#trying out the new fic format that i see all over the place

[tusks-and-claws]

The Death of Peace of Mind

Miguel O’hara x female reader

Summary: "I miss the way you say my name/the way you bend, the way you break"

You think your fearless leader needs help relaxing, but another door is opened entirely

Tags/warnings: smut (18+), oneshot, fingering, blowjob, pronebone, blood, biting, unprotected sex, paralytic venom, dominant Miguel, dirty talk, God there’s so much to list : )

Word count: 3.3k 

Can also be found on Ao3 here. Please give it some love if you enjoyed ;_;

-

"I know better than this, I shouldn't be… we shouldn't be doing this."

Miguel O'Hara sat at the edge of your bed, your room softly illuminated by a candle on the bedside table. He liked the dark. His back was to you, his broad shoulders slumped forward, as you had your back against your headboard. He was still in his suit, his mask off.

"Miguel…" you said, starting this conversation again for the umpteenth time. "You have needs, too, y'know." 

He waved a hand dismissively. "What are my needs when compared to all this?" He gestured to nothing. You weren't even at HQ. You were both in your dimension. A vacation, you had said. You could never get him to leave HQ for long. "I know what happens when I try to get what I want. When I go where I don't belong."

You furrowed your brow. "But you do belong here, I invited you."

"You know exactly what I mean." He spoke quickly. Trying to expel the words as fast as possible. 

Your arms crossed over your chest as you eyed him. He'd been through a lot, yes, but what Spider hadn't? How long was he going to keep ignoring himself for the greater good? What purpose would he serve if he tore himself apart? 

"You're right," you said, finally. 

"What?" He asked, peering over his shoulder to look at you, incredulous. 

"You're right," you repeated. "You can leave."

"I… well. I suppose I can leave. Do you… want me to?"

You suppressed a smile. "I don't really care," you lied. 

"You…?" He turned around at that, hands on the bed as he swiveled his torso to meet your eyes. "You can't be serious. I- I made the effort to make sure Jess could cover me so we could come here, I… it's a huge waste of time. You see that, don't you?" 

"I guess so." It was hard for you to break eye contact with him, but you managed to do it, and stared pointedly out the window. 

"You 'guess,' I can't-" he rubbed his face with his hands. "You're so frustrating, I can't read you, you-" 

Your face broke, betraying you, a smirk cracking your façade.

He narrowed his eyes, fully turning around now, bringing his knees up onto the bed to crawl to you. His claws came out, and they pulled at the threads of your comforter, threatening to tear holes. "Is this what you want? You want to make me mad?" 

You blushed as he made his way to you, his sudden intensity stirring you into silence. 

"Well?" He asked. "Suddenly so quiet." He reached you now, looming over you with both hands on the headboard on either side of you, his muscular thighs straddling your legs. His huge frame took up your whole vision, his presence overwhelming your heightened senses. Heat was radiating from his body. His scent washed over you. He was all clean musk and warmth and something deeper, something primal. It played to your baser mind, telling you to lose control and give in. 

You swallowed. "You have no need to stay here." You weren't done teasing him just yet. 

"But you have need, hm?" He looked down to study your form, releasing his hands from the headboard to touch the hem of your shirt. "Don't you?"

You held your breath, nodding.

"Say it." His tone was casual. Flippant.

Your breath left you as your lips parted to speak, the words far from you as your brain grew foggy. He always liked to hear you admit how much you wanted it, how much you wanted him. And he always asked you when he knew you'd struggle to form a response. 

"Yes." It was the only thing your brain made abundantly clear. Yes. Yes, you have needs. Yes, in this moment, he was one of them. 

"Yes what?"

How cruel. Under his gaze for this long, intense and bloodshot, you grew more flustered and delirious. 

"Yes, Miguel, I have need of you." You impressed yourself with the eloquence of your reply. 

"Oh? Oh, do you?" His hands finally moved again, snaking under the bottom of your shirt, the fabric of his suit keeping your skin from touching his. "That's kind of selfish of you, isn't it?"

You nodded, biting your bottom lip and closing your eyes as his hands moved to firmly hold the sides of your waist, thumbs stroking soft skin. He was being careful to not scratch you. Though his claws were retractable, you noticed throughout your encounters that he had a hard time keeping them hidden when his passions were running high. But part of you didn't care if he marked you up. Part of you wanted to keep something from him. Something more than awkward passing glances and intimate encounters that were few and far between. 

"M-Miguel?"

"Mm? What is it?"

"You don't need to be gentle, y’know."

His gaze flicked to meet yours as he raised an eyebrow. He seemed amused. 

"It's just that," for some reason, you felt the need to elaborate. "I'm strong, too. I can handle it. You've been so stressed."

"So… you want me to use you?" His voice was low and level. 

Use. The word sent a shock up your spine. He could see the emotions flashing across your face, the thoughts of him, of what he might do to you. Was this safe? Could he control himself? He'd have to. You'd just have to trust him. 

You released a breath you hadn't noticed you were holding, meeting him in his bloodshot eyes. "Yes. Please."

He grinned, bearing his pearly fangs in the flickering candlelight. The fog in your head grew thicker at the sight of them. Would he bite you with them? How would they feel against your skin? How would they feel piercing you? Would it hurt? Would it-

The feeling of his bare forefinger, claw retracted, gently teasing your slit quickly shut you up. When did he move his hand under the hem of your shorts? You were so deep within your own clouded thoughts, you hadn't even noticed. He caressed you there before carefully plunging his finger into your heat. The feeling was immediately maddening. You bit your lip to keep yourself from asking for more, for another finger, for his mouth, for his- no. You were following his pace. This was what you wanted, yes, but it was mostly for him. You somehow knew that he needed this more than you did, though he'd never admit it.

The whole time, he kept his reddened eyes on your face, studying every reaction. "You're wet, you're so wet…." His voice was quiet. "So, this is what does it for you, huh?" He pumped his finger at a steady pace. You could hear the wet sounds he elicited with his efforts. You braced yourself on his hulking shoulders, preparing for him to quicken at any moment. But he was agonizingly slow. His free hand gripped the headboard above you as he leaned down to whisper into your ear. "Me, your leader, using you." There was that word again. You lightly arched your back into him upon hearing it, trying to keep yourself calm for now. Falling apart could come later. "I try so hard to hold it all together. But you… you threaten me. The looks you give me, your smiles, your smell, estoy cachondo, fuck." Your eyes widened. He only spoke Spanish when his emotions were heightened. He was unraveling. 

Good.

He slipped his digit out from inside of you and circled your clit with a slick fingertip. The feeling was intense and electric, and even though you were still half-pinned by his muscular thighs, your upper body curled into him. "Seeing you like this…" he swallowed, his heartbeat quickening. "Rendering you helpless… It's revenge for how you make me feel when you look at me the way you do. If I can make you feel half of that… that might be enough. You're going to come for me. Feel what I feel." 

You nodded fervently, unable to speak under his attention, his words, his touch. That delicious, warm feeling was building up and coiling in your core as he kept expertly circling your clit, until the coil finally snapped and you came, lifting up off of the bed and throwing your arms around his neck as you whimpered. Miguel continued as you rode it out, reveling in the newfound wetness that came with your orgasm, until you finally settled down, your heart still thumping in your chest. You released your hold of him, your arms weak, your gaze heavy. He seemed to match your labored breathing, his chest rising and falling in time with yours. You had hardly even touched him and he seemed as much of a mess as you were. 

He stared at you like that for a brief moment, seemingly awestruck at your reaction to this newly opened door. 

"God, I need… I need your mouth around my cock." He flipped unceremoniously off of you to lay on his back at your side. "Come here." Before you had time to react, he had a hand on your head, guiding you downward. Despite the forceful movement, he fondly scratched at your scalp with bare fingers, his hand shaking just enough for you to notice. You positioned yourself so your head rested on his hard abdominals while you admired the display he brought you down to see. His hard cock pushed against his nearly metallic suit. The sheen of the fabric left almost nothing to the imagination. You could see his thick shaft, prominent veins like rivers flowing over a landscape, all leading up to the bulbous head. He twitched eagerly as he sighed, trying to calm his heart. 

You reached your hand up to touch Miguel through his suit, and his reaction was bodily. He hissed a breath in through clenched teeth. You played with his hard length, running the flat of your palm up and down the underside of his shaft, until he couldn't take it anymore. He seemed to be able to dismiss parts of his suit at will, and he did just that, creating an opening so he could spring free. It was always an impressive sight, sizable and thick. His golden skin slightly red with anticipation at the head of his cock, soft dark waves of short hair at the base. Reaching up, you gently held it. You couldn't quite wrap your whole hand around it. He exhaled at your touch, skin on skin. The hand he had in your hair gently pushed your head until your waiting lips met the tip of his cock, and you accepted it, closing your mouth around it.

Miguel threw his head back, slamming it against the headboard and shaking the two of you on the bed. The sound startled you, but you knew the headboard would've taken more damage than Miguel. He gave no indication that he was hurt, and so you kept going, sucking on the tip of his cock and being as noisy as possible so it would overwhelm that heightened hearing of his. And overwhelm it did. The soft, wet heat of your mouth was nearly too much for him. And as you started to take him deeper, he reached his arms up and behind him, taking the headboard into a vice grip. You could hear the wood splintering. 

That should've worried you, you should've cared about your furniture being destroyed. But you didn't. You couldn't, not with Miguel O'Hara melting underneath you. He could destroy a thousand bed frames. So long as you could touch him, could hear him moaning, could watch him as he barely held his composure. This would always be worth it. 

You took him further into your mouth, humming around his length at the pleasant,  full feeling. You were slow, holding him there, savoring the taste of him and the weight of him on your tongue.

"M-move-" he croaked.

You turned your gaze towards his face, raising an eyebrow. He was straining. Muscles bulging, chest heaving, fangs displayed in clenched teeth. You could see the prominent cracks in the wood.

"Move your shocking head, amor."

His hands came down to tangle with your hair, grabbing handfuls so he could move your head for you. You happily let him, and he bobbed you up and down on his shaft as you opened your throat to him. 

"Oh, fuck, yes… that's it. Good girl. You're- you're taking me so fucking well." 

Your eyes started rolling into the back of your head fondly. Good girl. He'd never called you that before. You'd be good for him. You'd be so good. 

The sounds coming from you were the very definition of lewd, as were the strands of thick saliva that connected you to him. You closed your eyes, continuing to breathe through your nose, when you felt something prick your scalp. His claws. In and out, in and out. He was struggling to keep control of them.

"Ay, coño, I can't fucking do this." His voice barely a whisper. "You're gonna," he paused, swallowing. "You're gonna make me lose control, you know that?" Despite his words, he kept going, kept moving your head, even started to thrust his hips up to fuck your throat more thoroughly. His moans turned into what could only be described as growls, and the sound of them hit you like an electric shock, making you want him even more. If that were even possible. 

His claws kept scraping you, threatening to fully unsheath. But Miguel never let them. He finally let your head go, bringing his hands up to his face and rubbing it in exhaustion. You stayed on his cock for a moment longer, carefully lifting your head away and disconnecting from him with a wet pop.

He groaned to himself through his hands. 

"Miguel…? You alright?"

"No." He finally said, "no, I'm fucking not."

You cocked your head in surprise at the response, opening your mouth to question him further until you were cut off by him quickly grabbing you and positioning you underneath him. He was pinning your legs again, but you were faced down this time, your cheeks pressed against the soft sheets as he pushed you into the mattress. He finally let his claws out, and with one swift movement, tore your shorts and panties into ribbons. In that moment, you were glad he couldn't see your face. You were grinning like an idiot. Finally. You're finally seeing the side of him that you always knew was there. That you desperately wanted him to let out. Your previous encounters had been tame compared to this. He'd been holding back. 

"Because now," he grabbed your waist with both of his large hands, holding firm. "Now I know that you like being treated like a little fucktoy. I know that you'll be good for me and that you'll listen. What a rarity." He started to line up the tip of his cock with your entrance. "And if I thought you took up too much space in my head already, well-" he chuckled, pushing his tip into your pussy. "I'll never have peace of mind again."

He thrusted into you, and you were immediately seeing stars. With each pump, he took himself nearly all the way out of your warmth before plunging all the way back in. You could feel every delicious, hot inch of him. So deep and so filling. He fucked you into the mattress so thoroughly and so hard that you were convinced a crater was forming underneath the both of you. You felt the sharp points of his claws pricking your skin but not quite puncturing you. Your head swam as you grew dizzy. 

He released your waist, left hand steadying himself on the low headboard, which was bound to break again. His right arm snuck up underneath your right arm, reaching around your collarbone to grab at your left shoulder, pulling you up so you were close into him. His chest was flush with your back. You reached up to hold onto that arm for dear life, as he brought his mouth down to your ear. 

"Wanna bite you so bad, amor," he growled. "You smell so shocking good. Drivin' me up a fucking wall."

"Do it," you said, your voice strained.

"Wh-what?" His pace wavered. "You can't mean that."

"I- fuck- I do. Bite me, Miguel. Please."

"Are you," he exhaled a shaky breath. "Are you sure? It's a paralytic venom. I've- I've used it on Spiders before and we can withstand it a bit, but, shit… I need you to know what you're getting into." 

"Do it," you said again. 

His entire body shook against you. "Unbelievable…." His voice sounded reverent. "Hold on tight."

You listened, gripping his arm harder, shutting your eyes. His mouth came down to meet the crook of your neck. He inhaled, letting your scent wash over him, before carefully sinking his fangs into your skin. The pain was sharp and fast, and was quickly replaced with a wave of warmth and laxity. Your muscles loosened, allowing him to easily pull you in even closer. He moaned against you, his thrusts quickening, his cock feeling like it was hitting your cervix. With every smack of his skin against yours, he buried himself to the hilt. That incredible, intense feeling was building within you again, deep inside your core.

"Fuck," he hissed into your skin, releasing his jaws and lapping at the light trickle of crimson blood. "Good girl, good girl, I've got you."

He held you and didn't let go, caging you against his huge form, fucking you until that feeling turned into a huge sunburst that sent spots across your vision. Your body trembled involuntarily as you clenched around his cock. 

"Yes," he encouraged, "yes, come for me. Give it all to me. I've got you, bebé."

You smiled against the venom, and he was right, it wasn't too potent in your system. It was just enough to comfortably loosen your muscles. You came down from your high as he kept pumping into you, his pace merciless. His body started to shake again, his right hand's grip on your left shoulder tightening. 

“Too much for me to handle,” he rasped. “I’m gonna come… gonna come inside you.”

“Yes,” you croaked, finding your voice and gaining back enough control of your muscles to push yourself up into him. 

His tempo stuttered as he slammed his hips into you, curling against you as he came. His cock twitched inside of you, spilling hot seed in thick spurts. He held you there for a long while, savoring the feeling of being inside you, like he knew he'd miss the warmth once it was gone. Despite what he wanted, he let go of you and flipped onto his back beside you, placing a hand over his heart as his chest heaved. He closed his eyes, trying to compose himself. Silently reaching for you, he pulled you in so you could rest against his chest, your head rising and falling with each heavy breath he took. He stroked your hair as you stared up at him, his face glowing in the yellow shine of candlelight. 

"That…" he started to say, then stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I…. I needed that." 

You smiled, nuzzling into him. "Thank you." 

"You're thanking me?" He asked, laughing at how ridiculous it sounded. 

"Yeah," you said. "I feel like I finally saw Miguel tonight. Not Spider-Man. But Miguel. And I really like him." 

He rolled his eyes but still smiled, petting your head until you fell asleep on him.

[rafesfawn]

🪽🧺 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋

𝜗ৎ⋆｡˚ when rafe sees a precious little doll on the side of the road with a broke-down car, how can he resist out of the kindness of his heart offering her a ride? just a ride home, that's all...

or how trailerpark!angel!reader and rafe met!

warnings: use of the nickname pet & little one, reader! is eighteen-nineteen! bit of perv!rafe, barely proofread!

a/n: first time writing a rafe fic/blurb! im so excited, also this is based on this ask and thank you so much for sending something I really appreciated it and I hope u like it mwah! I would say you two meet in like early season 2 (right before the cross storyline) also for the format slight ib to others on here esp @rafesangelita (sorry for the tag!)

this was based off of this ask! which tysm i literally love requests and rafe and trailerpark!angel!reader is my new obsession <3

a small, meaningless kick was made to the tire while you huffed and groaned, putting two hands over your frustrated features as all you wanted to curl up into a ball and cry.

“piece of shit,” you mumbled under your breath, kicking the tire once more, but immediately a whimper fell from your lips. the pain shot from your toe up to your spine. making you sniffle and tip-toe in pain. in your denim ruffle skirt, white socks, and pink converse, you sat down on the asphalt, on the side of the road, leaning against the side of your broken-down car.

she wasn’t the best car, but she surely got you around most of the time. most of the time. it was a little volkswagen beetle, light pink in color, covered in so many stickers some wondered if it was passing inspection. it wasn't.

sitting with your head against the car for what felt like hours (it was maybe ten minutes), but spending even that on the side of a main road in kildare island was torture. especially with the beating sun late august provided.

rafe was speeding down the road on the way to play golf and get drunk with topper and kelce. “ah shit, i don’t know, man.” he said into his phone, holding it up with one hand; his voice gruff and confident, topper on the other line. “you really think i won’t kick your ass today huh?” a smirk grew on his already smug expression.

letting out a short chuckle at toppers response, nothing anybody ever said meant more than a laugh to him. or that's what it used to be like anyway, his act wasn't together if anything, it was worse than it'd ever been. his father condemning him to disingenuous "discipline" to forget about the possible death of his golden daughter.

"the fuck?" he mutters into the mic, his voice laced with confusion. as he sees up ahead on the road, a pink car broken down, with the most precious thing sitting against it. a pout on the angels soft lips and the most defeated look in her eye. aw, you just fell right into my lap, didn't you? little angel.

your eyes glued on the pavement, your entertainment of watching a little ladybug try to make it to safety in the distance, was shortly interrupted.

a nice black truck coming into view it came to such a short stop it almost took your breath away, the breaks slightly screeching at the haste. a tire replaced the spot the ladybug once was.

you stood brushing the dirt and gravel off the backsides of your pale thighs, left bare by the short fabric of your skirt.

the man stepped out of the truck. he was tall, and the sleeves of his polo looked like they were about to burst at the seams, not able to contain the biceps beneath. his features strong and statue-like, his deep sea eyes hidden behind the curtain bangs that hung over his forehead. a grin that seemed too genuine, too good to be true.

you removed your heart-shaped sunglasses, placing them on top of your head to see him more clearly. your possible savior, but he was anything but.

he stepped a bit closer, seeing the state of her already pretty beaten car, "having some car trouble?" rafe asked as if he wasn't stating the obvious.

you pretended he wasn't either as you nodded, the frown only slight now but still on your lips as your eyes remained looking up into his.

"aw.. poor thing we can't have that, what happened?" his voice, a mockery of sympathy. as he inspected the piece of shit car she loved so much. his care coming from a place of ownership, of burning ache or want.

still, in slight shock, you hadn't answered him, following behind him as he reopened the hood like he owned the car. not even realizing you'd been rude and not replied till he spoke again. "little one, i can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong." a heady mix of gentle and firm that made your mouth go dry and your head dizzy.

"oh- it's been on her last limb for like ever, i guess she finally called it quits... right on my way home." you said with a little sad laugh that rafe wanted to bottle the sound of and listen to on repeat. "and I really need to get home," you added fiddling with your fingers in front of you.

a sweet girl all out of options, rafe was so glad he was here to provide her with his help. "tell you what, I'll take you home and come back and fix this thing up for you, huh?" he offered, there goes his saturday plans he presumed. it'd be worth it. he told himself he'd make it worth it, with those shy eyes and the expression you carried like a lost puppy. you'd owe him he'd make sure to get something in return.

just like he figured, you shook your head. never wanting to accept such a grand favor. "I can't ask you to do that, I mean, I don't even know your name." nerves, curiosity, and a glint of something else tinged in your voice, so many wonders in that head as soon as his truck came to a stop for you. why? the only question running through your mind.

"It's rafe, can I help you out now?" his genuine grin turned almost smug at his own remark, brushing that bangs out his face, the effort pointless as they immediately fell back again.

you paused. picking at the already chipped white nail polish on your sore fingertips, a larger-rougher hand covered your own, stopping your movements with that firm gentleness he carried around her. you looked up at him, he was so much closer. the scent of some cologne that probably could pay your rent, and a tinge of smokey wood filled your senses.

"pet?" he questioned with an expecting tilt of his head, calling you that like it was the most natural thing in the world.

your body and mouth responding before giving another second for your brain or anxiety to think it over, you nodded. "can you please give me a ride home?" you hesitantly asked, it felt weird. getting help, and even asking for it felt foreign, he offered it so graciously like it was nothing.

looking down upon her, his grin turned genuine once again, his eyes seemed almost proud it was a soothing balm to her nervous heart. a rosy hue to her cheeks as his palm covered the side of her neck, making a few pats to the flesh before leading her to his truck.

you'd owe him. something he was sure you were ready for.

[forlix]

· . ˚ 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

— the moments in which the members of stray kids realize how they truly feel about you.

words・1.4k / pairings・ot8 x gn!reader / warnings・depictions of conflict and anxiety in hyunjin's and han's / genres・domestic fluff, smidges of hurt/comfort, established relationships

a/n・thought i'd try out a new fic format :-) i had so much fun writing these and hope you like reading them just as much. any and all feedback is appreciated, as always!

chan is in a heated staring contest with his notepad when the door opens, and he knows that it’s you who comes in, but his head is miles away, tangled in an amalgamation of syllables and rhythms. he goes on to forget that you’re here for a short while, poring over the unfinished lyrics in front of him with undivided focus. that is, until he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder.

you’ve just pulled a chair up next to his desk. “lemme see,” you say, gesturing to the notepad. there’s a surprised pause, and then chan places it in your hand, scoots closer to you.

you spend the next two hours talking him through his block, but there are periods when you fall silent to brainstorm or to write something down, and chan takes those quiet opportunities just to look at you: wearing one of his old t-shirts, your hair still damp from your shower, completely concentrated. and he knows, then, that he wants to marry you.

minho doesn’t realize he loves you in a singular moment. rather, he has a faint inkling for some time, and then the rug is randomly pulled from beneath his feet, and all of a sudden he can’t remember a version of his world that didn't have you at its center.

there are times when he’s especially aware of his feelings, though. like when he throws a witty remark in your direction and your retort comes back twice as sharp. when your eyes and smile light up like lanterns as you talk to him about your passions. when one (or all) of his cats hover at your side as you go about your day. when he returns home after a grueling practice and you’re there to offer him your comfort, no matter his withdrawn demeanor or sweaty skin.

he is a quiet lover, and sometimes he worries that he’s too quiet, that you have no idea what’s going on inside him every time he looks at you. but words have never really been necessary with minho. you know. you just do.

changbin is greeted by a chilly breeze when he emerges from the gym, and he silently chastizes himself for forgetting to bring an outer layer yet again. but the temperature moves to the back of his mind when he spots you, waiting on the sidewalk, as you said you would. a familiar grin breaks across your face when you see him, and he feels its shape against his lips when he runs over and kisses you, in lieu of hello.

