#they had no idea I’m in the server | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hausofwoo · 9 months ago

Text

open wide | park seonghwa

pairing: park seonghwa x afab!reader

word count: 5.7K

summary: you start working at a restaurant and everything seems to be going well; you work hard, you made friends, and even when you mess up, your coworkers still have your back… except for the bartender, seonghwa.

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, restaurant!au, bartender! and dom!seonghwa, enemies to lovers trope, HATE FUCK, oral (f and m receiving), pussy slapping, dick slapping, choking, hair pulling, edging, fingering, creampie, alcohol consumption, sex under the influence of alcohol (but both consenting), unprotected piv (WRAP IT UP BE SAFE), cumplay, dacryphilia, seonghwa is an asshole and reader is strangely attracted to it, degrading, reader gives switch vibes, VERY descriptive smut scene [i have no shame], seonghwa is HUNG, use of pet names (princess, baby, good girl, little/dirty slut), woosan allegations LMAO, lmk if i missed anything! also feat. server/work bestie!ryujin, server!wooyoung and san, food runner!mingi, and restaurant manager!hongjoong.

author’s note: me n my friend were talking about seonghwa and the thought of him *ahem* slapping his dick on ur face .. and it sent us into a spiral. i had to make dreams come true. thank u to @hausofmingi and T for being my beta-readers and for giving amazing feedback and ideas :-) this one goes out to all the restaurant girlies!

seonghwa was pissing you the fuck off.

working at a restaurant is already hard enough, but to have an enemy that you work with? it’s unbearable.

you were new to the industry when you started at the restaurant, and of course you got treated like you were stupid for the first few months. you almost expected it, since you had friends who worked at restaurants and they warned you that people will walk all over you for being “green.” you learned as fast as you could, making mistakes here and there. but eventually you felt as if you proved everyone there wrong; that you are a good server and you are hard working, despite your mistakes. you built a rapport with your coworkers, and they granted you grace when you needed it. everyone, except for him.

the bartender. god that fucking bartender. your manager hongjoong introduced you on your first day, and ever since you’ve been butting heads.

“this is seonghwa, our bartender,” hongjoong says, pointing out the black-haired man setting up the bar. “he’s been here since we opened, but he’s been in the industry for even longer.”

“oh, wow,” you exclaim, watching him splay out the non-slip mats around the bar.

“yeah, wow,” hongjoong laughs. “this guy can pour exactly an ounce of liquor without even looking. and he’s fast. you’ll learn a lot from him.”

the corner of seonghwa’s mouth quirks up in almost a smug way. he’s good and he knows it. with his legendary status came his cockiness.

“well i gotta grab some paperwork for you to finish up,” hongjoong says as heads to the back. “i’ll be back out in a sec.”

you stand by the bar, basically twiddling your thumbs. “it’s nice to meet you, i’m–"

“look, princess,” seonghwa interrupts. “as much as i love introducing myself to yet another newbie, i have more important things to do right now.”

and that was just the beginning, and not just for your newfound nickname.

the best way to sum up how he continues to treat you is from this one specific experience. you rang up drinks for your table, and you meant to put a vodka soda instead of a tequila soda. you noticed it right away so you immediately cancelled that order and rung it up correctly. you promptly went to the bar to tell seonghwa.

“hey, ignore that first ticket for the tequila soda, i sent a new ticket,” you called out. but when seonghwa turned, he had the drink already in his hand, looking like he was about to set it on the drink pass.

“oh.”

he grabbed the new ticket with his other hand, glanced at it briefly, looked at you, and then slammed the ticket onto the ticket spindle. he turned around and dumped the drink in the sink and started making the new drink.

“hey i’m sorry, it was a mistake,” you defended.

“yeah yeah, it’s fine, princess,” he said with an eye roll. he placed the new drink on the pass. you inspect his face, wondering if it really was fine. he scoffs and pushes the drink forward more. “just take your drink and go, it’s way too fucking busy to be standing around talking.”

maybe it wasn’t a big deal. maybe he was just in the weeds and was taking it out on you. that’s the thing about restaurants, when you’re in the middle of service and everyone’s running around, you kinda end up saying shit you don’t mean. it was never anything personal. you knew that because at the end of service, you’d finish up closing with your coworkers and have a shift beer, laughing it off like it didn’t happen. because it didn’t matter in the end, it was just a restaurant.

but seonghwa never joined. even tonight, when you, the other servers, and even the manager were sat around the bar having your drinks, he just quietly broke down the bar.

“hey seonghwa,” hongjoong calls after him. “don’t worry about the bar, i’ll take care of the rest of it. you guys had a really hard night. have your shift beer and chill.”

“no no, i’ve got it. i’m just gonna finish up and get out of here.” you watch him as he lifts up the floor mats and starts mopping the sticky floor. you turn to your coworker, ryujin, who’s sipping at her PBR.

“i think seonghwa hates me,” you say, just low enough under your other coworkers chatting.

“what?” she laughs. “no no, i don’t think so. he’s just kind of an asshole.”

you glance over at him as he’s wiping down the back counters. you turn back to her.

“i don’t know, he’s just always been kinda short with me.” you look down at your drink and fiddle with the tab. “i feel like he doesn’t really like me. i don’t know what i did.”

“listen,” ryujin starts, placing a hand on your shoulder. “he’s short with everyone. shit, i’ve been here like 2 years and i still know nothing about him. don’t worry about it. he’s just here for a check like everyone else.”

you watch as seonghwa starts to walk back to the kitchen, lifting his sweatshirt off of his form, and a sliver of skin peeks at the small of his back just below his t-shirt. you can’t look away until he’s out of your line of sight, and ryujin starts giggling next to you.

“wait a minute, do you like him or something?” ryujin whispers.

“no no!” you say. “it’s just—i feel like it’s easy for me to talk to everyone here. with him, he just brushes me off. and he started that stupid nickname. ‘princess’. it feels condescending.”

“well i don’t know,” ryujin shrugs. “i don’t think he likes to mix business with pleasure anyway, in any form.”

you nod and look to see seonghwa back at the register, counting the cash and pulling out tips. he walks over and hands each server their share of drink tips, leaving you last. you look up at him, but he doesn’t even look at you. he just places the money on the bar, and quickly turns to go back to the kitchen.

“okay,” you sigh. “well i’m gonna get out of here, i gotta get some sleep. are we still on for sunday celebration?”

“um yeah dude. i’m gonna need it after we deal with the sunday service crowd.” ryujin grabs her bag and starts heading to the door with you.

“sunday celebration.” it’s kind of like a fucked-up weekly tradition your restaurant has. the weekend drives all of the staff mad and then after service sunday night, (since the restaurant is closed on mondays) pretty much everyone working grabs a shift drink and books it to the dive bar a couple streets over. is it healthy? absolutely not. but is it kinda weirdly cathartic? absolutely it is.

and you really really needed it after sundays service. you got stuck with a 15-top who had all sorts of allergies and dietary restrictions. like who the hell has a lettuce allergy? are they just making it up because they just don’t like lettuce? and why the hell are you trying to order a house salad when the main ingredient is literally lettuce? plus their drink orders were nuts. a tequila on the rocks? JUST tequila? and what’s worse is that the guy ordered like 4 of them. you just finished ringing in his 5th one.

you walk up to the bar to grab the drink (because damn seonghwa is fast) and look up to see him turning to you.

“hey, you gotta cut that guy off after that drink,” he says while shaking a cocktail in a shaker.

“yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” you laugh dryly.

“you shouldn’t have even rang this one,” he says, setting the shaker down. “you know there’s a 4 drink max, right? that’s like, a policy we have.”

“oh, i didn’t know that i guess.” you stab the ticket on the spindle.

“yeah i guess not,” he says with a sharpness in his voice, and starts pouring the drink in the cocktail glass. “just don’t do it again, princess.”

yeah, maybe you didn’t know that rule. but why does he have to talk to you like that? you start walking towards your 15-top, past the kitchen. you must’ve been really in your head about what seonghwa said because you completely missed someone yelling “corner.”

what happened felt like hours long, but it was probably only a few seconds. the food runner mingi was walking out of the kitchen with 3 plates of food. when you were passing by the kitchen entrance, it was too quick to move, and down fell all 3 plates. it was a mess.

“oh my god mingi, i’m so sorry!” you exclaim. you immediately grab a broom and attempt to sweep what you can.

“don’t apologize to me, apologize to seonghwa,” mingi says meekly, picking up the pieces of broken plate. “it was going to his 2-top at the bar.”

fuck. you don’t even want to look at him. you know he’s pissed. you finish cleaning the last bit of your mess while mingi goes back and asks for a refire on those dishes. as soon as you throw out the trash, you feel tears start to well up in your eyes. you can’t cry in the front of house, it’s unprofessional. but you can’t cry in the kitchen, unless you want the whole back of house to pester you with questions. the only solution was one place, every server’s safe haven: the walk in freezer.

you close the frosty door behind you, letting out a deep sigh that turns quickly into a billowing cloud. then, the waterworks. you couldn’t even help it, it all became too much. maybe it was out of frustration or stress, either way, you really needed this cry. tears stream down your face, turning cold on your cheeks from the freezing air.

it was mostly frustrating because the whole reason this happened was because of seonghwa. he snapped at you for not knowing some stupid rule, and it caused you to lose focus. it’s his fault.

just when you felt yourself calming down, the freezer door opens swiftly. it was him.

“you wanna tell me why my table’s food was refired?” seonghwa spits, anger in his eyes. “they’re gonna have to wait another 10 minutes and they’ve already been waiting for their food for 20.”

“seonghwa, please,” you huff, trying to hold it together. “can i just have one more second?”

“no! i could be totally out of a tip from a table because of you.”

“dude, it was a mistake!” you defend. you feel backed into a corner. literally, the walk-in was tiny and you were basically pressed up against the cold wall with seonghwa hovering over you.

“you keep making these stupid mistakes. i don’t know why they even hired you, you know fucking nothing about restaurants.”

you stood in shock. you didn’t know what to say. seonghwa had this fire behind his eyes that almost scared you. his chest was puffing up and down, breathing heavily from adrenaline. a bead of sweat falls down his temple, threatening to fall from his face. why did suddenly… he look so… attractive? you were so confused by how your body was reacting. instead of pure hatred, suddenly you felt a pang of lust. what the hell was happening to you?

“you owe me, princess,” seonghwa mumbles.

and in a blink of an eye, he withdraws from the walk-in and slams the door behind him, leaving you completely disoriented.

at the end of service, you were BEAT. you slump back into the bar seat, crack open your shift drink, and take a hefty gulp. ryujin jumps into the seat next to you, already drinking her usual PBR.

“dude, tonight SUCKED,” she groans.

“tell me about it,” you mutter, counting your cash tips. “at least they tipped well, but at what cost?”

“the cost of my fucking sanity, that’s what,” ryujin whines. “please tell me you’re still down for celebration. please please pleeeease?”

“oh i am so down,” you say. you look at your other coworkers. “san, woo? you coming?”

“you bet i am,” wooyoung chuckles, gathering up his stuff. “i’m heading there now. c’mon san.”

san stands and starts heading out the door with wooyoung but then turns back. “wait, seonghwa, are you finally gonna come to sunday celebration?”

seonghwa places down the wine glass he was polishing. “maybe. we’ll see.” he turns to hang up the glass on the rack and for a moment, just a moment, he makes eye contact with you. you look away immediately and decide to put your attention back on your beer. you chug what’s left of it and toss the can in the trash.

“ryujin, let’s go."

you and your fellow servers took the booth in the back of the bar, your usual spot. a couple of them were complaining about the tables they had, some were playing an intense game of darts, while you nursed your mixed drink as ryujin rants about her situationship.

wooyoung slips into the seat next to you, grabbing his beer on the table. “remind me to never play darts with san again. he’s way too competitive.”

you laugh, “you know, you say that, but you always end up playing with him every sunday.”

wooyoung chuckles as he shrugs. he then looks around the bar. “wait, didn’t seonghwa say he was coming?”

“he said he MIGHT come,” san says as he slides into the booth. you can feel yourself retreating as soon as his name was brought up. “but you know him. he never hangs out with anyone outside work.”

“he’s probably still scrubbing the bar,” the food runner mingi chimes in. “that dude is a clean freak.”

“nothing wrong with that at a restaurant!” san says.

“hey i’m gonna grab another drink,” you mumble, standing up. “i’ll be right back.”

you walk over and lean against the bar and wait patiently for the bartender to get to you. you look around, sort of people-watching the sunday crowd. it’s all industry people, you know it. you turn your head back to see the bartender facing you.

“what can i get you?”

“oh, i’ll just take a vodka cran,” you force a smile. he nods and turns to make your drink.

“a vodka cranberry?” you hear a chuckle next to you. “i thought your go-to would be different.”

you look over and see seonghwa leaning on the bar and looking over at you. he wasn’t wearing his work clothes like you’re used to seeing him in. he was wearing jeans and a black tank with a leather jacket. he looked different. he looked…. really good.

“oh, you made it,” you say, trying not to sound annoyed. you gather yourself a bit. “oh, don’t judge me for my drink choice, okay? as much as i love our free shift drinks, i don’t really drink beer outside of work.”

“ah, i see.” he nods, definitely uninterested, and looks at the bartender who had already set your drink down and was waiting for you to pay. you dig through your bag, struggling to find your wallet. seonghwa notices and sighs. “i’ll just get this one and i’ll get a jack and coke.”

“you didn’t have to do that,” you look up to him in confusion.

“it’s whatever, just take your drink,” he doesn’t even look at you as the bartender hands his drink over and grabs seonghwa’s card that he set on the bar.

“oh. well thank you.” you sip at your drink. “i’m going back to the booth.”

he grabs his jack and coke and takes a quick drink. “darts?”

“um, okay?” you stutter, watching him walk past you to the dart board in the corner, and then following him with a look on your face that could only be described as complete and utter confusion.

“san, woo, wanna play teams?” you call across to your coworkers. they perk up and immediately jump over to the dartboard.

“me and san versus you and seonghwa?” woo asks, rubbing his palms together with a chuckle. “let’s say loser buys drinks?”

“i’m not really good at this,” you say laughing. “but i’ll do my best.”

“oh, great,” seonghwa scoffs as he writes both of your initials in the chalkboard by the dartboard. “just show me what you got.” he grabs the darts and places them in your hand, touch lingering a little longer than needed.

“you know,” you say to seonghwa as you close out 18 on the chalkboard, then passing the darts to san. “i really wasn’t expecting you to come out tonight.”

“we’ve begging him for what seems like years, man,” san chimes in, attempting but eventually failing to hit bullseye. yet somehow team woosan is still beating you. he grabs the darts to hand to seonghwa.

“yeah, what changed?” wooyoung says as he leans against a chair.

“i wasn’t really expecting to come out either,” seonghwa admits. “i guess i wanted to see what sunday celebration was all about.” he closes out 17 and 19. why is he so good at everything?

“i mean it’s just all of us getting drunk to get over a shitty shift,” you watch as he tosses the darts to wooyoung for his turn. “so it’s really not much.”

“did you have a shitty shift?” he asks, turning to face you directly.

“w-well, yeah,” you mumble, uncomfortable by the attentiveness. woo quickly hands the darts to you and goes back to a conversation he’s having with san. you look down at the darts in your hands. “look, i know i made a mistake but i really didn’t know that rule about the drinks. and it got me in my head and then mingi came with your table’s food and—“

he rolls his eyes. “you just make a lot of rookie mistakes. you’ll learn.”

you completely abandon the game of darts at this point. “dude, you gotta stop talking to me like that.”

“like what?” he says with a smirk. does he think this is funny?

“like you think i’m stupid or something,” you say, slightly pushing his shoulder. “i’m not stupid. yeah, you’ve been in the industry way longer than me, but we all have to start somewhere.” you grab your bag and walk over to the booth, san and woo protesting behind you. you slouch next to ryujin with a sigh.

“what the hell just happened?” ryujin questions, looking back at seonghwa by the dartboard.

