#If you want to find my first fic it's called

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Spencer Reid x Read fic. Reid and Reader are friends, like best friends. Reader is always offering Reid donuts and listening to his fun facts and info dumps. It's one of those, they both like each other, but also are convinced the other doesn't like them.

Spencer is taking care of a slightly drunk reader whose grandmother called and asked why they're not engaged when they're younger sibling is married and expecting a child. At some point Spencer makes his ever classic comment about how it's safer to kiss and drunk reader, before being able to think, kisses Spencer. I hope that made sense.

OOPS I DID EXACTLY THAT

Safer to Kiss (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Word Count: 2899

Warnings: Mentions of food, drinking alcohol, mild cursing, outdated expectations of women, and lots of pining

A/N: Hi I wrote this in 2 hours and was extremely entertained, please enjoy and if you send me a fic request I'll probably do it bc this is my hyperfixation hobby right now and very much keeping the demons at bay xD @bxm-1012 thank you for dropping by my inbox! I am VERY tempted to make a part 2 of this, I hope you enjoy! c:

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The whole expiration date thing that women faced was, in your humble opinion, complete and utter bullshit. Here you were, slowly approaching thirty (definitely still told people you were twenty-five, when, in fact, you were actually twenty-eight), and the biological clock was ticking. No, you didn’t want kids. Not right now, anyway. Not when you were only two years into your career as a profiler for the FBI’s prestigious Behavioral Analysis Unit. Not when you still had tons of things to check off your bucket list - go to Europe, visit an independent bookstore in every state, pilot a helicopter. 

And you didn’t buy into that whole ‘once a woman hits thirty, her stock plummets’ crap. Not usually, anyway. 

But Nan’s phone calls always left you questioning your existence. 

Back home in Ohio, your little sister, Kendra, had just announced her pregnancy. Three years younger than you (ironically, the age you told everyone you were), and married to a power plant manager, Kendra was living the dream of a woman from the 1950s. You tried your best not to look down on it, to wish for more for her - but Kendra was happy. She’d always wanted to be a mother, and you couldn’t imagine anyone better suited for the role. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be a wife and a mother, to devoting one’s life to it. You reminded yourself of that every time you spoke to Kendra. You especially reminded yourself of it every time you spoke to Nan. 

That sympathetic tone your grandmother used when she said, “Oh, Button, you’ll find someone eventually, and you’ll be just as happy as Kenny” was like nails on a chalkboard. You resisted the urge to gag into your speakerphone and simultaneously rip your grandmother a new one. You wanted so badly to explain to her that you were perfectly fulfilled with your life. 

You helped lock up bad guys on a weekly basis, you wanted to remind Nan. Your brain was one of few that had been chosen for a task force that caught criminals based on their behavior. It was amazing, working for the BAU, bouncing ideas off of your colleagues, finding a family within this small group of people that spent more than forty hours a week together. 

Nan didn’t see it that way. She wanted you to be just like Kendra. She wanted you to have that white picket fence in the suburbs, with a broad-shouldered husband and two little tykes running at your feet. Domestic bliss just wasn’t in the cards for you, you’d decided. And that was okay.

You were still reeling from your conversation with Nan the night before when you walked in to work on Monday morning. It was Derek who caught the raging RBF first. “Woah, pretty girl. Pump. Your. Brakes.” He said, halting you just as you entered the BAU’s bullpen, holding a hand up to stop you. 

“Good morning to you, too, Derek,” You flashed him a phony grin, and he rolled his eyes. 

“And you’re grumpy this morning… why, exactly?” Derek asked, turning to walk beside you, essentially escorting you to your desk. 

“Because I’m allowed to be?” You proffered, shrugging your shoulders, not really wanting to talk about it with him. You loved Derek - hell, you loved all your coworkers - but he was not the person you wanted to go to with these thoughts. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone about it, actually. You just wanted to ride the cranky train until it came to a complete stop. 

Emily was returning from the kitchenette with a fresh mug of coffee and decided that the conversation concerned her as well. “What’s going on?” she asked. 

“Y/L/N’s wearing her cranky pants this morning,” Derek filled her in. 

“Oh, those so don’t match your blouse, Y/N,” Emily teased, winking at you with a smirk before looking at Derek. “Cut her some slack. No one likes Mondays.” Derek held up his palms defensively. “Alright, alright. Forgive me for being a concerned citizen.” 

“It’s appreciated,” You told Derek genuinely before setting your bag down at your desk. “But unnecessary.” 

It wasn’t until later in the morning, around ten, that anyone bothered you about your obvious bad mood again. This time it was Spencer, the one person you couldn’t possibly be annoyed with. He rolled on his desk chair around the partition that separated your workspaces, holding his hand out expectantly, like he usually did this time of day. 

Without speaking, you opened the bottom drawer of your desk and pulled out the white bag of mini powdered donuts that you always kept in stock. They were your guilty pleasure snack, and one of the first things you and Spencer bonded over when you started at the BAU two years ago. That, and the fact that you were the closest agents in age, was how you got along so well so quickly. Over several cases, varying in degrees of intensity, you and Spencer became really great friends. Best friends, actually. 

There wasn’t anyone else in your life that you trusted more than Spencer Reid. 

You opened the bag of powdered donuts and shook one haphazardly into Spencer’s palm, then grabbed one for yourself. Silently, you cheers-ed your donuts together, and ate them simultaneously, making weird-but-comfortable eye contact as you did. 

“Derek says you’re in a bad mood today,” Spencer pointed out with a teasing smirk on his face. A smirk, and white sugar blanketing his upper lip.

“Derek’s full of shit,” you grinned after swallowing your snack, the smile on your face totally facetious. “I’m extremely happy.” 

“I can tell,” Spencer snickered as you set the powdered donuts back in your snack drawer, closing it with a clank. You watched as he brought both of his legs up into his desk chair, crossing them like a kindergartner. 

The action made your stomach flutter. You’d felt strongly about Spencer for a really long time, probably a year and half, if you had to try and pinpoint it. But there was no use in going down that road with him. For one thing, he was your best friend, and you didn’t want to risk flushing the best relationship in your life down the toilet. For another thing, you knew it was one hundred percent impossible that he could feel the same way. 

“What’d you do this weekend?” Spencer asked, and you could tell by the question that he was trying to discover the source of your poor attitude. 

“Stayed home, caught up on chores,” You said, crossing your knees and leaning back in your seat, your expression telling him that you knew exactly what he was doing. As much fun as playing mind games with Spencer was, you decided to throw him a bone. “Spoke to my grandmother on the phone last night.” 

Spencer nodded understandingly. “Say no more,” he said with a chuckle. “She gave you the whole ‘when are you going to get married’ spiel again?” 

You nodded. “Unfortunately. I usually don’t let it bother me, but for some reason it’s just, like, lurking in the back of my mind today.” You shrugged your shoulders and exhaled through your nose. “What about you?” You asked. 

“What about me?” Spencer arched a brow, and you rolled your eyes playfully. 

“What’d you do this weekend?” 

“Oh,” Spencer began, pursing his lips for a moment, like he was hesitant to tell you. “I actually went on a date.” 

Your stomach flipped. “Oh yeah?” You choked out, forcing a smile. “Who with?” 

“That girl, Lisa, from the coffee shop, the one you told me wouldn’t stop ‘ogling my boy band hair’,” Spencer held up air quotes when he repeated your words from memory.

You recalled the cute barista from the coffee shop just down the highway from Quantico, a popular morning stop for agents on their way to work. You tried to stop the jealousy from turning your blood into fire. “How was it?” You asked, trying to resist the urge to sit on the edge of your seat, trying not to hang on his every word. 

Spencer shrugged his shoulders. “It was okay. She was very nice, but there just wasn’t…” he trailed off, gesticulating as the words failed to come to that supercomputer brain of his. 

“It was like a donut without powdered sugar on it?” You suggested with a small chuckle.

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, nodding, meeting your eyes and smiling, mildly amused. “Exactly.” 

Spencer went back to his desk a few minutes later, and the rest of the day went on. It was quiet, especially for a day at the BAU. There were, weirdly enough, no open cases right now, so you spent the day catching up on paperwork, which there was always plenty of. 

You caught the elevator about ten minutes after five with Spencer in tow, and you held the door open for him. It was just the two of you as you made the descent from the sixth floor, and Spencer leaned against the back wall. “Plans tonight?” He asked. 

“Not really, no,” You said, shaking your head. “Why, you want to do something?” You asked. 

Spencer nodded. “There’s this landscape and nature photography exhibit at one of the galleries downtown,” he said. “Might be fun. There’s this artist, Milton Harvell, who takes photos of renowned locations around the world but zooms in on an obscure detail and gives the framed photograph to the person who correctly guesses the location.” 

You smiled slowly at that. You loved it when Spencer went off on one of his tangents. You found it completely adorable. “It’s actually quite fascinating,” Spencer went on, an amused tone lining his voice, making it sound lighter. “Kind of like a Where’s Waldo, but in reverse. There was this one photograph he took of the Louvre in Paris, but he zoomed in really tightly on a young boy enjoying an ice cream cone. He even went so far as to edit the photograph to make it look like it was a different time of day. The four thousand and eighth person to view the photograph was the person who guessed the correct location.” Spencer’s head bobbed and he was smiling like an idiot. 

God, you were down bad. 

“Was the four thousand and eighth person… you?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him scrupulously and allowing a teasing grin to cross your face. 

“The photo’s hanging in my living room,” he confirmed. 

You laughed softly. “Will there be alcohol at this function?” You asked him, and he nodded. 

That was all you needed to hear. 

— — —

You and Spencer went straight to the art gallery from work, sharing a cab rather than bothering with your cars. You immediately bought a glass of red wine, and began to follow him around the gallery. You weren’t an art aficionado, not by any means, but you enjoyed looking at beautiful things, and you especially enjoyed spending time with Spencer that wasn’t hunched over a dead body or trying to map out a killer’s comfort zone. It was a rare occurrence, so you tried to soak it all up as much as possible. 