“what are you feeling for dinner?” you ask once he’s pulled away, and he realizes that you’ve pressed something to his chest: one of the hoodies that he keeps at your place, still soft and warm from just coming out of the dryer. and boom—the epiphany hits him, instantly and unequivocally.

he is dumbfounded for a moment, just processing the newfound discovery; and then, out of nowhere, the two of you say the name of the same restaurant at the same time. he swears he never believed in soulmates until he met you.

hyunjin has always held so many emotions in his heart so fervently, to the point that they sometimes overflow in the form of words that he doesn’t believe, in a tone that he doesn’t intend. and it happened again today, when he spoke to you the wrong way in a moment of pure impulse, and the surprise on your face morphed into poorly-disguised hurt.

a few hours later, the weight of his actions sits heavily on his shoulders. when he lifts his phone to call you, his hands are shaking a little, and a breathy apology spills from his lips the moment he hears you on the other end: “i’m sorry, angel. i’m trying, i promise. i really am.” to which you answer, “i know, hyune. i forgive you. we’ll keep trying together, okay?” and your words pull his heartstrings in a new direction entirely.

he asks if he can come over, you say yes, and he tells you he loves you as soon as you open the door. he’s done hiding his heart from you.

jisung’s contagious grin and raucous cackle come easily to him for the most part, but there are times when he forgets how it feels to laugh or to breathe, times when he wants only to hide from the world and all of its scariest parts. and when you see his figure in the doorway tonight, his face cast in a nameless shadow, his shoulders sunken in quiet defeat, you understand immediately that this is one of those times.

“do you wanna talk about it?” you ask as he approaches you. silently, he shakes his head: not tonight. but his body language asks for what he cannot verbalize. you extend your arms toward him, and he buries himself in them the second he’s close enough to, his face nestling the crook of your neck, the tension in his limbs melting at your gentle touch. you stay there for a long time, rubbing circles between his shoulder blades, coaxing him back to the ground, back to you.

wherever he chooses to hide, he thinks he’d like to take you with him.

when felix opens his eyes, the space in the bed next to him is empty, and the faint scent of flour and sugar wafts through the gap beneath his door.

he gets to his feet, throws on some clothes, and wanders in the direction of the smell, rubbing the sleep from his eyes—and the sight that awaits him makes him wonder if he’s still dreaming. you’re standing at the stove, still in your pajamas, hair slightly disheveled from your rest, and there are pancakes in the frying pan before you; sliced strawberries on the cutting board next to the stove. and the look of sheer focus on your face, as if staring at the pancakes will cook them faster, absolutely destroys him. (and he knows in that moment that he wants to wake up to you for the rest of his life.)

with an enamored smile, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulls your back to his chest, and presses a light kiss to the nape of your neck. “morning, beautiful,” he mumbles sweetly. “how fucking lucky am i?”

being around you makes seungmin feel like a kid with a crush. he smiles brighter and laughs louder. he opens like a lotus in bloom when you say his name. the floaty sensation he gets when you kiss his cheek or hold his hand persists for hours afterward—and none of it makes any fucking sense to him. it’s not that he doesn’t believe in love, but he’s never believed that love could feel like this, straight out of a sonnet.

now, your head is on his shoulder, your body rising and falling in your slumber. seungmin looks at your interlocked hands where they rest on his knee, and at the current track displayed on his lockscreen: “still” by day6, a song about losing and loving, about regret and reminiscence. those bright days between us are over, the lyrics go, and he makes a silent promise to your sleeping form that the bright days between the two of you will never end.

the word "love" still doesn't cross his mind, but it is etched all over his face, and carved into his soul.

you and jeongin are telling each other about your days over dinner when your phone lights up with an incoming call, and he nearly spits out his mouthful when he sees who it’s from. for a few seconds, the two of you just stare at each other in flabbergasted silence. but then, you raise your phone to your ear: “hi, grandma! to what do i owe this pleasure?”

and the voice of his grandmother comes back through the receiver. she tells you that she’s just gone on an evening walk and found herself thinking of you, so she wanted to see how you’re doing; if you’re taking care of yourself. you rush to thank her, looking entirely flustered, and a bit like you’re about to burst into tears.

with that, the two of you launch into chatter about everything under the sun: grocery store discounts, the recent humidity, jeongin’s bad habits, you name it. and it finally dawns on jeongin how inextricably embedded in his life you have become—and that he doesn’t want it any other way.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

[baby-yongbok]

Don't Go Insane

Neighbor!Bang Chan x afab!Reader

✧Genre - Smut ✧Warnings: Unprotected piv (Wrap it up ya'll) ✧ Masterlist ✧

A/N: I have never ever written a fic in this format but it was the only was for my brain to process the idea😭This is a product of those fucking SINFUL photos that Chan took for Nylon Japan. I'm sorry if it sucks, I'm trying to get back into writing again so I might suck for a bit, sorry! Hope you enjoy! (not proofread)

You weren't expecting to actually like your new neighbor since your previous one was such a dick but when you meet Chan he's more than kind to you. 

He always greets you in the hallway, helping you bring your bags up to your place when you get home from shopping and checks in on you when he hasn't seen you for a couple of days

You find yourself going out around the same time that he would usually get home from his morning workout just so you can talk to him. He's so sweet and charming and hot. Oh so hot. 

He brings you food when he's made too much dinner to fit in his fridge which is code for he wanted an excuse to talk to you and gave you 50% of his meal just to see your face. 

You invite him in to eat the first time that he brings you food and it quickly turns into spending Sunday nights eating together and laughing at his stories. It's your favorite day of the week now. 

You drop by his place to ask if he needs anything from the store every time that you go now. He's memorized the pattern of your knock and jumps to his feet every time he hears it. 

You're in line at the store one day when a magazine catches your eye. Is that…Chan!? You grab it, looking through with wide eyes before buying it and nearly forgetting about the rest of your items. 

You don't tell him that you saw it. He never said what he did for work and yeah he's hot - Oh so hot - but you never thought that this would be his occupation and you defiantly didn't think that this is how you'd find out.

You flip through the magazine all night. Staring at his beautiful chocolate gaze and his perfectly blushed lips. How is he even real?

You may have also stared at his shirtless pics for an hour too long. No one has to know that though.

He brings over a new recipe that he tried this Sunday. Setting up your usual spot on the living room floor when his eyes land on a familiar photo on your side table. It's him. You bought his magazine? He tries to act normal about it but his red ears and blushed cheeks give him away. 

You catch on when he glances at it for a second time and you internally body slam yourself for forgetting to put it away. You both eat quietly, blushing and trying to find the right thing to say next. 

“I'm sorry about that.” You speak first and he glances up quickly, straightening himself up with a shy smile. “It's fine, I'm just embarrassed I guess.” He's shy about being hot?? Why does that make him hotter?

“Are you always the shy type?” Your question was genuine but your tone was suggestive, almost teasing. It creates a shift in his demeanor that makes you shiver. “Not always, no.”

You don't know how it happened. It's all a blur. One second he was talking to you, confident and sweet. He was telling you about the shoot for the magazine when he got to the topic of the shirtless photos. The air around you thickened and the words that started it all slid off your tongue.

“You look so good it could drive me insane.” You chuckled but his eyes darkened in response. 

“Do you want me to?” His eyes are on yours, his gaze is heavy and intense. “What?” You drop your fork, swallowing hard. “Make you go insane?”

That's how you ended up with his lips on yours. He swallowed each and every strangled moan and replaced it with one of his own. His hands explored your body, fast yet cautious. A gentleman.

He pulls you into his lap, one of his large palms gripping your ass over your leggings and the other cupping your cheek to keep you still for him. He pulls you close, chest to chest. He's been waiting to feel you since the moment he first saw you. He feels like he's dreaming and he prays that he never wakes up. 

His breathing picks up when you plant sloppy kisses along his jawline. Mind numbing groans and hisses falling from his lips. “You're gonna make me go insane, fuck.”

His lips feel like heaven against your skin. Soft and all-consuming. He leaves marks along your collar bones, sucking and flicking his tongue over the delicate skin. Your head is spinning as you take him in. This beautiful man that you've been dreaming of for months finally has his hands on you. 

You grind against him, his fingers digging into your hips as he presses up into you. The way that he looks up at you with his lip caught between his teeth is intoxicating. “You're so fucking beautiful.” He smiles at your compliment, blinking a blush away and trying to keep his composure. “Took the words right outta my mouth.”

You pull back, sitting on the shaggy rug and frantically undressing. You're desperate, antsy, absolutely insatiable and Chan isn't too far behind but you could never tell by how composed he looks. How does he have that much self control?

He moves to sit on the couch and watches you as you strip. Taking in every beautiful inch of your body while he makes himself comfortable. You look up at him as he sits, man spreading at the edge of your couch and giving you the perfect view of his aching cock straining against his jeans. 

Fucking sinful

"Crawl to me, baby. Come here." He beckons you with two fingers that you're dying to be acquainted with. The smile on his face while you follow his order is enough to make you explode already.

He leans forward, cupping your face and kissing you with such soft hunger. So much passion and desire. A promise, like his kiss is asking you to be his. You palm him softly over his jeans earning a soft moan from him. "You want it?” He leans back, resting against the back of your sofa, giving you full access to his zipper and button. “Go ahead, take it, princess."

His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he watches you free his cock and his eyes roll back when you fist it confidently. Pumping him at a deliciously slow place. You want to drag this out. You don't ever want this to end. 

He puts his hand over yours once he gets fed up with your teasing. He loves how your hand feels around him but he needs more of you. He taps his leaking cock against your lips and you allow your spit to dribble down his shaft. "Stick that tongue out. There we go, baby. That's my girl. Look at that.”

He holds your hair back as you slide his length into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him. His fingers massage your scalp softly making you hum around him. He's a gentleman, a filthy one. 

He couldn’t wait to switch places with you, falling to his knees so fluidly that you couldn’t help but to groan at the sight of him. His gaze never left yours. His eyes were constantly asking for permission to continue and you eagerly granted it every time.

He ate your pussy like a fucking starved man. Lick and sucking the expanse of your cunt like he’d never see you again. Your moans encouraged him as he lapped at you, he wanted - no, needed - you to cum on his tongue. It’s all that he’s been dreaming of for the last month. 

He made you cum twice and had to hold back the urge to keep going. He’s definitely found his new favorite thing.

Nevermind, kissing you is his favorite thing. The way that you sigh into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue and biting his bottom lip drives him wild. 

You’re seeing stars as soon as he slips into you. His strong arms on either side of your head as he hovers, kissing you softly as you adjust to him. “Fuck, you’re a dream come true, ya know that? I’ve dreamt of this, princess.” You can hardly reply once he fills you to the hilt but you try to anyway, moaning out as your vision blurs. “Wanted you so bad, Channie.”

That was enough to break him. He snapped his hips into you, giving you everything that you ever wanted, ever needed, from him. He fucks you deep, speeding up gradually just to hear you moan his name a little louder. He wants to be gentle with you but with a cunt that feels this amazing he can’t help but want to make you fall apart underneath him.

You always imagined being on top when you finally got to be with Chan but it looks like that’ll have to be another day. The way that his cock is splitting you open makes you feel like you might have to call out of work tomorrow. 

“Look at me, babygirl. You liked seeing my pictures, huh? Did you touch this pretty cunt while looking at them?” You nod your head with such urgency that you’re positive that you look absolutely pathetic but Chan thinks that it’s cute, he’s in love with how fucked out you look drooling under him. “All you had to do was ask for the real thing.” He rolls his hips into you and your eyes roll back right after. 

He holds both of your hands as he slows down a bit, he wants to make love to you. Wants to treat you like the precious gem that he knows that you are but your cunt keeps fucking squeezing around him. He curses under his breath as he tries to compose himself but it’s no use. He watches as he disappears inside of you, groaning when he sees just how perfectly your pussy is taking him. “You’re gonna make me cum, baby. You’re too much. Too good.” 

Much to his surprise you cave before he does, chanting his name like a prayer while he rocks into you at the perfect angle. You feel dizzy as you unravel under him, nails digging into his strong arms and your legs wrapping around his waist in a desperate attempt to feel grounded. 

The way that you look cumming on his cock drives him over the edge. He picks up the pace, fucking you through your orgasm while he’s chasing his. The overstimulation draws out your climax causing a new wave of pleasure to hit you harder than the last. “Yeah yeah yeah, oh fuck such a pretty girl cumming on my cock like that, that's it baby.” He doesn’t even know what he’s saying but he doesn’t care he’s so close so so so close.

You forced your eyes open when he pulled out, you needed to watch him stroke himself over the edge and cover your stomach in his cum. You need to take in the way his eyes squeeze shut and his brows furrow while he moans for you. “Oh fuck fuck fuck.”

The giggles that you share after may be Chan’s new favorite part. He cleaned you up and wrapped his arms around you. Pressing kisses to your hair as you both talk about what just happened with smiles on your faces 

“This is a bit backwards but uh, can I take you out? Maybe next weekend?” The butterflies in your stomach go crazy as you blush into his chest, nodding happily and answering with a muffled ‘yes’ that makes Chan chuckle. “Maybe afterward I can fuck the sense back into ya, since I drove you insane tonight.”

[heechwe]

CHEMTRAILS | 전원우

⟢ PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 11K ⟢ GENRE: angst, smut, sprinkles of fluff ⟢ TAGS: heavy themes of grief/death including a mentioned drunk driving incident (do not tread lightly if these topics are difficult for you to read), minor character death (including a child, but it is all offscreen), coworkers au, pet names (baby, doll, etc), light breast play, fingering, protected sex. ⟢ SYNOPSIS: Wonwoo is the last person you expect to find at a grief support group, but he may just be the peace that you need to weather all of your storms. LINK TO FIC PLAYLIST -ˋˏ✄┈┈ AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is an incredibly personal story for me, as I have suffered parental loss and it is one of the hardest things I've gone through, but in a way, writing it out has helped heal a small part of me, so I am happy to share this with you all. Bless to my friends beta-ing this for me—Allie (@lovetaroandtaemin), Raven (@shadowkoo), Lily (@prkhaven), Sulkie (@innocygnet), and Tiya (@gyubakeries), and everyone else who read snippets of this before it became what it is now. The fic's title inspo is from a song by Lizzy Mcalpine!

GRIEF DOESN’T END, BUT IT CHANGES SHAPE OVER TIME.

The white text over the image of a pastel sunrise initially made you gag when you stepped into the room, the church’s banner haphazardly put up to prepare for today’s session. Now, it’s all your brain can focus on as the surrounding attendees share their stories. The initial greetings stopped thirty minutes ago, with many at the waterworks now to your secondhand chagrin. Others nod and provide supportive commentary, but you don’t have it in you, silence the only usable response. A few people you recognize from the first few weeks surround you; others are brand new, red-faced as they meander through the reasons for their attendance. 

The four walls reek of silent regret and raw sadness, the sniffles and coughs of those trying to hide their pain sticking to the air like heat on a summer day. You’d prefer it to be a hotter season, if only to focus on something else but the ridiculous text looming over you. But the winter chill that accompanies the gloomy atmosphere is another unpleasant reminder of the dangers of wishful thinking.

You could say all the stories and puffy expressions don’t hit a nerve somewhere deep inside of you, but then you’d be a liar. As you’ve learned in the past year, though, you’re getting very good at hiding and denying.

 It’s been forty-five minutes of passive listening on your end, but your attention remains on the chalky slopes of text against the yellow sun disappearing into the mountain formation.

“It’s been six months, and I still don’t know what to do. When I think I’ve gotten over one stage, I’m reminded of something that sets me back.” One attendee you’ve known from the start, Suzy, continues on while staring into the coffee cup in her hands. She’s typically meek in tone, solemn while her hands stay in her thick coat as she recalls the details of her twin sister’s battle with leukemia. But today, there’s a new aura about her, something clipped and biting that is unique to see in this place.

Maybe she’s on the stage of anger this week.

“You know I’ve said healing isn’t linear, Suzy,” Seungcheol, the director of the group, says in a supportive tone.

“I get that, but can I get a break from feeling more than one stage at once? For the love of God.” She blanches immediately and mutters out an apology, making you chuckle to yourself.

You used to think that the phenomenon was a myth, a way for people to rationalize their pain by separating all of it into clear, definable chunks. While you’re now well acquainted with each piece of grief, they all remain a mystery in your eyes. You’re unsure who to ask for the right answers, and you’re not opening your mouth now to humor the group with questions.

The plan has always been the same: attend each session like you’re supposed to, get your slip signed off, and go home. That was the routine for the past two weeks, nothing more to add or subtract. When people addressed you, you weren't unfriendly, but you didn't offer any information. These things considered, you’re adamant about keeping with tradition for the remaining six meetings, including this one.

Yet, the second the door of the church opens, and you see Jeon Wonwoo enter, you know it’ll be impossible to continue staying under the radar.

Wonwoo apologizes profusely as Seungcheol pulls up a chair for the newcomer. Wonwoo’s wearing a scarf that covers a substantial amount of his face, but you’d recognize his wire-frame glasses and that black mop of hair anywhere. He may barely be an acquaintance, but he’s not terrible to look at. “My car was giving me trouble this morning, so—”

“No problem, man,” Seungcheol cuts him off. “Nobody’s late here. You’re always arriving somewhere at the moment you’re meant to, I always say.”

You roll your eyes and tuck your arms tighter into your chest. The older guy always has a plethora of slogans for personal growth up his sleeve. You reckon he probably made the fucking sign with the awful font and stereotypically hopeful photography? It’s anyone’s guess, but you have a good one.

Some hair falls into your face just as Wonwoo sits across from you in the large circle. You think that just might save you from being seen, but recognition crosses his face out of the corner of your eye, and you curse under your breath, knowing you’re fucked.

Jeon Wonwoo, from the legal team at the publishing house you both work for, sees you, the quiet girl from the marketing department. He must have some idea why, given his department’s close relationship with your higher-ups, and that makes your intestines twist in a way akin to food poisoning. You think it may be the perfect time for the world to split open under your feet and take you away, but that’s only a dreamer’s level of luck.

“So, Wonwoo, you’re a newcomer, as we can see. What brings you to the group?”

Wonwoo stutters on an explanation, his cheeks turning a shade of pink. “I think the lady before me was in the middle of her story, but maybe I can share after.”

Seungcheol winks in acknowledgement and goes back to Suzy, continuing where they left off in their discussion. “So, for the stages…”

You feel the heat of Wonwoo’s gaze from across the circle. He’s probably trying to decipher just exactly what led you to this place. Not the church, per se, but the situation at hand. Tired of the burn of his irises on you, you turn your stare on him. His eyes look small under the guise of his glasses, but they enlarge considerably when you make it known you’ve caught him ogling. With your mouth in a thin line but your eyebrows quirked up, you send him a silent dare to continue staring. To your pleasure, he pales and turns away, looking in the same direction as everyone else as Suzy continues on with her rant.

Any secondhand inkling you had to share with the group before the end of the program dies with the turn of Wonwoo’s head, and you prefer it that way. His presence gives you an excuse to not break from routine. Not like you were going to, anyway.

“He was there?” Wooyoung ruffles his hair in secondhand embarrassment, the sound of his nervous expel of breath drowned out by the music in the bar. The local hotspot was a mere five blocks away from your work, and it rarely became overcrowded before you guys had the chance to leave, so coming around now and then with your best friend was still doable, even under your circumstances. It was hard to say no to Wooyoung when he gave you such toothy grins and pleading words. “You barely come out anymore, at least try to spend some time with me for a bit? It’ll be good for you.”

He had to be the only person left you could stomach being around, and the last man on the planet who could handle your latest less than sunny disposition.

Wooyoung immediately goes back to making his shot for the solid blue ball close to the top left-hand pocket when you shoot him a glare that even he can’t joke himself out of. “You think he’ll say anything?” he asks as he moves his pool stick back and forth, testing the waters of the angle he’s chosen to hit the cue ball from.

“I hope not.” You groan and knock your head against your pool stick. Replaying yesterday afternoon in your head, you barely could get through the workday filled with pitch proposals and strategy meetings. You couldn’t help but wonder if Wonwoo was lurking around every corner of the building, waiting to discuss how he saw you and tease you for something not meant for teasing. He didn’t seem like the type to do so, but you expect less and less from the male population with every passing day. “He probably already knows about what happened anyway.”

Wooyoung hits the ball, but it veers a little too far for the shot to be completed. He swears, an audible “fuck me” rolling off of his tongue. You make haste going for the striped orange ball, and with no seconds to spare, you hit it into the center right cup. You land another two before your best friend has a chance again, but it doesn't matter. All that’s left for you to shoot in is the eight ball.

“One day I’ll manage to get close to beating you.”

“The night’s still young,” you respond before chugging down what’s left of your bottle of soju. The alcohol goes down your throat smoothly, but it doesn’t soothe the itch that still sits under your skin. With another few drinks, and you teetering on the line between buzzing and full-blown drunk, you think you’ll be able to forget the feeling exists.

That sting only intensifies when you see a handful of guys from the legal team walk in, Vernon and Jihoon trailing behind Wonwoo’s towering form. Their presence causes you to miss the eight ball entirely, the cue ball slowly rolling towards a pocket until it falls in.

“Goddamnit, man,” you curse. You reach for your drink, but you curse again when the empty bottle touches your lips.

Before Wooyoung can ask, he turns his head to see the men going up to the bartender and gnaws at his lip. “Maybe they won’t notice us?”

“That’s as likely as you getting a girlfriend,” you tease. You pull a couple of dollar bills out of your pocket and set your pool stick down when you see the men edging away from the bar-top. It may be a risk when they’re still so close by, but your dry mouth tells you to take the chance. “I’m gonna get us another round.”

You place your hands firmly on the shining wood of the bar, the gloss of it contrasting with the rough calluses and paper cuts across your hands. A few fingers beckon the bartender over with a new set of soju bottles. The green glass that holds the liquid refracts against the overhead lights. It’s so bright, you don’t notice the figure whose shadow mars their outlines.

“Didn’t think you were the drinking type,” Wonwoo finally pipes up. Where his voice yesterday was quick and bashful, and his typical tone at work is clinical to the letter, the cadence of it now is warm, like a smooth pool of honey.

His arm brushes yours as he places a few bucks of his own on the bar for the bartender to take. The contact raises gooseflesh across the space where his skin met yours for the briefest of moments. It sends a new itch up your spine, one that’s barely familiar and on the cusp of foreign. You lie to yourself with careful precision, swearing in hushed tones inside your brain that it doesn’t ignite a long, burnt-out flame somewhere inside of you, and you almost believe it.

Almost.

“I also didn’t used to go to work-mandated support groups, but here we are.” You aim your bottle in his direction with the slightest of tips, a sarcastic salute that doesn’t make your secret any easier to address out loud. You sip gingerly, the pull of your lips from the bottle long and slow, but the alcohol holds no solution for your bitter tongue or sick stomach.

You know this, and you drink anyway. It’s better than the alternative.

Wonwoo’s the one who takes the bottle from your mouth. A few dribbles of soju trickle down your chin, but before you can snatch it back, he says, “I’m not going to say anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I wasn’t worried to begin with.”

He nods with a close-lipped smirk, in no way believing your glib. The bartender brings three gin and tonics for Wonwoo’s troupe, and you can’t hold back the giggle that erupts from deep in your throat. “Typical.”

“What? G and Ts are too good for you, miss marketing expert?” Vernon and Jihoon call their coworker with a loud shout of his name when they see their drinks are ready, but Wonwoo throws them an expression that shuts the younger men up.

“Who said I was an expert? That’s Soobin’s role, anyway.” You tut your head in a random direction. You have nothing to prove to Wonwoo, but you take pride in your job being higher than one of meager content creation. He chuckles, and the sound tickles your ears in a way you push down. “I’m a trend analyst.”

“Oh, really? Is that why you don’t speak during the meetings? You’ve already predicted that sharing is a waste of time?”

You sober immediately at his questions. You grip the neck of the soju bottle tighter as you try composing an answer, anger prickling the base of your neck. What can you say that gives nothing away and keeps with the pre-set banter, all while you remain even-keeled? You land on, “It’s not like that,” and make your move to walk away, bored with the conversation now.

Wooyoung looks over at you like you’re crazy, and you know the thoughts immediately swirling in your best friend’s head. You haven’t flirted with a man in probably half a decade, at least, but if the nerd isn’t getting any, the very least you could do is entertain some sort of romantic attention for the two of you.