“seonghwa’s being a dick to me, once again.” you exhale deeply. “let’s get another drink.”

as the night went on, your coworkers start filing out one by one. san and wooyoung were one of the last to leave together (something going on there?) and you’re left in front of the bar, struggling to find an uber. your apartment is definitely walking distance, but not at this time of night. the real issue was getting a fucking ride. every uber was at least 20 minutes away. you looked back through the bar window and saw the bartender starting to close up. shit, it’s almost 1 am. you look back down to your phone and consider downloading lyft for maybe the 2nd time in your life.

“what are you still doing here?” you hear a voice behind you. you look back and it’s seonghwa, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

“i should be asking you the same thing,” you mutter. when will he leave you alone?

“can’t find an uber?” he questions, pointing down at your phone.

“yeah, its fine though,” you brush him off.

“you live close by right?” he asks, annoyance in his voice. “i’ll just drop you off.”

“no, really,” you huff. “i don’t need your help.”

“look princess,” he looks to you intently. “i’m not gonna let you wait outside a bar at this hour. i’m not that big of an asshole.”

you consider for a moment. he’s definitely right. it’s late, and staying outside a closed bar this late can lead to trouble.

“fine. but stop calling me princess.”

when he pulls up to your apartment building, you start to have an internal war with yourself. you can’t help but have this anger in the pit of your stomach that’s eating you up.

“you look deep in thought,” seonghwa says impatiently.

“yeah, uh,” you mumble. “i just.. i need to know, why do you hate me?”

seonghwa pulls the car in a spot and parks. “i don’t hate you, necessarily…” he starts.

“you just think you’re better than me?” you pry, irritated.

“i mean, i have been in the industry longer than you…” he smiles smugly.

“there you go again,” you throw your hands up, hatred scratching at your throat. “you are so belittling to me! you think you’re hot shit, huh?”

“do you think i am?” he smiles at the corner of his mouth, and lets out a dry chuckle.

“i think i can’t fucking stand you.”

he looks intently at your face, and you swear, he glances at your lips.

and that’s when he leans in and kisses you. it takes you by complete surprise, and you pull back. you look at each other with a newfound yet curious lust. for a beat, for just a moment, you both look at each other with the same understanding. you want to kiss him again. you grab his face and pull him back in. the kiss was all-consuming. you feel a wave of energy course through you, as if every neuron in you was lit up. it was almost dizzying. he holds the side of your face, grazing past your ear and the holding the nape of your neck. every touch felt like fire.

he slides his tongue through your lips and deepens the kiss, which makes you melt more into him. you feel his arm wrap around your waist and moves you closer. you felt a rush of heat run through you, but then seonghwa pulls back slightly.

“let’s go inside?” he asks, his voice low.

with no reply, you both get out and you take him up to your apartment and to your room, closing the door behind you. he stands close to you, pushing you up against the door and kissing you up your neck and jaw until his lips meet yours again. he slots his leg between yours and presses himself against your heat, grinding as he devours you.

you turn to push him against the wall and sank down to your knees.

“fuuuck,” he groans, smiling as he slips his shirt off. “i like this view.”

“shut up, asshole,” you snap as you unzip his jeans, pulling them down. you look up to see a bulge pressing through his black underwear. god, you can tell it’s fucking big. you graze your fingers over it, teasing him. he lets out a heavy sigh, and you feel him twitch under you.

“i need you to touch me now,” he says grabbing the back of your head.

“yeah? or what?” you tease, just barely holding the length of him.

“c’mon princess,” he says with a cocky smirk. that fucking nickname. he moves his underwear down to reveal his hard cock hanging heavy by your lips. your mouth opens as you stare up at his length. he’s really big. “oh baby, are you already cock-drunk before even touching it?”

you sat in shock at the sheer size of him. he grabs your chin and moves himself closer to your face.

“open,” he says, tapping his dick on your lips. you open up to take him in your mouth, with him groaning at the warm, wet feeling.

twirling your tongue around his length, you earn a pleased moan from seonghwa’s lips. you take as much of him as you can in your mouth, nearly gagging but pushing through. you can feel him twitching in the back of your throat, which makes you hum with satisfaction.

“yeah,” he hisses, pulling his length out a bit and slowly thrusting back into your mouth. “take my cock just like that, baby.”

he pushes into your throat and pulls out again, this time out completely. a string of saliva still connects between his dick and your lips. he grabs himself and slaps it on your face by your open mouth, your jaw going slack and your tongue out to taste him.

“ahh, such a good girl,” he smirks down at you, slapping his dick on your face again. he grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes your mouth back on his cock.

you grab the base and start sucking like your life depends on it, going from the base to the tip, where you swirl your tongue around him. you regain a little control back, stroking and twisting up his length and sucking at his tip, and you can taste the precum pooling into your mouth. you feel him thrusting into your throat, tugging at your hair and pushing you deeper onto him. you can’t help but let out a whimper at the feeling.

“fuuuck, you like that, you little slut?” he tugs you off his cock by your hair. “you like when i fuck your mouth? keep doing that for me.”

you lost all control in that moment. you can only do as you’re told. you open your mouth like a good girl, and suck. he pistons into you, hitting the back of your throat over and over. tears prick the corners of your eyes, but you don’t care. you only want to please him. you moan onto his cock, forcing yourself to not gag from his size. the vibrations in your throat only drive him more mad, and you can tell from his deep moans and the hardening of his cock. he’s definitely close.

the grip around your hair tightens while he continues to bob you up and down his cock. your eyes flutter shut and tears start to fall down your cheeks, and you hold his thighs, nails digging crescents into his skin. he continues to hiss and moan in praise, loving the way you’re sputtering around his cock and leaving spit running down your chin. you take all the power left in you to lap at the underside of his cock, causing him to groan loudly and pull you off of him.

“open wide for me, princess,” he says, stroking himself above you. you obey and lay your tongue flat for him, ready to take his load. he lets out a long moan, spurting all around and into your mouth. you lick up every drop remaining from his tip as he comes down from his high.

just as you regain your composure, he’s helping you take your shirt off and kissing your spit and cum covered mouth. he pushes you backwards until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed. you fall back and let him slide your pants off, leaving you just in your bra and (fucking soaked) underwear. he falls to his knees as he goes down to kiss your inner thighs, inching closer and closer to your wet heat. when he goes to lick the wet spot in your underwear, licking a stripe up to your clit, you let out a small gasp.

“so sensitive,” he grins, lifting his head up and moving to take off your underwear. he grabs your thighs and pushes your legs back so your pussy is in full view for him.

“and so fucking wet for me…” he trails off before he dives down to devour you.

he laps at your wet hole, savoring the taste and the way it contracts around nothing. his tongue leads up to your clit, earning a sharp moan from you. liking the way you sound, he does the same pattern, making you whine with pleasure. he looks up to you, a moaning mess, and flicks at your bud teasingly, as if he’s mocking you. he hums in amusement.

“hold this,” he releases your leg for you to grab, keeping you spread open for him. he places his fingers on your clit, circling a bit before dipping down to your hole, just at the surface. you can’t help but clench. “so eager.”

he plunges his middle two fingers into you, your tightness gripping around him. he lowers his mouth back to your clit, swirling around as he begins finger fucking you. he’s eating you like he’s fucking starved. the stimulation had you gripping the sheets, whimpering.

he hums against your pussy, kissing and sucking at your clit. “mmm, fuck,” he smiles with a moan. “so good…”

you can’t help but grab the back of his head, gripping onto his hair while he works his fingers and mouth on you. he twirls his tongue around your clit all while curling his fingers in you, hitting that sweet spot.

“s-seonghwa,” you let out. “don’t stop, it feels so fucking good.”

out of defiance, he pulls off of you completely, your legs dropping down and making you ache from the loss of being filled. you can’t help but buck your hips up, desperate for him to touch you. he runs his hand back onto your pussy, spreading his fingers around your bud, avoiding touching it. and then, he slaps your wet cunt. you wince, partly from pain, but also from the stimulation. your bundle of nerves prickles and reddens the wet skin.

“mmm, dirty slut,” he laughs dryly, sadistically. “so desperate to cum. you want to cum for me?”

you nod, a little too impatiently.

“tell me.” he circles his fingers around your dripping hole again.

“fuck,” you let out, exasperated. “please, seonghwa. please let me cum.”

with a smirk, he drives his fingers back into you and latches onto your clit, working at a steady but meticulous pace. when your hips start grinding against his mouth, he holds you down, and continues working you. he swirls his tongue around your clit just right, and massages at your sweet spot. you feel your orgasm building in your stomach, like a cord about to snap. you feel heat rush through your entire body like a wave.

“i’m cumming,” you barely moan out, completely overtaken by pleasure. seonghwa relentlessly works you through it, moaning against you as you climax. he laps at your clit, trying to get every drop of your orgasm. he doesn’t stop until you have to grab his head and lift it.

he looks up at you with an intense lust in his eyes, and his mouth and chin soaked from your juices.

“you drive me fucking crazy,” you sigh as you watch him stand up and lean over you. he pushes you back to the head of the bed, on his knees and slotting between your thighs.

eating you out must have really turned him on, because his cock is hanging heavy between you, red and leaking with precum. he guides his dick up and down your sensitive cunt, gathering your wetness up to stimulate your clit. he groans looking down at the sight.

he eases his way into you, gripping your thighs to keep from snapping his hips into you. your mouth goes slack at the sensation, and you try to stifle back a moan. he inches his way into you, thrusting slowly until he bottoms out.

“fuck, princess,” he sighs, and he feels you clench around his length.

he leans forward to hover over you, slowly thrusting into your heat. he grabs the nape of your neck and kisses you deeply, letting you moan in his mouth. each thrust he pounds into you makes you melt into each other more, desperate to feel every inch of one another. the rolls of his hips hitting deep caverns of your cunt makes you dizzy from stimulation. the squelching sound of your wet pussy makes him pull away, now grabbing at your throat hard enough to where it hurts a little, but hurts so good.

“tell me you’re my little slut,” he spits at you, thrusting deeper inside of you.

“i-i’m your little slut,” you say between moans, completely lost in his trance. he has all the power over you.

he releases your neck and lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, making him reach a completely new angle inside of you. he pistons into you with determination, and reaches down to toy with your clit. you begin to see stars.

“you’re so fucking tight,” he hisses, relishing the squeezing of your core.

his hips snap into a faster pace, all while mercilessly thumbing at your clit. the stimulation becomes all too much for you, and you feel yourself reaching another high.

“oh my god don’t stop, please seonghwa don’t stop,” you moan, unintentionally clenching around his length.

“yeah baby, cum on my cock,” he smiles down at you. “just like that.”

you can’t even think, all you can grasp is how good this man feels on top of you, how good he feels in you, how full you feel. your breath hitches as a wave of pleasure courses through your body, sending you into a blissed out state. your moans are matched by seonghwa, him fucking your contracting cunt, as if it’s begging to milk him dry. he continues to thrust into your overstimulated core until he releases his hot ropes of cum into you, completely filling you up.

he finally slows down his movement, both your breathing heavy and irregular. he pulls out of you with a hiss, watching your pulsing core as his release slowly spills out of you.

“jesus christ,” he groans at the sight. as if he couldn’t resist, he brings his head down and licks up your core, swallowing the liquid. once every drop is savored, he lifts up to level with you. he then places a kiss on your lips, suddenly soft, and very unexpected.

without a word, he grabs you by the waist and holds you close, allowing you to rest your head on his chest. he softly brushes his fingers through your hair.

and just like that, you both drift off to sleep with only one thing on your mind. what just happened, and what the hell is going to happen next?

a/n: this is my first real fic on the internet yall!! im so new to this but i had so much fun. i hope u did too! stay tuned for part 2, but for now please leave feedback ♥ edit: part two is here :-)

#park seonghwa #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez smut #seonghwa smut #seonghwa fic #ateez fic #seonghwa x reader #ateez one shot #dom!seonghwa

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justporo · 11 months ago

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So you'll see tomorrow

A/N: Seeing a beautiful piece of artwork by @velnna and listening to Half life by Livingston I got a very angsty idea for a drabble (so be warned, it's sad). This idea came to me first a while back listening to Just a Man (you know from *that* BG3 edit). @velnna as always thanks for letting me play with your son - and sorry I hurt him... Also thank you to Dad on Maf's discord server for the inspo for the final line.

