spencer was the only one for you and he even told you himself “i still can’t believe i get to call you mine. one of the few good things out of my life.”

so today was the day. it was a rare day off from work, fingers crossed for the whole twenty-four hours, and the two of you were just enjoying laying in your bed until noon. spencer curled up as you big spooned him, nose nuzzled into his lean neck, spencer’s hands holding onto yours that hugged his torso.

a delicate press of lips to skin, “spence…” wanting to wake him up slowly. he shifted and hummed in his throat, you pressed another kiss at the bottom of his neck, “i need to ask you something.”

you heard his deep inhale then he slowly rolled over so now the two of you were eye to eye. his sleep heavy eyes blinked slowly and his lips barely curled up, “hi.” the word an octave lower.

you brushed some rough curls away from his eyes as you drank him in, “hi handsome.” whispering to keep the atmosphere warm. his large palm came to sit on your exposed hip, his thumb rubbing into some of the soft flesh of your stomach. “what’d you want to ask me?”

you let your fingers trail along his profile, “will you, spencer reid, will you marry?”

he smiled, “of course i’ll marry you.” giving his answer as more of a statement then the finite answer. “i just wasn’t expecting you to be the one asking, not that i’m against the norm, but yes of course i want to be married to you.”

you pushed onto your elbow, “no, i’m serious spencer. would you like to get married, as in today. at the courthouse.”

now spencer sat up, a slight concern to his pretty features. “are-are you sure? well first, yes i want to marry you like i said. that’s a no brainer for me, but don’t you want a wedding ceremony?”

you shook your head, moving your body so you were able to rest both knees at spencer’s hips. you grabbed both his hands and intertwined your fingers, setting them on your chest. “i just want to be married to you. i don’t need a big fat greek wedding, or a-a million guest watching us say i do. although i would like us to get some professional pictures taken, but that can wait.”

three kisses to the back of spencer’s knuckles, “i don’t really want to wait any longer. and we’ve both said it, we love each other and always talk about our futures. so let’s start making them come true. i want to be able to call myself mrs.reid.”

spencer smiled and his eyes shown brightly in the afternoon light, “do you really want to get married today?”

“absolutely. i don’t think i could wait another moment being single-ish.” needing to restrain yourself from getting jumpy.

“okay, we’re getting married today! we’ll work everything out as we go.” spencer agreeing to your spontaneously ridiculous request and you screeched in delight. throwing your arms over his shoulders and holding him tight. “we’ll call penelope as our witness.”

“oh she’s gonna love and hate us.”

#spencer reid early seasons #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x liaison!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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crowsofdarkness · 3 days ago

Text

Riding Steve on his office chair.

18+ CW's below the cut(unprotected pinv, slight choking, spanking, use of a vibrator, squirting, and Steve being slightly mean.)

Steve had made it clear an hour ago that he wasn’t to be disturbed. He had an important meeting with Senator Ross for a debriefing on the next Avengers meeting. But I was feeling bratty, per usual. So here I was, sneaking into his office while Ross rambled on the phone about something I frankly didn’t care about. Steve hadn’t noticed I slipped inside completely naked and clutching my vibrator in my hand.

Since it was a lazy day at home, he only wore a pair of grey sweats with his long hair unruly. He had neatly trimmed his beard this morning, hence why I’d been on edge all day.

As I leaned down to his ear to whisper something, Steve practically pulled me down to his lap causing me to squeal.

“Everything alright?” Ross’ question broke through his rambling.

“Fine, sir,” Steve’s hard gaze was on me. “Please continue.”

When Senator Ross did, Steve gripped my chin with slight force. “What are you doing?”

I shrugged. “I’m horny, Stevie. You’ve been teasing me all day and I can’t wait any longer.”

Our voices were hushed so the man on the phone couldn’t hear us.

“So you walk into my office, naked? What if it was a video chat?” Steve’s question was laced with agitation.

And arousal but mostly agitation.

I rolled my eyes along with my hips against him. “I knew it wasn’t. Which is why I came in here. Now are you going to fuck me or do I have to take care of myself?”

I shook the vibrator in my hand which made Steve’s eyes darken and he lifted me slightly off of his lap so he could take his cock out of his sweats. I licked my lips at the sight of it, like I always had. His cock was thick, almost standing straight up with how he was sitting and I bit my lip when I watched precum ooze out of the slit.

“Be quiet now, Steve. We don’t need to let the Senator know what we’re doing,” I whispered while teasing the head with my soft fingers.

Steve let out a low groan, it rumbling in his chest.

“Shh,” I hushed while clamping a hand over his mouth. “Not so loud.”

My stomach burned with arousal, igniting a part of me I never knew existed. My sex life had improved with Steve and I was able to find out new kinks. What we were about to do, sex with someone possibly hearing was new. I knew that Steve wouldn’t let Senator Ross hear anything but even the thought of him hearing something turned me on.

“Is that Agent Y/N?” Ross’ voice sounded from the phone’s speaker on the desk. “I’d love for her to get debriefed on this mission.”

I winked as Steve’s eyes darted from the phone to me. “She was bringing me some coffee but left. I’ll give her the run down later.”