Wonwoo grabs your arm softly, his fingers setting the same fire the contact from before did, but it holds an entirely new scope and set of stakes. “Humor me. What’s it like, then?” His voice is featherlight, gentle in its prodding. He holds no judgement, his earlier words only teasing but clearly striking a nerve in you he’s trying to amend with his new tone.

You avoid his gaze, finally landing back on the pool table where Wooyoung awaits. The kernel of an idea pops up alongside your smile. “Play me for it.”

“What?” Wonwoo chuckles, perplexed. You point towards the table with your index finger, and Wooyoung immediately turns his head, attempting to hide his spying to no avail.

“You win, I’ll tell you why I’m in that group.” Your smirk grows, the cheshire cat smile that now adorns your face growing with every word. “I win, you tell me what you were doing there yesterday in the first place.”

You put a hand between your incredibly close bodies, a fact you did not realize until you offered some ante for Wonwoo to chew on, and he takes the bait like you expected him to. “Deal.”

He shakes your hand firmly. It’s another set of touches that warms you to the bone in a way liquor never has before. You shuck that information to the side as you walk to the pool table with Wonwoo hot on your heels. He stops to deliver the drinks to his awaiting team, but he makes it to you with a few quick strides.

“Want me to break, or do you need to prove you can play first?” you ask with the same tantalizing smile you wagered him with.

He takes a hefty sip of his tonic and licks his bottom lip to catch the alcohol that threatens to spill over. “By all means.”

If only he knew how stupid it was to let the lady go first this time.

Wonwoo stares down into the pocket the eight-ball just flew into. While he’s mystified how you managed to just destroy his record and prove him wrong in a matter of ten minutes and three plays, you smirk openly. It always used to bug ex-boyfriends and situationships when you were better at a more masculine task or hobby than they were, but you always flicked their comments back with a middle finger and a nonplussed demeanor. It’s a delightful change of pace for someone as attractive and confident as Wonwoo to be mystified by your capabilities, even at the expense of his pride.

“She beats me all the time, man. Don’t sweat it.” Wooyoung tries to walk up and rustle your newly defeated opponent on the shoulder. He thinks better of it when Wonwoo gives him the same glare you threw at the younger guy a short time ago.

Your best friend offers to grab you another drink as you laugh, but you shake your head. “Gotta head home. Carat can’t feed herself.”

Wonwoo gives you a quizzical expression as Wooyoung leaves, and you respond with, “My fish. Very adamant about her feeding schedule.”

He flashes a high-wattage grin, and the feelings he’s stirred in you tonight try to scratch their way back to the surface, but you repress them once again. It means nothing, anyway. You won’t act on it, and the guy is probably ready to hightail it back to his friends by now.

He offers to walk you out, and all your preconceived notions upend themselves into the air. Wooyoung pulls you by the shoulder when you say goodbye and whispers, “If you miss out on that guy now, you’re even more ridiculous than I thought. And I’ve seen you suck your thumb while you sleep, remember that.”

When you make it to the driver’s side door, you remember it’s time to collect your payment. Now or never. “So, gonna tell me why you were in the group yesterday? Or will you chicken out with the best two out of three rounds?”

“Easy, I’ll tell you,” he says, concealing a grin until his next words come out. “But, it’ll be during dinner tomorrow night. My place?”

You gulp down heavy air, again recognizing the clear proximity of your chest to his. You can see the slow rise and fall of his upper body, his heart steady but clearly put on edge. He’s patient but barely, waiting for you to either accept the invitation or decline with bated breath.

“Why?”

You don’t mean for the word to come out the way it does, one-fourth hopeful and the remaining three-fourths speculative. It’s not like you’re unappealing under normal circumstances, but the girl who would’ve jumped at the opportunity for a date with a cute guy is not who’s standing in front of Wonwoo right now. You want to be her, trade your place for hers to make the smile on his face brighten, but you’re unsure how to get her back, and if there’s any point.

“Because I owe you, don’t I?” You shrug your arms, not saying no but not giving him confirmation either. “And you’re not the type to not collect when you’re owed something.”

“What makes you think that?” Some of your fire returns as you cross your arms, body posture exemplifying your intrigue.

“Because you wouldn’t have bet against me knowing you’d win if you were.”

There’s no witty remark or sarcastic comeback that comes to mind. He so easily saw through you, it scares you into saying yes right there. But, even while ruminating for a moment, you search for reasons to deny him of your company, and you find none. If tonight wasn’t so bad, what’s one more without expectations?

“Sure,” you finally say, and he gives you the grin you were looking for that could go toe to toe with any city streetlight. That mesmerizing, gum-revealing grin that makes a part of your knees weak.

You knew he was nice to look at from faraway in the secrecy of your cubicle, but it’s at a new level now, one that’s unquellable.

On the drive home, as you replay his smile in your mind’s eye, you know without a doubt that the buzz in your veins isn’t just because of the soju still lingering in your bloodstream.

It’s not, under any circumstances, a date. 

You parrot the words as you move around your bedroom, the clock on your dresser practically screaming at you to leave while the day is young. Work ended an hour ago, and you’re still stumbling on what to do about your attire.

No way is this a date. I’ve been on them before, I know it when I see it.

The recesses of your mind try to commit every sentence to memory as you put on lipstick, curl your hair, and throw an old dress under a denim jacket. It’s habitual to look nice for a new person, you remind yourself. It’s not like Wonwoo won’t welcome you into his home if you’re wearing a greasy t-shirt and pair of sweatpants, but you digress. You’re simply collecting on your payment, and if he takes it any other way, that’s his problem to deal with.

The ride to his apartment is tense, to say the least. A million thoughts run through your head while you grip the steering wheel tight during every turn and stop through the city to his downtown complex. You try to make light of the building that greets you, thinking about how much legal counsel must make to afford such swanky living spaces, but it doesn’t help. Your hands tremble, no matter how forcefully you clench your fists to stop the shaking.

He’s Wonwoo, a guy who has an interest in seeing you outside of a professional setting, and you’re you, half emotionally composed on your very best day as of late. You have some basis for being nervous, no matter what one would call the meeting arranged between you two today.

He called it dinner, so you’ll start there.

Greeting you at your door in a black V-neck and gray jeans, he looks too clean for someone who must’ve been lounging around before you arrived. “You look nice. Got a hot date or something?” He bites his lip in satisfaction when you huff out a breath of air, blowing off his harmless dig.

“I’m here for the information I won last night. And the plate of food you promised me.”

He beckons you inside with a smile and an arm pointed inside, and you walk through the threshold with all the knots in your stomach, reminding you of their presence with every step.

Wonwoo’s living space appears to be stereotypical for a guy in his mid-twenties. The apartment’s all dark wood and grey wallpaper, from his industrial bar table to the kitchen marble, but he’s made it his in his own way. Some action figures line a bookshelf near the kitchen, and a guitar sits on its stand in the corner of the entertainment center dominating the living room. But you glean little pieces of information about him from the tchotchkes that surround you. The black cat plushie that sits on the sofa, the NASA magazines he must have a subscription for, and the sounds of jazz playing low on the TV all indicate the quiet eccentricities of his personality.

He’s a secretively unique guy on the page and in person, and you admire it. Some part of it scares you, how easily you’ve grown accustomed to him in a few short meetings, but that’s not anything to mull over right now.

“I was just fixing the pasta when you showed up. You can sit anywhere.” He moves his head in either direction of the couch or the table, but you saunter over to his side instead.

The aroma of the tomato wafts across your nose, the sauce definitely homemade rather than store-bought. You peer over into the pot, the margarita-covered penne mixed in with vegetables and meat. “Who knew you could cook?”

Wonwoo chuckles, hearty and deep, as he stirs the food in the pot. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet.”

Yet. He says the word with such relaxation, like it’s inevitable you will discover more information about him. Like he’s certain you’re not going anywhere. It has to be a delusion of the future filling him with such confidence, without a doubt.

Shortly after that, the table’s decorated with towering plates of pasta and a lit candle at the center. The mixed scents of vanilla, jasmine, and tomato sauce blend harmoniously somehow.

You share small talk about Wonwoo’s cooking skills and your pool abilities over dinner, bantering throughout with the dry humor you delivered yesterday. Wonwoo takes it all with a smirk, volleying it back at you with charm that makes you forget your dinner exists altogether. You don’t eat all the food on your plate, but you’ve never been more full.

Both of you migrate to the couch with your glasses of wine, leaving the plates on the wood’s high-top and getting comfortably lost in more conversation. Suddenly, you remember exactly why you’re there, and you turn the tides of the conversation to address the purpose of your attendance. “So, the support group.”

Wonwoo laughs into his glass, shaking his head in a gesture that tells you he was just waiting for the inevitable. “What do you wanna know?”

“Why were you there?”

Wonwoo’s smile turns small, still bright but a tad dimmer, and a stone sinks down deep into your stomach. “It was my mother’s birthday that day. She died three years ago in April, but her birthday is always the hardest day for me to get through.”

“It was a sudden sickness, one that we didn’t expect her to get.” He runs his thumb along the ring of his drink, his finger leaving an opaque smudge. He looks back up eventually, the ghost of his small smile haunting his features. “I’m just grateful I had the time with her that I did before it was too late, you know?”

Wonwoo’s words reroute all the knots from your core to your throat, making you unable to speak. You click your own nails against your drink in a pattern, counting the beats in sequence to avoid the tears welling in your eye ducts. One, two, three, four taps. 

Four becomes five until Wonwoo brushes a hand along your knee. “Are you alright? I know that was heavy, but a winner deserves her prize, right?”

You appreciate Wonwoo trying to lighten the mood that you’ve darkened with your silence. The slam of the bottom of your wine glass startles Wonwoo a smidge, and while you didn’t mean to scare him, you know you need to leave before you fall apart.

“This was fun, Won, but I-I have to go.” A tear falls from your face as you speak, another escaping before you can make the waterworks disappear. Wonwoo holds your arm the same way he did a day ago when you were so close to leaving before. This time is different, though.

Wonwoo’s worry for you and whatever’s haunting you replaces his previous somberness. You recognize the contortion of his face like the back of your hand. You’ve seen it in family members and their condolences. The friends you kept and even the ones you lost from being distant. Even coworkers you never spoke to and random strangers who could recognize the shadows of loss.

It disgusts you, and you can’t bear to see it from Wonwoo of all people. You attempt to yank your arm away like your life depends on it, but he doesn’t let you slip away so easily. “Will you talk to me, please?” he asks. “You don’t have to hold back whatever you want to say.”

“I’m not, not at all. And it’s presumptuous of you to assume I am.” You shake your head, voice sputtering on some kind of laugh. “You don’t know me.”

“I think I do.” Again, the space between you and him is virtually nonexistent. Your hearts match in rhythm, despite your sadness and apprehension. The unspoken strings between you snap one by one with every movement of his hand, slowly reaching higher until his hand cups your face. His thumb runs over your jaw bone.

You don’t know whether to pull him closer or run now that’s holding you with a looser grip, and the thought is as sobering as his mouth a breath from yours.

“I have to go.” You clutch his wrist with your hand, but you make no move to turn and walk away. You leave indents in his skin from your nails gripping him, but he doesn’t break his hold either.

Then, in a broken trance, he lets you go and steps back, swallowing hard. “I’ll see you at work, then?”

You nod. “Thank you for dinner.”

“Anytime, really.”

You think about the importance of words, what they carry and how deeply they can mean when a person you care about says them. “Yet” and “anytime” have never been of significant value to you before, passing vocabulary that’s left little for your heart to grasp onto. But he says it without facades, each vowel and consonant holding the undercurrents of his desires. You feel your knees buckle a touch as you ponder it on your way out of his apartment and to your car. Your thoughts dwell on what that kiss would’ve felt like, and the panic that follows when you realize how badly you wanted it.

A week flies by, and then two more, until you realize you’re always passing Wonwoo’s cubicle with a cup of coffee, or he’s pestering you with a sticky note or two regarding legal jargon you’ll never read up on.

Neither of you mention what almost occurred in his living room so long ago, but it feels like only a second between that moment and the present when he’s inhabiting your space at work or blowing up your phone.

You don’t know why he started calling and texting right around the time you were prepared to shut your eyes for sleep, but it was a comfort you didn’t mind cherishing before dreamland took you under its wing. His explanations of corporate law terminology to the plotlines of One Piece became your lullabies.

A regular person can’t cement themselves in your life overnight, but Wonwoo is anything but regular.

As you’re filling out your timesheet for the week, your thoughts circle back to Wonwoo as you notice him in the conference room with the rest of the legal team. Vernon talks animatedly with his hands as Minghao and Jun type down notes. It’s a riveting silent film, but the only actor you’re interested in is pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose incrementally, and it makes you melt in your chair.

You have emails to type, spreadsheets to complete, and here you are acting like a high schooler with an unrequited crush.

Pulled sharply from your daze, Wooyoung bats you on the shoulder with his clipboard. San from HR laughs at your best friend’s assault on you, your acquaintance’s chest rippling as you rub your shoulder and give Wooyoung your signature glare. “What the fuck?”

“You should focus on the November report instead of ogling your new piece of man candy.”

"I don't know what you're talking about," you reply, calm and collected, even though someone has now turned the judgement on you for your prying eyes. Wooyoung had his own priorities as a market strategist; he had no business judging you for taking time off of business tasks to ogle.

You return to your initial view of the conference room, watching the gentleman in the confines of the glass office.

You don’t expect Wonwoo to be staring right at you when you turn your attention back to their meeting. Wooyoung and San talk amongst themselves about your comical behavior in the third person, but you don’t mind them and their idiocy. You’re too focused on the man who’s a dozen feet away.

Wonwoo practically gives you the same glare you delivered to him in the support group the first time he was there, but his eyes are all humor and no bite. He holds his binder up a smidge, signaling somehow for you to look down at the one propped against your laptop. You find a blue sticky note sitting on the front of it, and you know Wonwoo must’ve stuck it there when you went to the bathroom a half hour ago.

7 PM showing of Spider-Man Saturday. You in? X

It’s a measly set of perpendicular lines in Wonwoo’s handwriting, nothing extravagant on the sticky note itself. How can the letter and his proposition turn your heart into mush so easily? And why does it make you immediately nod in Wonwoo’s direction?

What was he doing to you?

You’ve watched the 2003 film many times in your life—you could recite the lines by heart, truth be told—yet seeing Toby McGuire swinging around in a latex suit still brings childlike wonder out in you. You smile into your handful of popcorn at the scene before you, the kicks and punches between Spiderman and the Green Goblin in the middle of Manhattan amplified by the theater’s sound system.

You dressed up a bit more this time for the outing with Wonwoo, despite your self-insistence on keeping it casual. Nothing had happened between you up to this point, only the opportunity for a kiss that never came. Who was to say anything romantic would happen now in the darkness of a theater?

The movie cuts to Spiderman swinging Mary Jane to a hotel high-rise away from the chaos of Times Square, and Wonwoo picks that moment to take the hand not holding more popcorn into his own.

It’s a funny feeling, the moment before something unexpected happens. It’s like your body bristles to a point of high alert before you’re struck with the reality something is occurring, for better or worse. He rubs the back of your hand in slow, delicate circles, and it feels like the start of something good while every cell inside of you screams to run.

The flutter inside of your stomach at his touch dies when you give into the spiraling thoughts, a cruel voice reminding you the butterflies won’t last. It carries the face of a person you’d rather forget. A smile that haunts every hour of your existence, and eyes you wish you could look into one more time outside of your nightmares.

You tug your hand free and speed out of the theater, not bothering to look behind you to see if Wonwoo is following you. You know he is, his calls of your name muffled amid the horrendous laughter ringing in your ears. When you’ve stopped running, you realize it’s raining all around you outside. The alleyway behind the theater only provides so much cover, but Wonwoo doesn’t care. All he wants to do is hold you as you’re hyperventilating, so he does.

“Hey, hey, hey. What happened?”

You hiccup, unsure how to go about saying the words when a phantom hangs over your shoulder and whispers words you have no willpower to fight. What makes him any different from everyone else? Nothing, and you know it.

“I’m right here,” he swears like it’s true, and you see red.

“Until you get sick of it, right?” You can’t look him in the eye as you say it, but it doesn’t make it feel less true expressing it out loud. “This isn’t gonna change. You’ll always wonder what’s wrong. I’ll never give you a valid excuse because I barely fucking know myself and shut you out. You’ll get bored really quick, Wonwoo, so what’s the point?”

“What are you talking about?” His mouth hangs at you accusatory questions, and it only makes you laugh harder. 

It’s easy to pretend your tears are only rainwater splashing down your face.

“There’s no point chasing after me anymore. I’m not worth the hassle, and it’s too much baggage for you to unpack, so don’t waste any more of your time.” You move his hands from your face with weak fingers and watch his arms fall limply at his sides as you turn to head towards the sidewalk and back to your car.

Wonwoo’s laugh is so bitter, you can taste it on your tongue. “You may think that what you’re going through is something nobody can understand, but a part of you knows you’re being ridiculous right now.”

You shake your head and continue down your path, barking back at him with a “Go fuck yourself.”

“You’re not the first person to lose someone, and you won’t be the last!” You stop walking down the alleyway, and you hear the sharp intake of breath on Wonwoo’s lips. He takes another second and set of steps to get closer to you before saying, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

You turn sharply, hair whipping across the open air. “You wanna know why I’m in the group, Won?” Your question drips with rhetoric like venom, sarcasm bordering on fury. “Because I got tired of all the noise of everything after…after—Chaewon just wouldn’t leave me the fuck alone about work and what was going on with me. And everyone at that point kept poking with their pity until the shit I said and did that day happened.” You flail your arms at your sides, the rain soaking through your sleeves. 

It was unprofessional, a huge moral deficit, as your boss put it. Especially when all Chaewon asked for was a valid reason for an extension on your trend report. “No coworker, especially not a subordinate, should treat another coworker that way. Your personal matters should not impede on your ability to be a team player.”

Your boss used every administrative play in the book while looking over the materials you ruined for the newest magazine issue, and that was before you screamed in your department head’s face. You didn’t mean to hurt Chaewon the way you did, but admittedly, it felt good to do it.

It was nice to let a part of you run free, even if it was a vulgar and unapologetic piece. But if you had known it would cost you every ounce of your pride and some semblance of your privacy, you would’ve thought twice. 

Your entire body is drenched by the time you finish your tirade, as is Wonwoo’s. “So yeah, that’s why they put me in that pity party of a support group. Because God forbid I snapped one fucking time for a valid fucking reason.”

“They just wanted you to get some help. Everyone needs that sometimes,” Wonwoo murmurs. He tries to step closer, each movement apprehensive, like he’s cornering a rabid cat into a carrier.

His movements make you feel like one, a wounded animal in need of immediate attention without regard for its unwillingness to accept it. It turns your eyesight red, and you think you may just be feral at this point. “I don’t need anyone’s help, Wonwoo! Not that group, not Seungcheol, not the damn lackeys in that fucking office, and especially not—”

Wonwoo gives up the pretenses and yanks you into his arms. He plants a hand across your hair and squeezes you in his hold, still tender despite the vice grip he has you in. The tightness of his hug shakes something loose in you, and you barely recognize you’re crying until Wonwoo cradles you closer and shushes you, even as the rain beats down on you both. “I’m here,” he promises.

“I don’t need to be saved, Wonwoo,” you say through fractured, sob-laced hiccups. Your eyes look past his brown ones, into the depths of his soul as you ask—plead even—“I just want to make the pain stop.”

“Let me help,” Wonwoo offers, rubbing the apples of your cheeks with his thumbs. It may be the most ridiculous, careless thing you can do at the moment, but when the urge to kiss him comes, you don’t stop it.

Call it an emotional break or a sudden rush of your suppressed desire shining through, but the second you press your lips to his in that brick alleyway, you don’t regret it. He tastes like salvation, of unbreakable promises. It could either heal or ruin you, but you don’t mind if it’s a little of both.

The raindrops cling to your clothes like a second skin, latching onto every curve. It’s easy to shed with the help of Wonwoo’s hands. By the time you’re an inch away from the doorframe of his bedroom, he’s wearing his briefs, and you’re left in your underwear. His warmth wraps around every part of your body like a campfire, stoking all the cold out of you and bathing you in the heat he provides. The thunder roars on, and lightning splashes the sky in white streaks, but the only light that sustains you is him.

“Is this okay?” He mumbles as he grazes the underside of your bralette. The material is so drenched that he can see the peaks of your nipples through it, but he’s trying to keep his composure and go at a speed you’re comfortable with.

You don’t hesitate, not wanting the moment to be dampened by your worst thoughts. They’re at bay now, and you want to use that time for what it’s worth. “More than okay.” You unclasp your bralette from your back, letting the wet garment plop to the floor. “Touch me, please.”

His index finger drags so slowly across your nipple, the ripple of electricity that tickles your skin follows the same tempo. While you’re willing to go fast, Wonwoo cherishes you with reverence. Even as he takes your nipple between his lips, moving his fingers down your stomach and into your underwear, he remains patient. “So wet,” he groans against your skin when he guides his fingers along your slick folds. It’s like he’s discovering a precious treasure before him, twirling your wet curls in his hair with his free hand as he runs the pads of his opposite fingers through slick heaven.

You tremble in his hands, all the nerves in your body a hot, frenzied mess in his hold. He thumbs your clit in slow circles, making it hard to stand any longer in the in-between space of his living room and bedroom. “Woo, I want more.”

He takes his fingers from your center and lifts you into his arms. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, and he chuckles into your throat. “Needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You giggle before he reattaches his lips to yours. His kisses taste like rainwater and second chances, physical proof that not everything has to be lost. He never lets you go or takes his mouth away on the slow trek to his bed.

Wonwoo sets you down gently, his eyes giving away all of his vulnerability. “You’re beautiful, you know that right?” You blush, wrapping an arm around your face, but he pulls it away and kisses each finger on your hand. “Every inch of you.”

The words go unsaid, but the bite of his lip and dark hood of his eyes tell you his desire goes beyond lust. I want to explore you forever.

Even the parts of you that you’ve deemed too dark, too painful, too unworthy of anyone’s entry. His expression tells you he may just take the risk and split you open fully to see what’s inside. With his eyes peering deeply into your soul, you think all he sees is hope. Like your heart holds the sun that peers out after the worst downpour in the world.

He rolls his briefs down his hips until his length springs free, knocking into the lower segment of his abdomen from how hard he is. “And you called me beautiful,” you say, breathless. Wonwoo’s cock drips pre-cum at the swollen tip, and you have no qualms sitting up and reaching out to encase him in your palm, running his essence across his skin.

He tips his head back and his mouth goes slack, a curse leaving his tongue. “You may kill me.”

You smile and run your lips along his neck, dragging your canines along the skin of his jugular. “If I do, I promise it wasn’t my intention.”

Before he can get too lost in the pleasure of your fingers wrapped around him, he traps your body between his own and the sheets below you. He doesn’t stop kissing you once he finds your lips again, even as he stumbles finding a condom in his bedside drawer and rolls the latex onto himself.

You don’t need to prepare for the eventual drag of his cock between your walls, already dripping from his previous touches, but he envelops you completely when he fills you to the hilt. He fits so snug inside of you; you think he could sit there forever and never leave. “You’re so tight, holy shit,” Wonwoo moans as he begins moving his hips.

You release a garbled moan, the sound practically swallowed by his tongue in your mouth. He takes and teases, but he always gives it back, rolling his lower half into you with a deliberate pace that helps you inch closer to a release. It paints the back of your eyelids in slow strokes. The act of getting there is as beautiful as the release itself when it’s with someone like Wonwoo giving you such perfect bouts of pleasure.

This feeling, like Wonwoo, is addictive and addicting in the same instance. You think you could get used to this, and it’s not just the lust having its way with your mind. Having all of him like this, his days and nights, rain or shine, may just be possible with the way he pours his devotion into your body. You just have to give him the opportunity.

He kisses you with the strength of a thousand stars exploding at once, and that’s the moment you fall apart underneath him. You let yourself bask in the feeling of your orgasm. You clutch onto his shoulders tightly as your walls spasm around him, sucking him in for every drop of pleasure he has to give.