Plus, your Nan’s words were still lingering in the back of your head. It’ll happen for you someday, Button. Men just don’t find you strong, career types attractive. Maybe you should soften up your look a little. 

You downed your first glass of wine within ten minutes, and caught one of the catering staff passing out champagne almost instantaneously after. The champagne fizzled down your throat as you strolled with Spencer through the art gallery, listening intently as he went on about each piece, rattling off whatever contextual knowledge he had. But you were a little bit biased; you could listen to him list different types of soil and find it interesting. 

After the glass of champagne came another glass of champagne, and by the time you made it to the main exhibit Spencer wanted to see, your cheeks were flushed. It wasn’t that you couldn’t hold your alcohol; rather, it just made you a little bit silly. Your inhibitions were lowered, just like it would affect anyone. But with your arm looped through Spencer’s and your Nan’s nagging message still in the back of your mind, you were perhaps a little more loose than usual. 

As Spencer examined the exhibit, you tapped your foot, unable to keep still, and scanned the open space. Your eyes landed on another patron of the gallery, a conventionally handsome man about your age, and you found yourself unlooping your arm from Spencer’s, subconsciously not wanting to appear taken. 

“Are you gonna go talk to that guy?” Spencer asked, and you snapped your eyes back to his. “Because you can, if you want to. Don’t let me stop you.” 

It was almost like he was daring you to. Spencer’s jaw seemed tense as you examined his expression, the way his gorgeous brown eyes darted from the man and back to you. “You don’t mind?” You asked, arching a brow, almost like a challenge.

Spencer shook his head, his lips pursed. “Not at all. I’ll wait here for you?” 

You nodded, and turned towards the man. There wasn’t any harm in getting a guy’s number, right? Your feelings for Spencer were a lost cause, anyway. Plus, as Nan liked to point out, you weren’t getting any younger. 

The man’s eyes locked on yours and he seemed to understand that you were about to speak with him. He met you halfway, and you shook his hand. “Malcolm Greene,” he introduced himself, and you spouted off your own name in return. “You’re not here with that guy?” He asked, jerking his chin over to Spencer. Your eyes followed Malcolm’s, and you saw Spencer with his body turned towards the photography exhibit, but his head turned to the side, as if he were keeping an eye on you with his peripheral vision. 

“Yeah, I am,” you said, and Malcolm’s head inclined to the side. “I am. I’m here with that guy,” you panicked, suddenly realizing in that moment that you weren’t interested in speaking with Malcolm. No, you had absolutely no interest in spending your time with any other man but Spencer Reid. “I just, uh…” Your cheeks flushed, and you stifled an awkward laugh, anxiously trying to come up with some excuse. “I came over here to tell you that your shoe was united.” 

Your eyes followed Malcolm’s down to his shoes, which were loafers. Laceless loafers. Malcolm’s mouth opened as if to point this out to you, but you managed to stammer words out first. “Ok, well, have a great night, goodbye!” You turned on your heel and marched back over to Spencer, your cheeks red as you reached out for his arm. 

Spencer furrowed his brows down at you as your arm gripped his. “I need another glass of wine,” you confessed. 

Twenty minutes later, after two more glasses of wine and a very watchful eye out for Malcolm, you and Spencer left the art gallery. You were awfully giggly on the cab ride back to your place, cracking puns and humming along to the radio intermittently. Spencer seemed to be amused, but more so concerned with getting you home in one piece. 

As he walked you up the stairs to the door of your apartment building, he was teasing you about your conversation with Malcolm, which you still hadn’t told him completely about. “I still can’t believe you didn’t get his number. You were talking with him for exactly two minutes and twelve seconds. What, in that short of an amount of time, could have turned you off to him so quickly?” He pondered aloud, a playfully mocking tone lining his voice. 

“Listen, I shook his hand! I had my fun!” You exclaimed, bursting into laughter as you leaned against the handrail of the stairs that led up to the door. “Good, clean fun!” 

“You know, the number of pathogens that are passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss someone,” Spencer rattled off, and your eyes snapped to meet his. 

You don’t know what took you over. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way the street lamps reflected in the irises of his eyes, or how you stood just a few inches away from him. Maybe it was his stupid tweed blazer, how he looked like a tenured art history professor despite barely being thirty years old. Maybe it was the way he smelled like pine and printer ink, a combination you wouldn’t have ever thought was attractive. 

But when Spencer said that, you stood up on your toes and kissed him. It was slow and innocent at first, until it passed the border into lingering, and Spencer’s hands found your hips, pulling your body closer to his. There was a cool night breeze that filtered through the space between your bodies, and by the time you pulled your lips away from Spencer’s, and slowly opened your eyes, you were completely red in the face and breathless. 

No, that certainly wasn’t the safest choice you could have made.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!baureader

[ja3yun]

please be real | p.js

ex!jay x fem!reader warnings: angst, heartache, smut (mdni), fingering, unprotected sex, cream pie, teasing, pet names (princess, baby), crying, mentions of alcohol, drunk jay, pure heartbreak in the beginning, not proofread, anything else lmk synopsis: after a six-year relationship, you and jongseong part ways due to different needs for the future. when jongseong's first birthday post-breakup arrives, his struggle with your absence reaches a breaking point, prompting a late-night call from his friend that consequently reignites emotions and unresolved feelings. wc: 9.4k a/n: hi! it's me and it's jay's birthday so i wrote him a little something something. i didn't initially intend to rip my heart out as i wrote this yet here i am. this was oddly a healing one to write but i must warn you it does mention the reader not wanting to have children so if that doesn't appeal to you then this probs isn't the fic for you! as always, like, comments, feedback, etc. is all appreciated! ilysm and happy bday jay <3

A sharp, jarring noise pierces your ears, the peaceful sleep you were in rudely disrupted. You groan out loud, covering your face with your covers but it does nothing to stop the ringing from your phone, it doesn’t even dull it a little, the little black device only echoing around the room louder.

Disoriented and groggy, you fumble for your phone on the bedside table, clumsily searching for it in the darkness. It isn’t your alarm, the usual peaceful tones of the birds chirping would be a welcomed sound, one that eases you into the day; no this was a phone call.

Finally grasping your phone, your eyes fight themselves open as you blink away any remnants of sleep, trying to find any sort of centre from your dizzy awakening. You look at the name on your phone but your vision is so blurred you can’t make it out but answer it anyway, knowing that whoever is phoning at this ungodly hour is clearly in need of your help.

“Hello?” you ask quietly, as if you don’t want to disturb the quiet of the night, unlike the person on the other end of the call.

“Uh, Y/N? It’s Jake.” His soft Australian accent drifts from your phone speaker into your ears. He sounds unsure whether he is supposed to be making the call, which to be fair, you understand because you haven’t heard from him in months, not after…

Letting out a sigh, you rub your forehead with the base of your palm tiredly, “Jake, why the fuck are you calling me at…” you pull the phone away, inspecting the time now that you’re more alert, “3.36am?” you ask with a hint of disdain. Normally, you would welcome the boy’s surprise call, after all, you did miss him. But considering he woke you up from a good dream involving you, Jeongin from Stray Kids, and a happily ever after; he wasn’t exactly your favourite person right now.

You can faintly hear some music in the background as he stays silent and you swear to yourself if this is to give him a ride home from a concert turned party, you’ll have his head.

“Listen, I hate to ask you this but can you come to Haven?”

“The nightclub? Why?” Your earlier suspicions are proving to be right, he does want a lift home. That would be an acceptable request if you guys were actively talking every day and the best of buddies but he isn’t even your friend, not really. 

You can hear him shuffling around on the other end of the line, his voice can be heard trying to calm someone down but his words are obscured as if the phone is wrested away from his mouth, leaving only disjointed fragments of speech drifting through the receiver. 

This sounds like more than just a simple ride home and it causes you to snap to attention, your senses heightened with concern. 

Jake finally brings his attention back to you, letting out a sigh of discontentment, “It’s Jay, he’s a mess and he’s calling out for you.”

Jay. Park Jongseong.

It’s been so long since anyone has dared to mention his name to you that it almost sounds like a foreign word.

Seven months ago, you and Jongseong had decided to call off your 6-year relationship, both of you reaching the understanding that it was for the best considering your battling differences and needs within the relationship.

It wasn’t easy, the furthest thing from it actually. You and him had been inseparable since high school and once you both got together in year 12, it was always you and him against the world. He was the love of your life, that once in a lifetime kind of love that only happens in fairytales. Your souls were both painted from the same brush stroke.

But he wanted a peaceful, routine life - a classic white picket fence dream. Evenings would be spent with friends, savouring white wine and casual conversations over dinner. His heart was set on imagining the echoes of your future children's laughter filling your home, family trips to the seaside, and comforting them with kisses and band-aids when they got hurt.

And you craved spontaneity, to embrace life with vigour, travelling the world together was your dream, free from the responsibilities of parenting, cherishing moments just for yourselves. You longed for random midnight trips to Tesco for birthday cake simply because you could. All you wished for was to be with him, just the two of you.

Suddenly, your brain clicks into an important detail and you hurriedly check the calendar on your phone and the date makes you slump in your bed.

Today is Jongseong’s birthday, well technically not anymore given the time, but that means he has lived his first birthday without you by his side in so long. You would always celebrate his big day by doing something from his handwritten bucket list he has had since he was a child. Over the years he has added more to the list, each birthday scoring one out to add another.

The list wasn't extravagant; it was filled with simple yet heartfelt desires. You bought him a bundle of guitar lessons and a Taylor 114e electric guitar to fulfil his wish of learning to play. When you noticed the Download Festival marked with gold stars on his list, you surprised him with tickets for the year Metallica was headlining. And when he expressed a desire to cook a meal from scratch for his mum, you gifted him a kitchen knife engraved with his name and took the time to teach him how to prepare her favourite dish.

His birthdays were the most precious when you were in them, and you weren’t there with him.