“Wow,” I mouthed, proud of how well he came up with that lie.

I adjusted myself over his cock and locked eyes with him as I sunk deep onto him. My groan caught in my throat at the fullness of Steve’s cock in my pussy. It felt fresh and new every time.

I cringed a little from the pain due to his size but as soon as I started moving up and down, the pain began to subside. Steve’s bottom lip was caught between his teeth as he tried his best to keep his attention on the phone call while I rode him, slow at first.

“Doll,” he let out quietly through gritted teeth.

Ignoring him, I flipped on the vibrating black rose, the vibrations sounding loud in the quiet room and when I touched my clit with it I wasn’t able to keep that moan quiet.

“Fuck,” I dragged out while leaning my head back.

“What’s that?” Ross’ voice asked through Steve’s headset again.

“It's so good,” my body writhed against Steve’s.

He quickly said goodbye to Ross, saying something came up and they would talk later. My squeals bounced off the walls when one of Steve’s hands snaked around my throat, using his thumb to hold my chin straight.

“Such a fucking brat,” he hissed when I rolled my hips over his cock. “What if he heard you? No one is allowed to hear those pretty little moans. Just me.”

I whined when he pulled the rose away from my clit, immediately missing the friction.

“I didn’t-,” I was unable to finish my words because Steve wrapped his other arm around my back to pull me closer to his chest, the head of his cock hitting that spot.

He bit down on my breast, right above my nipple, and I cried out in pleasure.

“I should punish you,” he rasped, voice gone with lust, and began pulling his cock out.

“No, no. I’m sorry,” I shook my head and desperately tried to stop him.

Steve raised a brow while tightening his grip around my throat and pushed his cock in deeper. “You’re sorry?”

I did my best to nod in his grasp. “Y-yes. Please, I need you to move again.”

He hummed and buried his face in the crook of my neck, breathing me in. His pace didn’t increase, instead, it was even slower than before. It was as if he wasn’t even moving and I let out a groan of frustration.

“Such a needy little whore for my cock. I bet you want me to bend you over my desk while I fuck you for anyone and everyone to come and watch. But they can’t because your fucking mine.”

My stomach flipped at his words, the image he painted beautifully on the canvas of my mind. He chuckled before moving over to the other nipple, mimicking the same actions as before with his tongue.

Every one of my senses was burned alive. It was like this every time Steve and I were connected; our souls becoming one.

“I bet I could walk around fully clothed and you would get yourself off,” he bit at the skin of my ear.

My nails scraped along his scalp as I pulled on his hair, yanking his head back so he could gaze up at me, our pace always in sync.

“You could wear the Captain America mask and it would do it for me,” I moaned while rolling my hips against him.

“I can make that happen,” he promised before crashing his lips to mine in a hungry kiss.

It was one of pure adrenaline, his tongue fighting mine for dominance and his teeth sunk deep into my bottom lip. I shook in his embrace when I felt the vibrations of the black rose against my clit again.

“Oh-Steve,” I cried in ecstasy when the familiar heat spread to my core.

“Good girl,” he praised in between devouring my mouth. “Say my name again.”

“Steve,” I sang when my orgasm was on the crest, begging me to let go.

His cock was fucking into me with absolutley no remorse. The chair beneath us was creaking and I was sure we’d break it at any given moment. My breasts were pressed tightly against his chest and the sharp metal of his chain digging into my skin added more blissful pain. My body was pulled tight with tension, knowing any moment I would snap.

“You know what to do, Doll,” Steve spoke huskily as his cock twitched inside of me when he smacked my ass. “Don’t make me fucking ask.”

Locking eyes with him, I cried out my orgasm as my body writhed in his tight grasp, and Steve created some space between us to glance down where our bodies connected. It was wet, more than usual, and his eyes snapped away from his soaked lap.

“Doll,” his voice was deep, dropping an octave. “Did you just squirt?”

I couldn’t speak; my orgasm took every single ounce of energy out of me. Instead, I nodded while resting my forehead against his chest and smacked away the vibrator that was still held against my clit. The aftershocks were too much and I was afraid of crumbling in his embrace.

“So,” Steve grunted with a thrust.

“Fucking.”

Thrust.

“Hot.” He growled out his release, spilling into my cunt, and held me tighter against him.

Gentle fingers grazed up and down my spine, as we both came down from our highs and I hummed in delight when Steve’s lips pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“I don’t think I could ever sit in this chair again without thinking of you,” he mused with a light chuckle.

Sitting up straighter, I tapped his cheek. His eyes were still blown wide with lust; it made my pussy clench over his slightly limp cock.

“I wonder what else we can fuck on in The Avengers Compund to make you think of me,” I joked before climbing off of him.

Steve’s fingers gripped tighter into the flesh of my hips to keep me in place, and he winked. “Let’s find out.”

#steve rogers #nomad steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #nomad steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers blurb #marvel smut #marvel #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america smut #captain america blurbs #marvel blurbs

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cece693 · 1 day ago

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PLEASE MORE ASGARDIAN M!READER!!!

May I suggest a fic where the reader wants to bond closely to Wanda and Natasha but, is afraid because their only concept of sister relationships was Hela (reader is a little scared of Hela 😔 due to her destructive nature). Can I also add that the reader has slightly long hair (shoulder length) to braid!