He spills into the condom soon after, his hips stuttering and his kisses stilling as he feels his body succumb to the same pleasure you felt a few moments ago. The look on his face is pure bliss, the laugh on his lips the softest sound to accompany the pitter patters of rain on the window.

He throws the latex away before nestling back into the bedsheets with you. His arms wrap around you like vines as you rest your head on his chest. It's a comfortable silence between you, no words needing to be said to express your feelings for him.

I know you could love me forever if I give you the chance to.

You feel his response in the slow fall of his heart rate and the small snores he emits in the crown of your hair. The softness of his being is all you need to fall asleep too, and you think it may just be worth it to let him in.

The moment you wake, you feel a wave of nausea creep through you. The thoughts that erupted in that rainy alleyway a handful of hours ago come back with a vengeance. They clutch your throat with a begrudging hand until water streams from your eyes, hitting Wonwoo’s pillows like bullets. You try to subdue the sobs that rack your body, terrified of waking the man sleeping next to you, but it proves to be a fruitless fear. He sleeps like a stone through it all, immovable and solid.

With weak limbs and a fuzzy mind, you unbind yourself from Wonwoo’s hold and collect your things when you get out of the bed. Every piece of your heart breaks, the glued pieces of porcelain cracking once again into a heap on the floor as you walk away and out of his apartment.

It could only last for so long, that peace he provided, and you feel foolish for thinking a few hours of pleasure could change the new reality you’ve come to grips with long ago.

What the fuck did I do? I shouldn’t have gone out with him again. I’m so stupid.

Driving home in the rain, you try to turn on the radio to something that will be loud enough to drown out the spiraling thoughts and the sounds of your sobs reverberating through your tiny car’s interior. With a cruel twist of luck, Billy Joel’s “Everybody Has A Dream,” blares through the speakers. The piano chords and Joel’s whistles are ones you could recognize anywhere, and it stops your brain from falling further down the hole you’re accustomed to.

It’s his song, the song you have barely gotten through a note of without bawling.

You stop your car in the center of the road, despite the light being green in front of you. Cars screech behind you and blare their horns, some even roll down their window in the soaked night to curse at you, but you don’t care. The entire world could burn down, and all you would hear is the keys of the piano signaling your send-off.

The rivers on your cheeks become floods, all-encompassing and combating the leftover parts of the storm raging on outside of your vehicle. It makes the veins in your head pulse like a bass drum, but there’s nothing else to do, even if the song’s faded out by now. The DJ’s voice fills the space, but you can barely hear him.

You hate your father; the realization strikes you like a penknife to the heart as you press your forehead into the steering wheel, knocking your knuckles into its center until your own horn screams back at you. You hate him for leaving you alone to pick up the shards he created by going away too soon, sooner than you were prepared for. How could he part from you with such a gaping hole left in your chest and no roadmap for how to fix it? Was it even possible to mend such a wound when its shape was present everywhere you looked?

You continue to sob, no grounding techniques or motivational words coming to mind as your heart restarts just to bleed out all over again. 

Some time after the funeral, a doctor told you grief often changes the chemistry of a person’s brain. It undergoes neuroplastic changes and leads to alterations in emotional regulation and cognition. It made sense, given the way you exploded on Chaewon two months ago in front of everyone in the office. And all of that, the choice to either take a mandatory leave or seek counseling, led to that ridiculous fucking support group. And all the moments you shared with Wonwoo since then.

Guilt bubbles up behind your anger until it overtakes it, the way you’ve been acting almost shameful. You don’t regret him, but you regret this tugging you’ve done with his emotions alongside your own. But what other options have you had at your disposal? You’ve been stumbling around in the dark for so long, the light is not something someone easily accustoms themselves to again.

And Wonwoo is a person who exudes a radiance unlike anyone else you’ve ever met. You can’t believe there’s a chance he can truly seep into the darkness you live with now and soak it up for you. Not without him taking on some of it himself. 

You decide when the tears come at a slower pace that you won’t let him; he’s worth more than that. And it might break what’s left of the fraction of hope you held onto when you met him, but you’re grateful he gave you something at the very least. It’s better than nothing.

“I still think about what it would be like to kill him, even if I know it wouldn’t solve anything.” Hongjoong grumbles, twiddling his pack of nicotine gum between his fingers. “In my dreams, I do. I do it before he has the chance to make it past my driveway. Before I forgot to watch her playing.” Hongjoong breaks into a fit of angry sobs, and it tugs at your heartstrings bitterly.

The police and cops ruled the death of Hongjoong’s five-year-old daughter vehicular manslaughter. The guy who committed the crime had been remorseful and received less time because of his allocution. According to Hongjoong, he forgave the stranger a long time ago, but you don’t think anyone blames him for the anger and resentment that still lingers.

“Do you think your wife or other children gain anything by continuing to harbor this anger?” Seungcheol asks with no judgement, just objective curiosity.

It strikes a nerve in you, so deep it pulls a response out of your lips before you can stop it. “That’s a fucked up question to ask.”

Suzy gasps, hiding the sound behind her coffee cup. Hongjoong looks surprised himself, but Seungcheol is pleased to hear your voice. He’s only ever tried to make small talk with you while he’s filled out your slips after every session, but you’ve never given him any room to work with. Until now. “Why do you say that?”

“Because…” you ponder the answer, the coherent reasoning jumbled amongst your impulsive thoughts. “It’s a bit unfair. Sure, maybe he’s not the same husband and father he used to be, but what does anyone expect? His oldest kid dies, and he’s supposed to shelve that for the sake of others?”

“Nobody’s asking that of him,” Seungcheol responds. “I asked if it serves anyone for him to hold onto negative emotions.”

“Whether it does or doesn’t, big fucking whoop. Grief doesn’t serve anyone with anything purposeful. It’s all bullshit pain we’re supposed to make better somehow in just the right amount of time or else. Otherwise, everyone has to tread around it like it’s a disease. It’s exhausting.”

You barely registered Wonwoo’s presence in the room, but his messy mop of waves concealed in a beanie adds a second layer of pain to your words. You’ve evaded his texts and calls for the past two days. Avoiding work yesterday didn’t help the way you thought it did, Wooyoung texting you profusely with secondhand messages you didn't want to be reminded of.

It was better this way. You repeated the words to yourself like a mantra when the first batch of Wonwoo’s messages appeared on your lock screen. But seeing him now, you know it was a lie.

Heartbreak, like grief, lacks a purpose beyond the demand to be felt.

Wonwoo clears his throat. He tries to pose the question to the entire group, but he stares so deeply into your eyes when he says it, everyone knows it’s only for your ears to cling to. “Have you ever considered that the reason you think it serves no purpose is because you don’t let anyone in to help you make sense of it?”

Your bottom lip quivers despite your urge to compress your feelings, the anger that was simmering in your stomach now at a rolling boil. You kick the chair from under your legs as you leave the circle, cursing the entire time. You hear Seungcheol request a ten-minute recess for the session, and you know without a doubt the walking slogan is following you.

You keep your focus on the brick wall of the bakery that shares a back alley with the church when Seungcheol finally makes it outside. “Don’t say—”

“I’m just out for a smoke. Was needing a break anyway.” Seungcheol flicks his lighter to life and has a cigarette between his lips in the next second. A huge plume of smoke leaves his lips, and the acrid smell of smoke hits your nose, but you don’t turn from it. He reaches into his pack and hands you one once he lights it.

You chuckle sadly as you weigh the cigarette between your fingers. “How did you know I used to smoke?”

“You suck in a breath when you get angry, and your hands shake like you’re going through withdrawal. That used to happen to me when I tried quitting the first time.”

You nod. “I haven’t really done it in a while. Haven’t had the energy to go buy anything besides frozen meals and water.”

The silence between you both is deafening. Seungcheol doesn’t pry, although that’s his very job, to help you face your emotions head-on, and you don’t elaborate on your points from earlier in the group session.

“My wife died five years ago,” he finally says. He flicks the cigarette at his feet, digging the ashes into the surrounding dirt with his foot. “Was a drunk driver on the way home coming back from a restaurant. I was driving.”

You try to respond, but no words come. The lining of your throat kills them all before they can leave you, like butterfly wings that never unfurl. He goes on amidst your silence. “It took a long time to realize it wasn’t my fault, just terrible timing.”

You turn to look at him, but he keeps his attention on the shops and sidewalks surrounding the church, cold air leaving his mouth in grey clouds. “I’m sorry,” you say, the two words with no serrated edges this time, the anger from your voice gone.

“‘S nothing for you to apologize for. You didn’t know, and I don’t talk about it all that much.” He gives you a knowing stare with the shrug of his shoulders, no bitterness in his expression as he explains without words that you’re more alike than you would’ve known. You can’t imagine the guy having a bitter bone in his body, even if he has reason to. “But that’s why I started this. Going on about it may not help all the time, but I can let some of it go when I know I’m not alone, even if that feeling only lasts for a minute.”

“Are you saying that I have to explain why I’m like this with everyone to feel better? That’s your nugget of wisdom?”

Seungcheol's eyes turn solemn, disappointed but not surprised at your rhetorical questions. “What I’m saying is that pain isn’t avoidable. You know that better than anyone by now. And locking yourself away clearly isn’t working.”

You fight back the tears passing through your eyelashes and puff again. “I don’t need your backdoor psychology, Choi. Even if you and everyone in that group has more than some idea of what I’m going through, it’s not the same.”

Seungcheol chuckles without humor as he hands you another cigarette, his fingertips lingering over your palm in a familial way. His touch is warm despite the winter weather, the contact a salve over the cracks that have formed in the past few days, and it makes you feel worse somehow. “Whether you push people away or not, your capacity to hurt isn’t going anywhere. Wasting time you’ll never get back by being alone does nobody any good, especially yourself.”

“I don’t do anything for anyone like this,” you respond, words breaking. Your hands shake as you take two more drags, smoke filling your lungs as the shadows continue looming. “I can’t give any parts of me when I don’t know what’s left to give at this point.”

“Speaking from my experiences with you—which I know are limited—I’d say you’re not giving yourself enough credit.” Seungcheol plucks the cigarette from your hands once you make it to the end. “And I bet your little friend would say the same thing, if not more.”

Like the call of a siren song, Wonwoo comes through the back door of the church, a bit embarrassed to intrude, but relieved to find you before you left. It’s all over the sudden sag of his chest and the downturn of his eyes.

Seungcheol smirks to himself while he puts his pack back in his coat pocket. “Speaking of the devil, I’ll leave you to it.” He pats Wonwoo on the shoulder as he makes it to the door of the church. The closing of the back door punctuates the silence between you.

“Are you finally gonna talk to me?” Wonwoo asks, his voice teetering on desperation and indignation. He doesn’t want to be angry, you can tell, but it all comes out in the crinkle of his eyes and the line of his lips.

You don’t blame him, either. You’re the one who left him as soon as you woke up, no verbal or written explanation left behind to keep him from assuming the worst. “What do you expect me to say, Won? I don’t—”

“Don’t say you don’t know what I want from you. I’ve been clear about that since the first day we saw each other in this fucking church.” You’re taken back by him cursing, the act one you’ve not seen from him often, but he keeps going. “I want to help you. Whether that’s as your friend or something more, I can accept that. But what I can’t accept is you keeping up this act you’ve been putting on.”

“It’s not an act,” you say defensively. “It’s too hard to let anyone in. It may be hard for you to accept, but that’s the truth.”

“You need better practice at lying, sweetheart.” When your face crumbles with defeated confusion, Wonwoo goes on. “If it was so hard, you wouldn’t still have Wooyoung in your life. You wouldn’t have kicked my ass at pool, and you definitely would’ve done a better job at avoiding me. You may not want to admit it now, but you’re using your grief as an excuse to run away from feeling anything else.”

“You don’t know me,” you say, the words an echo that reaches through time with an entirely different meaning.

“I think I do.” His chest is barely an inch from yours, and before you know it, your lips join in a bruising kiss. It’s desperation from the days you spent without each other, almost stitching the time between that night you were in his bed and now together like a crochet tapestry. It’s yearning to be better than how you’ve been, to do better for the man who wants to teach you how to find happiness again.

Most importantly, it’s hope, unadulterated and unembroidered with the promises of what would’ve been. It’s only now, and that’s enough. It would always end this way, you think. Wonwoo holds you so close he may squeeze you into his coat to keep you from running away. A muddled cry escapes you before your lips connect again, your tears wetting the space between your mouths.

When you part, you think you may never let him go again, and this is the penance you’ll pay for the rest of your life for thinking you could ever handle being without him. “Where do we go from here?” you ask with glassy eyes, finding a glimmer of peace in the way Wonwoo holds you close to him with all the gentleness and love in the world.

“We heal.”

ONE MONTH LATER

None of the group members believe it when you offer to go first during the second to last session. You had half a mind to not to, promising Wonwoo you would share on the final meeting day so you wouldn’t have to suffer through another gathering with everyone knowing your story. Wonwoo only held you closer, stilling your trembling body with kisses to the crown of your head and his reassuring words whispered into your hair. “You’re stronger than anyone in that room, and it’s time you prove it.” You love him for that, among the plethora of a million other things, but that’s another conversation for another time and for only the two of you to share.

Suzy, Hongjoong, and the rest of the group follow you with understanding eyes, a response you used to dread. But now, you accept it just to get by. Seungcheol stares with immeasurable pride behind his eyes as you clear your throat.

“My dad passed away a year ago now,” you start, hands shaking but firm against the plastic coffee cup. “It was sudden, so sudden when the call came I didn’t believe it. I called the cop that told me about the accident a liar, like it couldn’t be true. It couldn’t happen to me, and not to him. Not yet, anyway.”

“You always think that you have more time to spend with someone, to tell them all the things you didn’t have the courage to say to them when they were still around. And that’s how I felt about him and our relationship, like I’d have a lot more moments to fix what I needed to for the two of us, and for myself. Maybe I never would’ve been ready, anyway, but—I couldn’t accept that all those chances, all those opportunities, were gone when he was, too. Most of the time, I still don’t. It doesn’t feel real, like it’s this thick fog I’m under that’ll eventually clear.

“And that’s why I’m here with you guys. And maybe talking about it now can help me to get through it the right way.”

You don’t look up from the floor as you continue, but Wonwoo’s hand on your thigh and Seungcheol’s leading questions ground you through it all. The tears flow, and the words leave your lips with all of their broken seams. Each thread of your heart unwinds, the experience equal parts freeing and devastating in the release.

Whoever the creator of the slogan from that third week of the support group is—Seungcheol, a random stranger, or a prophetic person who knows all too well the tragedy of grief itself—you’re growing to believe time can bend every sad emotion into something manageable, especially grief. And yes, you have yet to see what your own grief ultimately turns into, but you know you’ll take comfort in the fact you won’t be alone when that day comes.

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @innocygnet @ghstzzn @xylatox @bambiihee @prkhaven @lunarlaina @jjunberry @frenchkisstheabyss @okiedokrie-main @chanranghaeys @brownbunnyb @lovetaroandtaemin @livelaughloveseventeen @aaa-sia

𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 ── .✦ @kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @moadiarynet @pirateeznet @/sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @deoboyznet @violetanet @whipped-kpop-creators

𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑴𝒀 𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑲𝑺 𝒐𝒓 𝑱𝑶𝑰𝑵 𝑴𝒀 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑺 © 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖧𝖤𝖤𝖢𝖧𝖶𝖤; 𝖣𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍.

[metaphoricgibberish]

hi, hello - my name is sara and i write depraved things about pedro pascal characters. i'm not super into writing one-shots (love reading them tho) so all my stories are in series format. my DMs are always open, i love talking fics, pedro, tlou, narcos, and anything at all regarding men old enough to be my father.

happy reading, i appreciate you all tremendously <3

To the Light [ joel miller ]

"He was such a greedy fuck, when had that happened? What was it about her that had turned him into this… desperate, frenzied, fucking insatiable man that had stooped to the point of planning his entire day around getting a glimpse of her. It wasn’t just one thing, he knew that, rather it was an amalgamation of everything about her, everything he could see, everything he knew, and the large cavern of things he didn’t know, but wanted to so badly it ate away at him, like a virus, like fucking cordyceps, surging through his body and altering his brain chemistry, his ambitions and intent, so that it was just her, his sole focus was just her."

summary: Joel finds a young woman being held hostage by a group of men while he's out on patrol one day. He brings her back to Jackson, where she's given the opportunity to have something resembling a real life, for the first time. The two of them orbit around each other, destined to crash, if both of their reservations don't get in the way.

pairing: joel miller x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 96.8k (completed)

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Joel finds the love of his life lost in the woods.

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Read insatiable (a To the Light one-shot) here.

Read hearth (a To the Light one-shot) here.

Dawn [ javier peña ]

"It had been wrong, back then, his feelings for her. He'd known that and that's why he'd never let anything happen between the two of them. But he'd always been weak. That first time he'd seen her after Richie had gone off to fight a war just as brutal and useless and the one he'd been fighting out in Colombia, that first time he'd really seen her— just a glimpse as she left the market, bag hoisted up on her hip, long, wavy hair bouncing behind her, shapely legs visible in that little yellow sundress that hugged her waist just right— he'd been a fucking goner."

summary: Javier Peña returns to his hometown after leaving the DEA. He doesn't want the undeserving praise everyone is trying to push on him, he doesn't really want anything at all, beyond a quiet life on his father's ranch, such a stark contrast to the atrocities he'd witnessed over the ten years away. But there's one familiar face that he can't seem to shake no matter how hard he tries.

pairing: javier peña x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 80.8k (completed) a.n. first chapter of my new Javi fic is up! each chapter will be named after a Lana Del Rey song with a corresponding lyric (idk Javi is Lana coded to me). I hope you enjoy <3

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Javier Peña falls for his best friend's little sister.

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Nights Like This One [ joel miller ]

"Joel couldn't resist the tug any longer, finally succumbing to the dull ache at the base of his spine as he turned around and locked eyes with her— bright fucking blue, twinkling animatedly when they met his. Most of the time her eyes looked hollow, devastatingly so, but he'd noticed that when they got into these bickering matches her eyes lightened, and so then how was he ever expected to stop?"

summary: Joel Miller is hired by an elderly woman to fix up her home. However, in the middle of the renovations, she dies and her daughter, Lily, moves from California to Austin to live in her mother's home. Joel continues to work on the house despite the two of them constantly butting heads. Tensions rise and the two are destined to crash whether they like it or not.

(Initially takes place pre-outbreak, story spans through outbreak day, all the way to 2023).

pairing: joel miller x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 142.6k (completed) a.n. hi my friends! a few things: i did change sarah's age because i wanted to, i have creative liberty this is MY FUCKIN STORY!! lol. also i know nothing about construction, so i apologize, watch me make shit up with only google as my guide. please don't hate or be mean to my OC, she's going through some shit and the roles will be reversed later on after outbreak day, so let her be the emotionally unavailable, cold one for now. chapter length will be much shorter than most of my other fics solely because this has so many chapters. i'm writing it more in novel format than fic format, so forgive me. blame my useless, $120k creative writing degree. i hope you enjoy this. i'm having a lot of fun writing it.

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Joel Miller finds the love of his life right before the world ends.

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Amor Fati [ alpha!din djarin au ]

"Perhaps it was his own form of rebellion that he still had not had the Vision, at forty-five years old. Not that those things were controllable, but it did serve as some bit of flimsy vindication that Din did not have a mate, someone to fuck babies into for the satisfaction of the government. Of course, not every alpha had a true mate, but those that didn't still usually mated with one of the unmated omegas, they still served their purpose. Din had never fucked an omega, would never fuck an omega."

summary: Din lives in the lonesome world of unmated alphas. Ever since The Collapse he's hated this world, what it's become, what it's turned people into. Until he has The Vision, perhaps twenty years too late, he sees her face.

And then nothing, not even his flimsy morals, can keep him from finding her.

pairing: din djarin x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 64.4k (completed) a.n. hi my friends!!!! i've been cooking this one up since November, so i'm super excited to start sharing. i've never written ABO before, so please be gentle with me. i may break some rules, but i do hope you'll forgive me. FYI this will be real AU -- no helmet, no star wars, mostly modern world with some world building involved. i hope you enjoy!

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The Din Djarin A/B/O AU

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The Human Condition [ therapist!joel miller au ]

"Joel passed his palm over his mouth, his eyes drifting over to the clock on his office wall for perhaps the fifth time in the last thirty minutes. He dreaded his one o'clock appointment, but not for the reasons that he should. He dreaded it because he looked forward to it far more than was appropriate, for reasons that would surely get him fired."

summary: Violet Wood is lost, thinks perhaps she's been lost since the day she was born.

Joel Miller is a psychiatrist who has experienced a tremendous loss of his own.

Neither of them are expecting each other.

pairing: joel miller x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 53.1k (completed) warnings: extreme trigger warnings for suicidal behavior/attempts, mental health discussion, EDs, self-harm, depression, anxiety a.n. i have been thinking about this forever, and i'm really excited to start sharing, albeit slowly. hope you all enjoy <3

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The Joel Miller Therapist AU

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The Age of Innocence [ joel miller]

"He didn't know what was coming over him, he'd always thought she was sweet, cute maybe, but never once had he noticed just how full her bottom lip was, how pert her ass was, how pretty it was when the apples of her cheeks filled with color."

summary: Nestled in the Sierra Nevada mountains is an old gold mining town— Twain Harte— named after the American authors Mark Twain and Bret Harte, both of which never lived there. A woman named Liliana does though, and when she was a little girl she was saved by a man, a man she has spent twenty years loving from afar.

Until something changes.

pairing: joel miller x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 32.4k+ (ongoing - 5/10 chapters) a.n. lmao i hate myself. i've been slowly adding to this idea for a while, and i'm too excited about it to wait until after i write Fate Forgone Virtue, so i guess i'm writing them simultaneously?? I used to live in Twain Harte, so i'm very excited about the setting of this one. each chapter will be named after a place within the town. also the playlist for this one is a little different, i wanted to compile a bunch of songs that remind me of my time living there, rather than ones that relate to the story per se. i'll shut up now! i hope you enjoy <3

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Joel Miller finds himself infatuated with a young woman who has loved him all her life.

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Fate Forgone Virtue [ dark!joel miller ]

"Solitude forges in people a very specific kind of hurt. Not when that solitude is fleeting, or induced by situation, but solitude that is born, solitude that lends itself to a certain breed of man. It's a bone deep hurt, one that is drilled into the soul, it molds it into something misshapen and ugly. An unsocialized dog will bite the hand of a stranger out of fear. Fear bred from solitude."

summary: A man, gone brutal and cold, stalks through life with blood on his hands and violence in his head.

A woman, hopeless and desperate, seeks death’s embrace like a lover’s warmth. 

This is their story.

pairing: joel miller x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 1.7k+ (ongoing - 1/13 chapters) warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, non-con, stockholm syndrome, violence, gore, bondage a.n. hello everyone!! welcome to hell! please take the tags seriously. this is not like my usual fics. i will not be adding a warning to every chapter, but everything is in the tags. no hard feelings if this one is not your cup of tea, but for those of you willing to come along for the ride, i'm really excited about this one! the first two chapters will be somewhat of a short introduction to the story, the following chapters will be longer. have fun! ;)

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Joel Miller gives a young woman a second chance at life, as his pet.

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Sanctuary [ javier peña ]

"She glanced over at him, her lips hinting at a smile as his pretty brown eyes locked on hers. She wanted him to tell her something now, not that she had taken him here as a greedy means of give and take, even though that’s all their relationship was. Give and take. Just sex. If she couldn’t know his last name or why he had scars all over his chest, then she wanted to know what he thought was beautiful, what he thought was ugly, what existed in both spaces for him."

summary: Takes place after the third season-- Javier moves to San Francisco to escape what he'd witnessed in Colombia over the past several years. The DEA is desperate to get him down to Mexico to help take down the Guadalajara Cartel, but Javier isn't so sure he wants to continue down that path. His decision only becomes increasingly more difficult when he meets a bartender named Emma, whose commitment issues seem to mirror his own.

pairing: javier peña x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 93.4k (complete)

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Javier Peña meets his match in the form of a little bartender in San Francisco.