“Y/N?” Jake’s sweet voice draws you back to his attention and out of the memory lane swirl your brain has put you in. He knows this is a tough call for you to take considering you and Jongseong said to cut ties completely; it’s better to act like you both didn’t exist than keep a thread tethered to one another that would only hurt you more.

As Jake and Sunghoon whisked Jay away for his birthday celebration, their intention was simple: to help him let loose and have a good time. Jay had been buried in overtime work lately, leaving little room for socialising. Since the breakup, the idea of going out without you - dancing together, stealing kisses in the taxi ride home - seemed unappealing.

Waking up that morning, Jay realised it marked the first birthday in six years without ticking something off his bucket list. The familiar, worn paper lay dormant on his desk, a stark reminder of your absence. He had no desire to celebrate today without you by his side. If he could fast-forward through the day to escape the weight of his birthday, he would eagerly do so.

Yet, with two very persuading friends and a whole lot of whiskey later, here he was, curled up outside Haven, yearning out for you.

“Y/N please, at least come and convince him to get up and come home with us,” Jake pleads. You can hear the cries of your ex-lover more clearly now as Jake kneels beside his friend, checking in on him.

With a resigned sigh, you nod, “Okay. Keep him warm, I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

Hanging up the phone, you quickly put a brush through your hair and change into a baggy top, one you bought for Jongseong before breaking up, and a pair of grey sweatpants. This is a bad idea, you know it is, but you also can’t leave him to wallow in the middle of the street. You don’t think you could live with yourself if you didn’t help and Jake wouldn’t call unless it was something he couldn’t handle. 

You don’t want to see the state Jongseong is in, his wailing cries that you could slightly hear over the phone already made your heart clench in hurt.

As you drive to Haven, your heart races in anticipation with each mile that passes. Is your heart ready to face him after all these months? Staring into the love of your life’s eyes once again might break you even more. You’ve done a good job in keeping yourself together, at putting on a facade that everything is okay, when deep down you know that if one person asked you about Jongseong you would crumble and fall apart. 

He wasn’t the only one throwing himself into work to forget. You’ve worked hours and hours trying to keep your mind off the heartbreak, you thought that if you just focused and kept your head down, the phrase time heals all wounds would kick in and you’d be free of the torment of losing your first love. But it hasn’t worked out that way, you know that now as you speed down the empty roads to console the one person you are trying to forget.

As you reach Haven, you can vaguely see three boys under the illuminating sign, almost as if shining a spotlight on them to add to the spectacle that Jongseong is making. Onlookers are watching as your ex-boyfriend cries on the pavement, wishing you would come home.

With a quick exhale, you step out of the car before doubts can creep in, determined to be there for him. Jake and Sunghoon's voices float to you, attempting to soothe him and inject some sense into the moment. Bracing yourself, you approach, ready to offer whatever comfort you can, despite the storm of emotions swirling within you.

Sinking onto the balls of your feet, you lower yourself to Jongseong's level, meeting his strained figure. Instantly, the sight of his distress instantly shatters your heart into a million pieces.

An abundance of tears cascades down Jongseong's reddened face, obscuring his features like a relentless waterfall. His clenched jaw and the prominent vein on his forehead portray the intensity of his distress as he struggles to draw each laboured breath. Curled into himself, his body seems to contort with the weight of physical agony, mirroring the emotional pain that ripples through his trembling form. He’s been keeping this in for so long that his body doesn’t know how to cope with it.

Reaching out to grab his clenched fist, you shuffle forward, “Jjongie? It’s me, baby, look at me,” you say calmly, trying to reassure him with your soft voice.

As your fingers gently encircle his clenched fist, Jongseong's body tenses at the touch. Slowly, he turns his gaze towards you, his eyes bloodshot and filled with an overwhelming mixture of sorrow and longing. For a moment, there's a flicker of recognition in his eyes before they cloud over again with anguish.

He doesn’t believe you’re actually here, considering the long nights where he has conjured up the idea of you, clinging to his imagination on the lonely nights he wishes for your touch. But as you squeeze his hand, he realises this isn’t a dream-induced sighting, you’re really here in front of him.

"Y/N..." he murmurs, his voice choked with emotion. Tears stream down his face in torrents, some landing on your hand that holds his. His cries reverberate through the air, each wail a sharp stab to your chest.

Cupping his cheek, you settle yourself between his legs, ignoring the discomfort of the rocks beneath your knees, your focus solely on him. With a sad smile, you attempt to mask your own anguish, your touch a gentle reassurance amidst his storm of emotions.

"Hey, hey, enough of that now," you hush him softly, your voice a soothing melody in the tumultuous night. Using your thumb, you tenderly wipe away his tears, though they continue to flow unabated.

He leans into your touch, “I miss you so much, Y/N, please. Please,” he pleads as you feel his warm breath against your skin as he nuzzles into your palm, seeking solace in the familiar sensation he's been yearning for.

It’s hurting you just seeing him like this, the man you once knew to be strong-willed and resilient, keeping his emotions under control unless he’s sharing sweet vulnerable moments with you under the covers, is now a shell of himself, stripped bare by the weight of grief.

Turning your face to look at Jake, you offer him a small smile, “I’ll take him home.”

“You sure?” Jake asks, knowing that it’s a dangerous game for you both if you do.

“Yeah, I don’t think he’s going to move unless I do,” you chuckle sympathetically but there’s a bubble in your throat as Jongseong’s whimpers flow into your ear from beside you.

Nodding, Jake gestures to Sunghoon, silently enlisting his help in the task of ferrying the drunk man to your car. The weight of Jongseong's limp form proves cumbersome as you all struggle to navigate his dead weight, his limbs hanging heavily without offering any assistance.

"Let's get you home," you murmur softly, your hands pressing gently against Jongseong's chest to steady him, aided by his friends who lift him onto their shoulders.

His eyes lock onto yours, an intensity burning within them. "Please be real," he whispers, his voice trembling with desperation. Despite feeling your touch and catching hints of your scent, doubt gnaws at him. If this is merely a figment of his imagination, he knows he'll never forgive himself. You're so close, so tangible - it has to be you.

With much struggle, the three of you get him to your car, putting him gently in the backseat so he can lie down, but he wraps his arms around your waist as his legs stay situated outside of the vehicle, holding you close to him.

"Come on, Jjongie, lie down for a minute," you coax gently, guiding him to stretch out along the seats. But he remains unmoving, clutching onto you as if fearing you'll slip away if he lets go. With a soft sigh, you stroke the back of his head, your hands moving in a soothing rhythm. "I promise, I am not going anywhere," you whisper, your words a tender vow to him.

Yet, your attempts to reassure him seem to go unheard. His face burrows deeper into your stomach, his words muffled by the fabric of your t-shirt and the weight of his tears.

You exchange a worried glance with Jake and Sunghoon, “How much did he have to drink?” you ask, scared of the answer they will give. Your ex-boyfriend has always been so good at holding his liquor that it must have been a hefty amount he consumed.

“Like two weeks' wage worth,” Sunghoon winces, his neck tightening as he looks at his best friend.

"Oh, baby..." you sigh softly, feeling a wave of empathy wash over you. Returning your attention to Jongseong, you press a tender kiss to the crown of his head, hoping to offer some comfort amidst his distress. His response is to cling to you even tighter, his sobs echoing against your chest as he seeks solace in your embrace.

You need to get him home, he’s a mess and the longer he stays like this, the more his body is going to wear out. 

With a gentle hand, you stroke his hair, your touch a soothing caress against his trembling form. Despite the chaos swirling around you, you find a semblance of peace in this intimate moment, anchored by the bond that still lingers between you.

"I've got you, Jjongie," you whisper softly, drawing back as he eases up his grip on you. His friends go to help you but you halt them with a firm gesture, "You guys can go, I've got it from here."

Sunghoon shakes his head, concern etched on his face. "He's too heavy, Y/N. You won't be able to manage him into the flat without us," he protests.

But you stand your ground. This is your and Jongseong's mess, and you can’t let others help you clean it up, "It's okay. You guys have done your shift for tonight. Go home," you insist, your voice resolute.

Reluctantly, Sunghoon and Jake nod and bid you goodnight before going their separate ways home, leaving you alone with Jongseong and the weight of your shared history.

Taking a deep breath, you hoist him in, his body listening to you a little more now that you’ve reassured him you aren’t leaving him. He sprawls over the backseats and lays still, the alcohol consuming him into some form of comatose now that he has relaxed slightly.

You slide into the driver's seat, the engine humming to life beneath you. Glancing at Jongseong's slumbering form in the rearview mirror, you steel yourself for the journey ahead.

_____

Arriving at his house makes you more nervous than before. This wasn’t just his flat, it used to be your shared home, the place you lived for 2 and half years and made countless memories in.

You were the one to move out and find your own place, thinking it was best since your work was further away and you could find an apartment closer to it. But the truth is, you just couldn’t face being reminded of him in each room and in the pieces of furnishings.

It was selfish of you to leave him with the remnants of your relationship surrounding him, all you thought about was you and your needs, neglecting to think about how he might feel being surrounded by nothing but memories.

Lugging him into the flat, his legs are working in tandem with you now unlike before but he still isn’t proving to be the easiest person to carry. The last time you had to hold his weight like this was when he got drunk at your prom after taking sneaky shots in the hotel garden with his friends. It was funny but you blame him for some of your back pain that you’ve endured in your early twenties.

As you push open the door and step into the living room, a wave of nostalgia washes over you like a tsunami. Though only seven months have passed, it feels like a lifetime since you last stood in this space with him by your side. Everything remains unchanged, frozen in time since the day you left. The same couch sits in its familiar spot, adorned with throw pillows and blankets you bought for last season. Photographs of you both, captured during Christmases and holidays, adorn the walls, each one a snapshot of happier times. Even the vase that his mum had gotten you both for your housewarming gift, one that you loved and he hated, remains in its pride of place on the mantlepiece.