Thank you for your talent and dedication!

He's Cute (Pt. 1.5)

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader tags: wanda and natasha are the best, sibling duo, getting ready for the date, hints of WandaNat/ScarletWidow, bucky being adorably smitten, yes 1.5 cause pt. 2 is the actual date :)

You fiddled nervously with the ends of your hair, pacing the length of your borrowed bedroom in the Avengers Compound for what felt like the hundredth time. Today was the day: your very first official Earth date. With none other than Bucky Barnes. Just the thought of it sent a rush of excitement (and panic) through your veins.

The problem? You had no clue how to prepare for a Midgardian date. A tunic and breeches might scream ‘medieval faire,’ and your more formal Asgardian garb would be even more intimidating. What if Bucky took one look at you and decided you were too over-the-top or—in the worst scenario—ran for the hills? Then there was your hair. Should you leave it loose? Tie it back? Attempt some elaborate braid?

What if I make a total fool of myself? you thought, tugging on your hair with a frustrated groan. You considered consulting Thor—briefly—until your imagination conjured an image of him bellowing, “Wear your finest Asgardian leathers!” and slapping you on the back so hard you’d stumble. Not exactly helpful.

You also thought about Tony or Steve, but quickly dismissed those options. Tony might tease you relentlessly, and while Steve was sweet, he was probably as clueless as you when it came to modern dating intricacies.

That left two people you admired from a (sometimes intimidated) distance: Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff. You’d seen how confident and stylish they both were—able to slip into a gown or tactical gear with equal flair. If anyone can help me blend Asgardian flair with Midgard style, you reasoned, it’s them.

Trouble was, the concept of “sisterly” assistance made your stomach twist. Your only sisterly figure had been Hela—and she was the embodiment of destructive chaos. Whenever you thought of “sisterly bonds,” images of shadowy blades and a mocking sneer intruded on your mind. Still, you had no one else to turn to, and time was running out.

It didn’t take long to find them. Wanda lounged on a couch, sipping tea and reading a worn paperback. Natasha reclined in an armchair nearby, scrolling through her phone. They exuded a relaxed warmth that made your nerves surge all over again—how did you even start this conversation?

Wanda glanced up first, her warm eyes creasing in a small smile. “Oh! (Y/N), did you need something?”

Natasha flicked her gaze over to you, phone still in hand. “You look like you’re either about to faint or confess a murder. Everything okay?”

Embarrassed, you rubbed the back of your neck. “I—I’m sorry to interrupt. I know you’re both probably busy, but I…I have a date. With Bucky,” you added softly, feeling your cheeks heat at the admission. “And I have no idea what to wear or how to do my hair, or—anything, really.”

Wanda’s eyebrows rose, and a slow grin spread across her face. “A date with Bucky? That’s adorable.”

Natasha set aside her phone, crossing her arms. “So you want a bit of a makeover?”

You cleared your throat, nerves clashing with relief. “Yes. Please. I don’t know how Earth dates usually go. I’m used to, well…armor and father-gifts, and illusions if I want to ‘dress up.’ But that’s not exactly the vibe here.”

Both women chuckled at that. Natasha stood and motioned for Wanda to follow. “Come on, let’s get you set up. And don’t worry—you’re not bothering us. We’d love to help you not show up to your date in full Asgardian regalia.”

Natasha led you to what appeared to be a converted storage room. Racks of clothing lined the walls, and a couple of tall dressers stood at one end. You caught glimpses of everything from formal evening wear to casual street clothes—no doubt a stockpile from Tony’s various shopping sprees.

“Okay,” Natasha declared, scanning the racks. “We need something comfortable but sharp. You want to catch Bucky’s eye without screaming I’m a prince from another realm.”

Wanda’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Though, honestly, you could show up in a paper bag and he’d probably swoon.”

You felt your cheeks flame. “I—um, I just don’t want to look foolish.”

Natasha brushed aside a row of jackets. “We won’t let that happen. Trust us. Let’s see…” She paused, sizing you up. “You’ve got a good build—broad shoulders, trim waist. We should highlight that. Maybe a well-fitted shirt.”

Wanda’s gaze flicked between you and Natasha. “Oooh, yes. And if we can find a color that brings out his eyes…” She rummaged through a section of button-downs.

That left you standing there, feeling slightly awkward, as they pulled items from hangers and debated the merits of each. You shifted from foot to foot, your anxiety creeping in. This is far less terrifying than dealing with Hela, right? you told yourself. And yet, your heart hammered in your chest.

Eventually, Wanda triumphantly held up a simple, fitted gray button-down. “This might do,” she said, pressing it to your torso. “It’s not flashy, but it’ll look nice with your coloring.”

Natasha grabbed a pair of dark jeans from the next rack. “Try these on. We’ll see if they fit. If they’re too baggy, we’ve got more.”

Clutching the clothes, you ducked behind a folding screen in the corner. The chatter on the other side continued quietly:

“You think Bucky’s actually ready for a date?” Wanda whispered. “Oh, I’m sure he’s ready,” Natasha replied in the same hushed tone. “Steve says he's been looking at the clock constantly and somehow managed to trip over his own feet. He's more than ready."