Warnings: implied character death (but this is just an alternate timeline ok??), self sacrifice

~~~

So this was it.

This is how they would all die.

There was no way they would defeat the Netherbrain. All their endeavours that led them here, all for naught. Unless…

Staeve saw it in his eyes first. How their expression changed from swimming and hopeless to hardened and determined. Astarion’s brows drew together - the crease they created between them as sharp as his daggers he lifted up once more.

“Staeve.”

He had never heard his voice like this. The tone as sharp as a knife and hard as rock.

It scared him.

“I’m going to create an opening for you. Be ready.”

Fear dug its claws into Staeve’s throat, choking him, as he began to realise what was about to happen.

“No,” the half-drow whispered, weakly grabbing for his lover’s wrists with all of his remaining strength.

“Astarion, no! You can’t do this!”

Panic gave Staeve new power. Helped him to forcefully turn Astarion around to him. Helped him make his love stare into his eyes as he screamed at him again. And again.

He shook him, even making the daggers drop from his pale, blood-speckled fingers.

Staeve kept screaming, feeling his voice become hoarse, hot streams of tears washing away the grime and gore as they made their way down his face.

But as he kept throwing everything at Astarion he noticed ruby eyes remaining hard and unfaltering. The decision had been made.

The last of his strength went with his last drop of hope as Staeve’s hands fell weakly from Astarion’s. His legs gave up, knees hit the ground hard.

And only then did Astarion shift, taking a final step back before making the run-up.

He dropped down in front of Staeve who could only stare up at him anymore.

“Let me do this one thing right, Staeve,” he whispered solemnly, cupping his love’s face. “Just this once let me make things right.”

Staeve’s vision was blurred, his head swimming. But he still clearly saw the warmth in Astarion’s eyes as he leaned his forehead to Staeve’s.

Astarion’s hand wandered to the nape of his neck as he pressed his eyes closed. “Promise me, you’ll live for me, Staeve. To the fullest.” When the vampire opened his eyes again, Staeve was sure there were tears in Astarion’s eyes as well.

There was nothing in Staeve to do or say. He wasn’t in control of anything anymore it felt like. Not even his own body as he solely kept listening to Astarion’s final words.

“And promise me,” the vampire continued, voice breaking, “sometimes - when you sit in the sun - you’ll think of me, Staeve. Promise me.”

Astarion only waited only long enough for Staeve to weakly nod, seemingly the only thing he was still capable of.

Then he crushed his mouth to his lover’s, the motion so forceful their teeth crashed together.

Desperation had them kiss so hard it hurt, that it felt like perishing already. Astarion’s hand on Staeve’s neck pressed down so hard it felt like bones might crush. A single last breath was passed between them as their lips moved against each other as they tried to make this the most vivid moment they had ever experienced.

One so he could never possibly forget this final kiss - how it had felt.

The other so he would go to his end, with the taste of his lover on his lips.

When a small eternity ended and Astarion broke away he grabbed Staeve’s face a final time.

“I know in another life, I would have loved you forever,” Astarion uttered with a smile.

Then he let go, Staeve almost toppling over, suddenly void of anything still lifting him up.

Astarion grabbed his daggers, turned around with a last glance and a smirk - and then he leapt.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #fanfiction #astarion x tav #staeve #astarion x staeve #drabble #bg3

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zyhkoo · 8 months ago

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♡ flowers for me? - batboys x gn!reader

fluff

you gave the batboys flowers

a/n: I have no idea how to write tim, i hope i did him justice

Jason Todd

You handed him a bouquet of roses in his hand. Jason raised his brow “What’s this?” you answered his question “Right, so when someone places a seed-“

He rolls his eyes and cuts you off “I know what they are I mean what are these for?” he asked, getting to the point. You only shrugged “Flowers, a flower shop opened beneath my apartment and I wanted to give you some.” you replied.

Jason looks at the roses and then back at you “Eh, I’m not really a flower person..” he says, a frown formed on your face.

“Yeah, my bad. I’ll just return them-“ as you were about to reach the flowers on his hand he shields them away from you.

“No, I.. I never said I didn’t want it. Plus it's red, so I like it.” he looks away from your gaze, your smile returns from your face.

“I’ll give you way more red flowers then.” you said excitedly.

“Do whatever.” though it looked like he didn’t care, deep down he felt very happy for some reason.

Dick Grayson

You handed him a bouquet of Daisies “For me?” he smiles. You nodded “I got it from my mini-garden, there were a lot so I decided to give a few to you.” you answered.

He took the bouquet and admired it “Well, this is beautiful. Thank you, I’m happy.” he smiles as he kisses your forehead, you softly smile at his gesture.

“You think you have a vase for this?” you asked, Dick stays silent. “Uh, hold on a second.” he goes through his cupboards and finds an empty pitcher.

He then goes to the sink and fills water “Give it here.” he says, you nodded and you carefully placed the daisies in. You had a little trouble inserting it at first but with a little force if fitted perfectly.

“There we go.”

Tim Drake

You were on your phone, looking around. You were on a date with Tim today and this is the meeting place you both agreed on.

“Why do you have flowers?” Tim asks, scaring you from behind “Oh, jeez!” you gasped as Tim apologizes.

“These are for you.” he squints, absolutely confused “For me?” you tilted your head “You don’t like it?” you asked.

He shook his head and took the bouquet “No no, I love it. It’s just that lovely things fit you more.” your cheeks turned pink at his statement “Well I just wanted to give you something special Tim.” you replied.

He smiles “If you say so, I’ll cherish these. Shall we go?”

discord server

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myrruwrites · 2 months ago

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Streamer!Jinx headcanons.

Just some basic ideas and drabbles pooled into one post. I see a lot of streamer!ellie and streamer!vi, but barely any jinx if any at all. I don’t know, I just think she’d be the funniest streamer ever.

CW: Cursing? bits of Jinx x f!reader. jokes about jinx being cancelled, homophobia mentions.

Streamer!Jinx who got surprised when she blew up pretty fast. For the wrong reasons, Ofcourse (controversy, because she can’t keep her mouth shut), but once it smoothed over she gained a lot of following from it.

She has no filter. None. The second something pops into her head, she says it aloud. She deals with the consequences afterwards.

Her room is either really messy, or oddly tidy. On that note, Streamer!Jinx that decorated her whole setup and desk, plus her headphones. They’re all covered in scribbles and spraypaint.

Streamer!Jinx that sometimes manages to convince you to play on stream with her, addressing you as a close friend to keep you both comfortable and safe online.

She constantly says “chat” and “gang”, even when she’s not streaming. Vi and Ekko pick up on it and comment on it frequently, using it to tease her.

Rages at Minecraft. 100%. She joined MCC, just to ragequit half way through because her team was in dead last. Her chat watched her leave the server and walk out of her room on the webcam. She had to take a whole 15 minuet break and come back with a cup of coffee to calm down.

She would start a Minecraft hardcore series just to hide in a hole as soon as it turns night, before logging off and never returning.

"Guys this is my first episode of... MINECRAFT HARDCORE!

...

Chat this seems to be my first AND last episode."

Jinx who accidentally revealed your relationship on live. She slipped up and called you "darling" or "babe", and her chat never dropped it.

"BABE?!"

"Holy shit did she just call her babe?"

"Ladies, we have a chance!"

"DID WE HEAR THAT RIGHT"

She tried to change the topic, "We’re going to win this round!", to say she lost, and her chat didn’t drop the topic, would be an understatement.

She got cancelled for homophobia once, because she went on a 'just chill and talk' live about how she didn’t approve of Caitlyn and Vi being together. It got taken the wrong way and had to explain that she’s infact Queer with a girlfriend. She defended herself with "Guys, I’m literally dating.." after she revealed your relationship, and then went on a rant sesh about you. She’s the biggest yapper ever.

Her twitch account got banned or suspended once because she got so mad at a kid on Fortnite that she cursed him out and went overboard. (Again, she has no filter).

She mainly plays Minecraft and gun games. But sometimes she’ll do longer lives for charity where she’ll play the chat’s top pick.

She accidentally showed your face on stream once, forgetting to tell you her webcam was on. You didn’t realise until later that day there were edits of you on your own fyp or twitter TL. "Babe, you might wanna see this.."

Jinx still gets confused whenever she sees an edit of herself. Also, she has a public favourite folder of edits of you. She doesn’t know how to edit it to make it private.

Once you got comfortable showing your face on webcam, Jinx hosted a “do my hair and Q&A” stream where you braided and brushed her hair while you both answered questions. Any excuse to spend time with you at the same time as working.

Notes: first time ever writing jinx, so I thought I’d start with headcanons. Do we want a streamer!jinx fic? Like an actual fic? Pls give me ideas on what to write abt her

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flipppyflopp · 4 months ago

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A pack looks out for one another 🦁

Finally some Savanaclaw art! I feel like it’s been ages since I’ve drawn Savanaclaw, but I got this cute idea after the recent update for twst Japan. The new update just gave me all the feels for the trio, like they each have such respect for one another and look out for the others in their own way. Jack’s dream had me in shambles as he always acts so strong and independent, so to see how much he cares and depends on Ruggie and Leona…it was really sweet 😭

For my next piece I’m thinking about making something from the recent update on the English server…maybe featuring Lilia? We shall see 👀

#leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #jack howl #twst #twisted wonderland #ツイステ #ツイステッドワンダーランド #twst fanart #twisted wonderland fanart #fanart #art #my art #doodle

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darkmatilda · 2 months ago

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𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: two years ago, completely by accident, you helped catch a serial killer. now, as mysterious events start to pile up around you, you begin to suspect that someone is after you, seeking revenge. terrified, you're willing to do anything to save yourself—even if it means reaching out to your ex, who wants nothing more to do with you.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: [these warnings only apply to part 2!] spencer reid x criminal(thief)female!reader, stalking, mention of dismembered bodies, serial killer targeting women, mention of abduction, reader kinda joking about killing an old man (i have no idea how to phrase it differently)

𝐚/𝐧: hi, my loves!! thank you for the feedback on the previous part, and as always, thank you to my dear friends from the server 👀 today especially @nachrosas who appears as one of the characters

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 7.3k

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

You were a bit embarrassed to admit it to yourself, but you didn’t leave your hiding spot until Spencer arrived.

It took him about forty minutes, though it felt like no time at all. In the dark, small closet, time moved differently. The human heart beats 60 to 80 times per minute—yours, however, was more than double that, which probably affected your sense of time.

You recognized his footsteps as he approached, and soon the door opened. For a brief moment, you two stared at each other in silence. He was wearing dark clothes again, with a burgundy shirt peeking out from under his jacket. His eyes no longer held the animosity they did the last time you saw each other. It seemed like everything that was happening had him so preoccupied that he'd forgotten, even if just for a moment, that he wasn’t supposed to like you.

"Hey," you managed to say, your brain only able to form this one word.

Spencer blinked at the casual greeting.

"Are you okay?" he asked, still holding the closet door open. He looked at you more closely, noting your slightly bent knees and expressionless face. Only then did he move with some hesitation, unsure of how to act, before offering his hand to you.

You reached for it, only catching the tips of his fingers. Still, you could feel the strong, steady grip. He helped you out of the closet as if you were a princess needing support to exit a carriage.

He released you immediately when your feet touched the floor, pressing his hand firmly to his body.

“What’s going on? Is… is this your apartment?” he asked, glancing around the room with confusion. “What were you doing in…”

“This is Rebekah’s apartment,” you cut him off, taking two steps forward to shake out your still shaky legs, and at the same time, to distance yourself from him. The bedroom was too small for a full walk, so you circled around, stopping at the edge of the bed. Your head was still spinning from the fear, but you forced yourself to straighten your back. You didn’t want him to think you were just paranoid again. You needed to appear confident about what you’d seen and what you’d been through.

“Rebekah…” he repeated the name aloud, thinking. You hadn’t expected him to immediately recognize who she was, but he added, “The woman you saved that time.”

“Right. Your memory,” you muttered, taking a deep breath. Your gaze landed on the empty bed, and the words Robert Miller escaped from prison echoed in your head. You quickly turned to Spencer, urgency in your eyes. “He was here. I came to check on Rebekah; I hadn’t heard from her for a few days. No one answered, so I came inside…and then he followed me…”

You stopped mid-sentence when you saw his expression. You had expected fear—not...disbelief.

“You called me, saying he escaped!” you shouted, crossing your arms angrily. “Do you have a reason to think I’m lying, or are you just doing this for the sake of it…”

“I’m not saying you’re lying,” he interrupted firmly, mirroring your tense posture. “I know you’re shaken up, and I know it really happened. The thing is, it couldn’t have been Robert Miller. The escape news reached us immediately. He wouldn’t have had time to get here, and how would he even know where she lives?”

First, you opened your mouth, about to say something, but then quickly pressed your lips together. Who else could it have been? At first, you thought it was just your perception, but then the memory of the scent that filled your nostrils as the man entered the room came back to you. You couldn’t shake the thought that it was him. Of course, you weren’t about to say that to Spencer—he already thought you were paranoid.

Maybe it was one of her friends? But then, damn it, why would he visit her when she wasn’t here? You lowered your head, trying to clear your thoughts and focus. You needed to figure out what had happened to Rebekah, first and foremost.

With that in mind, you bypassed Spencer and made your way to the kitchen.

“There’s something else you need to know…” he started, trailing behind you as if you were keeping him on a leash. You didn’t even turn at his words, heading straight for the fridge, bending down to peer inside. “Wait, are you seriously going to eat now?”

You pulled a bottle of milk out of the fridge, but before checking the expiration date, you shot him a look full of disdain. He crossed his arms defensively.

“Yeah, I’m starving. You want something?” you muttered, going back to what you were doing. “I’m trying to figure out when she was last here based on expired food. Instead of standing there like a statue, how about you help me out, Mr. FBI?”

He clearly had no response, so he cleared his throat and ventured further into the kitchen, carefully scanning it for any clues.

“I didn’t know we switched roles,” he added after a moment.

You shrugged.

“I’ve always thought detective work isn’t that hard. Just have to be observant”

Spencer snorted.

“Well, in that case, maybe you’ll take a look at a certain case for me. The guy was called Zodiac. Ring any bells?”

You could have easily come up with at least five sarcastic replies, but there was something more pressing on your mind than winning this verbal battle.

"Some of the stuff in this fridge is already expired, or about to be," you remarked, taking one last glance at the shelves. "If she’s missing, it was recently. Maybe...maybe today. And the person who did this came back to erase potential evidence. When I got here, the light was on. They must’ve turned it off. What do you think?"

He stood still, facing away from you, his back to the kitchen counter. He didn’t answer. You took a small step to the side, and that’s when you saw what he was holding.

"I don’t think they were here to erase evidence," he replied in an unreadable tone, a trace of tension in his voice. Only then did he turn toward you, holding up a piece of paper. "I think whoever it was, came here after you. They were following you. They wanted you to find this."

The piece of paper had a simple message written in bold black marker.

POLICE = SHE DIES.

For a moment, you stared at the words, frozen. You took the paper from him, light as a feather, yet somehow it felt as heavy as an adult elephant in your hands. Your arm dropped limply to your side.

"Now do you believe me that all of this is connected?" you asked, a hint of dark triumph in your voice. Spencer kept his jaw clenched. "The last murder? The faucet in my kitchen? Miller's escape, and now this?" you trailed off, struggling to swallow. "He's after me."

He stared at you silently, bracing himself with one hand on the edge of the counter. You tilted your head, unsure of what to make of the prolonged look he was giving you.

"You were right from the beginning," he said finally, the words clearly coming with difficulty. Before you could scoff at the obviousness of the statement, he added, "After you came to me, I took another look at the last murder. It turns out... we missed something important."

Normally, you would have thrown in some sarcastic comment about the FBI's incompetence or asked where your taxes were going. But you were too focused on his words, too eager to hear what he was about to reveal.

"One of the victims had, still attached, a piece of the rope they were tied with," he continued. "Paracord. A type of line used in sailing. All the other thirteen victims of Miller were tied with it. We never released that information to the public. We kept it under wraps in case someone tried to take credit for it. So...it couldn't have been a copycat."

This time, you were the one at a loss for words—or rather, the ability to string them together properly. You exhaled heavily, crushing the paper in your hand. The full weight of Rebekah’s situation had just hit you. She was being forced to endure all of this again. The note suggested she might still be alive. But even if you managed to save her—again—would she be able to piece herself back together after this trauma, again?

Despite the grim thought, one thing was clear: you had to do everything in your power to help her.

“You’re not telling anyone about this,” you snapped sharply, pointing at Spencer with the hand still clutching the crumpled note.

“I’m not telling anyone,” he agreed with a slight nod. “Except my team.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off.

“Listen, every serial killer demands not to involve the police. And do you know what you’re supposed to do in that situation? Involve the police. We’ll handle this—”