You push your thoughts down and make your way to your once-shared bedroom, walking through the memories and heaving your ex-boyfriend along slowly. His nose nudges into your hair, sweeping in your scent as he loses himself in the feeling of you.

As you reach the familiar threshold, you can't help but feel a pang of bittersweet longing. This room, once a sanctuary where you both shared your laughter and bodies, now serves as a poignant reminder of the love you've lost.

Gently, you ease Jongseong onto the bed, sitting him up, “I’m going to get you some clean boxers okay?” you ask him but he’s not here, not really, so you make your way to the drawers on the other side of the room.

Walking over, you spot a familiar t-shirt lying crumpled on your old side of the bed. You make a b-line to investigate it and as you pick up the crumpled t-shirt, a flood of memories washes over you, transporting you back to simpler times. Your fingers trace the familiar fabric, still faintly carrying the scent of you, now mingled with his cologne. You piece it all together pretty quickly, the way it still smells faintly of you but is not starting to be overpowered by his cologne. He hugs it at night to find peace of mind.

“Oh, Jjongie,” you sigh, heart reaching out to him. You’re no better, you have one of his hoodies that you snuck into your luggage as you packed and wear it when you’re at home. Just like your t-shirt, his hoodie is starting to lose its scent from the amount of times you’ve hugged yourself to sleep in it.

Jongseong has always been reserved, his emotions carefully guarded behind a facade of reason and rationale. To see him like this, vulnerable and raw, strikes a chord deep within you. If he had always worn his heart on his sleeve, perhaps it would be easier to understand. But the complexity of his emotions only serves to deepen the ache in your chest.

You place the t-shirt back on the pillow before opening the dresser drawer and retrieve a clean pair of boxers, his favourite ones with the faded Hellow Kitty print that you've always teased him about.

Gently, you begin to undress him while he rambles incoherent nonsense that you can’t understand between the mix of tears and drunk slurring. The top half is easy but the bottom half proves difficult as he only looks up at you, whispering pleas as he stares at you, keeping his bum firmly sat on the edge of the bed.

As you finally manage to remove Jongseong's jeans and boxers, leaving him naked, a new layer of vulnerability settles over the room. He sits before you bathed in the soft glow of the hallway light, his silhouette outlined in the darkness.

His beauty, illuminated by the faint light, is both captivating and heartbreaking. The familiarity of his form, once etched in your memory, now lays before you in the flesh, a tangible reminder of the love you still harbour for him. How could you not still love him? He was perfect in every way possible.

"Stay with me," he whispers, his voice a gentle plea as his hands begin to roam your sides, tracing the contours of your body beneath your shirt. Each touch ignites a flurry of sensations within you, sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

He pulls you onto his lap, your sweatpants becoming the barrier between his cock and your pussy. Yet, none of you are really thinking about that right now, all you both want is to hold one another again.

“Jongseong, we broke up, and for good reason,” you rationalise with not only him but yourself as you find yourself sinking into his touch as his hands roam your back.

Nuzzling his nose against yours, he begins to cry softly again, his face rubbing itself against yours as his tears transfer from his cheeks to yours, “Please, baby, don’t leave me,” he mumbles as his lips ghost over yours. 

He doesn’t just mean tonight, he means forever. A tear from your eye cascades down your face, getting lost in the mixture of his, your empathy for him overwhelming you because you feel the same way he does. You need him in every way, you need to be close to him, to feel his heart beating in synch with yours once again.

But you know better than this. You’re both just prolonging heartache if you succumb to being with him again. You can’t give each other what you need.

“Baby, don’t do this,” you beg him, knowing that he has the power to pull you back into his life with the click of his fingers, that resolve you have worked so hard to build up now hangs in the balance, “Let me get you changed and then into bed, yeah?”

Reasoning with him is a lost cause, his arms now hugging you tightly like before as he ignores your suggestion. The last thing he wants is to put on those boxers because he knows when he does that you’ll leave. 

"Please, Princess," his voice is raw with emotion, his desperation palpable in the air between you. And as you look into his eyes, you see the depth of his longing mirrored in your own. 

His plea hangs in the air, a heavy weight pressing down on your already burdened heart. You feel torn between the overwhelming desire to give in to his request and the harsh reality of the situation.

With a deep breath, you summon the strength to gently extricate yourself from his embrace, feeling the weight of his disappointment lingering in the air. His hurt expression tugs at your heartstrings, but you shake your head firmly, "Just tonight, okay?" you assure him, your voice soft but resolute.

Curse you and your heart that caves into his pleas so easily.

You disregard getting him dressed and instead, remove your sweatpants and replace them with those very boxers you planned to adorn him with and swap out your t-shirt for the one on your old pillow. Jongseong clumsily climbs into his covers, getting comfortable and finding some happiness in the fact that you’ll be in his arms at least for a little while. 

Once you climb into your side of the bed, he instinctively hugs you from behind, the comfort of your body pressed against his. He spoons you, tucking his face in your neck as he exhales in contentment. This is all he has been craving since that night you left and he couldn’t be happier. All the turmoil and anguish from earlier slowly depletes as he finds himself sinking into a much-needed sleep.

You can’t deny you feel the same, his arms wrapped around you feel like home, like you’ve been on a seven-month business trip and you’re now finally back where you belong. You sink into him further, relishing his skin against yours.

“Happy birthday, Jjongie,” you whisper, bringing his hand up to kiss it before intertwining your fingers with his.

_____

Waking up, Jongseong feels like his whole body has crashed into a brick wall. His bones ache and his head feels tight, but there is a weight that feels so familiar yet foreign, his legs tangled around something and his arms holding it close. This feels different from the t-shirt of yours he clings to every night, this has more substance.

Please don’t be some random girl he thinks to himself, scared to open his eyes. 

Even if he did want to open them he couldn’t because they are being held together so tight by something. Was he crying last night? Actually, what even happened last night?

He replays the fragments of the evening in his mind, a few scattered images begin to surface - Jake and Sunghoon dragging him to Haven, the raucous atmosphere of the bar, and the ill-advised decision to ride the mechanical bull. And then nothing.

As he tries to recounter the night, you see him attempt to pry his eyes open and decide to help him out. Swiping your thumb over his eyes, you wipe away the mix of his dried-in tears and sleep. He looks so confused when you touch him and his body tenses.

Either he is having a severe case of hallucinations to the point where he is starting to physically feel you or the girl that he took home last night resembles your touch. God, how he hoped it was the first one. 

Opening his eyes with your help, he blinks away the blur and sets his eyes on your face, his expression reading one of relief that quickly turns into astonishment.

“Y/N? Baby?” he whispers, his hands instinctively reaching for your cheek, “Please be real.” The same words he pleaded out last night leave his lips again. Jongseong has spent so many nights dreaming of you, wishing in an alternative universe that he can hold you again, so much so that this doesn’t feel real.

You don’t know what to say but obviously, you have to say something. It was one thing to confront drunk Jongseong who didn’t have a wit about him but now it feels like there’s a boulder on your chest as you try to conjure up the courage to speak to a sober, semi-alert Jongseong. 

All you can do is nod, no words escaping your dried lips. You look down to see you and his limbs mangled together just like they used to be, the feeling of his body pressed so tightly against yours almost feels like heaven.

He takes in the sight of you, the lines of disbelief on his features soften, replaced by a glimmer of hope. Slowly, almost tentatively, he reaches out to you, his fingers brushing against your cheek as if to confirm your presence.

The touch sends a jolt of electricity coursing through you, he’s caressing your cheek so tenderly it reminds you of the time you had the shift from hell and Jongseong held you the whole night, whispering sweet words into your ear and stroking your tears away, just like this.

Except there are no tears this time, you’re all cried out - months of mourning the loss of your relationship will do that to you.

As Jongseong's eyes meet yours, a flicker of recognition passes through them, followed by a wave of embarrassment. His voice is soft as he speaks, a hint of uncertainty lacing his words, "What are you doing here?" he asks, his tone laden with confusion.

"You got pretty drunk last night," understatement "And Jake asked me to come pick you up."

You can feel the tension in the air as Jongseong processes your words, his expression a mixture of shame and regret, "Sorry, I don't usually drink that much," he murmurs, his voice tinged with remorse.

The explanation stings, not because Jongseong has been drinking more, but because of the distance it creates between you. It's as if he's explaining himself to a stranger, rather than to the person who once knew him better than anyone else. The past six years you’ve known how he knows his limit and that he doesn’t tend to breach it, not subconsciously. 

All you do is nod, accepting his explanation as you slowly start to detangle yourself from him, “I better get going.”

“Y/N, please let's talk,” he pleads as his voice wavers, his grip tightening around your waist, and his desperation palpable as he pleads for your attention. But you've made up your mind, and no amount of persuasion can sway you from the path you've chosen.

"Jongseong, please, let's not do this," you implore, your voice tinged with a mixture of sorrow and resolve, "We're only going to hurt ourselves again."

You both know the reasons behind your breakup are deeply rooted, immutable truths that cannot be changed. It's not a matter of cheating or petty disagreements—this is about fundamental differences in desires and aspirations for the future.

But Jongseong refuses to accept defeat, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he breathes his love out, "Princess, we can work it out, I know we can," he insists, his words heavy with sincerity.

You steel yourself against the onslaught of his love, knowing that to give in would only prolong the inevitable pain, "We want different things, Jjongie," you remind him gently, your voice tinged with regret.

“I can do without them. It’s you I can’t live without…I can’t breathe without you here by my side.” His words are sincere and you know it, but you can’t accept it. When you both discussed your future, he looked so excited at the prospect of kids that your heart broke instantly. You knew right away that you couldn’t give him what he wanted most.

Closing your eyes and sucking in the bottom of your cheeks, you steady yourself to have this conversation yet again, “You can’t give up the idea of having kids. Having the life you want is much more important than me. You can find someone who can give you that.”

It hurts to say but you need to rip the bandaid off quickly. 

“You think I want that life with anyone but you?” His voice raises lightly, hinting at the anger rising into his chest. He needs you to listen to him, to understand him, “Y/N, if it’s not with you then I don’t want that life.”