Their amused banter made you smile—clearly, Bucky was as worked up about this as you were. That was comforting.

You slid into the jeans and button-down, surprised at how well everything fit. They weren’t Asgardian leathers, but the fabric was soft and flexible, hugging you just right. You stepped out self-consciously. “Well? How do I look?”

Wanda gasped softly, covering her mouth. “(Y/N), you look amazing!”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, arms folded. “Yeah, that’ll do. Sleeves up—roll them a bit. Show off those forearms. Trust me.”

Blushing, you obeyed, feeling a little self-conscious and a little flattered. “You really think Bucky will like it?”

“Absolutely,” Wanda replied, beaming. “He’d have to be blind not to notice how good you look.”

Natasha pretended to examine your outfit with a critical eye, but you noticed a small, knowing smile playing at her lips. Then her gaze flicked to Wanda, and they shared a subtle look—one that made your cheeks flush a second time. You weren’t sure, but it almost seemed like there was a soft warmth passing between the two women, a private understanding that neither was voicing.

Then came the matter of your hair. It fell around your shoulders, a bit unruly from the stress of pacing your room all day. You lifted a lock, hesitating. “Normally, if this were a formal Asgardian function, I’d wear a crown braid or decorative metal clasps that sparkle with runes. But that’s probably too fancy, right?”

Wanda stepped closer, gently running her fingers through your hair in a way that felt surprisingly soothing. “Yes. Maybe we could do a simple side-braid, just enough to keep it out of your face. Or tuck it behind your ears. You have a nice jawline, so let’s show it.”

Natasha approached with a comb and some small hair ties, exchanging that same subtle smile with Wanda as they both set to work. You couldn’t help but notice the soft brush of Wanda’s hand, the way Natasha’s posture angled toward her whenever they spoke. Something about their easy familiarity and gentleness felt domestic, like they’d done this a hundred times…maybe even for each other.

“Relax,” Natasha murmured, positioning you to face a mirror. “We won’t do anything too elaborate. Just enough to keep Bucky’s eyes on you, not on how complicated your hairstyle is.”

Wanda’s lips curved into a playful smirk. “Though he’ll definitely be looking either way.”

They worked in tandem, brushing, smoothing, and expertly twisting a small section of hair into a neat side-braid. With each gentle tug, your tension melted. It felt so normal, to be fussed over by these two formidable Avengers, whose reputations alone could strike fear into entire enemy organizations. Yet here they were, braiding your hair and chatting like older sisters might.

Every so often, you caught a flicker of something more than platonic in their glances—maybe the way Wanda’s hand lingered on Natasha’s wrist when passing a hair clip, or the private smiles they exchanged. It was fleeting, but definitely there. You wondered if you were witnessing the beginnings of something deeper between them—or perhaps it had been there all along, carefully kept behind the scenes.

Finally, Wanda tucked the last strand into place, and Natasha stepped back, admiring their work. “Alright, pretty boy. Check it out.”

You moved to the mirror, heart fluttering in anticipation. The reflection that stared back looked…well, incredible. The blazer fit perfectly, highlighting your form without overpowering your frame. The rolled sleeves revealed just enough forearm to be intriguing, and the subtle side-braid left most of your hair loose but framed your face nicely.

Your mouth fell open. “I—I look…”

“Really, really handsome,” Wanda finished, placing a gentle hand on your back.

Natasha’s smile softened. “You do. And trust me, Bucky will probably forget how to speak for a minute when he sees you.”

A mixture of pride and embarrassment bloomed in your chest. “Thank you. Honestly, I feel so confident. I’ve never had that before.”

Wanda wrapped an arm around your shoulders, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Of course. You’re about to go on a date, not face a war. It should be fun.”

Natasha’s gaze turned momentarily serious. “But if he does anything to make you uncomfortable—pressures you, upsets you—” She paused, letting the threat linger, “—I will personally have words with him.”

“And by ‘words,’ she means possibly an entire display of violence,” Wanda teased, but her eyes held a protective glint.

You laughed nervously, appreciating the concern. “I—I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Bucky’s so gentle. But...thank you, just the same.”

Natasha nodded firmly. “We look out for our own. And that includes you.”

Your heart swelled at the sentiment—so this was what a supportive sisterly bond could be, untainted by destruction and usurpation. After some final adjustments (Natasha insisted on adjusting your collar just so, and Wanda fussed with a stray hair you couldn’t see), the two women gave you a double thumbs-up.

“Go knock him dead—figuratively,” Wanda teased. “This is Earth, after all.” Halfway to the front entrance, you glanced back and caught a glimpse of Wanda and Natasha standing side by side, exchanging soft smiles. Wanda murmured something, and Natasha’s cheeks tinted the faintest pink before she turned away.

Maybe I’m not the only one with a new romance on the horizon, you mused, feeling a rush of fondness for both of them.

When you finally reached the main entrance, there was Bucky—hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders tense. The moment his eyes landed on you, all that tension melted. A slow, disbelieving smile spread across his face, and you swore you saw a slight flush creep up his neck.