“And I’m handling it with you,” you finished firmly.

This time, he looked like he wanted to argue.

“It’s inevitable,” you added before he could say a word. “He’s targeting me, so I’m involved no matter what. Instead of wasting time trying to convince me otherwise, let’s get to work. What do you think about all this? Miller had a partner the entire time, didn’t he?”

Despite your mixed feelings toward him, you couldn’t deny his knowledge and experience—things essential for tackling this case, things you personally didn’t have. Not that you hid the fact that your understanding of crimes went beyond that of the average person. Spencer placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head slightly.

“Seems that way,” he replied, adopting that deeply calculating expression, the one where most emotions vanished from his face.

You tried to reconcile that look with a softer one—like the way he’d looked when the two of you used to lie in bed in the morning, talking excitedly about something. But you couldn’t. That memory had already faded, blurred, replaced by an indistinct haze. You weren’t sure if you felt any regret about it. Maybe you shouldn’t think about it at all.

“At the time, we were certain these were crimes committed by just one unsub,” he continued, his voice steady. “And I’d still hold to that theory if it weren’t for…all of this.”

Something uncertain sparked in your mind.

“What if he didn’t commit those murders? Sure, Rebekah was found in his house, but…”

“He confessed,” Spencer interrupted, his tone leaving little room for debate.

“Yes, but—”

“The polygraph confirmed his statement too,” he cut in again. Then, after a brief pause, he admitted, “Okay, I know that’s not exactly reliable evidence. But after all the time I spent interrogating him…studying his body language, his facial expressions, comparing it to the profile… he is The Waterside Butcher. Or at least…” his voice dropped slightly, “he believes he is.”

You listened to him only partially, your gaze wandering painfully around Rebekah’s empty apartment as you tried not to imagine what she might be going through or feeling right now. And, above all, you tried not to let yourself worry about your own safety.

“So, an accomplice,” you murmured, almost to yourself. “Someone we know nothing about. But if they teamed up for something like this, they must’ve meant a lot to each other, don’t you think? I mean, they must’ve known each other back then.”

Spencer gave a small nod—so small it barely felt like agreement.

“It’s possible. And since we don’t have anything else to go on, we should start there. Go back through Miller’s life. I should be able to access all the case files related to him without any trouble. And update my team about all of this”

The silence between you stretched, tight and uncomfortable. It took you a moment to realize his words meant you should leave and get to work. Still, you felt glued to the floor of the apartment, as though moving would make everything more real. Finally, you sighed and straightened up, forcing a sense of readiness.

“You’ve got my number,” you said, heading toward the door. “Call me when you’ve got the files.” As you flicked the light switch on your way out, the apartment sank back into darkness.

Spencer hesitated on the stairwell, pausing in front of a graffiti drawing on the wall— spray-painted dick. He was blissfully unaware of the masterpiece behind him.

“Be careful,” he said, his tone serious. You couldn’t quite tell if there was genuine concern behind his words.

Maybe a little.

You reached under your jacket, pulling your coat back slightly to reveal the handle of your gun. You kept your movements measured, your face calm—or at least, as calm as you could make it seem. “I’m good,” you replied.

“Still, just…be careful,” he repeated, his brow furrowing slightly. “Actually, you could just leave this to us—”

“So you can miss something important again?” you teased, your voice edged with sarcasm. You’d always been the kind of person who trusted your own instincts over anyone else’s, and right now, you didn’t feel like handing over control. “See you later. And hurry up. No naps on the way.”

Spencer opened his mouth, ready to snap something back, but you were already heading toward the stairs before he could get the words out.

Returning to the apartment was risky, but you had to do it.

Slowly opening the door, accompanied by the shrill barking of your neighbor's poodle, who gave his last, final concert every evening before collapsing on the couch, a strange calm filled you. And it probably wasn’t just because you were holding a gun. It didn’t seem illogical that Miller would show up here right after escaping from prison. If he managed to do that, if he and his accomplice were able to kidnap Rebekah, they must have been following some larger plan.

Soon, you would find out what it was.

Erika's dog kept barking as you double-checked the entire apartment. You were never the type to relax as soon as you entered your place, tossing yourself carelessly onto the couch. You always crossed its threshold warily, especially when you were involved in some major heist or making deals with someone from the darker side of the dark side of everything.

In any case, it was clean.

You shoved the gun behind your belt, hung your jacket on the hook, from which it immediately slid off, but you weren’t planning to worry about it. Instead, you made your way to your bedroom, to the cash album, to take most of it. You didn’t know how long Miller’s search would last or how the situation would unfold—perhaps escape would become necessary...but that would definitely not happen before you found Rebekah. Safe and sound.

You tried not to look at all the photos, from which your faces had been cut out. With a grimace on your lips, you skipped over those pages, jumping to the last one, the one with the money... when a photo fell out of the album, one that didn’t belong to you. At least, you thought it didn’t.

Because yes, there were a few photographs of family members, even ones you hadn’t been in touch with for a long time, who had passed away when you were a child. But this woman… you felt like you had never seen her before. She seemed young, the black-and-white photo with slightly bent corners, her hairstyle and makeup, indicated it must have been taken in another decade.

Slowly, you took it in your hands, analyzing her facial features with a furrowed brow. You might have thought it was just a photo that had been slipped in there, if it weren’t for the fact...that there was something familiar about her.

You stared at that face for a long time before you forced yourself to shut the album. Some time had passed, you had gone to visit Rebekah late in the evening, so it didn’t take long for you to realize it was the middle of the night. With no news from Spencer, you didn’t really know what to do, and it left you with a solid sense of helplessness. Closing your eyes wasn’t an option, so you leaned your hips against the damn expensive shabby chic island with a marble countertop, trying to make yourself some coffee. Many of the furniture pieces in your apartment were old, which made them stand out against the modern kitchen appliances. You hadn’t quite figured out how to work the espresso machine yet, and you were too lazy to, so you always preferred to grab coffee from somewhere in town. You spent an enormous amount of time searching through the cabinets for the user manual (spoiler: you’ll later realize you threw it away and hit your forehead against the counter in frustration) while wondering whether Spencer would ever contact you again.

Maybe he only promised to get back to you to push you away from the investigation, planning to handle it entirely with the help of his team. Maybe he considered you unnecessary in all of this and didn’t think you could help in any way.

Wow, were you really antagonizing your ex in your mind again as a way to kill time?

You missed the moment when Erika’s dog finished its performance.

In any case, you were wrong. Spencer had sent you a message early in the morning, skipping the commas he always diligently used, which suggested he had listened to your advice and hadn’t taken a nap on the way. Once again, with your jacket on your back, you jumped into the front seat of his car.

"I thought this would take you less time," you said with dissatisfaction, looking at his hands on the steering wheel and feeling the familiar scent of his presence. It had been a long time since you last shared such a small space. "You always said the first 24 hours after a disappearance are the most important. We’ve already wasted about a third of that..."

“That’s not a typical missing person case,” he cut in between your words, sounding like a lecturer, allowing himself a brief yawn in the process. There was always that little purple ring around his dark eyes that disappeared during vacations or work breaks, when you’d spend time together in the laziest possible ways. "It’s a kidnapping, and the unsub has given us a condition. If, of course, his words hold any value, Rebekah will stay alive as long as you don’t notify the police."

"Which I already did," you muttered.

"My team is quietly searching for her. For now, we need to focus on what we decided earlier. We need to go through Miller’s life again and maybe find a clue about his accomplice. Here are the case files..." Spencer suddenly stopped, holding a thick folder in his hand, slightly extended toward you but still in his grip.

You reached for it, but he pulled it away.

“Jeez, found a moment to play the kid, huh…”

“I just realized you’re not authorized to look at these,” he replied.

“Why not?” you asked, throwing your hands up, accidentally brushing against his shoulder. "Ugh, right, I know. Protecting the privacy of the man who killed thirteen women. Sorry, officer, for wanting to breach his confidentiality and treat him with a lack of respect..."

He handed you the folder without a word. You sent him a triumphant smile.

“I had the point, right? You could admit it out loud."

“That would be dangerous for your ego.”

“You assume that one compliment from you could seriously affect it? Bold.”

Spencer glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, not fully taking his gaze off the road ahead.

"Did you want me to admit you were right or give you a compliment?"

You opened the folder to the first page, immediately confronted with Robert Miller’s face. You barely managed to hide the small twitch in your shoulders. Spencer scrutinized you once more, and you tried to mask your reaction.

“So,” you began, clearing your throat. “We’re heading to his father’s house, the one still alive. Kinda rich guy, huh?”

“I’ll have to keep an eye on your sticky fingers,” he muttered under his breath, barely audible.

“What did you just say?”

He put on the expression of a gentle lamb, almost angelic.

“That we’ll have to talk to him,” he replied with a slight shrug. “As much as his health allows. He was showing signs of dementia two years ago.”

“A rich guy, not fully in control of his mind?” you threw in with a small smirk, deliberately trying to get under his skin. You had heard his first comment. “I’m drooling.”

“Jesus Christ,” he sighed, rolling his eyes.

Silently, you studied the unsub's profile included in the file, refreshing information you already knew. That he and his father shared a passion for water in general, engaging in water sports and setting out onto the lake as often as possible. During one of their boat trips, he had pushed his mother overboard—she hadn’t been wearing a life jacket. Due to his young age, apparent remorse, and his father’s unwavering belief in his innocence, the incident had been ruled an accident.

In reality, it was the beginning of his murderous spree, directed exclusively at women. The first victim—the one who had given him life.

You arrived at a rather large estate, standing out slightly against the otherwise modest neighborhood. A typical American suburb, with an intensely green lawn that looked almost painted on. White walls, a dark roof, and untrimmed bushes hinting at a long-standing lack of effort in maintaining an illusion of perfection.

Spencer rang the doorbell and quickly shoved his hands into the pockets of his black coat. You stood side by side, the wait dragging on. You couldn’t help yourself—you nudged him with your elbow. He glanced at you, slightly surprised.

"When he opens the door, you're gonna do that power move with the badge, aren’t you?" you asked, your tone playful as you tilted your head to look at him.

Spencer chose to ignore the comment, pressing the doorbell again.

"Don’t be shy, I always thought that was kind of attractive," you added, watching in amusement as his expression stiffened ever so slightly.

He leaned in just a bit before speaking.

"And when he doesn’t open the door, you’re gonna pull your little hair pin trick, aren’t you?" he shot back, mimicking your tone—but with the clear intent to get under your skin rather than simply engage.

You snorted.

"You think I’m an amateur? I have actual tools for that..."

Both of you fell silent as the faint sound of movement came from inside. Someone was there, lingering behind the door, watching the two of you from the other side. After a moment of hesitation, the door finally opened to reveal a very young looking girl. A few curls had escaped from the loose ponytail at the nape of her neck, and her delicate face showed little enthusiasm at the sight of you. She was dressed casually—a loose button-up shirt thrown over a dark tank top.

For a brief moment, you struggled to place her. Was there anything in Robert’s file about a (significantly) younger sister?

Spencer introduced himself as FBI, and as he pulled out his badge, he made a very deliberate effort to avoid even accidentally meeting your gaze.

Understanding suddenly dawned on her face, and her lips pressed together slightly.

"You're here because of Robert," she stated rather than asked. "I heard he escaped. Well, I guess everyone in this country has heard by now. I've been careful about opening the door in case he… decided to show up."

There was tension—fear, even—in those last few words.

"And you are…?" you began, trailing off.

"His cousin," she replied in a strange tone, as if introducing herself with some kind of cruel nickname she'd been given in high school. "Rosas. On his mother’s side. I take care of my uncle—he’s not doing too well anymore. You want to talk to him, right?"

"May we?" Spencer asked. There was more behind it.

Will we be able to?

Rosas let you in, leading you to a small bedroom on the ground floor. What had once been a cozy space with gray walls now resembled a hospital room, with a fan positioned right next to the bed where a frail-looking man lay. His face was gaunt, his body thinned by age and illness.

He didn’t look much like Robert—or maybe it was just hard for you to see the resemblance through the years and the sickness.

As you stepped inside, the girl leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, watching your every move.

“He’s not very responsive,” she warned. “ALS. He can’t even breathe on his own anymore. And his mind’s been going for a while. He says things that don’t make sense, sometimes calls me by different names. I… I don’t know if this conversation will help you at all.”

Spencer moved closer to the bed, his sharp eyes already absorbing every detail of the room. You, on the other hand, needed a closer, more deliberate look. So, without shame, you started pacing, examining the framed photos of sailboats and ocean landscapes that lined the walls. Devoted to his passion until the very end.

You approached the dresser, where a small lighthouse figurine stood.

“That’s very generous of you,” you remarked, not turning around. “Taking care of your sick uncle.”

Rosas hesitated before answering, then scoffed.

“He wrote in his will that his entire estate would go to whoever took care of him in his final days,” she stated, without a hint of remorse.

A small smirk tugged at your lips.

“I see. And I appreciate the honesty,” you said.

Of course, you didn’t judge her. How could you blame a young girl for wanting to secure some money in this economy? In fact, you were almost certain that if you had a dying relative with a fortune up for grabs, you’d do the same.

As you stared at the photo of Robert embracing his father against the backdrop of a boat, Spencer was trying to communicate with Joseph—a task that wasn’t easy, given his condition. The man barely reacted, his eyes drifting somewhere beyond the two of you, as if he were stuck in another time and place.

Rosas decided to help, stepping into the man's field of vision and speaking to him in a voice that suddenly became soft and soothing. In an instant, her nonchalant attitude disappeared, replaced by that of a caring guardian. There was no denying it—he was lucky to have her by his side in his final moments.

“So you think Robert might want to visit his father?” you asked after both of you had seemingly given up and were now just staring at the man in silence, as if waiting for something. “You’re scared.”

“I know what he did to those women. Of course, I’m scared,” she said, her tone suddenly colder. Then she took a deeper breath, as if trying to calm herself down. “I think it’s possible he might show up. He broke out of prison, he probably needs money and…whatever else people who break out of prison need.”

Spencer nodded, confirming her theory.

“Don’t you think he might also want to say goodbye to his father?” he asked.

Rosas hesitated, considering the question.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted after a moment, shaking her head slightly. “My uncle got much worse after Robert was arrested. Especially after he found out that he was the one who killed my aunt. That…hit him harder than the other women.”

“That’s her?” you asked, pointing at the framed photo of a woman by the man’s bedside.

You froze in place as soon as you saw it.

Fuck.

Rosas confirmed it and went on talking with Spencer about her cousin. Two years ago, she hadn’t testified in his case—she was practically a new witness, a fresh perspective. Apparently, their families had never been particularly close.

You watched as Spencer listened intently, nodding with a thoughtful expression. Oddly enough, it filled you with a sense of calm. If he had pulled something important from this conversation, then this wasn’t a waste of time, and maybe—just maybe—you were one step closer to finding Rebekah.

You caught yourself realizing that you still trusted his mind.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the photo on the bedside table, lost in thought, until a sharp gasp yanked you out of your trance.

“Clinton,” Joseph Miller suddenly rasped, his voice hoarse yet somehow…tender? His eyes darted around frantically, taking in his surroundings with desperation, though they remained vacant.

Spencer and Rosas rushed to him, eager to seize this brief moment of lucidity.

“Clinton…Clinton…my poor boy…”

"Mr. Miller, can you hear me?" Spencer asked, his voice firm but gentle.

Silence. The man’s body went still again.

"Who is Clinton?" The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them.

Rosas adjusted the pillow under Miller's head, her movements careful.

"A family friend, you could say," she replied. "Well, I never knew him as a child because he was much older than me, just like Robert. But the Millers sort of took care of him after his parents died."

"Did they adopt him?" Spencer furrowed his brow. "We didn't know about that..."

"No, they didn’t adopt him," she corrected, shaking her head. "I mean... as far as I know, he grew up across the street. He was friends with Robert, and his parents weren't, well... the best. So he spent a lot of time with them. They’d take him on sailing trips, I think they even helped him financially when he went to school. By the time they died, he was already an adult, so there was no need for formal adoption. My uncle always treated him like his own son."

You and Spencer exchanged a glance, both of you frozen for a moment. You were sure your eyes were reflecting the same realization. You'd just found the partner you'd been searching for.

The air seemed to press heavily down on you, and you wiped your tired face with your hand.