Shaking your head determinedly, you sit up, “But I can’t give you that life, it’s not what I want.” You feel like you’re reliving the argument that ended it all those months ago.

“That’s okay.”

“No, It’s not,” It’s your turn to get angry, your eyebrows lacing together as you try to read him. How can he say all of this so easily? Like he wasn’t trying to promise you that he would change his entire life plan just to be with you. Is it romantic? Sure, but it’s also fucking stupid. No one should change just to keep someone they love because if they were meant to be, then their values would align…right?

"It's not that simple, Jongseong," you argue through the silence, your voice tinged with frustration, "You can't just sweep aside your dreams for the sake of our relationship. What about what you want? What about your own happiness?"

Jongseong sits up, the covers hiding his naked lower half; he hadn’t realised he was naked and it only adds a new layer to his vulnerability. He is laying himself bare to you.

But Jongseong's gaze remains unwavering, his determination evident in the set of his jaw, "Since we broke up, I've realised that you are the life I want," he declares, his words carrying the weight of his conviction, "Whatever that looks like for you, I want it."

You feel his words like a pickaxe, slowly breaking away at the wall you’ve spent months building around your heart and reason. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions sweeps over you. On one hand, his declaration of love sparks a glimmer of hope amidst the ruins of your fractured relationship. Yet, on the other hand, doubt claws at your insides, gnawing away at any semblance of certainty, the pure love that you have for him only wishes to make sure he’s happy and gets everything he wants in life.

"Jongseong, I..." you start, your voice wavering as you grapple with the turmoil inside. How do you express the depth of your feelings?

Grabbing your face with his large hands, he kisses you, his soft lips now coating yours. You’ve missed him so much that you become overwhelmed by his actions, a soft tear leaking from your ducts.

So much for being all cried out, you think to yourself.

"It's you, Y/N, I only need you," Jongseong whispers against your lips, his urgency evident as he seeks solace in the warmth of your embrace, stealing kisses with a hunger born from longing.

In spite of yourself, you find your lips responding to his touch, drawn in by the familiar sensation of his mouth against yours. Your arms instinctively wrap around him, fingers grazing lightly over the muscles of his back as you hold him close; your brain is telling you to push him away but your heart is pulling him tighter to you. 

"It's not fair to you, Jjongie," you murmur, the words weighted with a sense of guilt and remorse.

"I'd rather be with you happily than with kids and someone else miserably," Jongseong confesses, his words carrying the weight of his heart's deepest desires.

Jongseong wishes you could see it from his point of view; of course, he has wanted kids and a comfortable life for so long but the idea of achieving that when you are not his wife seems fucking ridiculous. There is no one in this world he wants to be with other than you and if that means he has to be an uncle rather than a dad, so be it.

You are all he has ever wanted. To grow old with you, to experience each of your accomplishments together and have you close to him. He wants to protect you and look after you the way he knows he should and that is his new life goal. This isn’t a decision he has made lightly but a decision he wanted to make.

His hands glide down your sides, trailing over your thighs as his kisses continue, each touch a manifestation of the craving that has consumed him. His need for you is overwhelming, every fibre of his being yearning for you in every possible way. Another moment without you feels unbearable, as if he might die.

You surrender to his touch, sinking back onto the bed as he hovers above you, his grip on your thighs firm yet tender. The intensity of his desire leaves marks, but in this moment, you welcome anything he offers.

It's astonishing how the feel of his lips on yours dismantles your resolve, scattering your apprehensions like leaves in the wind.

Slowly, he removes from you the t-shirt that has absorbed his tears on countless nights and the boxers you borrowed from him, leaving you exposed beneath him. As he looks upon your naked figure, his eyes drink in every curve and contour, offering silent gratitude to the heavens for letting him have you like this. You are everything he wants and more.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N,” he whispers into your mouth as he presses his body hard against yours, his member rubbing itself against your folds. 

The feeling of him rubbing against you is enough to elicit a moan. No amount of toys was enough to satisfy you, not the way Jongseong could. Over the years you learned about one another’s bodies so intimately that no one could ever know you the way he does, not even yourself. 

You couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping with someone else, even if you and Jongseong had broken up, your heart couldn’t do it. You never even considered a one night stand because deep down you knew that your body belonged to Jongseong and no one else.

He moves his hips, slowly rubbing himself against you, the bell of his cock grazing your clit teasingly. It feels like a dream for him to touch you this way again, and the fact that you were coating his cock with your wetness was enough to tell him that you need this too.

Kissing you desperately, his tongue darts into your mouth and swirls with yours as he seeks to taste you, his buds dancing along with yours. He moans into your mouth and acts as an echo of his love for you.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers as his hips continue to move slowly, teasing your hole with his tip each time he draws back. It’s becoming increasingly obvious how much it’s starting to irritate you, your need to have him inside you is evident in your whines of frustration.

"I missed you too, baby. More than anything," you confess, your hand finding his cock as you press against him, seeking to create greater friction between you. With each movement, the pressure builds, sending waves of pleasure coursing through both of you.

With each synchronised movement, the tension between you mounts, the desire for one another lingering in the warm air. His hips continue their slow, teasing rhythm, each brush against your core sending sparks of want up your heat and into your chest.

Feeling the urgency building within you, you guide his cock with precision, pressing it against your eager entrance. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you feel the head of his length dip into you only slightly, the anticipation of being filled with him heightening your senses.

"Please," you whisper, your voice laden with need and longing, a plea for him to take you.

With a teasing grin, Jongseong relents to your plea, but not in the way you expected. Instead of thrusting into you the way you want him to, he trails his fingertips along the curves of your body, igniting a trail of fire in his wake. His touch is light and tantalising, tracing patterns across your skin as he savours every moment. He wants to take his time with you, no matter how much his dick longs to be surrounded by your walls.

You like to be teased even for a little bit, the payoff at the end always hits the right spot.

You squirm beneath his touch, aching for more, but he continues with deliberate slowness. His fingers dance over your heated flesh, exploring every inch of your body with an intimacy that leaves you breathless. Each caress sends shivers down your spine, building the anticipation to unbearable heights. God, you missed his hands all over you.

As his right hand dips lower, he begins tracing circles around your sensitive clit and you can't help but arch your back in pleasure, a soft moan escaping your lips. The sensation is electrifying, sending waves coursing through your body as he expertly teases you.

Feeling your body tremble with anticipation, his touch becomes more urgent as he presses his fingers against your throbbing clit h and with practised skill, he begins to move faster, applying just the right amount of pressure to have you writhing beneath him.

“You look so fucking perfect, all desperate and whiney like this, Princess,” he says as he leans down to kiss you, breathing in deeply through his nose as he tries to fill each of his senses with you. It wasn’t just enough to feel you, he wanted to taste you, to inhale your scent, to hear you cry out for him, to see you unravel beneath him.

Your breath catches in your throat as the intensity of his touch sends you spiralling towards the edge of bliss. Each stroke of his fingers drives you closer to the brink, your body humming with the need to let go.

But just as you feel yourself teetering on the edge, Jongseong suddenly slows his movements, drawing out the pleasure with agonising slowness. It's a torturous tease, the brief moments of intensity followed by long, drawn-out strokes that leave you gasping for more.

“Please, please, please, Jjongie,” you whimper in frustration, your body aching for release as Jongseong continues to play you like a symphony, alternating between fast and slow, building the tension to unbearable levels. Just when you think you can't take it anymore, he finally gives in, his fingers dipping into your heat and thrusting into you at a rough pace, your pussy soaking his digits as he coaxes out your orgasm.

“You’re clamping down on my fingers so hard, Baby, you gonna cum?” he asks arrogantly, knowing that with each curl of his finger, he is watching your body lose control and surrender to him.

Nodding quickly, you pull him down for a long, searing kiss as his thumb joins the party and flicks your clit rapidly, “Oh my god,” you moan out into his mouth through bated breaths, “I’m gonna cum, Jongseong, please can I cum?”

“You never have to ask baby,” he moves his mouth to your ear and lightly nibbles your lobe, “Cum for me, Princess,” he gently commands.

Jongseong continues to work his magic, his fingers moving with expert precision as he guides you through the throes of ecstasy. Your vision blurs and every nerve in your body hums with pleasure as you reach the pinnacle of bliss.

With a final, desperate cry, you let go, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You arch your back and cry out his name as pleasure consumes you, your body trembling with the intensity of it all.

His fingers remain still inside you, but his thumb maintains its relentless pace, each swipe sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. Your hips instinctively twitch in response, your nub throbbing with sensitivity and yearning for a respite. Yet, Jongseong shows no signs of letting up, his determined flicking only intensifying.

"You like that, baby?" Jongseong's voice is hoarse with desire as he intently watches your reactions. His eyes are dark with need as he continues to work you with wild desire. 

Your senses are overwhelmed by sensations pouring through you, so you can only respond with a gasping nod. Every single nerve in your body is buzzing with ecstasy, and all you can think of is the delicious agony of his thumb against your delicate clit.

"Tell me what you want, Princess," he asks, his voice a seductive whisper in your ear, "Do you want more?"

You can only make a frantic plea, your words barely comprehensible in the middle of intense pleasure. "Yes, please, Jongseong... More..."

Jongseong's lips curl into a wicked grin as he hears your plea, his confidence growing with each breathless gasp that escapes your lips. With a teasing twinkle in his eye, he moves his fingers again, pressing them against your contracting walls, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as he speaks.

"What do you want, Y/N?" he whispers, his voice dripping with anticipation, "Tell me, and I'll give it to you."

Your mind is a haze of desire, but amidst the fog, one thought stands out clear and demanding. You need him inside you, filling you completely with his presence. With trembling hands, you reach for him, your fingers curling around his cock, guiding him to where you need him most, pushing his hand out of the way.

"I want you," you whisper, your voice trembling with need. "I want all of you, Jongseong." When you utter the words, there’s a deeper meaning to them, a meaning that Jongseong is clinging to.