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[mango-bango-bby]

Yandere Miguel O’Hara pls?

He lost Y/n, his wife, she die in his multiverse. When he went into different multiverse to take care of anomaly villain, he met a spider woman. Her mask cut off by villain only to reveal Y/n, his wife. Miguel plan to take Y/n from her home and keep her from losing again.

Take your time.

♡ Together Again ♡

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, kidnapping, Miguel has reader tied up, my first time writing Miguel so if he’s ooc just ignore it 😭😭

Summary: Miguel lost you and now that he has you again, he’s never letting you go. Even if you aren’t his Y/n (Yan!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Miguel lost his whole family. You and your daughter and there wasn’t a single day that went by when he didn’t think about it. It was his fault, he killed both of you. Even if indirectly, he killed you. He still wore his wedding ring because he couldn’t bare to let you go.

When he realized that the new spider-woman with them, was you. He had to take you. Yes, it might destroy your world. But he couldn’t lose you again. He gently tilts a photo on the nightstand to look at you. It’s a family photo of all of you from his universe.

“Y/n, you’re not going to get anything out of struggling like that” Miguel says calmly watching you struggle against his webs. You weren’t his Y/n but that didn’t matter to him, you were still you. And being spider-woman was to dangerous for you. He can’t lose you again.

And he knows keeping you here means your universe would fall apart but frankly, he doesn’t care. He is never going to lose you again. You see to try and yell something at him but he can’t make it out, he silenced you with a web over your mouth.

He walked over to the trash can, throwing away parts of your machine that helped you create webs. You only created webs through technology which worked well for him. You had no real powers, you can’t try to escape with them. “You’re going to tire yourself out” He sighs, watching you struggle to get out of his webs.

You yell something but it’s muffled. He looks down at you, grabbing your chin in his hand so you’re forced to look at him. He’s looking at you with stern eyes.

“Y/n, I told you to stop struggling. Be obedient. I’m not letting you out of those until you’re obedient” He says, his voice stern as if he’s talking to a small child or even a pet. You looking at him will such anger in your eyes.

You never looked at him like that before. Or his Y/n never looked at him like that. But he got you to fall in love with him once, he could do it again.

His gaze softens as he’s looking at you. “I’m sorry, love, did I scare you? I didn’t mean to yell at you” He gently pets your hair, he never wants to scare you. Your whimper as he leans down, giving you a kiss on the forehead.

He smiled slightly, walking over to the nightstand. He picks up your wedding ring, he finally has you again. He walks over, picking up your hand. Miguel tries to ignore how you flinch away at his touch. He slides the wedding ring onto your finger. It fits you perfectly.

He softly smiles, placing his forehead against your hand that’s now clad with a diamond ring. He sighed, content.

“My Y/n… I missed you…”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Thank you for reading, darling!!

(A/N: Eeeee, my first spiderverse fic!! I’m so excited, I hope you guys like it!! I changed up my formatting a bit so I hope you all like that too!! Also I’ve been getting a couple requests for Miguel where he speaks Spanish so if any darlings know how to speak Spanish and would be willing to help me, i’d greatly appreciate it 🙏🙏)

Masterlist ➸ ♡

[mournings-stars]

Hello hello! I’d like to request some platonic into romantic headcannons on an Alastor x fallen ex-exorcist/exterminator reader please :>

Small background: Reader fell for whatever reason and maybe a few days to a week (or even months-) afterward they end up striking a deal with Alastor, where they’ll be under his protection (because as skilled as they are it wouldn’t matter much with the entirety of hell on their ass) but he gets a pretty good portion of their power in return or maybe something else that you think Alastor would take.

Gender neutral reader pls

I’ve only read one fic or two with this concept and I am on my hands and knees for more lol

If you prefer a different writing format or feel this is too specific or OC-ish please please please feel free to change anything! I’m not very picky ^^

Thank you for your time and have a good day/night!

okay i LOVE this concept — i think it be the slowest fucking burn in the world tho like

you were never one of adam’s favorites, as you had the tendency to spare demons who seem harmless, but covered it nearly everytime

during this last extermination, however, he was trying to catch you fucking up the plan, so the minute you skipped over someone, he had lute launch her weapon at you

i doubt he’d let her kill you or anything, but he definitely just left you there for the demons to finish off, probably pinned to the ground with lute’s spear in your wing or something before he called all the other exorcists back (and he made sure to leave your halo so even if you did change clothes people knew what you were)

luckily (not really) you’d be in cannibal town, so before anyone could get to you, alastor’s probably just walking around like nothings happening (LMAO) and sees you

i doubt he’d make it known he saw you, like he’d definitely keep humming merrily down the street until he saw you struggling to get away from him as quickly as possible and tearing your wing even more

“my, my, let’s calm down, shall we?” he’d laugh and take the spear out of your wing. “isn’t that better, little bird?” but he’d say that while literally pointing the spear at you so don’t feel too safe

you’d definitely get defensive and shoot into the air with your weapon, ready to kill, and i think after seeing you still attempting to fly with that damaged of a wing (like its fucked up), he’d be impressed enough to drop the spear he had with a very big grin

“you’d better hide, little bird”

and you’d take his warning to fly off, quickly snatching lute’s weapon with yours in case you needed to defend yourself

he would literally just smile and watch you leave before continuing to hum and walk down the street

it’d probably be like a solid three days of hiding and having to fight for your life before the damage to your wing really messed with you and you had to force yourself to find a good hiding place

maybe you see charlie on the news and notice that no one seems to want to go to her hotel, so you force yourself to fly all the way there like a week after her horrible interview (ep 1) and practically collapse at the front door

of course you recognize vaggie and of course you practically run over and hug her despite the spear pointed at you… and of course that means vaggie either may or may not have to confess depending on if you pick up that no one knows or not (off the concept but im sparing chaggie heartbreak)

“who the fuck is this?” would be the first thing you hear from a spider demon and you’d have to explain what you were and hope they didn’t kill you — which, duh, charlie wouldn’t that let happen

“hello again, little bird,” would make everyone shut up because… how does alastor know you??? of course, he doesn’t answer their questions, just says hello and moves on like it’s all normal

your first day would totally be catching up with vaggie, probably breaking down because you needed to get back to heaven and had no way there

i think exorcists probably have a little bit of angelic power, but they probably can’t create portals without that power being given to them or something which means you have no way home and no where to go

vaggie and charlie of course tell you to stay, but once anyone shows up they’ll know you’re here and all of hell would be coming to the hotel to try and get to you — and you didn’t want to ruin what they had going (even if it was small you thought it was a great idea) so they probably give you a change of clothes, something more hellish, and tell you to stay until you have somewhere else to go

that would probably give alastor the perfect opportunity to talk to you privately and offer his protection

you wouldn’t take his offer at first, but once pentious shows up and the overlords somehow find out that charlie is hiding an angel in her hotel (vox and his stupid drones) you dont really have a choice

i dont think he’d ask for any power in return, but i do think you’d owe him a favor each time he has to protect you

vox would probably give subtle hints in all the programs he runs, so alastor would have to protect you very often

that meant if he ordered you to get rid of someone, you did it — whether that meant by the snap of your fingers with holy light (which they could potentially survive or respawn from) or killing them with your exorcist weapon was totally up to him sometimes, he just asked that you create a bouquet of flowers for his room

usually the people he had you “take care of” were repulsive enough, and you never minded creating things with your abilities, so you agreed to what he asked with ease

it’d be a little time before who he instructed you to “take care of” slowly shifted to anyone who wronged you

of course, he’d still protect you, but if he didn’t own their soul and he didnt have an angelic weapon, he couldn’t ensure that they wouldn’t come back, so he asked you, “do you think they’ll come back for you, little bird?” if you were unsure, or knew it was likely they’d come back for the person that ended up being the reason they had to go through the painful process of respawning, he’d tell you to just kill them

it’d probably come to a point where he stopped asking for favors, made sure you were alright, and told you to focus on what you needed to do while he “did his job”

i think eventually you’d find a place you think could be safe and once your wing is totally healed up and alright you’d say your goodbyes even though you weren’t that close with anyone but vaggie (also i feel like niffty would be down to talk to u about her bug battles or some shit)

anyway, when you go to say bye to alastor, he definitely cashes in his favor with a simple “hmm, no” cus he sees no reason for you to leave??? like so what everyone else’s lives are in danger by you being here… you’re safer here

so you’d stay, and it’d definitely make charlie happy because if she can get an angel back to heaven that’d prove she could actually do this

you’d be pissed at alastor for a while, but slowly, it seemed like demons understood that by coming for you, they were fucking with the radio demon (and we all know how that goes) so after a few months you were finally left alone

in that time you’d totally help spruce up the hotel while slowly forgetting why you wanted to go back

but every once in a while you’d have a very prolonged sadness about the situation… heaven was your home after all, and even if you liked the hotel, you could never leave because the minute you stepped outside, there was a line for your head — you were trapped there (like a bird in a cage — hence the nickname)

i think even though everyone likes having you there, vaggie would eventually bring up lucifer (like he can literally open a portal…)

but immediately alastor is not fucking having it and he cashes in another one of his pent up favors, saying that getting back to heaven through a fallen angel was the dumbest thing you could do if you wanted it to look like you were the one wronged in this situation (he has a point i fear)

i think this is where you kind of accept that you’re not going home and maybe just give up because 1. you can’t go to the heaven embassy since you’d just be met with adam and 2. the only person that could get you contact wasn’t a good option

i think now would be when alastor recognizes how much you want to go home and finds himself feeling bad?? for keeping you, but he just wants you to get home safely and surely

still, once he sees that you literally wont leave your room and have contemplated taking your own halo he compromises to let you try going to the heaven embassy to see if you could get a meeting with anyone but adam

you said it wasn’t possible, but he insisted “i can’t have you looking so upset all the time, birdie” he’d say while using his hand to squish your cheeks into a smile just to make you laugh

so you’d go — i think you’d totally get there safely but once demons see an exorcist angel coming out of the heaven embassy, you have to fight the minute you step out of the building

you can 100% see holy light from the hotel, so the minute alastor sees a golden beam he’s out the door

you can handle your own, so you fought them off, but i’d imagine you get injured and that’s what really makes alastor realize he’s falling for you cus he’s seething

even just a minuscule amount of golden blood on you had him tearing apart any demon who even looked like they’d been near you

i hate to say it but i don’t think this would be a happy ending — reader loves heaven even though they hate being an exorcist and alastor knows that so he’d definitely keep his feelings hidden and if you showed any signs of feelings for him he’d be terrified because an angel falling, literally falling because thats what would happen to you, for someone like him would never get you back home

obviously it’d come to a point where he doesn’t want you to leave, but at the same time, he’d never keep you

if i did end up writing an actual fic of this it’d probably end on a bit of a cliffhanger ex. reader getting accepted back and being hesitant with alastor’s last favor just him saying, “if you want to stay for anyone, don’t,” and letting you decide whether or not to go back

OR reader being accepted back but still having to be an exorcist, so the next time they see alastor is the finale where adam would 100% put them against him

[lee-laurent]

Scheiße - Luke Hughes

Summary: In which Luke falls for Nico's friend despite the language barrier. Or in which Sofia dates an American boy even though she barely understands him... at first.

Content: fluff, a tiny bit of angst (sort of), implied sex but no smut, making out

also this fic is formatted a bit different! it's kinda like a timeline of Luke and Sofia's relationship!

notes: everything in italics is in swiss german. easier than having to translate everything!! this one is for all my other multilingual queens/kings :) i tried my best to represent the struggle that i felt trying to learn english, but obviously everyone's experience is going to be different. the squirrel scene is very much taken from an actual experience i had haha

Meeting

"Stop picking at your nails, Sof. Everyone is going to love you," Nico attempted to calm his best friend.

"You don't know that. They could hate me," she argued, continuing to pick at her cuticles.

"Well... I'm their captain. So, if they do anything that makes you upset..."

"Don't threaten your team for me, Neeks."

"Just trying to reassure you, love."

The Devils were having a little pre-season get together with all the players and their significant others. Nico's best friend, Sofia, had recently made the move to America in hopes to improve her English; so, naturally he had decided to bring her along to help her make some friends in New Jersey.

Nervously, she followed behind Nico as they walked onto the roof of Nicole and Jesper's building. He placed a comforting hand on her back, leading her towards a group of WAGs.

"Nico! Hi!" Nicole smiled, "And you must be Sofia! Nico talks about you all the time."

"Hi," Sofia smiled sheepishly, playing with the hem of her skirt.

"Would you like a drink?" the blonde asked.

"Oh, sure. Thank you."

"I'll be with the boys. Let me know if you need anything," Nico smiled, walking off towards a group of hollering men.

Sofia fell into a steady flow of conversation with the Devils' significant others. Well, as steady as it could be with her limited knowledge of English.

"How long have you been seeing Nico?" one of the girls asked, taking a sip from her cocktail.

Sofia choked on her drink, giggling at the idea of being with Nico. "He is my best friend. We are not toether."

"Omg! I'm so sorry," the other girl blushed.

"It is fine! No stress," Sof smiled proudly at the use of the expression that Nico had recently taught her.

"So, anyone special back in Switzerland?" Nicole questioned.

"Oh, um, no. I... too focused on work. No time," she explained.

"Omg! We could set you up with one of the single guys on the team!"

"Oh... it's okay," Sofia giggled, taking a long sip of her drink.

"Let us know if you change your mind," Nicole winked, before starting a story about something that had happened at work earlier in the week.

"Sofia! Come here!" Nico beckoned her over to where he stood with a few players.

"Coming! It was nice meeting you all," she smiled politely at the girls.

"Wait! Give me your number! I'll add you to our group chat," Simon's girlfriend exclaimed. Sofia was giddy as she typed her number into her newly found friend's phone.

"Guys, meet Sofia," Nico smiled, placing his hand on her back once again. "Sof, meet Luke, Jack, Timo, and Dawson."

"Hi," Jack smiled widely.

"Nico always talks of you guys. Nice to meet you," the girl smiled, scooting closer into Nico's side. She was not a fan of all the eyes on her at the moment.

"Nice to see you again," Timo grinned. They'd met over the summer when Nico was training.

Luke could see her shoulders untense at the sound of her native language.

"You as well. It's crazy to meet everyone Nico talks about all the time. Like, sometimes I was convinced they were all in his head," she giggled, earning a glare from her best friend.

Luke, Jack, and Dawson chuckled awkwardly, completely unaware of what the conversation in front of them was about. They could be shit talking for all they knew.

"So... what do you do for work?" Dawson asked.

"Oh, fashion photography!"

"Ever tried sports photography?"

"I'm not as good at it," she nodded.

"She's being humble. She just prefers fashion," Nico laughed. While Nico talked to the boys, Sofia couldn't help but notice that the tallest boy in the group had yet to speak to her. Did he not like her? She was trying her best. She caught his eyes for a moment, but he quickly looked down at the beer in his hands. She was upset that one of Nico's close friends didn't like her, but she couldn't win them all.

Crushing

It was the third or fourth time that Sofia had hungout with the WAGs. This time she'd invited them to have their wine night at her and Nico's apartment. The girls were sat in the living room, chatting animatedly about the upcoming season.

"I know that Simon is so excited for his rookie season! He told me that Luke is feeling the same way," Simon's girlfriend smiled.

"I- I don't think Luke likes me," Sofia spoke up, swishing her wine around in the glass.

"What?!" Nicole exclaimed, "Why do you think that?"

"He never talks to me. And when I go to stand with Neeks, he walks away."

"That's funny because Curtis told me something completely different," Reanne smiled cheekily.

"What did he say?" Sofia asked, chugging the rest of her wine, before pouring herself some more.

"That Luke has a biiiiiig crush on a certain someone."

"Ooo! Sofia!" the girls cheered.

"But... he doesn't talk to me."

"Luke has no play, girl. He's probably just wayyy too nervous to talk you cause you're so stunning."

"He thinks I'm cute?" Sofia blushed.

"Duh! Who wouldn't? Do you think he's cute?" Nicole pressed.

Sofia pressed her lips together in an attempt to hide her growing smile, "He is like... how do I say it? My..."

"Type?"

"Yes! He's my type."

"Can I tell Curtis? Maybe he can talk some sense into Luke."

"We should let them come together naturally, Reanne," Nicole giggled.

"Okay, well... next game you're talking to him. Sound good?"

Sofia nodded happily. She couldn't believe that Luke had a crush on her! She felt like a high schooler writing in her diary about the cute boy in her class.

First Date

Sofia stood in the bathroom mirror, fixing her hair for the 15th time. She hadn't gone on a date in over a year and she was shitting herself. Luke had asked her out after their most recent win against the Rangers. She hadn't exactly told Nico who were date was with, but he knew she was going on one.

"You look beautiful, Sof," Nico smiled as she walked into the kitchen.

"It's not too much?" she asked, pulling at the bottom of her top.

"Are you going to wear a jacket?"

"Yeah, my jean one."

"I think that's perfect. Where are you guys going?"

"Some pizza place. Then we're going on a walk, I think."

"Cute. How'd you meet?"

"Oh, at the Rangers game. He came up to me when I was waiting for you."

"He wasn't a Rangers fan... was he?"

"No," she giggled, "He was wearing a Devils' jersery."

"Good. Have fun! You'll be back tonight?"

"Yes, Neeks. I'm not going to his on the first date," she giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Stay safe! I love you!"

"Love you too," she grabbed her purse, blowing him one last kiss before disappearing out the door.

"Hi," Luke smiled, "I like your outfit."

"Thank you, Luke. You look nice too," she admired the way his chest looked in the blue polo shirt he was wearing.

"Pizza?"

"Pizza."

The walk to the pizza place was full of laughter. Sofia wasn't sure she'd ever felt so confident in her English as when she was around Luke. He wasn't condescending at all, helping her when she asked and waiting when she didn't.

"Have you ever played hockey?" Luke asked, cutting himself a slice of pizza.

"No. That is not really... my thing?"

Luke nodded in understanding.

"But I love watching. You are very good."

"Thanks, Sofia. I have seen the outfits you've helped Nico make. Do you think you could help me?"

"You always wear same two suits," she giggled, covering her mouth.

"Don't bully me!"

"Sorry. I would love to help you, Luke."

"I, uh, wanted to apologize for ignoring you when we first met. I was under the impression that you were with Nico, so I was trying to push my attraction away."

"Nico is like a brother. I never think of him other ways. Promise."

"It's fine, Sof. No worries. I just being dumb."

"Maybe you are always dumb, Lukey."

Luke cackled, reaching out and holding her hand across the table.

"I'll just pretend that was your lack of English and not you bullying my again."

"I would never bully you," she smirked.

First Kiss

Sofia was cuddled up into Luke's side on the sofa, his hand holding tightly onto the dip of her waist.

"I can put the German captions on," Luke offered, as he watched Sofia's face scrunch up for umpteenth time.

"But maybe that would distract you."

"It won't, babe. I'll turn them on."

Sofia blushed at the pet name. Luke grabbed the remote, clicking on the German caption option on the film they were watching.

"What the hell is Eichhörnchen?" Luke asked, butchering the pronunciation.

"Eichhörnchen?" she giggled, correcting him, "It's squirrel."

"Say that again?"

"Squirrel."

"You say it so funny. I'm sorry."

"The 'skw' sound... that is not in German. Stop hating."

"Sorry, love," Luke giggled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Sofia looked up at him as he pulled away. She placed a gentle hand on the side of his face, leading him back down.

"What're you doing?" he whispered.

"Can we kiss?"

"Wha- what?"

"Can we kiss?" she asked just as confidently as before.

Luke nodded, running his tongue over his bottom lip. He leaned forward, capturing her top lip between his. He smiled into the kiss, ultimately breaking it. Sofia pouted, pulling him back in for more.

Wearing His Jersey/Becoming His Girlfriend

"Do a spin for me?" Luke smiled from his spot on his bed. Sofia was dressed in her panties and a jersey with 'Hughes 43' plastered on the back. She spun around giggling as he got off the bed, picking her up.

"You. Are. So. Fucking. Beautiful," he said between kisses, hands sneaking under the jersey to give her exposed ass a small squeeze. She gasped, smacking his chest.

"Jack will be home soon, I should go."

"Do you have to?" he whined, sitting down and pulling her onto his lap.

"Yes, Lukey. I'll be at the game, wearing my new jersey," she giggled, pulling him into a passionate kiss. He attempted to lay down and bring her with him, but she was quick to stand up. She walked over to the side of the bed, hopping into her jeans. The vintage bell bottoms looked amazing on her and Luke made sure to let her know, letting out a low whistle as she walked out the door.

"A Hughes' jersey?" Nico questioned after the game, pulling her into a hug.

"Thought I'd switch it up. Can't always be repping the Hischier one."

"Where'd you get it?"

"Luke let me borrow it."

"I'm glad you two have become friends. I was worrying you weren't going to befriend any of the guys."

"We're the same age. It just made sense," she shrugged.

"You never told me how that date you went on was."

"Oh, didn't really work out. He just wanted to use me to get free tickets," she lied.

"Sounds about right. You'll find someone, Sof. Don't worry."

"And if I don't?"

"You've got me," he winked, making her laugh. "Need a ride home?"

"Yes! Let me say thanks to Luke again."

"I'll meet you at the car," he smiled, kissing her cheek as he headed out.

"Look at you," Luke whispered as he pulled her into a 'friendly' hug. "Look so good in my jersey."

"Stop being so horny," she giggled, pulling away from him.

"Can't help it when my girlfriend looks sooooo fine."

"Girlfriend?"

"Sorry, I- uh, I just assumed because we spend all this time together. But if you don't want to be my girlfriend, I understand. I shouldn't have-"

"Luke."

"Yeah?"

"I'd love to be your girlfriend."

"Oh."

She pulled him into one more quick hug, before skipping off to meet Nico.

Nico Finding Out

Luke hummed as Sofia straddled his lap, running her hands through his hair. He pressed a kiss to her jaw, another on her neck, then one on her collarbone before connecting their lips again.

"I missed you," he mumbled.

"Missed you too."

The boys had been on a week long roadie, and now Sofia and Luke couldn't keep their hands off each other.

"Mmm, I love this perfume. Is it new?" he asked, kissing her neck again.

"Yeah," her voice was shaky, gasping when he nipped at her jaw.

"God, Sofia. You're perfect."

"Luke."

"Hm?"

"Kiss me."

His hands gripped her waist as their lips met in another passionate kiss. They laid down on the couch, Luke holding himself up as his girlfriend giggled below him.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I just missed this."

"Me too, babe."

Sofia's hands moved under his top, feeling the smooth skin of his chest. Just as Luke was going to ask if he could do the same, a new voice echoed through the apartment.

"Sofia? Who's here?"

"What?"

"Who's here? There's some white sneakers at the door. Not mine."

"Oh, Luke's here! We're watching TV."

The couple scrambled to sit up and fix their dishevled looks.

"Hey, Luke! How's it going, man?" Nico entered the living room, dapping up his teammate.

"Good, good. How're you?"

"Good. You didn't tell me he was coming over," Nico turned to his roommate.

"Yeah... spur of the moment."

"Is that a hickey?" Nico asked in German, as not to embarass Sofia.

"What? No."

"It totally is! Who gave you a hickey?"

"It's not a hickey, Nico."

"Was it him?!" Nico gasped.

"What?! No!"

"It was! You're such a shit liar! How long?"

"Beginning of the season," she sighed, finally giving in.

"This is so funny! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I'm not a shit liar, for the record. You had no idea until now."

"Was that date with him?!"

"Nico!"