"He was here a few days ago," Rosas added after a moment, reluctantly. "I didn’t like it much because... well, anyway, they talked privately for a while. At least, Clinton tried to talk to him."

She didn’t need to finish the sentence for you to understand her unease. The man who, as she said, her uncle treated like a son, suddenly appearing. A potential rival for the inheritance. A cold shiver ran down your spine, and when you glanced at Spencer, his expression mirrored yours. If your theory was correct... Rosas, just a few days ago, had let a serial killer into her home. Or at least his accomplice.

Spencer asked her for a few more details about him. After thanking her, she led you both to the door, but you hesitated for a moment.

"That's a very weak lock," you said, nodding toward the door. "It wouldn't be hard to break in. I’ll send someone to install a better one for you, okay? Since Robert is out there, it’s better not to take any risks. Maybe the police will offer some protection," you added louder so Spencer, walking toward the car, could hear you.

The girl smiled faintly. You couldn’t help it—you felt some sympathy for her. And you were scared for her safety, just as you were scared for Rebekah. And for yourself.

You were about to turn around when something stopped you.

"You know, you could just disconnect him from the respirator," you muttered. It wasn’t that you wanted to suggest it, but you were curious about her reaction, about her real feelings toward her uncle. There was a lot of tenderness in the way she treated him, and you didn’t think it was just for profit. "You’d save him from suffering. And get the inheritance faster."

Rosas stared at you, probably thinking you were joking. She likely thought you were also in the FBI. Then she shook her head, as if in disbelief.

"I don’t think I could," she said softly. "Besides, this job isn’t that bad. I’d rather wait than end up in prison if someone found out."

"Fair point," you agreed, your gaze drifting to the side, where Spencer stood with his hand resting on the car door, listening to your conversation. Curiosity was the first step to hell. You raised your voice just enough to make sure he’d hear. "Although, sometimes all it takes is having a guy in the police, and you can get away with anything." Rosas chuckled, likely understanding what you were doing. "I honestly recommend it."

You waved her off one last time, and she gave you a friendly wave back.

When you got into the car, Spencer was staring at you seriously.

"Did you just suggest that girl kill her uncle?" he asked, his disbelief evident in his voice.

You shrugged. You couldn’t be bothered to explain it.

“I was just making sure she knew all her options.”

“Options...?” he repeated, sounding confused. Then he sighed, shaking his head. “I used to think nothing could surprise me about you, that I knew absolutely everything there was to know about you, and now, here you are, showing up two years later, and...”

He suddenly stopped, his jaw dropping when he saw what you pulled out of your jacket pocket.

“Did you fucking steal this?”

“Wait, let me explain…”

“You stole a dying man’s photo of his dead wife?”

He stared at the frame in your hands.

“I had to, because…” you started, but he cut you off again.

“Let me guess, that frame is probably worth a lot, right? You just couldn’t resist. Honestly, should I start tying your hands every time we go somewhere...?”

You silenced him with your hand, forcing him to close his mouth. You were so close now that you could see his dark eyes widen in surprise. Your next breath was a little shallower for some reason.

“I need to show you something,” you said calmly, almost in a whisper. He was close enough to hear every word, no need to raise your voice. “At my apartment.”

His gaze lingered on your face, then briefly dropped, only to return to your eyes. You removed your hand from his face and, after a moment, pulled away. There was urgency in your tone, a sense of seriousness.

Spencer swallowed, nodding slightly in agreement.

He stared at the two photos. One, slightly damaged, was from your album. The other, framed in an expensive frame. Though they were two different shots, it was undeniable they depicted the same woman.

You watched Spencer closely, noting the expression on his face. His eyes fixed on one point in front of him, his lips pressed tight, his jaw more defined than usual. You both sat on the floor of your bedroom, facing each other, the album spread out between you like a campfire around which campers gather. Without a word, he flipped through the remaining pages of the album, all the photos where your face had been cut out.

He froze when he came across the photo of the two of you in Rome.

He carefully reached for it by the corner, staring at himself, because, well, you were there only from your neck down. Honestly, you were at a loss for words. Here you were, flipping through pictures of your once happy relationship with your ex. The atmosphere wasn’t exactly light, and the spacious bedroom suddenly didn’t feel so spacious anymore.

Suddenly, Spencer cleared his throat, forcing himself to look back at the photos of the woman.

"That's Robert Miller's mother," he said, his voice still hoarse. "In both pictures."

You sat cross-legged, bracing yourself with your hands on either side of your body for better stability. Your head was spinning a little.

"He showed me this photo because..." you trailed off, shaking your head as you searched for an explanation. "I remind him of his mother? The same one he drowned?"

"Maybe..." Spencer began, but suddenly hesitated, falling silent.

"It's okay. You can say it," you encouraged, trying to mask the tension building in your chest.

"Maybe he sees you the same way he saw her," he explained, trying to soften his tone, as if not wanting to scare you. It irritated you a bit; you didn’t want him to treat you like a victim—more like a partner in the investigation. "As a problem that needs to be eliminated."

Your face gave no expression. You already knew this, but hearing it from him made it sound more blunt. You took a breath, a little hastily, trying to maintain a calm demeanor.

"I think it’s been here for a while, I just didn’t notice it," you admitted truthfully. "It definitely didn’t show up yesterday. Which means Robert couldn’t have dropped it off, it must’ve been his accomplice. Probably that Clinton guy."

"We need to find him. Well, both of them, actually."

And save Rebekah, you added in your mind.

You saw Spencer’s gaze drop back to your album, and how he forced himself to look away again. You nodded encouragingly at him.

"Go ahead."

Spencer stared at you for a moment, sitting right across from him, before he slowly reached for the album, immediately skipping to the pages where most of the history of your relationship was captured. Many of the pictures showed just him, like the one where he was lying on the couch with reading glasses perched on his nose, absorbed in a book, while you sat opposite him, nudging his leg clad in pajama pants, forcing him to look at the camera. You told yourself in your mind that he was probably just curious about how he looked back then.

“I didn’t think you’d still have these,” he said, his gaze still on the photo. The corners of his mouth barely twitched, but he looked like he was holding back a smile. Then, finally, he gave in, and a small smile tugged at his lips. It had been so long since you'd seen it, and it was hard not to keep staring at him. “I didn’t even know half of these existed, but, you know… just saying.”

You let out a quiet chuckle.

“I move around a lot,” you said. “It’s harder to keep memories. But I like having them. Photos help.”

“Memories with your ex,” Spencer added, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

You studied him for a moment, then sighed.

“They’re still good memories,” you said. “You were...an interesting experience, you know. I loved you, even though we weren’t together long. In a way, I probably always will. It’s not like I look at you and feel hatred, or can’t even stand looking at your face in photos.”

You said it casually, a bit of a smirk playing on your lips. Spencer raised his eyes to look at you, a strange expression on his face that you couldn’t decipher. This time, in his hand, was a photo showing only his back as he walked a step ahead of you at some festival or event, reaching back without looking to grab your hand.

You shrugged, not quite understanding.

"So what?" you asked. "Do you just hate all your exes?”

"Of course not," he denied.

Both of you stayed quiet for a moment.

"Just me, huh?" you asked.

Spencer’s face twitched as he reached for the next photo in the album, not answering right away. It was one of the few that showed both of you together, and it was a good one. It had been taken in a slightly spontaneous moment when you had just returned to his apartment from a restaurant. His shirt sleeves were slightly rolled up, visible as he cupped your opposite cheek with his hand, holding it gently while kissing you on the cheek, the kiss a bit chaotic because of the small smile on his lips. His eyes were closed.

“Can I keep this one?” he asked softly, lifting the photograph so you could see which one he meant. He held it so gently, as if it were something sacred.

His question caught you off guard, and the answer slipped out before you could stop yourself.

“No,” you replied curtly. Then you quickly shook your head, almost as if to bring yourself—and both of you—back to reality. What were you even doing? You were dwelling on the end of your relationship when you should’ve been fully focused on finding Rebekah, tracking down Robert, and hunting for the mysterious partner. You rose from your seated position to kneel, gathering the photos.

“Listen, we should focus on locating this Clinton guy. Somehow. From what Rosas said, he’s not exactly a clean guy. I’ll ask some of my contacts…”

“Oh, I’m sure my team will find him soon enough,” he cut in confidently.

He handed you the photo and stood up, adjusting his position. His shirt slightly pulled out of his pants as he moved. His face still wore that tired expression, and after your strange exchange, it seemed more tense than ever. You felt a bit weighed down by the situation yourself, but you quickly shook off the thoughts. It didn’t matter if he hated you or not.

Both of you paused for a moment, each with doubt written on your face.

"We'll see, so the people will be first," you said with a hint of sarcasm.

Spencer tilted his head thoughtfully, then gave a nod.

"Alright. The one who wins gets to keep the photo."

He didn’t need to specify which one. You raised an eyebrow, surprised that it mattered to him that much. Maybe he just needed some kind of stake for the bet, and that was the first thing that came to his mind. He stared at you, waiting for an answer, which came in the form of a simple shrug.

"Fine."

He looked at you for a moment longer, then seemed to realize he was probably planning to leave the apartment. His eyes blinked a little faster, as if he reminded himself of that. When he crossed the threshold, a strange feeling filled not just you but the entire apartment. Well, your previous interactions, your past conversations, never carried such honesty. Not once before had you both lowered your guards, revealing a little more of yourselves. Through the constant teasing and not-so-pleasant remarks, it was easy for you to miss the kind of longing that had been lingering between you.

You closed the door behind Spencer, but you didn’t lock it. You spent a long moment suspended in emptiness, leaning over a single sentence you had said to him, the one that had made him so uneasy. I loved you, even though we weren’t together long. In a way, I probably always will.

It wasn’t that you were ready to throw yourself into his arms or go back to him. The meaning lay in the fact that his presence would always carry some sentiment, an enduring nostalgia, and a collection of fading, good moments and feelings. Maybe you wouldn’t tell your grandchildren about him, but if one of them asked about him, pointing at a photo in the album, you wouldn’t frown—you’d smile.

A few minutes passed, when you heard...footsteps in the hallway.

Irresponsible, but you immediately opened the door. Somehow, you recognized them right away, knew that it was him, coming back to your door, even though he had just left. You almost laughed at the sight. Almost, because instead, you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss that made his entire body lean in.

You didn’t know what wild impulse was driving you, but it was definitely nothing rational, nothing justified. Spencer remained still for a second or two, before his hand landed on your cheek. You almost forgot how he could kiss, the intensity of it making you take a step back, of course, pulling him along with you.

For a moment, you were out of breath, not opening your eyes as you pulled your face away from his, letting out an uneasy sigh. But then your lips didn’t find his again. Instead, you cracked your eyelids open, noticing that strange expression on his face—embarrassment, despite unspoken tension, a hunger he couldn't hide, even though he tried.

"I was going to say..." he started, quickly losing his train of thought and furrowing his brow to try to get it back. "I came back because my friend, Penelope, already tracked down Clinton’s apartment. And...and..I just wanted to tell you that."

Oopsie.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

taglist: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony @heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella @re1dsb1xch @trulymadlydarling @cynbx @penelopegarciaismygf @awordsmith @i-padfootblack-things @honestlyloving @fromsaltandsea @kwonhoeshi @mega-kittyglitter-1 @sleepysongbirdsings

*part 3 will be so freaking long get ready pls

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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alotofpockets · 2 months ago

Text

Stretching the truth | Laia Codina x Physio!Reader

5k celebration prompt: "You haven't kissed me all day."

A/n: thank you @valkyrie-00 @totaly-obsessed and @catasha from the woso writers server for your ideas on this one!

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.7k

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After not having to wake up early during winter break, your 7am alarm was rough. You turned it off and before you were even able to get out from under the covers, your girlfriend wrapped her arm around your body and pulled you closer. “Don’t go.” She said still half asleep.

You had spent the winter break in Spain with Laia’s family. She had been missing her family, so it was a no-brainer to go. Your family was out here, and who were you to say no to the nice and warm Spanish weather?

In Spain you had spent almost every single day of your trip with Laia by your side, so you weren’t surprised that she was now clinging onto you. “Back to work today, love. I have to go in early to set everything up.”

“Five more minutes?” Her sleepy voice begged. “Alright, five minutes, but not a minute more.” You knew that if you wouldn’t stop it at five, Laia would be able to keep you there for an hour if she wanted to.

After cuddling for a while longer, you told her you really had to go. You placed a soft kiss onto her lips, “I’ll see you soon.”

The first day back for you meant starting off with a few meetings, and setting up your physio room. A few of the girls would come in to get assessed before training, while the other physios had appointments with the other girls.

On your schedule were Vic, Lia, Laura, and Lina. The girls had been either injured or just coming back from their injuries. You had been working with them before the break as well, and wanted to make sure that the work they put in over break did their bodies well.

Vic came in for her assessment first, you chatted a bit while you checked off all the boxes, and declared her ready to start training with the team. She had been working hard towards her comeback, and you were happy to see the progress she had been able to make already. It wouldn’t be long now before she would be playing again, you knew it and knew it made her incredibly happy.

The next person that came into your office was Lina, she came to you with some struggles. She let you know that her calf wasn’t feeling great, so you checked it out. After assessing her calf and the rest of your checklist, you recommended her to come in after her gym session.

The next person you expected to walk in was Lia, but instead it was Laia who walked through the door. “What are you doing here? I thought you were with Emma today.”

Laia closed the door behind her and sat down on your physio table. “I was, but she wanted me to see you instead.” You furrowed your brows, “Why? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just my ankle is bothering me a bit.” She said while putting her leg up. “Your ankle?” Her injury confused you, because she hadn’t mentioned anything during the break.

“Yeah, my left ankle. I think I hurt it when I got out of the car, just a misstep.” You looked between her face and then the foot she put up. “Your left ankle is hurting, but you put up your right?”

Her eyes widened and it takes every ounce of power in you to stay professional and not start laughing. “Left? Did I say left? No no, I meant right. It- it’s the language barrier, I switched them up, accidentally.”

With a shake of your head and a light chuckle, you say, “Alright, let’s take a look at your right ankle.” As you had expected, there wasn’t much you could find, just Laia dramatically flinching as if it was hurting. It was a good thing she didn’t go into acting, because it took everything in you to not just burst out laughing.

“It doesn’t look like much.” You said when you were done assessing her ankle. “But, let’s keep an eye on it. You’re all set to head to the gym.”

Laia jumps down from the bed like there was no problem with her ankle, confirming for you that it was nothing. “Thank you.” She says and steps closer to you, the twinkle in her eyes makes you take a step back instantly. “We’re at work.”

Your girlfriend’s shoulders slump down. “You’re right, I’ll see you later.” You don’t have time to feel bad, as the next player enters the room.

The morning was filled all the way until lunch break, which you spend in the dining hall with the rest of the staff and players. After break it was right back to work, some taping before you would spend some time with Vic on the pitch.

The only person that was scheduled to come in was Lina, but once again it was Laia who entered. “Oh hi. Is everything okay?” She nods, “Yeah, just a tight muscle in my calf and I wondered if you could help.”

You looked at your watch, about ten minutes before Lina would come in, so you told her to lay down. As Laia laid down on the physio table, you grabbed some massage oil and began working on her calf. You couldn’t deny how toned her muscles were, even if this was supposed to be professional. No wonder they made sure that Laia was usually seeing one of your coworkers and not you.

“Is this where it was feeling tight?” You asked, applying a little more pressure to a specific spot. “Mhm, yeah, right there.” She responded with a little too much satisfaction. Her tone made you chuckle. “What? You’re good at this.”

You rolled your eyes but kept working, your fingers kneading into her calf. "Feels more like you're enjoying this than actually needing help."

Laia turned around on the table and put her leg up, like you asked her to do. “You’re the best at giving massages, of course I would come to see you.”

You shook your head with a smile. “Hm sure, and the ankle this morning? Totally legitimate too?”

With the most horribly performance of an innocent face, Laia said “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Just as you were finishing up, Laia stretched her arms above her head, causing her shirt to ride up slightly, exposing her toned stomach slightly. You stopped talking mid-sentence, much to Laia’s delight. “Oh, was that distracting? Sorry.” She said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes jokingly, “You’re impossible.”

Before Laia could make a comeback, a knock on the door interrupted. It was Lina poking her head around the door, “Am I early?”

You looked at your watch quickly, “Right on time. Laia was just leaving.” She reluctantly hopped off the table. Giving you one last daring look, before closing the door behind her.