The way your fingers wrap around his rock-hard member elicits a hiss from him, your touch mixed with your words only fuels him to give you everything you need. 

Jongseong lets out a guttural groan, entirely surrendering to your touch and words. His eyes darken with want as he watches you take control, and his breath quickens with anticipation as you guide him inside you. His breath coming in ragged gasps, he looks into your eyes with a mixture of desire and adoration, "God, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice rough with need, “You feel so fucking incredible. I’ve missed how you just suck me in like this.”

You look down and watch as his entire length gets lost in your heat, his cock’s head hitting deep within you. You’ve missed how he fills you up so much but you hadn’t realised just how badly until right now as he shallowly thrusts into you.

You respond with a low moan of pleasure, your nails digging into his skin as you pull him closer, urging him to go deeper. "Yes, Jongseong," you whisper, your voice laced with longing, "just like that. I need this so much, I need you."

With each thrust, he grunts in response, his movements becoming more desperate as he seeks to satisfy your every desire, "I'm yours, Y/N," he declares, his voice filled with raw emotion, "completely and utterly yours."

As he lifts your legs and closes them, gently draping them over his left shoulder, your warmth envelops his shaft, drawing him in closer. Jongseong relishes the sensation of your tightness, revelling in the snug embrace of your canal around him. And you too find delight in the pressure of his girth, relishing the way he stretches you further with every powerful thrust.

Each movement of his hips is deliberate, each one designed to bring you both closer to the edge of ecstasy. As his hands stroke your legs tenderly, contrasting with the intensity of his thrusts, you find yourself lost in the intoxicating rhythm of your bodies moving as one.

His jerks grow more intense, the pace quickening as he drives deeper into you, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge, "You feel so good," he groans, his voice filled with unrestrained passion, "so fucking perfect for me, Princess."

In response, you curve your back and meet his thrusts with equal conviction, the heat between you building to an almost euphoric level. "Jongseong," you exclaim, your voice a symphony of fulfilment, "don't stop, please don't stop."

Jongseong intensifies his efforts with a wild growl, each movement driven by a burning need to push you to the edge of satisfaction and beyond. At this moment, there is only you and him, burned by the fires of passion.

With a swift motion, your lover bends you in half, positioning your legs by your head as he quickens his already rapid pace. Lost in a whirlwind of desire, your eyes roll back and your hands instinctively grip his shoulders, your chest heaving with each forceful thrust of his cock. Your nails dig into his skin, leaving marks on his shoulder blades as you cling to him, lost in the intensity of the moment.

Feeling the sting of your nails, he grits his teeth and strains his neck, the veins in his temples pulsating as he fights the overwhelming urge to release inside you right then and there.

“Fuck, claw my back, Baby,” he growls, his voice thick with desire, “make me yours again.” With determination, he continues to pound into you, each movement bringing you closer to your shared orgasm.

After hearing Jongseong’s go-ahead, you dig into his back, dragging your nails across his skin, leaving fiery red lines in their wake, just like he wants. It burns him in the most delectable way, making his cock throb inside of you.

Your breaths combine in the air, creating an ensemble of desire as you both reach the edge. The tension between you grows with each thrust, a crescendo of want reaching its peak.

As he slams into you furiously, his voice fills the room with urgency, "You gonna cum again, Princess? You want it?" His words are a mixture of want and domination, starting a fire inside you that threatens to consume everything in its path.

With a firm nod, you meet his gaze, your eyes brimming with want. "Yes, Jongseong, please," you beg, your voice a frantic appeal for release once again.

In response, he increases his efforts, his motions growing more frenzied as he propels you both to your orgasms. And then, with a final, strong thrust, you shatter, your body convulsing from the ferocity of your release. Jongseong follows closely behind, his own climax mirroring yours as he finds release within you, “Fuck!” 

His body stills as he shoots his seed into you, the tremble of both your bodies vibrates the bed beneath you. Finding it hard to keep himself up, he falls onto you, moving his cock into you further, only drawing out a final moan from your lips.

After a couple of minutes, Jongseong rolls over, his chest heaving up and down rapidly. God, he missed the way you feel under him, he could go another ten rounds if you asked. 

But that would mean you would stay, and is that even something you want? He doesn’t want to ask, your answer being the deciding factor of whether he goes on his life with misery or happiness.

He knows he can’t force you into this relationship but he hopes he has done enough to convince you that you are all he wants.

“Please be with me again, Y/N. I can’t live without you,” he whispers into the air, not daring to look at you.

You on the other hand only want to look at him, to see if you can really try this again, “Even if it means no kids? No playdates with other parents? No family trips to Jeju?”

“Even without all that.” He does look sincere, his eyes now burning into yours with a new lease of determination.

The truth is, you’ve missed him so much that it hurts. Behind the strong facade is just a girl who misses her lover. Being without him is like being in a fire with no escape, constantly fighting your way out of a blaze while your lungs collapse. He’s the clear path to fresh air you desperately need, there is no denying it. And clearly, he thinks the same about you. 

Seeing him last night so fragile and broken engulfed you in the flames, burning you alive because you know that you feel every ounce of hurt that he is. It was a mirror to how you were feeling and you don’t think you knew how badly you needed him until that moment. You were trying to be so strong about it all, giving yourself only a short amount of time to grieve that as you looked at Jongseong last night, you know he has done the same.

You need one another to extinguish the fire.

“Jongseong, truly think about this, this isn’t me saying no to letting you go on a lads holiday, I’m denying you the opportunity to be a father,” you plead with him one last time, giving him an out to all of this as you lay it all on the table.

“Princess, I have had seven months to think about it. I am not compromising or altering my needs for you, this is a decision that I have made on my own. If I truly wanted the life I thought I did, I wouldn’t be begging you to be with me right now. I know this isn’t an easy choice but I have never been more sure about anything in my life.” 

Jongseong kisses all over your face, each one a receipt of his sincerity.

His words strike straight into your heart. He’s serious. A part of you wants to still feel guilty like you’re forcing him into this but on the other hand, he’s right. You’ve given him a multitude of opportunities to leave and find a girl who will cater to him, but he hasn’t. 

He doesn’t need to because all he needs is you and your love, to Jongseong, that is all he needs in his life.

“Okay, but if you ever change your min-”

He interjects with a kiss, one filled with so much happiness and love that it’s almost intoxicating; either that or all the booze in his system has transferred its way into your bloodstream. 

You giggle as he rolls over on top of you again, peppering loud and wet kisses all over your face and neck akin to a dog licking you from utter joy. Your hands try to fight him off playfully, your laugh growing louder as he nuzzles into your neck.

“Oh, wait!” Your lover's sudden pause catches your attention, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he swiftly rolls off the bed and rushes over to the messy pile on the chair by his dresser.

Curious, you crane your neck to see what he's up to, watching as he retrieves something from the floor.

“What is it?” you inquire, intrigued by his enthusiasm.

Turning back to you, Jongseong holds up the familiar torn sheet of paper that you recognise instantly, his smile lighting up his face. He grabs a pen from the desk and returns to your side, handing you both items.

“Tick it off,” he urges, pointing to the bottom of the page where a new addition was made yesterday morning. Despite his internal conflict about the list, he couldn't bring himself to tear it up. If he never saw you again, this would be a precious memory to hold onto.

So he added a new aspiration at the bottom.

Taking the pen from his hand, you read it slowly, “Make Y/N mine again..”

You gaze up at him in awe, understanding the significance of this gesture and how much the list means to him, “You wished for this?” you ask, to which he simply nods at your question, “Then you need to tick it off.” You push the pen and paper back to him but he stops you.

“No, you made the wish come true, so you need to tick it off,” he replies, the corners of his lips upturning slightly.

So with the pen, you draw a line over the words, scoring it off once and for all as you beam proudly, happy that both of your souls are now joined together again. You pull him in for a long, deep kiss, the bucket list discarded as you lose yourselves in the moment once again.

#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #jay smut #park jongseong smut #aj writes #jay x reader #park jongseong x reader

[sarawritestories]

Heyy I read your period fic with cassian and I absolutely adored it! I love how you write cassian as a caring male...and honestly I would envision Helion the same too with his partner/mate when she is on her cycle...If its not too much of a hassle...i wanted to request a helion x reader fic where they are sleeping together but when reader wakes up in the middle of the night and sees that she has bled through the sheets and this is her first time having her period in front of Helion so she is terrified and nervous of Helion waking up and seeing the mess she has made..but Helion ends up waking up with only wanting to take care of the reader and help her with her cramps❤️

Hi Anon, Yes, and as I have just fallen victim to my own cycle, I felt it was appropriate to get some Helion loving here because a high lord taking care of their mate in pain is Yummy!

I'm sorry this took so long!

Fuck Propriety

Helion X Autumn Court Fem Reader

Summary: You got your cycle for the first time staying over with your mate. When the High Lord of the Day Court finds you on the floor writhing from the pain, Helion begins to take care of you, whether you want it or not.

Content Warning: bad cramps, bleeding through sheets. Swearing, but the title makes that a given. A little bit of self-loathing sprinkled as well.

ACOTAR MASTERLIST

Unrelenting pain awoke you from your sleep. Creaking your eyes open as a wave of cramps attacked your body. Suppressing a whimper, you sat up, and the familiar sensation hit you, followed by the scent of your blood. Your eyes widened.

No. No. No. No.

You looked over at your sleeping mate, his brown toned back rising and falling with his breaths. Even in his sleep, Helion was regal. Shame swept over you like a violent current in the Summer Court. The first time you stayed with your mate in his court and you had gotten your cycle.

How could you be so careless?

You found out Helion was your mate 6 months ago. Swept up by his beauty and playful personality, you must have forgotten to keep track of your cycle. You spent most of your time admiring Helion and his freedom to express himself the rest spent making sure you were poised and presentable, suitable, for a High Lord just as your mother taught you. How living in the Autumn Court had taught you.