"I'm right here... if you're talking about me," Luke scratched the back of his neck.

"One second, Luke," Sofia smiled. "It was, yeah. I... I was nervous to tell you. Was worried you'd think I was using you to get with him."

"That's funny, Sof. I couldn't care less. As long as you're happy."

Sofia stood up, pulling her best friend into a tight hug.

"I'm watching you though, Rusty. Hurt her and I'll hurt you," Nico threatened, heading to his bedroom.

"He knows?!" Luke gasped.

Guess Sofia had some explaining to do.

[captainlexaprosaveme]

Not Like This

2.3k words Warnings: side characters named Renee and Bailey sorry if your name is that, use of y/n, bad writing, no thoughts, no beta we die like men, making out, embarrassment? Drinking, and sad thoughts? Maybe a little angst idk man im really bad at this Pairing: Quinn Hughes x reader Summary: Nick and Jess’s first kiss in new girl but if it was you and Quinn and there was no homewrecking involved! This is my first time writing a fic ever so im sorry it will probably not happen ever again! also i am so confused by the formatting idk how to fix it im so sorry

It had started off innocent. Jack and Luke were in town, and Bailey, your best friend since college, was visiting, obviously you had to celebrate. Quinn decided to host since your apartment had been deemed too small, “Not everyone is a pro NHL player, Quinny” you had teased, not putting up a fight because let’s be honest. His place is much better than yours, you already spend most of your time there.

You were all having a great time, everyone several drinks in, when Bailey brought up the game you two had made up in college. The rules were insane and never made sense, you gave up trying to explain them halfway through, deciding to just throw the boys into the game and hope they figured it out. It was going great; everyone had stripped a layer or two off during the game and you were feeling a warm buzz from the alcohol. Bailey was down to just a tank top and her tights, Luke had lost his shorts and now was just in his boxers, Quinn was shirtless and only had one sock on. Jack somehow was winning and had just declared you had violated the Truce Act, meaning you had to remove your top, leaving you in just your bra and skirt, your cheeks burned as you tried to ignore Quinn’s lingering gaze and took a large gulp of your mystery drink to distract yourself.

❦❦❦

Bailey and Jack were in some kind of an argument, one claiming that the other had violated some rule and had to take a penalty but no one had witnessed this rule violation. Your eyes lit up as you saw an opportunity to bring your two friends together.

“There’s only one way to solve this!” You announced with a glint in your eye. “Two of us have to go behind the iron curtain- which is the guest bedroom by the way- and kiss. There has to be a clear and present threat of tongue- those are the rules!” Bailey groaned, knowing this rule was only ever used as a ruse before sighing and agreeing.

“How would that solve this? These rules don’t even make sense” Quinn argued as you calmed the group. “Last minute amendment to the rule- brothers cannot go behind the iron curtain together that is actually not allowed” You quickly amended as you realized over half this group was in fact related, your tipsy mind somehow able to connect those dots but not seeing the very real possibility that you would end up behind the iron curtain with someone.

“Let’s do the count, one, two, three or four? Everyone- ok… on three” Bailey started the count down and you tried your hardest to psychically make Jack and Bailey pull the same numbers. “One, Two, Three- Numbers on heads!” You threw three fingers up on your forehead and glanced around. Luke had one finger on his forehead, Bailey had four, and Jack had two… leaving only Quinn, sitting next to you with three fingers on his forehead.

Luke gasped and made a faux shocked face as he glanced between you and Quinn, Jack muffling his laughter with his hand as Bailey stood up and dragged you up with her, kicking Jack on the way up and gesturing towards Quinn. With a lot of arguing and pushing, they finally managed to shove you and Quinn into the guest room, barricading the door and chanting “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” You avoided looking at Quinn’s face, eyes instead landing on his toned chest before quickly flicking away as blush painted your cheeks.

Quinn opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by your finger on his lips, shushing him. You waited several seconds before calling out to the others “Okay, we did it! We kissed, let us out now!” which was met with laughter as Bailey called out “Picture proof Y/N! You know the rules!”

You sighed as you let your back hit the wall and slid down to sit on the floor, Quinn watching you carefully before sitting next to you, thighs touching. A minute or two went by as your friends continued chanting from the other side of the door, you and Quinn staying in silence before he finally broke it “We don’t have to do this, you know. I think we can just wait them out.” You huffed out a laugh as you rolled your eyes at him, “Do you really believe that? They will be out there for hours.” You grabbed your phone and opened the camera app before swiftly turning to face him, quickly kissing him on the cheek before he could say anything else as you snapped a picture and sent it off to the group chat. “There we did it, now let us out!” You shouted out as Quinn cleared his throat, a light dusting of pink covering his cheeks.

“That ain’t no kiss man!” Bailey yelled, Jack and Luke agreeing with her. “Just give Y/N a tender, sensual kiss and we will let you out!” Jack’s loud voice shouted through the door. Quinn rolled his eyes and scoffed at his brother’s words “Shut the fuck up, Jack!”

❦❦❦

Several minutes later, Quinn was working on trying to open the door that had been barricaded shut as you laid on the guest bed. You sighed as he struggled in vain, starting to feel embarrassed by how Quinn obviously did not want to kiss you. He was literally about to dislocate something trying to escape the room just to avoid kissing you, and honestly you were starting to feel a little bitter as you realized your little crush was very much not reciprocated. “What’s the big deal? Let’s just suck it up and French a little.” You tried to joke with him, willing to do whatever it takes to get out of this room with him so you could sulk alone and drink a whole lot more.

He choked out a laugh as he looked at you incredulously, unsure whether you were joking. “Ok fine but don’t say ‘let’s suck it up and French a little’” He shuffled over to the bed you were laying on and sat next to you as you sat up “Okay, fine. Let’s do this.”

“Okay, Y/N, this is not a big deal. Let’s just do this” His lips quirked up into a subtle smirk and he rested his hands on your arms.

“Yeah, let’s just do this- why are you licking your lips”

“Should I not? Do you want dry lips?”

“Well, no…”

“Then I’m just licking them so they’re… not dry?”

“Okay, fine whatever just do it.”

“I’m gonna do it”

“Okay, we’re doing this”

“Yup we’re definitely doing this. Are you ready?” His hands grasped your face as he looked into your eyes, you nodded as your heart threatened to beat out of your chest.

“Okay, three, two- actually I’m not gonna do a count. That’s weird.” He stopped moving closer to you as you huffed out a laugh at his awkwardness.

“Let’s just do this, Quinn” You leaned into him, looking into his eyes as he got closer, breathe ghosting over your lips, but just as he closed his eyes you panicked and shoved him away. “I’m sorry- You can’t do that!”

“Do what?”

“Your face!”

“My face?”

“Yeah, you can’t do that with your face”

“Okay fine- I’ll do something different with my face.” He was trying to hold back his laughter at your demands, then his hands were on your face again and he was leaning in, this time with a wide, and creepy, smile. You shoved him again, trying not to laugh “What is that? Are you trying to kiss with your teeth?”

He sighed as he stood up, moving back to the door to try and open it “Okay, I can’t do this”

“Well, you can’t try to kiss me like the Joker and expect me to just go along with it!”

❦❦❦

Several more minutes passed, the sounds on the other side of the door dwindling as Jack and Bailey made their way back to the living room, leaving just Luke to guard the door.

“Lukey! C’mon man just let us out.” Quinn tried to reason with his younger brother, but he was just met with his laughter. You saw light from someone’s headlights shining from the driveway as he failed to convince Luke, gasping as you stood and looked out the window.

“Back up has arrived!”

“Who’s that?” Quinn questioned as he joined you at the window.

“I texted Renee to come help, she just got off work.” You quickly explained to him as you watched her walk through the front door and heard the chaos of the rest of your group greeting her. You and Quinn stumbled back to the door, shouting frantically for her as she walked further into the house, questioning what was going on.

❦❦❦

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Renee had decided to join the fun in tormenting you after being told the game, she had had enough of you and Quinn being oblivious to your shared feelings and was hoping this would be the beginning of something.

You sighed as you once again faced Quinn, “Just kiss me.”

“I’m not going to kiss you!”

“God! Just kiss me already!”

“No, Y/N. I’m not going to kiss you!”

“Just kiss me already, Hughes!”

“No, not like this!” His eyes widened as he realized what he said, your eyebrows shooting up into your hairline.

“What… what do you mean”

“No, I didn’t- I didn’t mean- not like that, I just meant- well we can’t” He struggled to find some way to explain what he said, as your friends continued chanting on the other side of the door and you continued to look at him with confusion in your eyes.

He sighed as he gently moved you out of his way and walked towards the window. “Now if you’ll just excuse me, I have to go… do something.” He opened the window as you stared at him in shock, unable to move until he started shoving the screen out of the window. “Quinn! Stop, what are you doing?” But it was too late, he was already halfway out the window, one foot in the guest bedroom, the other on the roof. You turned around and started frantically banging on the door, yelling at your friends as he made his way further down the roof, getting close to his own bedroom window. “Bailey! Jack! He’s on the roof! He climbed out the window, help!”

Everyone went silent for a second before they heard Quinn banging on the window to his own room, Jack and Luke running over to let him back in before he slips and falls off the roof as Bailey and Renee moved the barricade and let you out of the guest room finally.

❦❦❦

Quinn was back inside and after a brief lecture from Jack and Luke, mainly Luke, everyone was sitting in the living room again. Bailey found the whole situation hilarious and would not let it go. “I mean, Y/N. The guy would rather risk falling off his roof and dying than kiss you!” You simply rolled your eyes and laughed with her, you knew she was drunk and not trying to be mean, but it stung all the same.

The night carried on and eventually everyone had left. Jack and Luke had just left in their uber, Renee drove Bailey back to her hotel, and after several hours of ignoring Quinn as best as you could, you were now alone with him. Before everything happened, you had planned on staying the night to help clean in the morning and after everything there was nothing you wanted to do less. You didn’t want to uber back to your apartment and have to deal with getting your car in the morning, so you just decided to say a quick goodnight to Quinn before shutting yourself in the guest room.

As you got ready for bed you tried your hardest to ignore the ache in your chest, you went to grab your pajamas from your bag and huffed as you remembered you were going to borrow something from Quinn as you forgot to bring them. As you debated whether you should just sleep in your clothes from the party or suck it up and talk to him, a faint knocking sounded from the door. You opened it to find Quinn standing there with a soft smile and sweats in his hands for you.

“Hey, I remembered you mentioned you needed something to sleep in so…”

You thanked him as you took the sweats from him and tossed them onto the bed, reaching to close the door but being stopped by his hand on the door.

“Wait I- I wanted to talk to you.” He let out and awkward chuckle as you nodded for him to continue. He struggled to find the words to say before sighing and grabbing your face between his hands, pressing his lips to yours.

He began kissing you slowly, his plush lips soft and warm against yours. Your hands were frozen against his chest as your brain struggled to catch up, and when it did your hands flattened against his chest as you kissed him back just as tenderly. He tilted your head up, giving himself easier access to you as he traced his tongue on your bottom lip, begging for access. Your lips part for him as you sighed into his mouth, his tongue caressing yours as his hands migrated, one to the back of your head and the other landing on your waist. Your hand made its way up to his hair, tangling your fingers in his soft strands which only encouraged him as he started assaulting your mouth with his tongue.

His hand gripped your waist as you finally pulled away to catch you breath, resting your forehead against his. “That is how it was supposed to happen.” He says with a lazy smirk as you let out a breathy laugh, thinking maybe you could get used to this.

[s0urw00lf]

One of those days

Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader, Jo harvelle x Dean Winchester

Warnings: mentions of unavailable parents

AN: I'm so happy with this! I love the idea of teenage Sam x reader and teenage dean x Jo doing normal teenage stuff. I just wanna write a whole bunch of these so if you have any requests please send them. Also I’m trying out new writing formats to see what I’m gonna be permanently going so that’s going well. (im writing this after i finished the fic that’s why it doesn’t match the title)

It wasn’t often that all four of you were at Bobby’s all at the same time, but when it did happen you made the best of it.

Bobby had told you and Jo about a time he took Sam and dean fishing and how dean annoyed and pestered Sam the entire time. Much to your surprise, the two of you never knew that Bobby had a huge pond on his property and when you asked why you never heard about it Bobby replied “cuz I wasn’t putn’ up with your complaints about the bugs”, making Sam and dean snort and you and Jo send them glares.

“We should go” Jo says from deans side once Bobby headed to bed. You raise your brows in confusion running your hands through Sam’s shaggy hair “go where?” You ask. Jo sits up a little causing deans arm to fall from around her shoulder “Bobby’s pond. I mean we all can drive and it would give us something to do and give Bobby a break” the four of you looked among each other before dean spoke “not a bad idea”

You look at Sam who’s head was in you lap, he gave you a shrug in response “sounds like a plan, but i don’t have a swimsuit” you say. Jo sighs “just wear shorts and a bra”

Your cheeks redden in embarrassment, dean smirked seeing the perfect opportunity to tease you “oh come on don’t tell me you’re all shy about wearin’ a bra. We’re all adults, plus its nothing Sammy hasn’t seen before if that’s what you’re worried about”

“Dean!” Sam says before throwing a pillow at his brother. Before looking up to you with a smirk of his own “hes not wrong though” he teases raising his eyebrows. You throw you head back feeling heat seep over your body “kill me now” you groan, before looking back at them “fine but don’t be surprised when my abs look better than you guys’” you say jokingly. Sam and dean both scoff “ill give you one hundred bucks if you show up with abs”

You let out a loud laugh “ill take you up on that action”

Not long after that conversation you all retire to bed, you and Jo sharing a room and Sam and dean sharing the other. Much to your dismay but Bobby insisted that there will be no opposing gender room sharing and you all knew better than to argue with Bobby.

The next morning was a blur, you woke up excited and followed Jo down for breakfast, Sam and dean showed up a minute or two after the two of you, saying their good mornings. Sam pressed a kiss to your forehead before sitting down next to you, dean did the same but kissed Jo on the lips. They were more bold with their PDA than you and Sam but you didn’t mind.

When Bobby sat down placing the last of the breakfast he made on the table, conversation flowed easily as everyone filled their plates with food. “What’re you four gettin’ into today, i got a few jobs to help with” Bobby asked biting into bacon. Your eyebrows raised in surprise “your goin on a hunt?” You asked cutting Into the pancake on your plate. Bobby shook his head “no just some research and calls to make.” You nodded in understanding taking a sip of your orange juice. “We’re going to that pond you mentioned last night” Jo answered his question.

Now it was Bobby’s turn to raise his eyebrows “the pond? Ain’t nobody wanted to go there in years” he said. Dean swallows a bite of his pancake before speaking “so it’s out of commission?”

Bobby snorts “no, i take care of my property, just surprised you’d wanna go” he said. Sam finally spoke from beside you “sounded like something fun to do instead of sitting around all day again”

Bobby nodded in understanding, before turning his attention to his food, and the four of you did the same.

The pond was a lot more well kept than you imagined, it was about a 10 minute walk from Bobby’s even though your and jo were sure you could’ve made it faster if you trusted your instincts and not the two bickering brothers.

You and Jo carried the towels and blankets and Sam and dean carried the chairs and cooler filled with drinks and snacks. The four of you worked to set up your sitting area, before removing the extra clothing articles.

You turned to Jo who handed you a water before glancing at your stomach “looks like dean owes you” she says loud enough to catch deans attention, he then looked at your stomach and groaned, you smirked “scarf to over Winchester” you say holding your hand out.

Dean reaches into his pocket and pulls out the one hundred dollar bill and slaps it into your hand before glaring at a cheezing Sam “you couldn’t have warned me?” He asked. Sam shrugs “one day you’ll learn not to make stupid bets. Even jo has abs, why wouldn’t she?” He asked guesturing to your smirking face. Dean looks between you and Sam. “My own blood is against me, what has the world come to” he muttered shrugging off his shirt.

Sam and dean of course were the first ones in the water, while you and Jo sat on the towels painting your nails. Jo had shown up with a case full of nail polish and promised to paint your nails eventually. The boys splashed around in the water laughing and shouting.

You felt so content in this moment, wearing a small smile as you watched them, careful not to move too much to avoid a scolding from Jo. “This is so… normal. It feels illegal” you say almost to yourself.

Jo turns her attention to you briefly and then to the brother in the water “it is, you’d never guess we’ve ever held a gun before” she joked. You laughed, as she finished up your hand, a large shadow covered the both of you, and drips of water pelted against your skin, “Sam, move your getting me wet.” You say trying and failing to push him out of the way “nope. We came here to swim. So we’re swimming.”

You looked up to Sam’s smirking face, you quickly stood up despite Jo’s protests to let your nails dry. You took a few steps back, ready to bolt as you pleaded for Sam to let you be. From behind Sam you see dean pick Jo up causing her to scream and throw her into the pond, letting out a victory laugh.

The adrenaline in your veins made you take off in a sprint in the other direction. “Run y/n!” You hear Jo shout from the water. “Get er Sammy, put those long legs to use” dean shouts clapping his hands.

Realistically you knew Sam could catch you with ease. But that’s what made it so fun was the unexpectansy of when he’d stop going easy on you.

Somehow you managed to stay out of his grasp long enough to reach where dean was standing right on the bank of the lake.

You ran behind him putting him between you and Sam, you watch him from over deans shoulder, his eyes were on dean, having a silent conversation before he looked at you “bad move baby” he said.

And before you could take of running again dean moves out of the way and Sam quickly grabs you and throws you.

You scream before hitting the water, you swam back to the surface with ease.

Making eye contact with the smirking brothers, when an idea popped into your head.

You hissed “Sam i think i hurt my foot” you say, Jo immediately catches onto your act ‘worriedly’ swimming over to you “what are you okay?” She asks urgently.

You shake your head “no it really hurts” you say forcing tears into your eyes.

Sam and deans eyes widen, scared that you’d actually been hurt. “Jo help her over here” Sam says, holding out his hand. Jo nods “helping” you swim to the boys.

“Dean give him a hand would ya?” Jo says feigning worry. You reach for both of their hands and quickly your expression shifts “gotcha” you say pulling them into the water with he help of Jo. The two of you laugh in success giving each other high fives.

The rest of the day was spent like that. Jumping in and out of the water, eating and drinking all of the snacks until the four of you finally decided to go home.

When you got back Bobby wasn’t home, you’d found a note saying that he’d be out until later that night. The four of you took showers and got changed before meeting up in the living room to watch a movie that nobody stayed awake for.

You were the last to fall asleep, against Sam’s chest. You took a peek at dean and Jo who were sprawled out over the smaller couch, breathing in sync.

Then you looked to Sam’s sleeping face. There wasn’t an ounce of worry in his features, he just looked completely at peace. You wished life could always be like this.

In the only house you’d ever grown to know as home, the boy you loved and the friends you’d grown up with all exhausted from a day of being actual teenagers and not because of a dangerous hunt. But it wouldn’t. And somehow you weren’t mad because that’s what made these moments all the more special.

SPECIAL ADDITION

When Bobby got home it was abnormally quiet, there was no way the four teenagers were still at the pond. But the lack of noise began to convince him otherwise. That was until he heard the tv from the living room. He followed the sound, only to see the four sleeping teenagers taking up the entire space of both couches only leaving one chair open. A rare gentle smile crossed Bobby’s face. They aren’t his kids, he knows that but every time he got to see them he felt like in a different world they might have gotten to be.

Seeing them like this reminded him of when they were kids, all tired out from running around outside all day and curled up into one bed. He was glad he could provide some sort of normality for the young teens who’d seen entirely too much horror for their own good.

Sam Winchester masterlist

Taglist 🏷️ : @fandom-princess-forevermore

[featguler]

breaking the status quo ────── a private confession under bernabéu lights.

⌗ pairing : rodrygo goes x reader ⌗ tags : reader's gender, ethnicity, nationality, and appearance is not specified. confessions!! fluff. not proofread!!! 5.28 am here and i do not care! ⌗ wordcount : 1,262 ⌗ notes : haven't written for rodrygo in so long... wrote the lyrics to the song on the banner & changing up the header format hehe... trying something new,,,, what do we think? title and the fic is mostly based on taylor swift's the very first night!! ♡ masterlist.

Rodrygo did not think that he was close enough to the stands when he scanned the crowd to find you cheering after his goal, mouthing an obvious but short “I love you” that was cut by Vinícius jumping on his back.

Rodrygo did not think that he was close enough, and you know this because you the Real Madrid jersey you have on your back does not have his name nor his number embroidered on it; you know this because you still take the train home rather than hopping on the passenger seat of his car; you know this because the farthest you have gone in your relationship is drink each other’s wine, scrunching up your noses in vile judgement.

Which is funny, because Camavinga, just before today’s match, joked to you about how bad the Spanish wine is compared to what he has back home, citing Rodrygo as another non-Spanish person who hates the syrup-like texture to the bottle of wine they serve in most fancy restaurants in Madrid.

You and him come in a pair, the whole team thinks. When Bellingham wanted to return a DVD of your favourite film that he borrowed—old fashioned, you know—he handed it over to Rodrygo, even when you are generally on good terms with everyone else in the team and wouldn’t mind him returning it himself.

It’s cute to you, to see the whole team supporting a relationship that is not there yet—like you are back in high school, testing the waters of a relationship by judging how the other’s friend group reacts to your mere presence.

And you are well aware that it is not wise to surmise Rodrygo’s intentions with just the way Brahim gives you a cheeky grin every time you make an appearance in their gatherings, scouring the crowd to point out where Rodrygo is, the same way it is definitely not wise to jump into the conclusion that Rodrygo loves you the way you love him with just an eye contact and a mouthed “I love you” to back up your hypothesis.

But you do anyway.

All chance of wisdom thrown out the window the moment you feel your heart breaking through your rib, the world suddenly turning silent when your brain finally registered what he might have said.

A confession, to you, under Bernabéu limelight, without anyone else in the world knowing.

The heat rushes through your chest, spreading butterflies on your neck and tummy and ears—amongst the commotion, you placed a hand on the top rail of your seat, and quietly sat.

“I’m so happy for you.”

The first thing you do when the game ends, and you see Rodrygo on the other side of the stadium’s tunnel, is untighten the jacket wrapped around your waist, suddenly feeling scrutinised under the gaze of every other person.

And you can see him there, a couple of feet away from you, trying to cage his excitement—a puppy with an invisible collar around his neck. He is lightly jogging your way, smiling and then frowning and then smiling again, like trying to decide what expression he should offer you.

“Thanks,” Rodrygo almost sounds sheepish, zipping up the grey—brown?—windbreaker up to his chin. You note how good he looks in it. “How did you like the goal?”

You can’t help your smile, carefully stitching the muscles on your cheeks. “Why are you saying it like that?”

He shrugs, bouncing back and forth on his heels. “Just, how did you like it?”

“It had a nice curve…” You trail, unsure how to respond to his question, chuckling when he finally decides to break the ice and opens his arm, inviting you to a warm hug.

“Come on,” He laughs against your hair, being the first one to let go after far too short of a time. “Nice curve, that’s it?”

“I mean,” you step back, putting one arm into your jacket sleeve. “Definitely got Real Madrid out of that pinch, did you?”

As people rush past your bodies, you feel the world slowing down again.

He leans a shoulder on the wall, the smile seemingly permanent on his lips. “They do call us ‘Second Half F.C.’, or something like that, huh?”

“It got my heart racing, that’s for sure,” you decide to zip up your jacket this time, feeling cold despite the flaring glow inside of you.

He pushes himself off the wall, giving you a grin. “Sorry for that.”

“What’s there to be sorry for? Real Madrid won, you scored, and you had a real nice curve to that goal.”

He thinks you’re a comedian—Rodrygo barks out a harsh laugh, nodding towards the exit door. “Come on,” he places both hands inside of the pockets of his windbreaker, “let’s see the other guys.”

And you watch him lead the way, humming to himself like a kid the night before a field trip.

You bite your lips, halting your steps after walking just a couple steps behind him.