The team knew you and Laia were together, and you had become good friends with most of them because the two of you were dating, so it wasn’t weird when Lina raised her eyebrows at what just happened. “Something going on there?” She said with a knowing smile. “Just a very needy patient.” You joked back, before you told her to sit down, so you could tape her calf.

When you were done with taping, you headed into your office for a quick coffee break and filling out some papers for the work you had done today, before you would head out to the pitch with Vic.

“Hello!” A familiar voice said from your office door. You sighed and rolled your eyes lightly, while a smile tugged at your lips. “Laia, what is it this time?”

She stepped into your office and closed the door behind her with an innocent smile on her face. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “Sleeping? Why are you coming to me for that and not Emma?”

Laia sat down on the chair across from you, her face plastered with a serious look. “Well, it’s about positions.” Her wording catches you off guard, and you feel your cheeks heating up, “What?”

“You know,” she continued, “positions. I can’t seem to find the right one… to sleep comfortably.”

“Okay, that’s enough. What is with you today?” You lean back into your chair and move your hands through your hair.

"You haven't kissed me all day." Laia said with a pout. And then every single unnecessary visit started to make sense. “Oh Laia, really? You’ve been hogging my patient time because you wanted a kiss?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, though the mischievous glint in her eyes betrayed her. “Can you blame me? We went from spending every minute together to barely seeing each other all day. I had to be creative.”

You had to give her credit, she had been creative. “You know there’s a time and place for that, right? Here? Not the place.” You chuckled.

Her pout deepened as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on your desk. “But you love me, so you’ll forgive me, right?”

You sighed dramatically, though the grin tugging at your lips gave you away. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Impossible to resist,” she said back instantly. Oh she was good, you thought while shaking your head.

“Fine. One kiss. But only so I can actually do my job for the rest of the day.” You gave in. Laia’s face lit up and she was on her feet instantly. “Deal!”

She walked to the other side of your desk and waited for you to stand up to wrap her arms around your waist and give you a loving kiss. Laia was trying to deepen the kiss, so you reluctantly stepped back. “Not the place.” You warned.

Laia pulled away with a smirk. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“Out. Go train or do something productive. I’ve got actual work to do.” Your girlfriend grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “Alright. I’ll behave.” She walked towards the door, before she closed it behind her she looked back and added “For now.”

You were left in the room shaking your head in amusement. She was really something. But you loved her dearly and could not wait to get home.

-----

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

#pockets 5k celebration #laia codina #laia codina x reader #laia codina imagine #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal women x reader #awfc x reader #espwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #awfc

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bc-jpeg · 10 months ago

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What do you think about Mumbo's art cam in the newer episodes?

I am personally still shocked like, HE CAN DO ART NOW? This man won't stop suprising me, I love it so much, also I don't see many people talking about that and I have no idea why because for me it's the best thing ever.

Anyways, hope you're doing good :D byee

the man does literally EVERYTHING.

when mumbo created @a.creative.junkyard for his art practice, only then I realized that he had literally been doing something like this for several years already. firstly for youtube, and after that he created many presentations of film projects to work with his clients, which already means a quite good basic skill in graphic design and especially the design eye.

still a big fan of his works from this account.

I love how he got creative with the start of season 10, using his skills to add some fun to the editing by creating new slides for his episodes. the way he’s sincerely passionate about creating such things, I empathically feel his joy.

mumbo started visualizing the whole stories through what he creates, and all the effort, work and fun is absolutely worth it. he may have had some small storytelling pieces before, but now it has definitely moved to another level.

the hand drawn concepts. if you look closely at the video, he strokes the colors manually. mumbo gets so immersed in the process when drawing these concepts, it feels therapeutic even. I always liked to see the concepts of the other hermit’s bases, that they drew by hand. since my main hobby is drawing, it always brings me closer to people on some other level when I see their drawings. as a big fan of mumbo, I’m so infinitely happy that he started to show this part of the process too. these concepts always add even more to the result, I don’t know how to explain it in words. just more. more sense of life from a story, from a building itself.

mumbo has knowledge and experience, but it's like he's been focusing on other aspects while building on the server before. in season 9, he started moving in a different direction more, and now it has achieved clear visible progress, he’s more actively experimenting and isn’t afraid to take on something that he has never done. now mumbo is even more confidently saying that he’s proud of himself.

this may seem insignificant to an outsider viewer, but

for a man who has been building redstone stuff and solid giant symmetry for several years in a row, it’s mind blowing.

#hermitcraft #mumbo jumbo #bc meowed

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navybrat817 · 5 months ago

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Hold You Tight: Part 12

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 11 | Series Masterlist | Part 13

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.7k

Chapter Summary: Bucky gets under your skin when he takes you shopping.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, dirty talk, mild dubcon (kissing, touching), tension, unease, possessiveness, inner turmoil, gaslighting, manipulation, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and hope you enjoy! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You weren’t sure how much time passed with Bucky’s head resting in your lap, your fingers absentmindedly moving through his hair. While his body relaxed, you remained rigid. You tried to think of positive things. Your upcoming trip to the winery, Addison’s wedding. The images in your mind darkened though as if a cloud loomed over them. In a way, it did because you didn’t know what Bucky had planned for those events. Because even if Bucky really let you go to the winery alone, someone would be watching.

You forced the cloud in your mind to lift. Things could still be positive. You could still have a good day and have the best time with your friends.

“I’m sorry, but I have to get back to work,” you whispered.

“Of course,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to your thigh and lifting his head with a smile. The darkness had left his eyes. How long until it returned? “Thank you for calming me down.”

“Of course,” you echoed because what else could you do?

Brushing his pants off once he got to his feet, he helped you up and didn’t let go of your hand. You didn’t attempt to pull away. He made sure to grab the money you left on the table before he paid the server and you tried to give the poor guy a smile when you thanked him. You just wanted to get on with your day.

As Bucky led you out of the cafe and back to the shop, you caught Ray’s gaze as he stood by the car and waited for his boss. Whatever concern he showed for you faded when he blinked. How did he deal with this life? Would he ever walk away from it?

“I’ll pick you up after work then?” Bucky asked.

“Sure,” you said. You didn’t tell him when your shift ended, but he knew, didn’t he? “Thanks for lunch.”

“It was my pleasure, but one more thing.” Bucky stopped you before you could enter the shop. “This regular customer you mentioned earlier. How often does he stop in?”

He asked as if he had no idea and maybe he didn’t in this case. That assumption didn’t ease your worries. “Once a month,” you said, your stomach turning slightly. “Listen, the roses he tried to give to me, I gave them to him first. They were his usual order and I thought it would be nice gesture and I was just-”

His brows pinched a little as his hands gently framed your cheeks. “Kotyonok, why do you sound so upset?” He asked, his thumbs moving in a soothing motion as you took a deep breath. “Wait, are you scared that I’d be mad at you?”

“I… I don’t know,” you said. You didn’t necessarily think he’d be upset with you, but after his mood swings at lunch and everything else so far you weren't sure what to expect. “I just don't know.”

“No, no, no, I’m not mad at you. Why would I be mad that you were kind to another person? That’s one of the things I love about you. It drew me to you,” he assured you. You oddly felt better by his assurance. “I don’t want you to stop doing kind things for others because you’re worried it might upset me.”

“So, it doesn’t upset you?”

“You being you would never upset me,” he smiled. He had said more than once that he loved you as a person, so maybe he was telling the truth. “A man trying to give flowers to you while going through a break-up is, at the very least, a little strange.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” you said, not wanting to admit that he had a point and that you were slightly put off when Clark tried to give the roses to you.

“I’m also well aware that you don’t hit on any guy who comes into your shop, so I wouldn’t view any act of kindness to a customer as trying to get their attention.”

“That’s true,” you agreed. Even Ray had pointed out to you that you didn’t give guys in the shop the time of day. Why would you when most of them were buying flowers for someone else? “But I just wanted you to know.”

“I appreciate you telling me, but you have nothing to worry about. Just have a good rest of the day.” With a kiss to the corner of your mouth, he whispered, “I’ll be thinking of you until I see you again.”

You weren’t sure why your heart fluttered. Relief that Bucky reacted calmly to what you said? You didn’t dwell on it as he held the door open and smiled after you as you went back into the shop. It was time to concentrate on work again.

Mrs. Crandle smiled and waved to Bucky through the door. “Oh, he is a looker,” she winked. “How was lunch, dear?”

“The food was good and Bucky and I got to talk a bit, which was… nice,” you answered, glancing around the shop and wondering if the place was bugged, too. Could he get access to the shop? Letting you continue to work seemed too good to be true, but he’d have nothing to worry about if he had eyes and ears there, too. “He’s taking me shopping tonight.”

She clapped her hands. “Oh, that’s wonderful! And don’t you dare be modest. Let him spoil you.”

“I have a feeling he’ll spoil me even if I don't ask him to,” you said.

Your whole experience with Bucky was whether you wanted it or not, so why would he stop now?

As expected, Bucky arrived back at the shop a few hours later to pick you up. Instead of giving him the chance to go inside and speak to Mrs. Crandle again, you grabbed your bag and rushed out the door to greet him. He caught you easily when you nearly collided with him, and for the first time, you felt like you were intruding in his space instead of the other way around.

“Eager to see me?” He smiled, his voice teasing as he kept a hand on your shoulder and helped you into the vehicle when you didn’t immediately answer. “How was the rest of your shift? I hope no one else bothered you.”

Just you.

“It was uneventful. I got a lot done,” you replied, feeling a warmth spread through you from the normalcy of your afternoon. “And no one bothered me.” Your gaze flickered to him and he was hanging onto your every word. He also looked much more relaxed, like the moodiness at lunch never happened. “How about you? How was your day?”

“Also uneventful. A couple of boring calls. Kept thinking about you though and it got me through the day,” he said, slipping an arm around you as the car door closed. The way you two were speaking to each other sounded almost normal. Checking in on each other, seeing how the other was doing. “Steve asked about that double date.”

“I’m sure he’s excited for that,” you said, wondering if that poor coat check girl had any idea.

“We both are. You can find a dress for that, too,” he smiled fondly. “In fact, what would you think of me getting you a new wardrobe when you move in? Your style, your choice on everything. You name it.”

You raised an eyebrow, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty washing over you. “Is there something wrong with my current wardrobe?” You hadn’t done anything to deserve a whole new set of clothes and you hoped he wasn’t suggesting it to mold you more to his liking.

“Nothing wrong with it at all. You have great taste and I just want to spoil you,” he said, running a finger down your side. This was the man who let you go into his exclusive club wearing a dressed down outfit simply because it was you, so he’d probably let you get away with any sort of wardrobe you wanted. “Do you know how ravishing you look right now?”

“I’m not ravishing. I’m in my work clothes,” you muttered.

“You are ravishing,” he said, moving his finger back up as you shivered. “We should get some stargazer lilies for your first night in our home. I could strip you down, lay you out on our bed, and brush one of the petals along your skin.”

You inhaled sharply and closed your eyes, trying not to picture him spreading you out on a luxurious bed. He would say something like that when he was right in your space and you had nowhere to go. The man went from zero to sixty in seconds. No doubt he could feel you tremble and knew your heart was racing.

“Bet it’ll feel soft against your nipples,” he whispered, exhaling against your ear. “And your pussy.”

Your next breath was shallow, but you managed not to whimper. “Where are we going shopping?” You asked evenly, hoping to get to the destination sooner rather than later.

You stubbornly kept your eyes shut when he chuckled. “You’re changing the topic because you’re thinking about it, aren’t you? Worried you’ll get your panties soaked before we get to the shop?” He questioned, your heart thudding. You didn’t want to think about it at all. You wanted out of the car so you could properly breathe again. “I’m sorry. I’m not playing nice, am I? We’re going to one of your favorite stores and you can pick out whatever you want.”

You’d no doubt look at the price tags out of habit since you shopped on a budget and bought your nicer pieces on sale. “Do you ever really play nice?” You asked, opening your eyes. “One moment you’re being vulnerable and talking about your family and the next time I see you you’re talking about sleeping with me. I’m shocked the whiplash hasn’t scrambled my brain.”

The image of him destroying the utensil at lunch like it was nothing flashed in your mind for some reason. And him and his gang beating up John. Just how strong was he? Was he a killer?

“Sometimes we’ll talk about something tough or serious and the next it may be something more fun or intimate. That’s part of being in a relationship,” he said. If only it were an authentic relationship. “I want that with you, telling you what’s on my mind and how I feel.”

If he cared about what was on your mind or how you felt, he’d back off and let you have a bit of space. “Relationships are built on mutual respect and trust,” you said. Did he not see that the mutual respect wasn't there since he pushed for things to be his way? And trust was something he couldn't force no matter how powerful he was.

“I understand that. You also said a first date was getting to know each other and seeing if there's a mutual connection. I'm opening up to you, letting you get to know me. I’m getting to know you, too, beyond the things I knew in advance,” he said. What was he learning about you that he didn’t already know? “And you can't tell me you don't feel something for me.”

“Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear, Bucky? That I want you and want to be with you?” You asked. Even if you did develop feelings for him, it would have to be classified as some form of stockholm syndrome. And even then, strong feelings wouldn’t be enough. He wanted everything from you. “That I don’t want anyone else?”

The hand along your side crept up to your neck, tension heightening when he gently squeezed. He loved putting his hand around your throat. “You do want me, you do want to be with me, you’ll never want anyone else once I have you and I know you love how much I want you,” he spoke with confidence, like he could make the words come true as you took your next breath. “Should I check your panties before we go inside and feel how wet they are?”

You needed to distract him. Fight him. Do something. “What’s your love language?” You blurted out. “Physical Touch?”

“What?” He whispered, your heart still pounding when he slowly moved his hand away from your throat.

“Your love language. You constantly touch me when I’m close to you, so I guessed Physical Touch,” you explained. He always had a hand on you.

He sat back with a pensive look. “No one has ever asked me that.”

“Oh,” you said as the car rolled to a stop. You blindly reached for the door handle. “Well, it’s something to think about if you don’t know.”

He held your arm when you tried to get out. “You express yourself through Acts of Service with loving gestures and helping with tasks, but what you crave is Quality Time because you value meaningful interactions and connecting with people on a more personal level.”

You nodded slowly. It was why you loved hanging out with your girlfriends. You cherished making memories with them.

“You also appreciate Words of Affirmation, even if compliments make you feel uncertain because you sometimes feel overlooked. The combination of those languages makes you feel seen and heard,” he continued, giving you a tender smile. “I can hear and see you if you let me.”

You found yourself unable to speak as he gauged your reaction, your throat tight as if gripped by an unseen force. He nailed it right on the head about your love languages, didn't he? “I need air,” you whispered, letting yourself out of the car once he let you go.

The tightness in your throat moved to your heart. Bucky saw and heard you in his own way, didn't he? Not just as a passing thought but because he genuinely believed he loved you, deeply and wholeheartedly. The more he sank his fangs in, the more venom he injected. You had to be your own antidote.

With a shake of your head, you glanced up at the shop. True to his word, it was one you loved. Another piece of yourself that would now be tied to him.

You jumped when Bucky appeared beside you and took your arm. “You okay?” He asked, studying your face with gentle eyes.

“Just fine,” you replied, smiling for his sake. “Let's go shopping.”

You walked into the boutique together, the air filled with a subtle mix of lavender and something sweet that made you feel right at home. The space was a blend of trendy and rustic, exuding charm and intimacy. Clothes lined the wooden shelves and vintage racks, showcasing a variety of styles that ranged from casual to bold. Delicate accessories sparkled in the soft light, inviting you to explore.

You could easily find the perfect dress for the winery here.

“Hello! Welcome to… Oh! Mr. Barnes,” the associate smiled, her heels clicking on the floor. She was a picture perfect example of style and beauty. “I have the back dressing room set up and I’ll be sure no one disturbs you or your girlfriend. It was sundresses you requested, correct?”

Bucky looked proud of himself. “Yes, the perfect sundress for my girl,” he smiled, his blue eyes sparkling as he looked at you. “And whatever dress you choose, you’ll need jewelry. Oh, and a clutch.”