Helion's kindness and warmth had lowered your walls slightly, and you felt comfortable talking with him. Had you been keeping better track, you would have rescheduled your visit to the Day Court Your mother's voice rang loudly in your ears:

How would a High Lord trust you with an heir if you can't even keep track of your cycle?

Her words stinging in your mind as another wave of cramps hit you. Gritting your teeth to prevent you from crying out, you tried to move only for more pain to erupt from your abdomen. Sweat coating your brow, you breathed through the cramps, trying hard not to disturb the sleeping high lord beside you. Finally, the pain eased, and you gently slid out of the bed.

Turning back toward the mattress, you felt tears begin to form as a giant stain of blood glaring back at you. Your mother's voice rang out once more:

Stupid child, how can the High Lord ever respect a mate that sullies his finest sheets the first time she stays over?

You clenched your hands into fists so tightly you hadn't realized you broke skin, as two words kept repeating over and over.

Bad Mate. Bad Mate. Bad Mate.

You ran to the bathroom, right as you had shut the door, you were attacked by another aggressive wave of cramps. The pain over took your senses as you collapsed to the floor. The cool marble floor was a welcome reprieve to your feverish skin. You could only manage to focus on the pain you hadn't realized that you were screaming or that the bond was now open and everything you were feeling was being sent down the gold thread to Helion.

****************************************************

You heard your name being called repeatedly. You opened your eyes to meet the concerned golden hues of your mate's. Your body had fallen unconscious. You were so devoured by the pain to notice. "Sunshine, are you alright?" Helion's voice grounding you from the pain that began its relentless attack. He had laid your head on his lap his fingers running through your sweat coated hair.

"You aren't supposed to see me like this." You whimpered as your body rides out the pain, a fresh scent of copper flooding your nose as you cover your hands in embarrassment. "Go back to sleep, I promise I will be okay."

Helion's fingers pull from your hair and his hands engulfed your wrist, pulling them away from your face to see a fresh batch of tears. His dark brows furrowed, "You expect me to go to bed?"

You had forgotten about the bed sheets now soiled with your blood. "No, of course not, High Lord, not until I put clean sheets on, I will go-" You sit up and try to stand only for your cramps to send you back to your knees. A grunt of agony escaped your lips as toned muscular arms wrap around your waist and pull you back to a sitting position. He pulls your back flush with his bare chest, his body providing warmth to your clammy form. Helion places his hands over your womb, and his fingers begin to massage it, dissipating the pain. You sobbed at the relief his kneading does for the pain. Yet your mind still fought, "Helion, I have to clean up my me-"

Helion was swift to cut her off, "You will do no such thing. The only thing I you to do right now is sitting right here with me and listening. Can you do that for me, Sunshine?" You nodded your head and leaned against his shoulder. His hands found yours as he intertwined your fingers, providing you with a sense of calm. "Good, first things first, you are never to call me High Lord. Ever! Unless my head is in-between your delicious thighs, then you may moan out my title as much as you please."

You hummed at the thought of your mate's tongue against you, your eyes fluttered closed, and Helion chuckled at the scent of your arousal. Another round of pain hit you, and Helion adjusted his hold so your knees and back were secure and hoisted you up. With his magic, he filled the tub with steaming water, and with a snap of his fingers, the two of you were undressed. He placed you in the tub, a moan escaping your lips as the heat of the water began relaxing your muscles. Helion slid into the spot behind you and began rubbing your shoulders.

"Sedondly," Helion continued, "When you are ill or in pain, I am responsible for taking care of you. I promised you as much when the bond snapped into place. No, I will not let you clean up your bloody sheets. No, you will not be bathing alone on your cycle and trying to manage your pain alone. I will not allow it. I want to take care of you. So please let me know." His lips find the side of your head and presses lightly. His long dark curls fall down your shoulder as he moves his lips to your cheek and down your neck, causing you to giggle.

After he stopped his kisses, he turned your head so your eyes met his once more. "This last one is important, so pay attention." He sighed and placed a tender kiss to your lips, sending love down the bond. "You do not have to be prim and proper with me. You are mine. I will love you no matter what. I've been trying to get thay wall, your mother built around your heart, since we met. The wall that doesn't allow you to bask in the sunlight on a warm day. The one that doesn't allow you to dance with me in the kitchen like no one is watching. The one that doesn't let me kiss you in public, in front of our court."

"Our court?" You blinked.

His full lips curved into a grin, showing immaculate teeth, "Our court, did you think you were going back to Autumn after this visit, Sunshine." You blushed. That's exactly what you thought you should have known better.

You frowned slightly, "But It's not proper to sho-"

Helion growled, "Fuck Propiety! I love you. And I want everyone to know it." His eyes softened as he placed a tender kiss on your shoulder. "Sunshine, I want you to know how much I love you. I want to show you that love. I want you to feel comfortable showing me your emotions. If you were, maybe you would have woken me up to tell me what was going on. Because you weren't you didn't tell me and I woke up to feeling this heavy pain in my chest realizing the pain was shooting down the bond, the scent of your blood and you screaming in the bathroom. When I found you unconscious, I..." He paused, and you placed a hand on his cheek, turning your whole body to face him. He shook his head, the beads in his hair glimmering in the fae light. He gave you a sad smile as he leaned into your touch. "I just want you to be comfortable here to be who your truly are. To be able to express yourself and to ask me for help when you need it."

You bit your lip for a moment for a moment before whispering, "What if I don't know who I am?"

Helion's smile gave you butterflies in your stomach as he pressed his lips to yours. Pulling away he placed his forehead onto yours, "Then we will discover who you are together. What a fun adventure that will be." His tone held genuine excitement.

"And you will still love me?"-

"Until my dying breath, Sunshine." He kissed your you once more.

"I love you." You blurted out, heat rising to your cheeks at the confession.

Helion chuckled, "And I you, now let's get you cleaned up.

So Helion washed you from head to toe. As the two of you began to talk, you began to truly open up to him, and in the conversation, you forgot about the pain. He dried you off and gave you some linen to line your underwear to help with the bleeding, along with his shirt to wear, knowing you would find comfort in his scent.

He led you to the bedroom where there were fresh sheets, a steaming cup of tea, and a tonic for the pain. No male had ever been this attentive to your needs before. Tears began to run down your cheeks, and Helion was quick to kiss them away. "None of that. Come now." He had you sit on the edge of the bed where he tilted your chin up slightly and pressed the vial with the tonic to your lips, which your greedily took. Then he handed you the tea and made his way to his side of the bed. He watched as you placed the mug on the nightstand, and his arm snacked around your middle, gently pulling you toward his body. You laid down and adjusted yourself to face him. He kissed the tip of your nose and smiled, "Say it again, Sunshine."

You knew exactly what he was asking for. "I love you, Helion."

He pulled you close, your head laying on his bare chest. "I love you too." Your eyes drifted closed as you fell into a deep slumber, to the sound of your mate's heartbeat.

#helion x reader #helion acotar #helion spell cleaver #high lord helion #helion x fem reader #helion x you

[beenbaanbuun]

hi i wanna ask if dove ever fought with seonghwa or hongjoong like full on disagreeing and just arguing? and what was it like ^____^ i really love ur Addams!Matz fic and seeing you post smth new related to it makes my day!

darling has tiny arguments with hongjoong on a semi-regular basis. despite her tendency to roll over and submit, she’s actually surprisingly hard headed and if hongjoong claims that she broke a rule that she doesn’t agree with, then she is going to give that man hell. the problem is, hongjoong is equally as stubborn and it sometimes ends up with the house being a full on war zone. snarky comments over a game of chess, silent glares over dinner; it’s just an all round hostile environment and seonghwa just tends to be on the sidelines watching it all go down.

“you can’t move your piece there,” hongjoong deadpans as he watches you do an illegal chess move. normally he’d just laugh it off and gently correct you, but he can’t find it in himself to do that when his blood is still boiling from that mornings conversation.

“well if you can make up rules, then so can i,” you fold your arms in defiance and hongjoong finds himself seething. if he were calmer, he’d drag you over his lap and teach you a lesson about being a brat, but just like you had your rules, they had theirs. no punishments out of anger was a pretty important one; they didn’t want to end up hurting you whilst getting their frustrations out. “and i say i want to put my castle there…”

it usually ends up with seonghwa having to step into the metaphorical firing line, because hell below, he and yeosang are sick and tired of it! the constant back and forth has driven the two of them to insanity and if he has to put a stop to it himself then he absolutely will. seonghwa isn’t a believer in anger, and so he will make them sit down and air out their grievances in a calm and collected manner. he’ll even implement a talking stick of absolutely necessary. as long as the two of them aren’t at odds by the time they slip themselves beneath the comforter or their bed, seonghwa will be happy.

for that very reason, darling and seonghwa almost never argue. if she doesn’t agree with seonghwa on anything, he will just nod and offer to talk it through with her when he’s less busy. sometimes she agrees and step down, but sometimes it’s clear that she’s looking for a fight and she tries to push it further. it’s infuriating because no matter how hard she tries, seonghwa just keeps his cool and answers her as if it’s any other conversation. he knows she only does it when she’s in a bad mood, so his first port of call is usually tackling whatever it is that’s getting you down.

“but i just don’t understand how it’s fair,” you snarl, your pacing coming to a stop right in front of where he sits on the chez. he doesn’t even look at you as you growl out your words, and it drives you mad. you stomp your foot in frustration, the loud noise irritating the man just ever-so-slightly. he lets out a deep sigh.

“i said we’ll talk about it later, lamb,” he hums with disinterest as he flicks over the page of his book. you’re fuming above him, chest rising and falling heavily as you glare at him. he lets his gaze flick up to your face, an unimpressed look resting on his features. “what? are you looking for an argument or something? you know i won’t give you one so why don’t you come and sit with me until you’ve calmed down.”

#ateez x reader #matz x reader #opposites attract universe

[precious-little-scoundrel]

|| What Took him so Long?