“Also,” you call out, and he turns with a gentle gaze.

“Hm?”

You slip your hands in the pockets of your jacket, following his suit. 

“I love you too.”

This is where Rodrygo’s smile falters—you wonder if you had read his lips wrong, but before the insecurities could catch up to you, you shortened the gap you had between yourself and him.

“What?”

You ignore the nervousness, this time, cracking in his voice. You ignore how he carefully and slowly takes out his hands out his pockets; how one of them goes to cover his gaping mouth. You ignore the butterflies in your tummy. You ignore it all.

“And I think,” you take a deep breath, offering the coolest smile you can muster, trying to act like it does not alter your entire world, “it’s sweet that you decided to confess your love in front of the whole world.”

“You saw that?” His eyes crinkle, beaming a grin while looking worried at the same time. He glances at the ceiling, “you love me too?”

“Rodrygo,” you say his name, your voice almost crumbling in a whine, and he takes his mouth away from his mouth, letting it form a fist against it.

“This is the third goal I scored while telling you that I love you.”

This confession shocks you more than his declaration of love.

“Third?”

He steps in closer, his hand cupping one side of your face, peering deep into your eyes, trying to extract every possible secret you have hidden in your mind.

You may be an idiot for not noticing sooner.

“I know that you’d probably find out sooner or later, but—”

“Third, Rodrygo?” You ask again, placing a hand over the back of his on your face.

“I’m too much of a coward to say it straight to your face,” you understand his sheepishness now. “It was so scary to tell you that I love you….”

Your eyes widen to hear him say the words, actually meaning for you to hear it.

“….but it doesn’t feel as scary now.”

His thumb brushes over the skin under your eye—a couple of people may have stopped walking to examine the interesting posture you find yourself in, only then continuing on their merry way. But you couldn’t really care.

“God,” he chuckles, for a moment looking away, weak under the way your eyes are staring back. “I love you.”

You close your eyes, swallowing in all the anxiety on the tip of your tongue and the tension on your shoulder, before opening them back up.

“I love you too.”

[theamberwriter]

The Perfect Blend

Modern!Alpha!Levi Ackerman x Omega!GN!Reader || Tea Shop AU

Word count: 6.3k

So this is the first fic I’ve written in a while, and I cannot remember the last time I actually watched AoT. But my thirst for Levi can never be tamed. I hope this does him some justice. Also, I’m on my iPad. So the formatting may be a little weird.

Companion Art: [1] [2]

☕️📚

The Stem and Spine was the shiney new bookstore/tea shop opening on the corner on Prescott and Main. It seemed like ages since anyone had tried opening a store there. It was such a quaint spot. The historical building had detailed moldings, uneven red bricks, and chipped, dark blue paint. Six large, angled windows gave a panoramic view out to the bustling streets in your little college town.

It was the perfect spot to stop, drink tea, and people watch.

You were looking forward to opening day. You’d spent months crawling through every bookshop, online and in person, as well as every thrift shop trying to find one specific book. No one seemed to know of it’s existence. So you were silently begging the universe to cut you a break and let this new bookshop carry what you were looking for.

You’d only recently discovered their grand opening. An awkward omega gave you a flier. They were handing them out as people were leaving the grocery store. You were really excited, but maybe that was your inner bookworm talking.

Since the shop was right down the road, you decided to walk there on opening morning. You weren’t really expecting any sort of crowd. All of the college kids had gone home for the summer, so the streets had emptied out some. You enjoyed how quiet the summers were. So the long, winding line leading from the door of Stem and Spine was definitely a surprise.

You didn’t need to look for the book that badly. You could come in a month or so when things had died down some. You were going to head back home when you heard the people by you talking:

“I heard the guy running this place is hot as fuck,” said one.

“Did you hear what that girl in our study group said?” asked the other. The first shook their head. “Apparently his scent is like, super strong.”

The friend grinned, running their tongue over their teeth. “I can‘t wait to find out.”

Oh no, you mentally groaned then took a nice deep breath. The scents came one right after the other. A mangled mash up of pheromones. This line was almost entirely betas and omegas. And they were here for that alpha. You were never going to be able to shop there at this rate! As an omega yourself, you just knew they all would come from miles around until this guy was claimed.

You decided it was better to queue up, then maybe you’d actually get a chance to set foot inside. You waited for hours. You were sure those ahead of you would linger as long as possible and try to make an impression. That meant everyone had to stand in line longer.

By the time employees came down the line and told people they were closing for the night, your feet were killing you and your phone battery was nearly dead. All day and you’d only gotten a quarter of the way to the door! You could still see the spot you’d started from. A few people tried to get rowdy, complaining it was unfair that they’d been waiting all day. But their steam fizzled when employees threatened to call the police.

For two weeks, you checked the line for Stem and Spine. Day after day the line seemed to get longer. You saw a lot of returning faces, they must’ve been desperate. You even saw a handful of people getting escorted out by police! You also heard more and more rumors about what everyone was lining up for.

I heard he’s one of those hot, stoic types. I’d love to break him.

I heard that if you’re a beta or omega, just the guy’s scent is enough to make you jizz in your pants.

I heard he doesn’t like needy omegas, good thing I’m not like the others.

I heard he’s starting an entire harem - I’d love to be a part of that!

This is my eighth time going. I swear, I’m on the verge of making him my mate!

The rumors went on and on, getting more and more absurd. You wondered what this guy was really like, if he was really worth all of this. You weren’t interested, you just wanted a book! If anything, this was annoying. You figured it was probably annoying for him too, especially if he just wanted to do his job and not have to worry about anyone throwing themselves at him.

Finally, on a Sunday afternoon, you were able to set foot in Stem and Spine. It was quiet. No three block long line in sight. Sure, it was still busy but these people actually wanted books. They were all glued to the shelves, actually talking about books, and showing each other covers.

Inside was better than you’d imagined it. Everything was cream, gold, crimson, and navy blue. In one half was the tea shop. There were shelves of tea and accessories that lined the walls; loose leaf, prepackaged, diffusers, tea pots, honey sticks, spoon rests. As well as a long barista counter that had a large chalkboard and sizable drink list that was nothing but tea. There were a small handful of metal tables and chairs, and you remembered seeing some outside with umbrellas as well.

The other half of the store was the bookshop. There was row after row of books. Mostly fiction from your first glance. There were also displays for local authors and a shelf of new arrivals. You couldn’t wait to spend the day combing through. The entire vibe was cozy and the scent of jasmine wafting around was relaxing. You did wonder, however, how you were able to get in. Had the alpha been claimed? You didn’t smell anything overwhelming.

“Aaawwww, what do you mean he’s not here?!” You heard a girl whine. You were just starting on the second row of books.

“Mr. Ackerman isn’t here,” said the employee, irritation clear in their voice. “And no, I don’t know if he’ll be back today.”

The girl groaned loudly, but you didn’t hear her complain anymore. You figured she must’ve left. You wondered if she was the one who’d managed multiple visits.

“This has really gotten out of hand,” you heard the employee down the aisle say. They’d been stocking more books. “Great for sales, though.”

“That bad?” you asked. The employee looked at you, she looked tired. Her name tag read Mikasa.

“You have no idea,” she sighed. “I like working here. Levi is my cousin and a great boss, but these fangirls have just been too much. You’d think the fact that he ignores them would be a turn off. But they just keep coming.”

You didn’t realize you’d spent your whole afternoon in Stem and Spine until Mikasa came around to give you a five minute heads up. You were disappointed you didn’t find what you were looking for. But you still managed to find a couple hidden gems you were excited about. Maybe what you wanted was just too obscure.

You brought your books to the counter. As they rang you up, you noticed a clip board with a paper that read What Books Would You Like to See at Stem and Spine? Under that was a long list of handwritten titles and author names. You quickly scribbled down the book you were looking for. At least now there was a chance for it to appear.

Over the next month, you managed two visits to Stem and Spine every week. You and the employees actually started to recognize each other. You also started to see titles you recognized from the list. The mysterious Mr. Ackerman, however, still managed to escape your sight. Every time you went, there was a small posse outside just trying to grab a whiff.

It wasn’t until your first visit of the following month that you finally laid eyes on him. You’d just finished a series and were looking to start a new one. So you wandered over to the new arrivals section. You’d been there about half an hour when a heavy wave of lavender hit you. It filled your head, murking up your thoughts. You figured this had to be him, and the rumors were true - his scent was another beast entirely.

You shook your head to focus your thoughts. You liked this store, so this was something you were going to have to get used to if you wanted to keep shopping there. But you were also extremely concerned - if he was here, then that long line and hoard of omegas and betas would be too. You wanted to leave, but you were stuck between two books with money only for one.

You probably should’ve noticed the scent getting stronger. But you were so focused on reviewing the synopsis on both and thumbing through that you were oblivious. You didn’t wake from your stupor until there was a flutter of movement beside you. You glanced to your left to see a dark haired man in a white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He set down the few boxes he was carrying.

This man, you realized, was where the lavender wall had come from. This was the infamous Levi Ackerman, owner of Stem and Spine. Mikasa had told you a bit about him in previous weeks. You liked talking to her whenever you came in.

“It’s rude to stare,” he said in a surprising tenor. His back was still to you. You cursed under your breath and turned back to the shelf. That was one way to embarrass yourself. You began musing between the books in your hands again.

After a long moment of silence, a voice said, “I’d pick the one in your right hand.”

You looked over to meet a bored pair of silver eyes. “What?”

“I’ve read them both. The book in your right hand was far more interesting.”

“Oh cool,” you said slowly. “Thanks. I would’ve been here for ages.”

You quickly placed the other one back in its place and scuttled away. You were just going to have to take his word for it. You didn’t want to hover anymore than you had. At the front, they packaged up your book and you were swiftly out the door.

Levi had been right, the book was very good and you were excited that there were four more books to follow with a movie planned. The next time you tried to go to Stem and Spine it was packed again. There was a line down the block and you just didn’t have the time to wait. Your shift at work started soon, and all you’d wanted to do was thank him for the recommendation.

You decided to head straight to work instead. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long to see the bookstore owner again. The wall of lavender hit you before you saw him. You watched everyone around you turn to stare. It didn’t seem to phase him in the least.

Levi came to the counter and briefly talked with your coworker, who couldn’t seem to keep a straight face. When they disappeared to look for someone, Levi waited at the counter. This was probably going to be weird, but you really did want to thank him for helping you find a new series you absolutely loved.

“Hey,” you started, the book in your hand. He glanced at you briefly. “I, uh. You probably don’t remember me, but you recommended this book to me last week. And I, uh, I just wanted to say thank you. It was really good.”

“I told you it was better,” he stated. “I remember the other one you had - the author writes shit. It doesn’t have any good character development and there were a few glaring plot holes.”

“Oh, that’s good to know - I’ll definitely take that off my reading list.” You laughed awkwardly, carefully tucking the book away in your bag. “I was, uh, I was going to stop by the shop earlier. See if you were there - so I could thank you. But that line was just - woo!”

“I’m going to have to do something about that.” You weren’t sure if that was directed at you, but Levi seemed lost in thought.

Your coworker soon came back with someone in tow. They talked for a minute and then Levi and his intoxicating scent were gone. Afterwards, your coworker could not shut up about him. There was no way you were going to tell them about the bookshop.

In the days that followed, the line to get into the shop shrunk. But there was a continuous crowd that flurried around. A few employees you recognized seemed to be doing crowd control.

“I don’t care that you want to see him,” said one. “You don’t actually want a book or tea! It’s clogging up the shop.”

So Levi was doing something about the outrageous line. You were looking forward to being able to shop there again. The employees inside seemed less stressed when you went in and, at least, you weren’t brushing shoulders with anyone.

“Hey, [Name]!” Mikasa called as she spied you. She waved from her spot at the book counter where she was talking with Levi. You waved back at her, accidentally met Levi’s eyes, and then shuffled off into the book aisle to grab the next installment of the series.

You paid for your book, then went over to the tea shop. You didn’t know much about tea, but you figured you might as well start trying the different blends. There was a small display set up that recommended different teas for certain books. Like a nice citrusy Lady Grey to go with Pride and Prejudice.

“I don’t think that tea pairs with your book.”

You knew that voice. You turned to find Levi there with you, hovering, observing as you skimmed through the tea bags. You looked down at the pouch of English Breakfast Tea in your hand.

“You don’t think so?”

“You’ll want a black currant tea.” Levi reached just above your head and pulled down a paper bag with a raven on it. “I’m partial to this one.”

You took the bag, turning it over in your hand. You put the original pouch you grabbed back. Awkwardly, you smiled at him. “Uh, thanks. Guess I’ll go pay for this then.”

You weren’t sure what to make of it, it was probably nothing. But this encounter left you with a strange feeling. There were a few more like that to follow too.

“You’ll want a different tea for that,” he said as you picked up the third book.

“I can’t just make the black currant one?” you asked, baffled.

“Each book has a flavor that it pairs with. This one is more of a mint. If you pick wrong, you'll ruin the whole damn experience.” Levi turned the full power of his eyes on you. You were frozen under them. “Just like each person has their scent. Each scent has something that pairs nicely with it. For example, mine is lavender, yours is more of a sage. The two go well together.”

“Oh,” was all you could manage. That was the first time you felt the little flutter in your chest.

Every time you went to Stem and Spine to purchase a book Levi was there over your shoulder. He’d direct you to whichever tea he felt best went with it. He even started talking about the nuances in the flavors. How the aromatics helped, which shape of tea bag was optimal, ideally how long to steep it for. You became very knowledgeable about tea in the following visits. You were sure you'd be an expert by the time you went to pick up the last book in the series he showed you. But nowhere near as knowledgeable as Levi.

The next time you went, you saw Mikasa at the counter speaking with Levi.

"You can have the days off. Just fill out the request form," Levi said as you walked up to them.

"You're going on vacation soon, Mikasa?" you asked.

She turned her eyes to you. "My mate is going into his rut soon. I always make sure to take those days off to help him with his nest or anything else he needs."

You smiled at her. "That's really thoughtful, Mikasa. I hope, if I find someone, that they're like you."

She raised an eyebrow. "You don't have a mate?"

"No." You shook your head and shrugged.

You could've sworn you caught Mikasa giving Levi a nudge and a sharp look. Levi gave her a brief glare back. Then his eyes turned to you, his gaze relaxed.

"Why?" he asked.

You laughed humorlessly. "No one's ever really stuck around or I broke up with them. One guy tried to get me to sell my book collection. He said that they were just a waste of time and money. So I decided that he was a waste of my time. There's nothing worse than someone who doesn't understand your hobbies."

Levi said nothing but hummed in response.

"Do you have a mate out there in this big wide world, Levi?" you asked.

"No," he spat curtly.

You didn't mean to gape, but you couldn't deny you were shocked. "Really?"

"What?"

"I'm just surprised, ya know? With your strong scent and how handsome you are... I just figured by now someone would have come along. That's all."

Levi looked away from you. "My scent is more trouble than it's worth. All it does is draw shitty little brats."

You chuckled. "I can see that, considering the long line the first month you guys were open. I also noticed the growing wall of banned people. – Well I just came in to grab something really fast before work. My shift starts soon."

The college students were starting back up for the autumn semester. The streets began to fill up with cars of fresh faces, new dreams, and overstuffed suitcases. You had a feeling there'd be a new influx of people at Stem and Spine.

The hunch was correct.

Before you knew it, the store was once again filled wall to wall with people seeking Levi's attention. He seemed increasingly agitated every time you saw him. Then he once again disappeared for a few weeks, causing the crowds to thin.

“I heard the author is writing the final installment,” Mikasa said as she rang you up. “It’s supposed to be out in a few months.”

“Really? I thought this was the last book?” You raised an eyebrow. You weren’t upset, just surprised. The story felt like it could easily be wrapped up in one book. You hoped it wasn’t going to be one of those strangling the plot lines scenarios, where the whole series goes down in flames right at the end.

“Nope, one more.” Mikasa shook her head. “I’m sure Levi will be upset.”

“Does he really like this series?”

“No.”

You met her with a curious gaze. Her eyes gave you nothing in return. You’d never really noticed how similar she and Levi looked until then. Both with silky black hair and unwavering grey eyes.

"I don't smell him around today. I take it he's still in hiding? I guess I'm on my own to find a tea, then," you laughed.

Mikasa handed you your bag, it was brown paper with a dark red book and tea leaf stamped onto it. You had a small collection you kept folded under your sink and used for various things.

"Hey, before you go," Mikasa started. "I'd like to consider us friends."

You nodded and smiled at her. "I'd like to think so."

"So then would you like to hang out when I'm not working? I was thinking about going to see the movie for this, it comes out soon. Would you like to go? I'll buy the tickets."

"That'd be awesome! I can pay you back."

Mikasa laughed, then waved her hand dismissively. "It's no issue, don't worry about it. Give me your number, and we can pick a date."

You exchanged numbers then wandered over to the teashop. You were only a little upset to be tea shopping alone. You were so used to having company. You wondered what type of tea Levi would recommend. You had to admit, you were starting to look forward to your shopping visits more knowing he was there. You were happier to see him than Mikasa most days. You were grateful for your newly formed friendship, so it made you feel a bit guilty. But you couldn’t deny that there was something soothing about listening to Levi’s passion for tea.

You thumbed through the pages of the book. Skimming without trying to spoil anything for yourself. You were just trying to get the feel. What flavor would this book be? Something dark and fruity, like a black currant? Or something a little lighter, more classic like the mint? You settled on an orange bergamot, this would have to work. You paid and then walked over to your job.

About half way through your shift, a familiar tsunami of lavender smacked you in the face. Levi strode casually through the lobby looking bored as ever. He had a bag in his hand. You wondered if he’d been out shopping. You met his gaze, immediately diverting your own back to your paperwork.

“Mikasa said you were in the shop today,” he said, the scent rolling off of him was strange and heavy.

You looked up, getting sucked into those silver pools. “Yeah, I came to get the next book in the series. I figured you were still keeping your distance. - Did you need my help with something? Did you need John again?”

“I wanted to make sure you didn’t pick a shitty tea.”

You scrutinized his face. It held absolutely nothing. He really came all this way to ask what tea you picked? Well, it was just the next street over. But he still had to go out of his way to see you. He didn’t have to do that. Your heart fluttered.

“I skimmed through, but I’m not sure I picked the right one.” You handed over the bag of tea you bought.

Levi rolled his eyes. “Tech, don’t spoil it for yourself, idiot.”

He took the bag, examining it thoroughly. He considered the ingredients for a long moment. You could practically see the cogs turning in his mind. Finally Levi handed it back over to you.

“Interesting choice,” he started. “But it works. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks, I really tried to put your lessons into practice,” you laughed. There was a long stretch of silence. “I suppose you’re probably going back to Stem and Spine, I won’t keep you any longer. But I appreciate you stopping by, I didn’t think you remembered that I worked here.”

Levi stood a moment longer, then placed the bag he’d been carrying on the counter. It was from his store. “I brought this in case you picked wrong. - I’d still like you to have it.”

You stood. “No, I couldn’t -”

“I insist.”

“At least let me lay you for it. Or exchange it for the one I bought!”

Levi was already walking away. “Just take the fucking thing. I picked it out for you.”

Then Levi was gone, but his lavender scent still swam in your head. You took the bag from the counter, peering in to inspect its contents. You were so curious what he picked. You pulled out a white bag of loose leaf tea with a rose stamped on it in pink. The name read The Start of Something Sweet, it was made with strawberries and rose. You couldn’t help but smile a bit to yourself.

Later that night you made yourself a cup using what you remembered of Levi’s impromptu tea lessons. You couldn’t keep the little smile off your face. Not even as you talked with Mikasa about your movie plans. You picked a date two Saturdays away. You were really excited, you could only hope that the movie did any sort of justice.

A few days later, you made another trip to Levi’s store. It was restock day. As usual, you beelined for the new arrivals section. You were disheartened to find your requested book had still not made an appearance. You groaned. Maybe they couldn’t find a distributor either. That’d be just your luck.

“Looking for anything in particular?” Mikasa asked, stopping beside you. “You look disappointed.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I’ve been on the hunt for this one book and no one has it. I’ve checked everywhere! I even put it on your recommendations list when you first opened. It’s just getting annoying at this point.”

“Maybe I can track it down for you and get you a rush order?”

You smiled at her gratefully. “You’d do that for me?”

Mikasa shrugged. “It’s no problem. I don’t see why not. What’s Levi going to do? Fire me?”

“Sweet, thank you so much! I’ll text you what I’m looking for.”

“Hey, I’m actually about to go on break. Do you want to go get something to eat with me? You have off today, right?”

You agreed and hovered by the counter while Mikasa grabbed her things from the back. You chatted idly with a few of the other employees. They were complaining about how busy it’s been since school was back in session. You hadn’t been surprised, of course. They did build the town around the university after all.

Once the scent of lavender began wafting in, everyone became tense. You noticed something was off. It was sharper and so sweet it was almost bitter and very dense and heavy. Levi stalked in, looking irritated. He gave a sharp glare to his employees, but didn’t say anything. Instead marching through the door that said employees only on it.

“Something must’ve happened,” said one of the employees you were talking to. “He was in a good mood this morning.”

You wanted to go after him. In fact, your feet even began to pull in his direction on their own. But you stopped yourself, embarrassed. Tea aside - you didn’t know him all that well, after all. The last thing he’d probably wanted was a random omega tailing after him.

You had a thought, a reflection of something he told you - a book and a good cup of tea always made his mood better. He told you in passing, he probably didn’t even remember saying it. You knew you’d seen your favorite book somewhere in the store. With any luck, it was one he hadn’t read. You swept through the shelves, quickly finding it, then went to find a matching tea. You’d already had one in mind. Mikasa emerged just as the cashier was packing it all up for you. You had them wrap it in brown paper.

“Did you find something after all?” she asked.

You felt warm. Did it get hot all the sudden? You looked guiltily at the items in your hands.

“Actually,” you started awkwardly. “These are for Levi.”

“Levi?”

“Yeah, he seemed pretty mad when he came through a few minutes ago. Could you - I don’t know - could you give these to him for me?”

“I think it would be better if you gave them to him yourself, he’s still here.”

Mikasa didn’t give you much of a choice as she steered you towards the door he’d gone through. She forcefully shoved you down a small hallway and into Levi’s office. He was furious when he heard the door open. The sharp scent was even thicker in here, nearly suffocating. But you couldn’t help your overwhelming urge to calm him.

“[Name],” Levi grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. His eyes were shut tight. “I know you can fucking read, the sign says employees only.”

“They have something for you, don’t be an asshole,” snapped Mikasa.

You thought you heard Levi mutter brat under his breath. He looked up at you, eyeing the items in your hands curiously. You smiled a bit. Avoiding his gaze, you admired how neat his desk was. You were sure, if you had a ruler, that everything would be evenly spaced apart.

“You seemed upset when you came in,” you said, swallowing thickly. “I remembered what you said and thought maybe a book and some tea would help? This one’s my favorite and I picked something that I thought went with it. - I promise I paid for it.”

You placed the items on his desk and slowly backed away. You tried to slip away now that your peace offering had been given. Mikasa, however, wouldn’t let you leave. Levi picked up the book, turning it over his hands. He studied the cover and read the synopsis. Finally, after a long minute, he hummed and turned back to you.

“I haven’t read this one,” Levi said. You stifled a sigh of relief. “You make interesting choices in tea, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you said quickly and Mikasa finally let you out the door.

Mikasa didn’t bring up the incident over lunch. You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about it. Why did you do that? It was incredibly impulsive, but also inappropriate. That was basically the equivalent of screaming out how much he made your heart race and your palms sweat.

You tried not to dwell on it. But over the course of the week, you found yourself reflecting. You had hoped, more than you realized, that he would like what you brought him. You wanted his approval, not just his thanks. But you hadn’t been able to find the time to stop by the store and see if he’d read it. You’d been too busy with work, along with some plans with friends.