“Girlfriend?” You asked. He must not have wanted a repeat of how the hostess treated the two of you at lunch. “Wait, you already have dresses selected for me to try on?”

“He called and gave us all the details. And we’ll make sure you have everything you need,” the associate promised as Bucky nudged you ahead of him to follow her. Was anyone else in the shop? “Would either of you like a water?”

“No thank you,” you said. You were never offered a water when you shopped there before, but you were never there with Bucky Barnes.

“Just let me know if you need anything at all,” she smiled, opening the dressing room door.

Bucky thanked her as he took a seat in one of the chairs across from the door, watching you expectantly. “If you don't like any of them, we can go somewhere else.”

“I’m sure they're fine,” you said, going into the room and shutting the door before he could say anything else.

Quickly slipping off your shoes, pants, and top, you turned your attention to a small rack with a range of sundresses. Checking each tag as you pushed through them, none of them on sale, it wasn't a surprise that they were all your size. And all something you'd consider wearing. After flipping through the dresses twice, you decided to try on a sleeveless white dress with small rosebuds. It would be nice for a vineyard.

Before you could put the dress on, the door opened. “Need any help?” Bucky asked as you spun around in your bra and underwear, his eyes slowly scanning your body before you had a chance to cover yourself.

“No. I…” you trailed off as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

He stared at you for what felt like an eternity before he breathed your name, want written all over his face. The dressing room felt small. Hot. You could hardly breathe as panic threatened to overwhelm you. And you couldn't do anything but step back as he stepped closer, a predator ready to capture his prey.

Your back hit the mirror when he brought a hand to your chin, your knees shaking as he leaned in. “You’re right about one thing,” he said in a husky tone. “I do crave Physical Touch. Yours.”

He pressed his lips to yours, keeping you still and giving you no chance to turn your head away. It was a light, feathering sort of kiss before his tongue flicked out to trace your lips. He teased you until you opened up for him and allowed his tongue to sweep into your mouth. You couldn't think as he groaned and continued his claim. It was only a matter of time until he claimed you completely.

Bucky pulled away a little, his free hand moving down your torso in a possessive path. “Fuck, you taste so sweet,” he rasped. You felt so small, your insides both frozen and melting from his touch. “Just wanna take you home and make you ride my face before I fuck you.”

You gasped when his knee moved between your legs, your hands flying up to hold his arms. He rocked his leg and you felt power in the motion, a promise of what was to come once he had you where he wanted you. “Bucky,” you whispered. The next word out of your mouth was smothered by his lips, but he didn't increase the urgency in his kisses. He took his time. Like the world could be burning around you and he’d let the flames take over as long as he was kissing you.

You bit back a whimper when he rocked his knee harder, the friction sending heat to your core. Another roll of his body and you were certain you felt the outline of his cock. Bringing a hand to his chest, you lightly pushed. It was already going too far. To your surprise, he broke the kiss. His eyes were still hungry though. “You said you want to hear me?” You asked breathlessly, your lip trembling when his thumb brushed it. “Then not here, please,” you whispered, praying he'd stop.

If he was going to have you, it wouldn't be in a dressing room.

“Right. Not for our first time.” He tipped his head back as he took a breath, no doubt trying to control himself. “Just one more kiss, Kotyonok. One more for me to dream about tonight,” he groaned, bringing his face back to yours for one more kiss with fervor. Just when you thought it would turn more ravenous, he shifted to something soft, tender. A feeling that had both of you shaking when it ended, but likely for different reasons.

You stayed upright when he stepped back and gave you space, but your legs still shook as he straightened up his clothes and looked you over once more. If he could devour you with a look... “Thank you.” He actually listened to you and didn't push it any further.

He glanced down as he adjusted his pants and you tried to avoid looking at the tent he began to sport. Horror filled you when your gaze went lower to the wet spot by his knee. He hadn't gotten you off, but you both knew he sparked some arousal within you. “Can’t wait ‘til you really make a mess on my pants,” he smirked, walking out just as quietly as he entered the tiny room.

Fighting back tears once he shut the door, you touched your lips. Bucky finally kissed you. Your mouth still tingled. You still felt him there.

Glancing at the rack of dresses, you wished he really was a sweet boyfriend trying to spoil you just because he could. But he hadn't given you a chance to pick them out yourself. He spoke for you, like you were a doll. It was just another piece he put in place for his twisted puzzle of your relationship.

What was wrong with you?

You pulled your clothes back on and flung the door open so hard it almost hit the wall. Bucky’s smug look immediately changed to concern when you walked out holding a sundress. “This one's fine,” you said in a flat tone.

“Are you sure?” He asked, sitting up more in his chair. “You didn't try it on, did you?”

“It’s the one I want,” you said, calling for the associate before Bucky had a chance to argue. You gave her a stiff smile when she joined you and handed over the garment, feeling Bucky’s eyes on you. “Whatever jewelry and handbag you think will go with this, I’ll take it. I trust your judgment.”

“Oh, this dress is lovely and we have the perfect accessories for this. Would you like to look at shoes as well? Or maybe something to go with any of the other dresses?” She asked, her eyes wide as you brushed past her. “Miss?”

“I’m sorry. I need to step outside,” you said, not wanting to be rude to her.

Bucky called after you, but you ignored him. You were furious with yourself. You let him kiss you and allowed some of his words to get under your skin. He didn't fuck you, but he still won, didn't he? And you were letting him. Just like with everything else.

You took two steps out of the shop before you felt a grip on your arm. “Woah. Slow down,” Bucky said, turning you to face him. “What’s wrong?”

Everything.

“It doesn't matter, but if you really want to see and hear me, please, pay attention,” you said, yanking your arm away. “I want to go home.”

“Why? Is it because that kiss meant something to you and you don't want to admit it?” He asked, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “If you're embarrassed that it made you wet, don't be. I'm flattered. Besides, it got me hard.”

Heat filled your cheeks and you wanted to smack him. There was a fine line between the delusion he had in his head and the reality of the situation. The tightrope you were walking was close to snapping. “I’m not embarrassed. I can't breathe.” You stepped back, trying to give yourself space. Was Ray watching from the car? “Everything in my life recently has revolved around you or you being there. Say what you want about me being lonely, it doesn't give you an excuse to take over.”

Bucky’s smile slipped, like he was really seeing how bothered you were. “I told you I just want to love you. And you enjoy Quality Time.”

“Quality Time when we agree upon it. And love itself should be the thing to take my breath away, not you smothering me,” you gently stated.

“I’m not trying to smother you.” He shifted like he was the one uncomfortable, his gaze flicking to the ground. “I… I know you can't breathe,” he said, lifting a hand as if to reach out before he dropped it and took a deep breath. “That’s why I'm leaving you alone tomorrow,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You're what?” You asked in disbelief, catching the hint of vulnerability in his eyes as his shoulders dropped. He hadn't left you alone since he broke in. Why in the world would he stop now?

“I was going to bring it up when I dropped you off.” His hand worked its way through his hair. “I’ve been thinking about it and talking and… I’m smothering you. I know I am. Rearranging your schedule, making you meet my friends, and everything else. So…” He reached for you this time and took your hand. “I’m giving you a breather and I’m not going to be around tomorrow. No surprise visits. No calls. Maybe a text, but nothing more.”

You blinked. “So, we won't see each other tomorrow?” You tried not to get too excited. It was only a day, but between that and the girls day that was still something. You had to go the cautiously optimistic route again and take what you got.

But you also couldn't help but wonder why he was really giving you that space. Did Ray or someone say something to him? Was this another ploy to keep you in line?

“You won't see me. God knows I’ll miss you, but it's just a day, right?” He squeezed your hand. “Maybe you’ll miss me, too.”

“I appreciate you giving me that space,” you said sincerely. He needed that space, too, even if he didn't believe it. “And maybe I will.”

“We won't have to miss each other much longer once we're together in the penthouse,” he said, his tone soft and your heart sinking. “Will you answer one thing: Did that kiss mean something to you?”

You didn't want to answer that. If you denied it, it would be a lie or he’d either see through it or snap. If you confirmed it, it would feed him more hope. You still had to examine your feelings because you were afraid and you couldn't think with him staring at you with those longing eyes.

“It meant something,” you answered, not expanding on what exactly it meant when he exhaled. It wasn't smart to let him decipher it how he wished because he could use it against you later.

He took your breath away once more when he pulled you close and brushed his lips against yours. Just as quickly as he started, he stopped and brushed his nose against yours. Any passerby would think it was a sweet moment between a couple making up from an argument. “Thank you,” he whispered, his thumb moving along the racing pulse in your wrist. “Come back inside, please? Pick out a few things for real and then I’ll take you home so you can relax.”

You remembered that the bugs were still in your apartment, which took some more of your enthusiasm away. But if Bucky was really going to leave you alone tomorrow, you’d have to appreciate the time to yourself. Maybe you could pack a bag and get out of the city even sooner than planned.

It wouldn't hurt to try, right? What was the worst that could happen? Making him freak out over your safety? That could be bad.

“Okay. A few things for real and then home,” you agreed.

“That’s my girl.” He turned and paused at the door with a smile. “Can I at least help you try on the dress? Or you can model it for me and I'll tell you how beautiful you are.”

You smiled back a little. “Don't push your luck,” you said, missing the pair of blue eyes that watched you and Bucky go back into the shop.

So, a little bit of action. 😏 Will it be enough to tide Bucky over? Is he really going to leave you alone for a day? Who was watching you? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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mister0ctopus · 1 month ago

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Server Room (5)

series - jeon jungkook

Pairings: IT!JK x Reader

Summary: Your new IT guy is quiet and shy. But when you accidentally caught him doing something in the server room, while moaning your name, you just had to pretend you didn’t see that, right?

Ratings: 18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings: Explicit language, Mature Contents

Au/Genre: Office au, Mini Series

Word Count: 4.8K

a/n: we’re back, baby!! lol🥳 sooo sorry for the delay, but we’re picking things up from here on out. thanks for waiting! hope you enjoy this chapter! and pleaaaseee drop your thoughts, feedback, ideas, anything hehe, whatever’s on your mind! hearing from you is the BEST part of this whole journey. i love reading your thoughts, my dear fwendsss!! 🤍✨

🐙 Masterlist / Thoughts?Asks?

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 6

Fuck, you’re wet.

Your feet, obviously—soaking and ice-cold. And then there’s the tapping on the window.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Like when you were a kid, sitting in an exam hall, drumming your pen against the desk. Your mind blank, and the answers wouldn't come, even though you’d studied all night.

Failure looming.

At the test. At being a daughter.

You hate that sound. That insufferable, rhythmic tapping.

And it’s getting closer.

And louder.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You wake up.

Your eyes blink against the darkness, adjusting slowly. The room is quiet, except for the steady, insistent rain. Moonlight spills through the window, drawing your gaze to the slight opening.

Oh. That’s why….

The rain has slipped in, dampening the edge of your bed.

You sit up quickly, shivering as you get up from bed, feet meeting the cool floor. The window creaks as you close it gently until you hear a soft click. You rub your arms for warmth as you switch on the night lamp. And that’s when you notice her—Allie, curled comfortably under blankets on her bed, snoring softly.

Wait… when did she get here?

Everyone was in the cottage when you left for the cabin to shower. And then, well… you passed out after coming too hard.

Your gaze flickers to the brush on your bed, and your cheeks flush.

How long have you been asleep?

You press your fingers against your temples, trying to piece things together. The cabin is now still—no voices, no laughter, no footsteps. A stark contrast to the chaos and loudness from your drunk friends earlier.

Just rain. Just the lake, its waves lapping softly against the shore.

Then, the ache in your stomach makes itself known.

Right.

You barely ate at dinner, thinking you’d feast later while hanging out. But you didn’t—because you had… other things to take care of.

You glance down—oversized shirt, bare legs, only your panties.

With a sigh, you grab your pajama shorts, slip them on and head for the kitchen to hunt for food.

The kitchen downstairs awaits, and right now, food is the only thing that matters.

The kitchen light is on when you step downstairs, casting a soft glow over the quiet house. The scent of perilla oil lingers in the air, minty, fresh, and inviting. Someone else is awake—someone who shares your late-night hunger.

You nearly stop, nearly, when you see who it is.

Jungkook.

He’s caught up in his own world, standing by the counter in the center of the kitchen, in matching brown short-sleeved pajamas. You can tell he was almost ready for bed before deciding on a midnight snack. He’s carefully separating the egg yolk from the whites, his teeth catching his bottom lip in concentration. You can’t help but snicker.

His head snaps up, eyes widening. He clearly wasn’t expecting you.

“Hey, you’re awake,” he states the obvious.

“Yeah, I got hungry,” you murmur, stepping off the last few stairs. Your feet are light against the floor as you move toward the counter, pretending not to notice the way he watches you approach.

“I’m making Makguksu Noodles. Wanna try?” he asks, wiping yolk from his fingers.

Your throat tightens as you watch the glossy residue of the egg whites coat his long fingers while he separates the yolk.

You don’t realize you haven’t answered until he’s already plating two portions. That’s when you notice—his pajamas are slightly sheer, just enough for you to see the black boxer shorts underneath.

He glances at you just as you lower yourself onto the stool and the two of you move in silence. Him focused on mixing the noodles in the bowl, and you focused on not letting your eyes linger on how his shirt stretches over his muscles with every movement.

When the food is ready, he slides a plate toward you. You both eat quietly. Aside from a few stolen glances, you’re still groggy from your unexpectedly heavy nap.

You don’t even realize you’ve been zoning out until Jungkook has to repeat himself. “Did you seriously nap that long?” he teases, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Yeah…” You blink, forcing yourself back to the present. “Didn’t even realize I fell asleep after showering. I was gonna head back to the cottage, but everyone was already sleeping when I woke up.”

Jungkook hums, his smirk still present, but his eyes stay locked on his empty plate, as if deliberating something. “Were you that tired?”

“Yeah…” You trail off as you push your plate away, trying to avoid his gaze.

A beat of silence.

“You took your time in the shower,” he says casually but his grip on his glass is a little too tight as he lifts it to his lips.

Oh.

“Hmm… I kinda did,” you admit. “Needed to cool off.”

Jungkook tilts his head slightly, studying you. “Did it work?”

The corner of his mouth twitches like he already knows the answer. Like he’s waiting for you to lie.

“A little,” you murmur, holding his gaze, daring him to push further.

Something shifts in the air between you. He takes his time clearing the plates, loading them in the dishwasher with unhurried movements.

But that smug expression is still there, taunting you, making you curious.

And then, he turns and walks toward you, drying his hands with a paper towel, closing the distance. He stops directly in front of you, his hands bracing against the table as he leans in, only the table separating you now.

“Just a little?” He asks like he knows something.

“So you still need help, then?”

“Help with what?” You cross your arms over your chest, trying to shield you from his assessing eyes.

Jungkook’s smirk deepens as he tosses the paper towel aside before he leans in just a fraction closer.

“Dunno,” he shrugs. “With anything.”

His eyes flicker down to your lips, then to your throat, then back up again, holding you in place.

“Anything?” you repeat.

He answers with a chuckle.

“I heard you, you know?” his voice is soft, but the words are sharp. “Earlier. In your room.

“What did you hear?”

“Everything”

Oh…

His audacity is shocking, but you don't beat around the bush.

And this, he must know.

“Okay, well… oops? Caught me,” you giggle, trying to regain control. But you won’t let him have all the power.

“I saw you too... In the Server Room.”

A smirk.

No actually, a chuckle.

“I know,” he says simply, his voice low, his gaze sharp. “I saw you leave.”

“So, I guess now we’re even,” you chuckle. But you hold your head high, locking your gaze with his.

“Now we’re even,” he echoes, but there’s no humor in his tone.

“Was that your first time? Touching yourself… thinking about me?” you ask, your pulse quickening.

“Yes.” His voice drops lower, like a caress. “First time in the Server Room.”

Your breath catches, his honesty hitting you in your core, a heat pooling low in your belly.

"How about you?" He tilts his head, gaze heavy. "First time getting yourself off to the thought of me? Moaning my name like that?"

"In this cabin?" You drag it out, making him wait, reveling in the way his jaw clenches.

Then, finally, you answered. "Yeah."

A slow, satisfied exhale leaves his lips, and his tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip.

"Good. Where else?”

Audacious. Bold. You love it.

You lift a brow, feigning thoughtfulness, your voice above a whisper. "Mostly my bed."

His voice drops lower. "Mostly?"

Then, he moves closer, past the table. Closer to you. You’re still seated on the stool, and as you swivel to face him, he stays just where he is—so close, yet not touching. But the space between you is thin, too thin. You can smell his aftershave, the soft, clean scent of his fabric conditioner.

Silence stretches before you tilt your head with a smirk. "Want a list?"

"Uh-huh." His hum is low, amused… and then, he moves towards you, closer, grazing your knees.

You instinctively spread your legs for him, letting him in.

"Shower," you murmur, locking eyes with him.

"Where else?" His voice is rough, all patience hanging by a thread.

"Office bathroom." This time, your gaze drops to his lips.

Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut for a second. "Jesus." He exhales a chuckle, fingers playing with his lower lip, a habit you’ve seen before, one he resorts to when deep in thought.

But there’s no strategy to devise here, no puzzle to solve.

So why is he doing it now?

To ground himself. To pull back from the edge you’re so effortlessly pushing him toward.

That knowledge alone fills you with satisfaction. And the fact that he’s still trying to maintain composure? Still trying to outplay you?

Heat pools between your thighs, a wave of want surging through you.

You love this game.

You don’t miss it— the way his throat bobs, the way his jaw flexes, the way his hand curls into a fist at his side.

"So," he exhales, "How good do I fuck you, then? Slow? Rough? Do I make you beg for it?"

You bite back a smile, fingertips playing with the hem of his shirt.

"Want me to show you?"

Jungkook tilts his head, tongue flicking against his teeth. "By all means," he murmurs, fingers curling beneath your chin, thumb tracing your bottom lip, slowly. "Please bless me with a demonstration."

You don’t hesitate.

You part your lips and take his thumb into your mouth slowly. Your tongue swirls around it. Teasing, tasting. Then, without breaking eye contact, you take his index and middle fingers past your lips, sucking them in—deep, slow, sinful. Noisily.

He hisses. His breath stutters. His jaw clenches.

You keep your gaze locked onto his, peeking up through your lashes. You see his pupils darken, his lips part ever so slightly.

"You’d start by eating me out," you murmur around his fingers, releasing them with a loud pop.

"And once you're satisfied making me cum on your tongue…"

You guide his hand down, past your lips, to your throat, down to your chest, lower, lower— until his fingers skim the waistband of your pajama shorts. Down, down.

“You’d stretch me out using your fingers, making it nice and wet just so you can shove your cock inside me, rough and deep, exactly how I need it."

He exhales sharply and his grip on your thighs tightens. His head drops, eyes slipping shut.

"Yeah?" His fingers press against your panties, feeling your soaked core. "Then spread those pretty legs open for me then, lemme feel how wet I make you.”

You spread your legs a little further, and he slid over your slit, collecting wetness on his fingers.

"Fuck." His voice is barely a whisper, wrecked. “Dripping.”

Your hips grind, seeking more. "Only when I think of you fucking me."

That does it.

Jungkook rips his hand away—leaving you cold and aching—only to grab your waist and haul you onto the counter.

His mouth crashes onto yours, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth, shoving his tongue.

Like a starved man.

It happens so fast, your brain barely catches up.

"Oh, god," he groans into your mouth, voice low and pained. His two fingers slide back into your throbbing cunt.

You must’ve been very, very wet because the sound of your slick echoes in the kitchen as he slides his fingers in and out of you.

His lips trail down your neck—biting, sucking, teasing—while you cling to him, fisting his collar, legs around his thighs, dragging him closer.

You feel it—the tight coil inside you, building, tightening, twisting. And he knows. The way you clench and tighten around his fingers, the way your breath stutters, the way your body arches like a fucking offering.

His thumb flicks your clit, before circling it with purpose.

Your legs tremble, and you can't help but let out a desperate moan against his ear.

“Please, YN,” he rasps, his forehead pressing to yours, dark eyes locked onto your fucked-out expression. “Soak my fingers, baby. Lemme hear you.”

His pace quickens, and you cum against his hand, chasing, grinding, taking everything he’s giving you.

The orgasm crashes through you, your walls squeezing, soaking his fingers as wrecked little moans spill from your lips—

So he covers your mouth with his hand.

“Like that, drip all over my fucking hand.”

He grinds against you, his cock heavy and straining through his pajamas, as he keeps his fingers buried inside you, pumping slow, dragging it out until you’re trembling, gasping, overstimulated.

Jungkook smirks, dragging his slick fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean with his tongue.

“Sweeter than I imagined. Bet you taste even better on my tongue.” He groans, as he pulls his fingers from his mouth with a wet pop.

“You’ll show me, yeah? How I eat this pussy.” His fingers slide back between your thighs, lips curling against your jaw, breath hot as he presses a filthy kiss to your neck. “How I fuck you, how I make you cum with my cock?”

You nod, your head still spinning from the high. Just as you were about to meet his lips—

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Your heads snap toward the stairs.

Yoongi stands there, gaze unreadable.

There was a time when you were in love with Yoongi.

Actually, scratch that.

There was a time when you were in love with Yoongi.

There was a time when you thought you were in love with Yoongi.

Blame it on your father issues that any man who has provider vibes, keeps his word, and doesn’t raise his voice could make you fall in love as easily.

He radiated that quiet competence like he could fix your life while being gentle and that he knew what to do.

So when you met him it was a no-brainer. You fell, and you fell hard.

The first time you met him at your first job post-college, he was this cold, quiet guy who looked like nothing could ever faze him. He was a senior in the office, and everyone held him in high regard for how he conducted himself—you know, competent, kept to himself. He barely smiled, rarely laughed—total ‘don’t talk to me unless it’s about work' vibes.

Your type.

But here’s the thing about Yoongi: the more time you spend with him, the more you start to notice the cracks.

It started when you two often got teamed up for projects because you both consistently delivered solid results.

The way he’d smirk at your lame jokes when he thought you weren’t looking. How he’d quietly make sure you had everything you needed before a big presentation. How every time you’d screw up, he’d just shake his head while trying to hide a smirk, and say “it happens.”

It made you wonder what it took for someone to be that calm. How much chaos did he have to endure to become so gentle?

But those feelings weren’t nurtured.

You were focused on chasing promotions, climbing up the corporate ladder in your sharp corporate OOTDs.

He was chasing some on-again, off-again college ex who was probably he had written songs or poems for. At first, hearing him talk about her felt like a stab to the heart. Stab and twist.

You never really had the chance to confess to him. You’d been emotionally constipated for so long that expressing your feelings felt pathetic. So, you admired him from a distance and stayed grateful for his friendship.

Of course, you knew he saw you as a kid back then—fresh out of college, trying to navigate the concrete jungle of the corporate world, pretending you had it all figured out. Taking on heavy tasks fueled by sheer grit and unrelenting feminine rage.

You always felt like you had something to prove. Every second of every day.

Just a bad habit drilled into you as a child, growing up in a suffocatingly traditional and overly religious household where women belonged in the kitchen and childbirth, while incompetent men labored under the illusion that they owned the world.

So you did the one thing they never saw coming—you used education to prove them wrong.

You showed them what excellence truly means.

And oh, you fucking did.

Summa cum laude. A job at a well-known company. Every achievement a middle finger to the system that tried to cage you.

You fucking did.

But at what cost? Nothing.

Excellence costs nothing.

Just anxiety, fear of failure, loneliness.

But Yoongi, for some reason, saw through you.

He silently looked after you, offering sound advice about your career and life, a quiet pillar of support when you needed it most. He never overstepped, never judged you for your mistakes. And he always acknowledged your strengths in that matter-of-fact way of his, like it was simply the truth.

And in return, you found yourself standing taller, speaking louder, growing more confident in how you faced the world.

Over time, you came to realize your feelings weren’t romantic.

Yes, you love Yoongi, but not in that way.

He was your safe space, the only male figure you felt secure with before meeting Jimin and Tae. To be truthful, he filled the void your father—or any other male figure in your life—never occupied.

Now, five seconds—maybe five minutes—of silence.

Because that’s what it feels like.

Yoongi and Jungkook staring at each other.

You staring at the two of them.

One doesn’t have to be a genius to figure out what’s happening. Jungkook is standing between your legs, his mouth still hot against your neck, while you cling to him. Good thing your back is to the stairs—Yoongi can’t see where Jungkook’s hands are.

Not that you care about being seen. Your sex life is nobody’s business.

It’s just Yoongi.

But also… it’s Yoongi.

It’s like an older brother catching his best friend making out with his sister.

You jumped down from the table just as Jungkook jerked away, putting space between you.

“Hyung.” His voice is neutral, casual. But his eyes track Yoongi carefully.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything.

Just walks over to the sink, grabs a glass, and fills it with water. His movements are slow, but something feels off.

You can’t read him. Normally, you can. But now? His expression is different. He’s too…blank.

The sound of running water fills the silence as he fills a glass and takes a slow sip.

“I was just getting water,” His tone is flat, almost dismissive.

Then, without looking at either of you, he turns toward the stairs, glass still in hand.

He’s halfway up when he pauses.

And then—he looks at Jungkook.

“Couldn’t you at least pick somewhere private?”

He is too calm and it’s weird.

“What’s private?” Jimin’s voice suddenly breaks through the tension as he climbs down the stairs, hair a mess, blinking sleepily.

Yoongi doesn’t even look at him. He just keeps walking upstairs, the sound of his footsteps fading.

Jimin glances between you and Jungkook, confused. “What was that?”

No one answers.

Jungkook finally looks at you, biting the ring on his lips.

Jimin sighs, completely oblivious. “Okay…? Anyway, do you guys know where the bucket is? Taehyung’s too wasted and puking his guts out. He also clogged the toilet, idiot.”

He’s still waiting, but the air feels too thick with something you don’t understand.

“I’m going back to sleep,” you mumble and rush upstairs.

The two don’t say anything, but you hear their voices fading into the background as you ascend.

When you reach your room, you shut the door behind you.

You feel your soaked underwear between your legs, a reminder of everything that just happened as you press your back against the door.

What a weird fucking night.

Lord, grant me telepathy to unravel the enigma that is Min Yoongi’s head. Amen.

The next day was torture.

First, you learned the hard way that giant windows weren’t so fun when the midday sun was beaming directly into your sleep-deprived eyes, punishing you for last night’s… activities.

Second, someone was lying half on top of your blanket, effectively trapping you in a duvet like a caterpillar in a cocoon.

You wiggled free, jerking up with enough force to make your head spin, only to come face to face with—Taehyung.

His arm draped over his face, shielding himself from the sunlight.

Right on cue, Jimin pounded on the door, looking annoyingly fresh and showered.

"You two! Get up! We're going kayaking. Jungkook and Allie are already getting ready," he called through the door.

You glanced at Allie’s empty bed before turning to Taehyung. "What the hell are you doing in my bed?"

Taehyung groaned. "Clogged our toilet, used yours, then passed out here on my way back."

"You dumbass," Jimin sighed, arms crossed. "You were so wasted! Why did you even drink that much when you don’t drink?"

Taehyung let out another groan. “Ow, my head…”

"Come on," Jimin stretched out a hand to him. "Let’s get you some painkillers."

"I don’t think I wanna go." Taehyung whined. "I feel like dying."

"This was your idea, and we already paid for the kayaks!" Jimin yanked him up with a dramatic sigh, dragging him toward the door, before turning to you.

"And you! Eat something then join us. You already bailed last night."

You exhaled heavily, checking your phone. 11 am.

Groaning, you forced yourself out of bed. You didn’t feel like doing anything today. But you also wanted to confront Yoongi. And maybe talk to Jungkook.

About what? You had no idea. You just hated unclear things.

You freshen up, and since you're still unsure of your plans for the morning—running or kayaking—you change into something comfy: an oversized hoodie and track shorts.

You make your way downstairs, and there he is.

Yoongi.

His back was to you, still in his pajamas—like he had just rolled out of bed and come down to eat.

Shoving the memory aside, you grabbed a bowl and milk from the fridge before sitting across from him. He was lazily picking at slices of watermelon from a container.

"Is it good?" you asked, pouring your cereal.

"Hmm," he just hummed. Classic Yoongi.

"You coming kayaking?" you asked, stirring your cereal.

He shrugged. "Nah. Kinda wanna finish a book." He flicked a seed off the fruit.

“Just say you hate water.” You chuckled. Then, you decided to rip the band-aid off.

"Wanna talk about last night?"

"Not really. Not my business."

"Okay… so, we’re good?"

He finally looked at you, brow raised. "What do you mean?"

"I don’t know, I was getting weird vibes from you last night," you admitted, chewing. "Which is weird because you never really cared about who I go out with or hook up with."

Silence.

"Actually… I do wanna talk about last night."

You raised an eyebrow and gestured for him to continue.

"I wasn’t gonna say anything because it’s not my place," he continued slowly, obviously being careful in choosing his words. "But I care about Jungkook. He’s like a brother to me. And you…" He exhaled. "You’re family too. It’s just… weird, is all.”

"I’m family?" You rested your chin on your hand.

"You are." Yoongi rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

You grinned. "Wow. That’s kinda sweet—"

"Don’t make it weird."

"You made it weird first," you pointed out.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What I meant was… it’s just weird is all. I never thought he’d be someone you’d…"

"Hook up with?" you finished for him, raising a brow.

He didn’t confirm or deny. He just pressed his lips together.

"Well, I guess he’s my type," you shrugged, going back to your cereal.

"YN, listen to me," Yoongi said, voice low. His eyes met yours, serious now. "Jin and I… we practically helped Namjoon raise Jungkook after their dad died. Jungkook was so young. He was hurt and angry. He acted out, fucked around."

You paused.

Yoongi never really talked about his friends like this.

You knew bits and pieces, something about their vacations, what they did over weekends, silly things, and maybe some history about the past… but nothing at this level of depth.

You realized… he was a private person. There was so much about him you didn’t know.

"Fucked around?" you asked, curiosity getting the best of you.

He shrugged, still careful of his words. "Just got self-destructive. Then got into fights. Ran with the wrong crowd. Slept around and left a trail of crying girls behind.”

You snorted. “Like I said, my type.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. "I’m being serious."

"I know, I know." You waved a spoon at him. "Look, thanks for the heads-up. But you know I’m an adult, right? And that I know what I’m doing? Jungkook’s been good to me, he’s never been an asshole or anything."

Yoongi nodded, but his jaw flexed slightly. “I never said he wasn’t, man. He’s a good kid. Maybe better that most of us, probably why he took their dad’s death the hardest—too soft for this world. He just had a rep, that’s all. I know you’re capable of discernment, so I won’t overstep."

You chuckled. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

He just flashed you with his lopsided grin before he went back to his watermelon.

And you to your cereal.

And that was that.

A run seemed like the best way to clear your head, so you ditched kayaking with your friends despite their groans and protests.

The place was vast, giving you plenty of room to let your thoughts settle.

Except, there was nothing to settle.

You had no thoughts, just the nagging feeling that something was off.

Later, after you showered and changed, you joined everyone at the cottage for an afternoon picnic.

The scene was lively—Yoongi and Jimin were manning the grill, Jungkook and Taehyung had just returned from the kitchen carrying a massive icebox filled with drinks, and you took a seat beside Allie to help peel eggs for sandwiches.

But every time you placed a freshly peeled egg into the container, Taehyung swooped in and popped it straight into his mouth.

"Taehyung, I swear, peel your own damn egg!" you snapped, swatting at his hand.

He barely reacted, but his eyes suddenly narrowed as he leaned in close.

"Wait… what's that on your neck?"

Your fingers instinctively brushed over the skin just below your jaw. "What?"

A wicked grin stretched across Taehyung’s face. "Holy shit. Is that a hickey?"

All heads turn to you.

You stilled, your fingers still ghosting over your neck. But you didn’t react beyond that. Taehyung thrived on even the smallest hint, and any sudden movement could make him sniff out the truth, and you weren’t about to give him that chance.

"Oh my god, it is! And it's fresh too! Who the hell were you with?” He continued, louder.

It wasn’t a big deal.

So what if you and Jungkook made out—okay, so what if he made you come? Hard. With just his fingers. And yeah, it was good. Mind-numbingly, toe-curlingly, embarrassingly good.

And sure, you both obviously had the hots for each other. But that didn’t mean anything. Right?

“I knew it!” Taehyung clapped his hands together. “Yoongi? Finally? The ship has sailed!”

At that, you snapped your head toward him, eyes narrowing. “What? No!”

Unfortunately, you have now everyone’s attention. Thanks to Taehyung. The entire group turned to look between you and Yoongi, amused.

Jungkook remained unreadable.

Yoongi remained completely unbothered, simply flipping a skewer.

"Last night? Like… when I went downstairs last night?" Jimin repeated absentmindedly, his brows furrowing as he tried to piece things together.

"I knew something was up! I knew you'd eventually hook up!" Taehyung continued.

"Taehyung, shut up. We did not," you deadpanned.

"Then who? Jimin?" He snorted. "Nah, not unless it was a drunken mistake." His eyes flickered to Jungkook for half a second, "Jungkook? Hmm. Possibly. But Yoongi? I’ve always known."

Then he gasped. "Wait! Didn’t you used to have a crush on him?"

Jungkook shifted on his seat, as he popped open a can of beer with unnecessary force.

You turned to Yoongi, silently begging him to help you out, but he just shrugged as if to say “not my problem, kid”.

"Taehyung," you exhaled sharply. "Drop it."

Surprisingly, he did. He held up his hands in surrender but sing-songed. “Alright, whatever you say.”

The conversation moved on. The food was grilled. Drinks were passed around. Laughter filled the air.

But every now and then, you caught Jungkook’s gaze flickering toward you.

Unreadable.

And you told yourself there was nothing to read, nothing to talk about.

At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

taglist: @taekritimin123, @vantelover1306, @random-musingsss @likewtaf @jeonmaleficent @almatiarau, @kxthx-b, @lively-potter, @jk-190811, @ilovejungkook9999, @goldietigers294, @dreamyluna18, @va1-erie, @snow-strawberry, @lovieku, @daskewl @jksusawife @daskewl @pp0810 @cherryreadsfics @boyfriendtaekook @michuga @kchukes @ahgasegotarmy116 @michellekosmos @pitchblack0309 @hoseokteardrop @blueberriesm @jkslaugh97 @mysteriousgeminizone @jimintopiaaaa @marvelbun @rayyrayy10 @onlyoursol-ace @rkivesarchive

a/n: please lmk if i missed you, and as always, thank you for reading.

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