“Wow,” he breathed, stepping closer. “You look amazing.”

Your cheeks warmed, but this time it was with genuine confidence. “Thanks. Wanda and Nat helped.”

He nodded, seemingly at a loss for words. “Remind me to, uh…thank them later.”

You chuckled softly. “I’ll let them know.”

The two of you exchanged a few shy glances, the air charged with a thrilling sense of possibility. Bucky offered his arm in that old-fashioned way you found so endearing, and you slipped yours through it, feeling a jolt of warmth as your elbow linked with his. “You ready?” he asked, voice tinged with nervous excitement.

You smiled. “I am.”

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 days ago

Note

curious about your take on riddle's dream. i have seen people en masse claim that riddle yearns to a deliquent/"if he wasn't traumatized, he would be in a pop music club" and... it feels like such a literal interpretation (although there are some who are obv just joking) to the point of misinterpretation? i'm not very invested in riddle's story arc, but to me it read like a pretty clear "what if i was the worst version of myself (which riddle has been raised to see as being disobedient) and i was still loveable".

[You can read my thoughts on the book 7 chapter 12 part 3 update here!]

I think there’s a lot of different ways to interpret the dreams because of how… vaguely they’re written + their length + every player coming into the dreams with their own experiences which inform their POVs. For this reason, I don’t feel comfortable outright stating X or Y interpretation is “wrong”, and nor do I wish to be used as a means to validating one interpretation over the others. All I’m going to do this ask is explain how I personally interpreted Riddle’s dream. That’s all.

I don’t think Riddle wants to be a delinquent; this would be conflating a child’s desires to that of a delinquent. Yes, Riddle was detained be a police officer—but not for any violence or serious criminal actions. He was detained for singing in front of the police station (without a license) and causing a public disturbance (because of his amplifiers). Furthermore, Riddle doesn’t engage in any other criminal behaviors (unless you count not going to school, but a minor isn’t usually held liable for that; the onus is on his parents for not sending him). I think it would be more accurate to say that Riddle’s wishes are very child-like ones. He wants to be able to play with his friends all day, he ignores studying and obeying rules, he can eat tarts and drink sugary tea whenever he wants, he has doting parents that are always emotionally there for him, etc. These are not marks of delinquency, they are the innocent longings of an inner child that never got to be recognized.

While I don’t think it’s a guarantee that Riddle would be in Pop/Light Music Club had he had a more lenient mother, I do think that Riddle would want to explore creative outlets. He is noted as having a very strong imagination, but is limited in his life experiences and struggles to think for himself or to act outside of the concrete, as is defined by rules and laws. If these restraints were loosened up and he had actually been allowed and encouraged to explore other avenues, he might have found an interest in the arts and expressing himself through that. It could be a visual medium, a written medium, a musical medium, whatever.

I think music is what we jump to right away because he has a band in the dream, but I could easily see him dabbling in other areas too. Maybe music was chosen because it’s a group activity, and Riddle longs to be that setting. A happy family, a boy with lots of friends, you name it. You could also argue that Riddle went with music because that’s what he knew from his dorm members. Adeuce are in athletic clubs, which Riddle is sort of rubbish at, and Trey is in Science Club, which of course covers topics Riddle would already be studying irl. Cater’s club is the only one with a significant degree of creativity allowed. Riddle might have based his hobby in the dream off of Cater’s experiences. One telltale detail that supports this theory is that Riddle mentions people keep leaving because the band can’t stick to one genre, which is also true of Cater’s irl Pop/Light Music Club. Another thing to consider is that Riddle is able to conjure the look of delicious cakes and cookies but not replicate the taste because he’s not familiar with it. You could say this is also true of his being in a band. He looks the part, but we never hear him participating in it—perhaps because Riddle could have seen Cater rushing to a club meeting in his outfit, but not have actually heard him play. Therefore, it’s possible that Riddle’s dream is just pulling from his shallow understanding of what “being in a band” is about… the camaraderie of it. This, again, loops us back to Cater’s relationship with his fellow club members. It’s less about the actual playing and more about the vibes and hanging out with one another. Maybe Riddle heard stories from Cater about this and got curious? This same logic applies to other aspects of his dream. He seems to emulate what he has heard from his dorm members in general. Loving parents who are there for him (like Trey), the bout of delinquency (like Deuce), the ability to speak his mind (like Ace). Riddle is wanting to be more like his peers, who were able to have “normal” experiences. To me, it feels like he used his dorm members as templates (which he combined with his own desire to have a fulfilling childhood) because Riddle himself doesn’t have a clear concept of what it means to live freely. After all, he only has like 1-2 months of playing with Trey and Chenya to go off of compared to a few years with his Heartslabyul classmates.

As I said earlier in this post, I don’t think the Riddle we see in the first layer of his dream is meant to be “the worst version of himself” or “Riddle but disobedient”; it reads as more of Riddle indulging in everything he missed out on in his childhood. Sweets, parental love, playing all day with friends, loudly and openly expressing himself through music, exploring creative ventures, making happy memories… I don’t believe these are bad things or borne out of Riddle wanting to be rebellious or disobedient, they’re just consequences of acting like a kid.