The next time you saw Levi was at your work again. He came bearing another bag. You were worried your coworkers would start getting the wrong idea. An alpha giving an omega gifts - how must that have looked to them? Then again, it was awfully presumptuous to think that the bag was for you.

But you were certain that Levi would never court you. Did you want him to, even? You hadn’t put much thought into the idea. But you didn’t hate the thought of getting to know him better. All you knew was what little he’d revealed in your chats while you picked out books and tea. Along with a little of what Mikasa had told you.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” you joked as Levi stepped up to the counter.

There was a certain air about him today. Maybe it was the way he’d slicked his hair back neatly. Or how starched the collar on his shirt was where it came out of his camel colored vest. He even seemed a touch more rested than usual.

Levi placed a bag on the counter. “This is for you.”

You couldn’t stop the sound of delight that came out of your mouth as you took the book out of the bag. It was finally, finally in your hands. After countless hours of fruitless searching, the damn book was finally in your hand.

“Holy shit,” you cried. “You found it! How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house this time.” Levi reached in and pulled a small brown pouch out of the bag. He smirked, which sent a chill down your spine. “Cinnamon, something spicy to go with that dirty fucking shit you’re reading.”

You froze mid celebration, oh shit. It was indeed a book with a good chunk of smut in it. Your friend had let you borrow her copy, that’s the only reason you knew about the book in the first place.

“You read it?” your voice came out hoarse.

Levi clicked his tongue. “The important parts, to figure out which blend would go along with it. It’s no wonder you couldn’t find it, no self respecting bookshop carries porn.”

“It’s not porn!”

You were not expecting him to read it. But of course he would only read the spicy scenes. No context to the story or anything else. You were devastated.

“Mhm.” It did not sound like he believed you. With that, Levi turned and began to walk away. He called over his shoulder to have a good day, followed by the pet name they used in the book.

You felt warm all over, tingles chasing from head to toe. You stared after him until he was gone. Then you sat flustered in your seat with your cheek against the cool desk. You could feel a scream burning in the back of your throat. You were so glad there was a half wall so no one could see you.

When you finally got up the nerve to crack open the book you found an envelope. Your name was written in beautiful cursive on the back. Cautiously, you cut it open. Inside was money and a little note in the same scrawl.

I won’t hold this against you. I know your entire taste in literature isn’t trash. Here’s money back for the stuff you gave me. I can see why it’s your favorite.

L. Ackerman

PS. Don’t even fucking think about trying to give the money back.

It was a short note, but it was enough to bring that flutter back. You couldn’t help reading it over and over again.

Before you knew it, movie day was finally upon you. You dressed casually and were so excited that you got to the theater an hour before it started. There was no Mikasa in sight, so you sat on a bench and read. You didn’t start to worry until there was only fifteen minutes before the movie began and she was still nowhere to be seen. Not even a text.

You: Hey, just checking if you’re close by.

Mikasa: Sorry, I’m not going to be able to make it. Enjoy the movie, you’ll have to tell me what I missed.

You groaned. You did not want to see this movie on your own. Though, you supposed it wasn’t so bad. Lots of people went by themselves. You’d just been looking forward to some bonding time with your new friend.

“So this is what that little brat was up to,” said a voice behind you. You turned to find no other than Levi. His scent was just beginning to wrap you up in a field of flowers. He had two travel cups with him, and looked as attractive as ever. No white collared shirt today. That was replaced by casual clothes and tight fitting jeans.

“Mikasa?” you asked, forcing yourself to look away.

He rolled his eyes. “I should’ve known, she didn’t even read the damn thing.”

You stood in silence for a moment. You had to wonder if this was as weird for him as it was for you. You had to admit, you did not see this coming. You could only wonder if he was disappointed to see you there.

You cleared your throat. “Look, you don’t have to watch it with me. We can sit in separate rows -“

“Don’t be stupid. Here.” Levi held out a cup to you. “You didn’t get to read the first book with anything. - Let’s go see if they fucked our shit up.”

Levi grabbed your wrist, tugging towards the direction of your theater. Your skin tingled where he touched you. You weren’t surprised by the amount of stares, but each set of eyes you passed was still unnerving. You were glad to be in your seats where it’d be harder for them.

“I heard they’re already filming the next one,” Levi stated after a few moments. He wasn’t looking at you. He concentrated almost too hard on the screen, you thought he was going to bore holes into it. “We should go see it together when it comes out. Maybe grab dinner beforehand.”

“Like…a date?” you asked. It slipped out before you could stop yourself.

“What the hell else?”

You paused for a moment, twisting to look at him. You couldn’t figure out if he was serious or not. His cheeks gained a flush of pink. You smiled at him, then settled back into your seat.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

Levi nodded, but didn’t say anything else as the lights went down. Somewhere through the night, in the tension of the dark theater, your hand ended up enveloped in his.

In the morning Stem and Spine was your first stop. You were there as soon as they opened. Mikasa was doing the opening drawer. You watched as Levi went up and slammed his hand down on the counter. She didn’t so much as flinch.

“Oi,” he said. Mikasa looked up at him. “What the hell was that stunt you pulled yesterday?”

You walked up behind him. “Yeah, you did miss one hell of a movie.”

“I don’t know why you’re both so annoyed, it seems my plan worked,” she said bored, not even bothering to look up from the cash she was counting.

“How did you know we wouldn’t just walk out of the theater and not watch the movie together?” you asked.

“You both like that series too much. Besides, Levi may know a lot about tea, but he’s also stupid. He never does anything for himself. So while he may not have realized what he was feeling, we all could see it. He just needed a little push. And so did you, [Name]. I knew you liked Levi.”

“I never actually told you that, though. I never told anyone.”

“You didn’t have to. You could smell it in the air when you were around each other. Like a call and response. You two were perfect and you couldn’t even see it. I knew from the first day you walked into the shop.”

Levi took your hand. “Don’t look so fucking smug.”

Mikasa laughed as Levi took you to his office. As soon as you stepped in Levi shut the door behind you. He gave you a swift kiss on the cheek as he went to his desk.

“She’s right you know,” he started, intentionally avoiding looking at you. “We are the perfect blend.”

You couldn’t help but wholeheartedly agree.

[infpravenclaw5w4idkwhatelse]

Apparently its just in my brain rn but I wanted to make this list for me or for anyone out there who gets into editing before I do (pleas please please idk how to edit and unless I hyper fixate hard enough, I probably won’t take the time to learn lmao) but anyway this is a list of the Robins and songs (by Taylor Swift so there’s a theme and the list has a finite end) that I desperately need an edit of them with.

Stephanie brown- the man (literally can’t hear the song without thinking of her), mad woman (I can see this with interspersed scenes of her father, fighting villains specifically black mask, and Bruce)

Jason Todd- my tears ricochet (absolutely devastating w/ under the red hood, specifically comic version iykyk the difference between that and the movie), haunted (I need this with Bruce and dick and Tim’s reaction to his death), bigger than the whole sky (similar to haunted but more resigned? And still more about characters responding to his death but still His Death), who’s afraid of little old me (red hood transitional period. You see the vision? I know you do.) look what you made me do (obviously. I keep imagining him listening to this song while being the red hood and it’s great), the Great War (just. The imagery. There’s so much potential here. “maybe it’s the past that’s talking, screaming from the crypt, telling me to punish you for things you never did” with a cut to Batman and Joker would go so hard)

Dick Grayson (there’s really no order to this list is there? Lol anyway.)- never grow up (focused on his relationships with his siblings and then after the bridge with the “wish I’d never grown up” with flashbacks to him as Robin oh my god I’d cry), 22 (idk it feels very early Nightwing to me. I need a happy one for him bc he deserves it. Just an edit of him winning and being iconic), New Romantics (in that same vein, with the titans because it’d be fun), the story of us and I forgot that you existed (him and B fighting because I feel people ignore that they do fight quite often and IFTYE especially feels the right amount of petty and sincere for him, you know?), last but not least (can you tell I love him) Style (this and any love interest he repeatedly dates, I was thinking specifically Barbara but I could also see kory, I just think this song is fun for any relationship that gets rebooted in multiple formats)

Tim Drake- enchanted (as itty bitty Tim Drake or Robin, meeting them at galas and Knowing or just working with the bats in the beginning when he was star struck), mirrorball (“I can change everything about me to fit in” …yeah. This is more a fanon interpretation but I read a really interesting fic where Jason comes back and meets Tim and all he can see is his and dick’s Robin mannerisms in him, and can’t find anything that’s just Tim’s until he’s too tired to pretend anymore and it’s stuck with me) you’re losing me (this would be a sad one of people generally looking over or hating him, specifically Bruce calling him Jason, finding out dick made Damian Robin, Damian and Jason verbally attacking him, the events that led to Red Robin) Tis the damn season (for when Red Robin arc is over and he’s still angry but doesn’t know what else to do)

Damian Wayne: a place in this world (it’s not his aesthetic, but the themes of the song are very raised-in-the-league-trying-to-be-a-functioning-family-member), the best day (with him and Dick generally him getting to be a kid, I’m not crying you are), mean (I think the “swords and weapons that you use against me”would be funny with him drawing assorted weapons on people), Innocent (“your string of lights is still bright to me oh, who you are is not where you’ve been” oh my god. I just feel like he needs someone to mean this about him) exile (Talia leaving him, even if she meant to do it for his own good, having to recon with not being in the league anymore), this is me trying (I don’t have words for this one, it’s a vibe)

Bonus:

Anti-hero: you can give all of them different verses that fit best, but I think they’d all sing the song and feel like it was them and I’d love to see an edit of them to it.

Epiphany: Alfred. You don’t even have to listen to it, just look at the lyrics and you’ll Get It.

robin: this I see for both Jason and Dick, so probably split between them.

Mastermind: first off, shameless TimSteph shipper, not even necessarily romantically, it’s just that they’re soulmates and I don’t care what canon says; I know that because they told me personally. Anyway the song is from both of their perspectives. They both think they’re the mastermind

State of Grace: also TimSteph. Fight me.

[saythatuwill]

now playing: take me back to eden // sleep token

word count: 1.2k

this is not meant to be a fic, but i suppose you could read it as one? it's not written in a coherent story format though. this was just meant to be a lore explanation/infodump post. my autistic ass cannot write small to save my fucking life. so please don't expect something riveting with compelling dialogue if you choose to treat it like a fic. i'm putting it in the tag of my works though because i did not write 1.2k words for NOTHING

THINGS TO NOTE: this universe takes place entirely outside of what the actual sleep token lore has going on. however, i do take elements here and there and incorporate them in. i do not claim to be a sleep token lore expert, and a lot of what you may see also has to do with my own interpretation of the lore. THIS INCLUDES the songs. i am aware some of the songs have a specific meaning, and i am not in any way trying to erase it! please keep that in mind, as i may use the songs in different ways. as you have likely already seen with the fic listed above, this universe will include some difficult and heavy topics. this includes but is not limited to: suicide and self harm, abuse and manipulation, blood, and murder. there may also be some implied sexual themes. these warnings ALSO apply for the rest of this post. remember, no fanfiction is worth risking your mental health. and if any of these are triggering subjects, this may just not be for you and that's okay! i hope to see you around another one of my works!

it is suggested you read THIS first!

tags: @concretejunglefm & @fadingangelwisp

amodian is a fantasy-based kingdom, population was mainly humans with a few mythical/magical/fantasy species peppered in. like elves, centaurs, things of that nature.

vessel... kind of lived there? more like he lived in a forest, which is called the "mystic forest". he would be seen here and there when he was young but he didn't have a home or parents within the kingdom itself. he was likely raised by the creatures of the woods, and grew into the role bestowed upon him; the nature guardian.

nature guardians aren't chosen, they're born to be one. he took on the role well, he was a great guardian! a staff was created out of wood by the tree spirits and wood elves, and it was charged with a great power that would help defend the forest from hunters, storms and disasters, anything that could possibly pose a threat.

but when you're going into adulthood, it gets kind of lonely. and that's exactly what sleep, a malevolent deity, used to his advantage. "you look lonely. i can fix that."

vessel didn't know what he was getting into, but he felt loved by sleep. vulnerable and unable to see the danger lurking around the corner, he fell in love with the deity. and then it was going DOWNHILL. sleep began to slowly withdraw the love he'd offered because he knew that vessel was reliant on it. which led eventually to vessel being desperate, unstable, and willing to do anything.

when vessel began to worship sleep properly, it was evident. dark and dangerous creatures began to reside in the woods, what once had been a sunny and ethereal area was now cloudy and shrouded in fog. vessel's physical appearance also changed; he went from two eyes to six, his skin faded into a dark grey, then came the claws, sharper canines.

by the time he realized this wasn't what he wanted, it was too late. the forest was shrouded in darkness and fog, and the people of amodian were forbidden from even going near it. all the while, sleep still had him on a leash and had begun a new type of control with vessel.

literally taking over his body. using it to cause more destruction, get more power, more authority. a small handful of people in amodian went missing, and when all the signs led to them having likely ventured into the forest, more people were going in there to search. and then they were going missing. and so on.

these people were either being killed and consumed by sleep, OR they were becoming worshippers as well. three of them ended up being vessel's anchor, his closest friends. ii, iii, and iv. the only three that sure, worshipped sleep, but did not follow the deity's every word. they just weren't convinced, especially not when his vessel looks so fucking miserable.

it's through them that vessel learns a few things. such as what a genuine connection is supposed to feel like, and the beginning stages of understanding who he is outside of sleep. vessel was still ensnared in the web and possibly growing addicted against his will to the dark power that sleep was giving him. but there was a new sense of wanting to find a way out that he hadn't considered before.

not to mention, there was this ONE THING... that iv had learned about in his studies. (he, ii, and iii all had their own lives and stories before the forest) and it was a thing called a soul bond.

the stories suggested that a magic holder was capable of having a bond with a non-magic holder that is so strong it could reverse a curse, break a spell, or maybe, just maybe... sever ties with a deity. but also, that every magic holder had something called a "soul call". it's different for everyone, and in vessel's case? it's song. like a siren's call.

not everyone would be able to follow it though. sure, maybe someone near the forest would hear it, but if they ventured in, eventually they just wouldn't be able to hear it anymore. then they're stuck in a foggy forest, unable to find their way back. the song would only be heard by vessel's soul bond, his soulmate. (basically, if it's not meant for you, you're not going to know/remember a single detail. must've been the wind!)

vessel can't picture a world without sleep, and he still gets defensive over sleep and the things he does, but he also wants out so badly. it's extremely push pull, and the longer it goes on the more vessel is willing to try anything. like attempting to drown in a lake, over. and over. and over. and over. (sleep won't let him die either. won't treat vessel with the same love that originally reeled him in, but won't set him free either.)

so every night, without fail, he sings the same song. (specifically, "take me back to eden", the first 3 minutes of the song. imagine being in a forest at night, and you just hear his voice, echoing unnaturally, guiding you through the fog.)

while it was believed to be someone from amodian that was his soul bond, "the incident" made the search nearly impossible. sleep knew about the soul bond. that was why one day, he guided vessel straight to the castle, bringing along a dangerous storm with him, the air crackling with dark magic. taking advantage of that power as well as vessel's nature magic capabilities that came with being a guardian, the kingdom was attacked. lives were lost, including that of the king of amodian.

amodian was ripped to pieces, and sleep basked in the glory of it, and in turn so did vessel. that is... if vessel even realized what was going on, given the state of his mind, the dark magic that his body is not supposed to be able to withstand, and of course, the manipulation and coercion that led him here.

sleep firmly believed that he had destroyed vessel's only chance of breaking free, assuming that one of the many killed had to have been his soul bond. but not everyone was killed, the queen actually survived. but with all the damage and casualties, there was no way to continue ruling. and one day, she seemingly vanished or perished, while the fallen kingdom remained. rubble, and a graveyard for so many innocents.

vessel doesn't give up, not even when amodian doesn't exist anymore. he's immortal to some extent, but that sure hasn't stopped him from trying to die over the years. yet STILL.

he waits, he's waited for at least a century or two now. he's still waiting. he'll wait for centuries to come, or at least until he loses his mind entirely, gives up hope, and/or possibly ascends to godhood of his own.

it's 2025. you've been looking for a new place to call your home for so long, and finally, you found it! it's a nice house, apparently the area used to be part of an abandoned kingdom or so the folktales said. the real estate agent kept talking about the stories during the entire tour, and was warning you about the woods just beyond your backyard.

but so what? it's nature, just because it looks a little spooky doesn't mean it's the end of the world. besides, you wanted to live away from the city, you wanted something more secluded. and now the place is all yours!

it's a little weird that you keep hearing a song coming from the forest every night, though. the real estate agent should've mentioned that... right?

[jinisnuggets]

✧ ˚ · . ɢɨʀʟ ʏօʊ'ʀɛ ֆօ ʄɨʀɛ

PAIRINGS | Model! Mafia! Member Junkyu x Model! Fem! Reader

GENRE | Suspense, Mafia Au, MILDLY Suggestive (mdni)

WORD COUNT | 1.3k

SYNOPSIS | Kim Junkyu lives a life of luxury, being a famous model with millions of fans, but maybe that is only the side the screens show…

WARNINGS | Small hints of murder, strong(ish) mafia themes, Junkyu is a little bit of a brat, manipulation topics, swear words, overall it's kinda wholesome.

NETWORK(S) | @starlit-network @k-library @blossomnet

A/N | HI! This fic is mainly in Junkyu's point of view because I wanted to try a new format of writing, overall, I hope you enjoy reading and I am very sorry and not uploading ;)... I've been a little inactive lately, but I'm going to try to comeback. Yes, I will be continuing my series (atz yh) but keep in mind that I only posted the first chapter to see how it went, not to continue it for the moment, so yes I'll continue writing it and will post the remaining chapters when they're ready :)!

“If you expect that raise, then you best bring me the best information you can find,” he demanded.

Junkyu sighed, placing his hands behind his back as a form of respect.

“I'm already one of the biggest celebrities in Seoul; I'm sure however much money it'll be I wouldn't need it.…” he muttered, watching his boss turn around as he lowered himself.

Sometimes he couldn't hold back his form of speech.

“It'll be lots of money, so I recommend reconsidering those words.” He scolded, figuring Junkyu wouldn't pay much more of his attention as he simply nodded and made his way back towards the door, bowing on his way out.

He exited through the back, entering the vehicle through the Limo’s door as his bodyguard drove away.

Though he was still processing his bosses words, he couldn't help but recall them so vividly every time they recurred in his mind.

The more he thought the more he noticed that everything he did for the organization was practically useless, but what more could he expect from being a member of a mafia.

He'd done countless of unexplainable things, but it was all for a good cause, and that was something others couldn't understand.

Maybe if he had just quit the moment he began his career as a model, it would all be normal. But then again, maybe it was simply the fear of stalkers finding out that secret that had been long buried, exposing him to the public for millions of people to misunderstand; or possibly it was the thought of them blackmailing him with it.

He preferred not to think about it.

The car’s door opened as he was greeted by screaming crowds and millions of paparazzis speaking over each other and invading personal space as they pushed their mics up to his face.

Politely, he declined the interview attempts and chuckled while making his way inside the modeling agency.

“Look who's here.” A female voice teased from ahead as he waved goodbye to the fans positioned outside.

He smirked in a teasing manner, deciding to add more fuel to the fire by approaching her with that same mocking demeanor.

“I wasn't expecting to see you here my lady.” He finally spoke, beginning to walk in the direction of his stylists room.

“There was a change of plans.” She shrugged.

He nodded in understanding; a sense of satisfaction washing over him as she wasn't known for frequent schedules. Encountering her brought him some sense of genuine joy.

“L/n Y/n!” A voice echoed from the distance causing her to glance back towards the source of her name. There stood her manager, a considerable distance away with a puzzled expression.

Finally, he began walking up to her, politely greeting the familiar face which had been all over recent magazines and TV commercials.

“What are you doing? Your turn is coming up." he asked, prompting her to nod in acknowledgment as she looked back at her friend.

“I need to head out, my shoot is up soon.” She chuckled, and he nodded, observing her walk away peacefully with her manager into her stylists room.

He turned around, not needing to turn his head to become aware of the coming presence.

“Junkyu.” A voice lingered in the air. Junkyu turned his head and there stood the person he had mostly anticipated.

Park Jihoon, a model from a big agency with a huge fanbase. Not only that but he also seemed to release banger music.

Jihoon also happened to be one of the main sources to the mafia's disposal. There was nothing he wasn't good at.

“Did they give you your next investigation to carry out?” He questioned, a look of prolepsis crossing his eyes as the words exited his mouth, almost as if he knew what was coming.

“L/n Y/n is a girl who keeps many dark secrets, one being her history with her parents. I need you to collect as much as you can about her and her family history due to this being a case of importance.”

“L/n Y/n and her family history.” He muttered to which Jihoon sighed.

“I asked them to give it to someone else, guess they never listened to me.” He chuckled awkwardly, causing Junkyu to glance back at him in confusion.

“Pardon me?” He asked.

Jihoon looked back, thinking for a moment until he glanced around, making direct eye contact with a security camera as he watched it shut off.

“They mentioned they'd give you her case, but I urged them not to as she's someone you're close with. I guess that's what they're looking for however.”

They walked into the stadium, forgetting about their shoots and simply deciding to just watch the other models and their shoots.

Watanabe Haruto was up: someone Junkyu always admired for his insane visuals and incredible acting abilities. He'd been trying different poses over a white background wall. Many other famous models and celebrities sat around them as they watched their colleagues in awe.

Jihoon and Junkyu picked their own table, a safe distance away from any other guest.

“It's alright, afterall, I'm sure she'll be relieved once her family’s out of the picture.” He sighed, looking up at an already shut off camera.

He looked back at the famous young star, smiling as his expressions changed depending on the mood his supervisors were aiming for.

You were up next, and he was left impatiently waiting for your familiar face to come up, smirking the moment it finally did.

“Seeing her here is only making things easier for me in a matter of fact.”

***

‘L/n Y/n is dating Kim Junkyu?’

‘Are L/n Y/n and Kim Junkyu a couple?’

‘Alleged leaked photos caught L/n Y/n and Kim Junkyu kissing.’

It was all over social media and he knew it. It was also likely the cause for why he was called up to his bosses office so suddenly one morning.

After multiple deep breaths, he finally opened the door to see his boss holding multiple files worth of informational papers, slamming them flat onto his arms the moment he approached his desk.

“What the hell are you thinking Kim Junkyu!?” He scolded.

Junkyu rolled his eyes very lightly, looking back at his boss with eyes of acknowledgement.

“I can't control what fans think-”

“But you can control what you do!” He once again yelled, making Junkyu flinch ever so slightly. He knew he was right.

Multiple moments of silence passed with no one saying a word.

“Alright. I'll shut down the rumors later today. We have another shooting event in the evening, where I believe L/n will be attending.”

His boss stared in intimidation, ultimately nodding to his apology and accepting it, shooing him away shortly after.

Junkyu didn't have an exact plan on how to do so, but he knew that it was all simply a lie. The main regulation of this organization was the strictly prohibited lovers rule.

But he was their most crucial piece.

And you, were his lady ever darling.

“Junkyu!” You called from afar, once more approaching him as he stared at you, smiling while doing so.

“I'm glad you made it.” He teased as you shook your head in playful annoyance, rolling your eyes in the process.

“I don't miss every event.” You defended, making him nod.

“I'm aware, my lady.”

You didn't realize when he dragged you into that secluded room, gripping your arms with an undeniable strength as he pinned you up against the wall.

Staring in utter confusion, you watched him move closer to you, constantly bringing your faces closer and closer together.

He smirked seeing your flustered expression.

“What do you say we put an end to these rumors my lady?” He asked.

You gulped, face burning as your cheeks turned a light red color.

“I.. I agree, it'll get in the way of our careers.” You assured, attempting to get out of the entire situation.

“Then shall we do so? What do you say we put an end to them by making them a reality?”