I do find it interesting that so many aspects of himself were entirely written over. However, I don’t see it as Riddle thinking he has to be a different person (as in, having a different personality?) in order to be worthy of love. Riddle was definitely still able to make friends as a child even with the quiet personality he had then. It was possible. Nothing in his backstory makes me think Riddle believes he wasn’t deserving of love—but he may think that love has to be earned, that love is conditional. And what is that condition? Following the rules, obeying, performing well in exams. That’s what he was taught would earn him success and his mother’s love and that’s what he enforced in early book 1. I think… Riddle definitely wants to be someone else, but in the sense that he wants to be born into different circumstances. Parents that get along, a dad that has time for him, a mom that dotes on him, no magic, no expectations to shoulder, lax rules, etc. This ties in with Riddle wanting to live the childhood he feels he never had. A childhood where he had no friends, where he studied all the time, where his mother calorie counted for him, where he was not allowed to play video games or watch movies, where he was not allowed to choose his own clothes or career or anything. Several of these sentiments were expressed post-OB.

Now that being said, everything I just discussed covers only the first layer of Riddle’s dream. I see the idea of Riddle thinking he has to be someone else coming through a little stronger in the second layer of his dream. That’s the part where everyone is being chased through the destroyed rose maze. Here, we see a much more extreme and even more domineering Riddle than what we saw in book 1. He lords over his students such that even his versions of Ace and Deuce have fallen into line and mindlessly follow his commands. The mob students are scared of him—and though Riddle is aware of it, he is content. They salute him and praise him for his iron fist. He is the most correct, after all. He is ruling just as his mother would, he is being the person his mother wants him to be.

This is expanded upon further in the third layer of his dream, in which he faces his inner darkness. Riddle confronts the truth: that he is desperate to cling onto the dorm leader seat, because that’s all he has going for him. He has driven away his classmates, who fear him and resent him. There’s his mother, but she has not granted him the affection he craves, and her approval is conditional. He is alone and unloved. This potentially recontexualizes details seen in earlier layers. Why is Riddle in a band? Maybe because he wants to be like Cater, who seems easygoing and approachable. Why does Riddle live many other aspects of his dorm members’ lives? Why do the characters conjured by Riddle’s darkness to fully believe that Cater wants to transfer to Scarabia—a dorm known for having a friendly and relaxed leader? It could suggest an insecurity in Riddle, a worry that he, as he is, is not enough. Not smart enough for his mother’s approval, not kind or cheery or normal enough to make friends. So all he has is his crown, which he reverently claims to. It’s one of the few things he has to call his own, a decision he made for himself and something he earned through his own merit.

But ultimately, I see Riddle’s truest desire as… being his own person, having his own independence and things he chose for himself. Not letting himself be ruled by the shadow of his mother. (His Phantom fittingly seems to dangle him on strings, as if Riddle is its puppet or marionette.) It doesn’t mean complete chaos or anarchy, and it doesn’t mean being like other people. It means defining his own rules for how he should live. Walking forward on his own path. Making his own identity, not tied down to that of his mother. Riddle is so used to being to do what to do or how to be—by his mom, by some arbitrary set of rules. The fact that he confesses to the things he actually wants after his OB… that he wants to stand up to his mother over winter break… that he confronts the dream version of his mom with the declaration that he will open this door with his own hand, that he will walk forward on his own path… I think that says a lot.

…. Weeeeell, like I said at the start, that’s one interpretation 🤷‍♀️ It’s not necessarily “correct”, and it’s liable to change (especially since all of this information is still very fresh; I’m still taking the time to digest it myself). The wibbly wobbly dream magic is open enough to invite all kinds of interpretations, so I encourage you to take this all with a grain of salt and to come to your own conclusions?

I think it’s interesting that it’s Riddle’s dream that has resulted in many different interpretations, especially on the English speaking side? I wonder if that’s because the average EN player skews younger, so those fans can relate a lot with the struggle for identity and finding freedom from one’s parents, even if their circumstances aren’t exactly the same as Riddle’s. We project our own experiences and feelings onto Riddle, which informs our interpretation of his dream.

#disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland #Riddle Rosehearts #jp spoilers #book 7 chapter 12 part 3 spoilers #notes from the writing raven #question #Heartslabyul #Trey Clover #Cater Diamond #Ace Trappola #Deuce Spade #Chenya

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kiszjuli · 13 hours ago

Text

YOU WIN .ᐟ

✸ varsity!jaemin x fem!reader | genre. fluff. | w.c. 2.1k | ♡

↳ synopsis. in which jaemin has been pining after you and makes you a deal. if he wins the valentine’s day basketball game, you have to go out with him. you agreed, but you knew you didn’t like him like that. at least that’s what’s you’ve been telling yourself.

↳ playlist. pov - ariana grande. universe (let’s play ball) - nct dream. i wanna be yours - arctic monkeys call me baby - exo. talk saxy - riize. adore you - harry styles.

the large, crowed gym boomed with the sounds of sneakers squeaking against polished floors and the faint echo of chatter and commentary bouncing off the walls. valentine’s day was tomorrow, and with it came the school’s annual basketball game—a game everyone seemed to love, whether it was purely for the game itself, or the romance that seemed to come with it. for you, though, it was just another day behind the camera, documenting the campus chaos for the yearbook.

through your camera, you’d captured just about everything this year: pep rallies, club meetings, quiet moments in the library, and even pictures of people doing the simplest things. and of course, na jaemin. somehow, he was everywhere. whether he was on the court, joking with friends, or flashing a charming grin at you, jaemin had an uncanny ability to find your camera—and you hated how often you found yourself keeping the photos he was in.

you’d spent the last semester convincing yourself it didn’t mean anything. he was just one of the many faces in the crowd, one of the players you documented out of habit. but jaemin thought very different.

about a week ago, he’d found you crouched on the sidelines during practice. you fiddled with your lens, as he walks up and proposed his idea to you. “if i win the valentine’s day game,” he’d said, leaning casually against the bleachers, and looking down at you, “you have to go out with me.”

at that, you almost dropped your camera. “what?”

“come on, pretty girl, you heard me.” his grin had been infuriating, as always. before you could think to respond, he added, “i’m. a deal’s a deal.”

“and if you don’t?” you piped.

"i don't always win, but i promise you i will this time.” he responded with a confident tone.

the idea was ridiculous. you clearly didn’t even like jaemin like that—or at least, that’s what you’d been trying to convince yourself of.

although you found your heart beating a little quicker when he was around, eyes lighting up a bit when he walked in the same room, laughing slightly harder at his jokes-it was all meaningless. right?

so, motivated by your persistence to prove your subconscious wrong, you’d agreed and now, as the stands filled quickly with students, and your camera in your lap, you glanced around not being able to shake the feeling that this wasn’t going to end you you expected.

—

despite yourself, because of the infectious crowd, you felt the pre-game thrill in your chest. you adjusted some things on your camera, getting it ready for when you needed it. aiming it in front of you you changed some of the setting, while looking through the lens. then you had noticed that he was directly in the middle; staring your way. you lowered the camera, looking at him straight on. that stupid smirk and casually spun a basketball in his middle finger. show off. his coach called the team for a quick team talk, and of course he didn’t leave without throwing a wink at you.

you fought the urge to roll your eyes but couldn’t deny the small flutter you felt in your stomach.

the gym fell to a hush as the referee walked to the middle of the court, the basketball in hand. both teams on either of his sides, waiting in anticipation. you got your camera ready for the shot, eyes trained on the scene in front of you, but you felt the weight of someone else’s gaze.

jaemin.

he stood at the center, opposite the other team’s strongest member, his attitude relaxed but ready. something about his calm and confident demeanor told you that he already knew how the game would end. like he was playing with certainty, and not hope.

seconds later, the whistle blew, the ball was thrown into the air.

jaemin reacted instantly, leaping towards it. his body stretched effortlessly to the ball, fingers grazing it first—the perfect tip-off. just like that the gym erupted in cheers and the game begun.

from behind the camera, you followed the motions of the players. shoes squeaked against the polished wood, the sharp bounce of the ball echoed through the gym. jaemin was moving like he was made for this, weaving through players with an ease. his focus was intense, completely imo in the game, but every now and then his eyes would flicker to you.

they were subtle glances, quick enough that no else would would have caught it. but you did, and he knew that.

and you hated that your stomach flipped every time it happened.

—

later in the game, halfway into the second quarter, jaemin caught a pass near the three-point line, and without hesitation, he launched the ball toward the hoop. The form was perfect, the kind of shot that sent the crowd to their feet before it even touched the net. and of course, you got the perfect picture of him in action, feet lifted at least a foot off the ground.

the cheers that followed were deafening. jaemin didn’t celebrate, he didn’t even look surprised. he just turned on his heels and jogged back to defense with that same cocky smirk, and looked directly at you.

you lowered your camera, heartbeat hammering against your ribs.

—

the fourth quarter had rolled around, and the gym was like a madhouse. the scoreboard glowing with mirrored numbers. 76-76. the game had been the kind that had the entire crowd on the edge of their seats constantly. every dribble, every pass, every shoot felt like it carried the weight of the entire game. and at the center of it all—na jaemin.

but he was also exhausted. Sweat clung to his skin, dampening his hair. his cheeks were flushed, and his chest heaved.

the rest of the team was just as worn out, struggling to keep up as the opposing team tried to pushed harder, desperate to steal the lead. jaemin had been their anchor, but the slight lag in his step was noticeable.

and yet, every time he looked up at the stands to you, there was still that unwavering determination. almost as if it pushed him harder; to keep his drive high.

you weren’t sure how long you had been holding your breath when the game reached the final full minute. the rival team had the ball, moving with quick, calculated passes, trying to run down the clock. the team knew what they were aiming for—a last-second shot, the buzzer-beater that would end it all.

jaemin wasn’t about to let that happen.

in a fraction of a second, he darted forward, intercepting a pass with a speed that seemed impossible given how drained he had to be by now. the crowd gasped, watching with intense focus, defenders right on his heels. you didn’t even realize you were standing until your knees bumped against the scorer’s table, camera still clutched tightly in your hands.

the timer was ticking down—

ten seconds left.

he crossed the three-point line. his teammates shouted, signaling for a pass, but he didn’t even glance their way, focused on his own play.

seven seconds.

an opposing player lunged at him, trying to block him. failing, jaemin spun around him, keeping the ball in his possession.

four seconds.

he took the shot running out of time.

the ball left his fingertips, spiraling toward the hoop just as the final buzzer blared through the gym.

time seemed to slow, everyone’s heads following the ball.

the ball traced the rim once—twice—before finally sinking through the net.

the gym erupted with cheers and yells and claps.

the student section stormed the court, screams of victory bouncing off the walls. the team tackled jaemin in celebration, hands ruffling his hair, hitting him on the back, yelling his name.

but jaemin wasn’t paying attention to them.

his eyes were locked on yours, with an ‘i told you so’ look.

and you knew.

this wasn’t just a win, it was his win.

and you were his prize.

—

jaemin had done it. he’d won the game, meaning he’d also won the bet.

as you sat at the bottom of the bleachers, still surrounded but the buzzing nature of the gym, you weren’t sure scared you more—the fact that he actually pulled it off, or the fact that you secretly wanted him to.

but before you could process it any further, a familiar figure broke through the heavy crowd.

jaemin. hot, sweaty, completely breathless.

his jersey clung to his skin, strands of damp hair falling over his forehead, cheeks flushed even more. his eyes were sharp, focused and locked onto you. he didn’t stop until he was right in front of you

your breath caught in your throat.

jaemin tilted his head, a breathless grin tugging at his lips. “so…” he ran a hand through his damp hair, the pieces falling right back. his chest still rising and falling with heavy breaths. “about our little deal.”

you swallowed hard.

your mind scrambled trying to find an excuse, something to get out of this, but every word died before it could reach your tongue. the truth was, no matter how much you had tried to convince yourself otherwise, you wanted this. wanted him.

jaemin must have noticed the mix of hesitation in your expression because his smirk widened, a teasing glint in his eyes. he leaned in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of sweat and cologne, his voice dropping to something softer, more dangerous.

“you’re not gonna back out on me, are you, pretty girl?”

something about the way he said it, made your breath hitch. the way he looked at you. like he already knew he had won more than the game and bet. you couldn’t form a proper response.

“uh..”

jaemin let out a quiet chuckle, gaze flickering to your lips for a second before meeting your eyes again. “guess that means i’ll pick you up at seven.”

and just like that he turned around back to the court, leaving you standing there with your racing heart.

oh, you were screwed.

—

you weren’t nervous, definitely not.

at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as you checked your reflection for what had to be the tenth time in the last five minutes. it wasn’t even a real date. just the result of a stupid bet.

and yet, here you were, doing your last touches.

a sharp knock on your dorm door made you jolt, heart leaping into your throat. you took a deep breath before opening it, only to find jaemin leaning casually against the frame, looking criminally hot.

his sweaty jersey and damp hair from earlier was gone, now replaced in a white tee, covered by a black jean jacket and matched black jeans. his usual charm fully present. his cologne was soft but warm, dangerously enticing. and they way he had that signature smirk, he knew exactly what you were thinking.

jaemin’s eyes raked over you, picking out every detail. he let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “damn,” he leaned in. little. “if i knew you’d clean up this nice, i would’ve made the bet a long time ago,”

you rolled your eyes trying to ignore the quickened pace of your heart. “are you gonna flirt all night or are we gonna leave?”

he chuckled, stepping from the doorframe, gesturing his arm out of the building. “both. definitely both.”

with a dramatic sigh, you stepped out and locked the door behind you. as you followed him to his car, you realized something—this felt like a real date. nothing forced, not awkward, not something you were being dragged into. interesting.

—

jaemin ended up taking you to a tucked away, late-night café, the kind with dim lighting and cozy booths. it was quieter than you expected, more intimate, which he probably planned.

as soon as you sat down in the booth, jaemin leaned forward, eyes fixed on you with that same infuriating smirk. “so, be honest,” he said, tapping his fingers against the table. “how long have you been secretly in love with me?”

his words caught you off guard. “excuse me?”

he grinned. “i mean, you did agree to this pretty quickly.”

you scoffed. “it was a bet.”

“sure.” he nodded slowly, like he wasn’t the one who came up with it. “and yet, here you are. looking beautiful, by the way,”

you rolled your eyes, ignoring the warmth creeping up your cheeks. “do you flirt with everyone like this?”

jaemin tilted his head, pretending to think. “only you.”

your stomach flipped, but you forced yourself to glare. “unbelievable.”

he laughed, leaning back. “better get used to it, pretty girl. you’re my valentine this year,” ‘and hopefully forever’ he thought to himself.

you smiled shaking your head.

the worst part? you weren’t even mad about it. in fact, you couldn’t form see yourself going out with him more than just tonight. maybe you did harbor some feelings for na jaemin after all..

—

⁀➷⊹ ࣪ ˖~ THE LA LA LOVE SERIES .ᐟ

taggies(open) ↳ @kittydollzz @huffnpufffckk @completelyjae @lovesuhng @nae-vm @ayibdorrt @chocoriki @yomaman @yukisroom97

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