Summary: For a long time I’ve wanted a comfort fic dealing with Bucky’s arrival in camp and the assumption that once he got there, found his men and was relatively safe, he had a big adrenaline crash and needed a ton of loving care. So I wrote it into this world.

Note: I wrote so many of the boys for the first time this time and, well, it was fun but have mercy I’m new here

Continuity: This segment follows the events of First Night

Thanks: I owe dear @hogans-heroes a lot for helping me sort my screams about multiple different aspects of this fic and for how much depth they’ve added to my own love of these guys. Also to @ab4eva @blurredcolour and @crazymadpassionatelove

Warnings: usual universe warnings apply, 18+,additional graphic recounting of past violence and rape, descriptions of injuries from the same, angsty conversations and misplaced blame, the boys trying to give all six foot two inches of dead weight Egan a bath

“It’s Ida,” Brady’s nimble hand was deceptively strong when clutching Gale’s bicep and shaking him to wakefulness early in the morning, “she won’t fuckin’ respond but she’s bowin’ up ‘till I think her neck might snap.”

Well that got Gale tumbling out of his bunk, out from Maureen’s hold on his face, swollen thumb on his tongue. The hell had he been thinking last night? The raucous noise of his landing to his feet woke the others, Crank instantly startled at their hovering over Ida.

“What’s wrong?”

“Dunno,” Gale replied, staring down at Ida Brady who was suddenly quite still again, “when’d the jerks start?”

“About an hour ago. She didn’t move before that.” John reported and Gale was sure it was an accurate report as Brady’s eye bags suggested he’d not even slept a wink. “She’s cold but she kept seizing so I stopped holding her.”

Gale bit his lip and tried to recall how pale was deathly pale, or just, pale. He bent over her and placed his fingers against her pulse, relieved to find a strong heartbeat in her neck. Maybe too strong, but he wasn’t about to start picking apart mercies. He was trying to measure it to his watch’s third hand when she started again, neck truly so bowed beneath his fingers he understood the impression of it close to breaking. He took his hand away discomfited and by this time Crank had joined them to stare down at her but those eyelids didn’t even flutter.

“We shoulda called a doctor last night.” Crank fretted, “She wasn’t just tired, not after what she’s been through.”

What she had been through was not something that had been discussed really, and so, it had been happily tabled as a past occurrence when she came in last night and toppled into the bunk straight after showers. Now their silence on the topic seemed like the sort of lethal discretion that kills amongst “polite” societies.

“Well, let’s get one now.” Gale snapped, “Crank -find the one who sewed my cut. Vega, I think, Vargas, something like that. He’s here, in the south compound.”

“You got it major.”

As Ida quieted again, Gale tried his hand at her pulse once more. A few moments later she was writhing in her sleep again.

“Since she seizes everytime you touch her, how about ya stop touching her?” Demarco’s word of wisdom filtered in from his bunk.

Chastised, and with shared looks of alarm at their foolishness, Gale and Johnny retracted their hands to clasp behind their backs and waited in that mock parade rest until the doctor came in, dark expression on his face and a very deflated medical bag at his side.

“It’s one of the women?” he asked, shouldering between the two men.

“Yeah, our colonel.” Gale supplied before relaying in brief terms the timeline of her stay here, her symptoms, her rather obvious injuries.

“We might be dealing with a concussion,” the Doc warned upon inspecting her face, “how’d she get these?” he asked about the swollen cheek and torn temple.

Gale turned to Maureen who still sat in her bunk, quiet, oddly quiet. “I saw her get punched once, I think it was on that side. But it wasn’t so bad, the rest happened when they took her away from us.”

Doc Vega was inspecting the rest of her as he pulled the covers down, her shirt flaps up, bruises and more bruises visible and -“She’s bleeding through her pants. Is this a cycle or-?” He turned to Kendeigh expectantly and she only shook her head, making Brady turn away with a wounded noise and walk a convict’s lap around the table, breath shuttering out in rough huffs, fists shoved into his pockets. Maureen wasn’t sure how anyone expected to get on top of such emotions, much less a bother. She was sure as soon as she had energy for it, she’d start making some Germans pay, it didn’t matter which, someone needed to pay.

“With assault this severe-“ Doc Vega’s face was more than eloquent regarding his horrified assessment. “-she should be in hospital. You know that right? That’s what this is, sexual battery, and like the word suggests, it's damaging, very damaging. Not to mention infection, fever- she belongs in hospital.”

The silence was heavy except for Brady and his off kilter laps.

“If they take her, I don’t trust them to guarantee her Combatant status.” Gale’s jaw worked overtime as he stared down at the body of his friend, “German hospital might be the best thing to ever happen to her or the worst when they discharge her. She’d not want me to let them take her out of here. Not after she fought so hard to get in.”

“Then by god,” the doctor exclaimed, “take her to the camp doctor, there must be some supplies. Antibiotics at the least, aspirin perhaps. Something for the swelling, inside and out. Camp doctor has supplies, how many times do I gotta tell you guys -I don’t! Take her to him.”

“No!” John Brady spoke up urgently only to immediately appear chagrined at his slip as Gale Cleven turned a very suspicious eye on him, “I mean, sir, if we take her, the German doctor will just transfer her to hospital. He can’t see how bad she is.”

That was a valid point, Cleven had to give it to him, although he noticed Hambone’s own suspicious, cud chewing, background shuffling observation of his pilot. Every time that doctor was brought up, Brady mildly suggested that they not go to him, without fail. His mentions regarding the guy being German and illusions to his methods being foreign were wearing thin. There was a miasma of myth about the doctor that no one could actually credit for a single source and Cleven hadn’t expected Brady, sensible, steady, laconic and measured Brady, to be the one to start spinning folklore in a place like this. He had next to no patience for it.

“Brady,” he decided to have at it, “you gonna tell me why everytime I bring up medical care in this camp you act like I’m suggesting suicide?”

“Sir,” Johnny’s gentle eyes grew wide and ever more guileless, “I told you, that man isn't much good.”

“Even a trash physician who has supplies is better than a good one without.” Doc Vega pointed out as he prepared to take his leave, “I’ve done everything with what I have. There simply isn’t anything at my disposal. Packages got held up and didn’t have everything accounted for.”

“He probably takes the stuff.” Brady muttured.

“So he’s the one to go to.” Gale snapped.

“He’s not touching her.” Ida’s brother replied.

Gale pinched his nose as he watched Vega leave them, the guy’s useless little bag of nothing swinging by his side, “By not being good - do you mean a poor physician? Be clear, Damnit.”

As if sensing a penultimate conflict, the room soon cleared of everyone save Maureen who was too invested by curiosity and a healthy dose of her own suspicion.

“Sir I’ve told you, he -he operates outside his purview.”

“Son? I can’t even pretend to understand what that means.” Gale’s patience grew more lethal as it rubbed thin, “That could mean he uses leeches or he abuses his patients.”

Brady’s eyes darted back and forth from Cleven’s face to the plain beamed ceiling as if he could find his answer there. Manic and with an odd glitter easily mistaken for tears. The kid probably needed to sleep, or maybe he needed to fess up about the doctor. Either way, Gale found the whole thing more and more unsettling but also, aggravating.

“Now are you gonna tell me which is it? Or are you alright with me withholding help from dying men because Captain Brady’s too intent on staying vague?”

“He’s just odd, sir.” Brady gave a defeated huff, eyes still watery, “It’s nothing bad, I-I never said not to send them, sir. He just can’t see Ida. He can’t.”

Gale was intently watching Brady swallow hard and wrack his brain for another respectful appeal when Crack came barreling back in, the eagerness in his step reserved for only one thing these dismal days: “They’re here! There’s a new batch, bringing them in the front now, quick, there’s not a long line!”

Brady was up and darting out the room before Gale could blink, uncharacteristically excusing himself before his superior had dismissed him and leaving Ida behind, still motionless in her bunk.

“Bucky could be with them!” Brady explained as he dashed out, same old hope repeated for over a month now and Gale wondered when the guy was going to crack from one too many hits to the morale.

“Brady!” Gale called after him a beat too late, wondering who was going to stay with Ida, but after catching Maureen’s quizzical eye, Gale too bolted and left the woman in his lover’s charge, tearing out of the combine to have a word with his young Captain, fleece and cover on for a little added dignity the camp pallor had no doubt stripped him of.

The scars, too.

Brady was at the fence by the time Gale caught up, his wiry frame slipping between the surging mass of POWs come to greet and heckle the newcomers. Gale had long ago found it a dismal scene and wasn’t fond of watching after it, but Crank and Brady were too intent, and some heartsick need drove Gale to find such excuses for why he, too, always managed to be at the scene when a new batch trudged in.

And what the cat brought in today made Gale forget about everything, everything else but that tall, shuffling, bloodied mess of a man he knew was his friend. And, characterically, despite appearing half dead, Egan was asking after Cleven, like the crackers after the cheese, damn the association risks.

“John Egan! Your two o’clock!”

Like a sunbeam splintering a thundercloud, Bucky’s battered face split open in a beaming smile the second he’d registered Cleven’s own. Gale couldn’t help the effusion of bittersweet gratification at the immediate resumption of the old ways, the old sweetness between them, the nearness of a good man to help brave this hell.

“What took you so long?” he jabbed, but his friend’s face told a story Buck wasn’t sure anyone left in Stalag Luft III had the stamina to hear.

And just like that, Egan was shuffled past and into processing and it would be ages before he saw him again. When Gale turned his back and worked his way through the crowd, Brady was lingering in one of the clearings, hands clasped and a rote twirl of thumbs matching the catatonically grateful prayers on his imperceptibly moving lips. Or Gale sure hoped they were prayers, it was that or Johnny having finally cracked.

“You were right.” He gave the kid a pat on the shoulder, smiling gently at him as he seemed to come out of his relieved fog, eyes too big in that lean face and dark circles making reflective ponds below, “You were right, you said he’d make it.”

“I hoped he would.” Johnny didn’t sound like he was expecting to cash in those prayers so soon.

“I’m going to that doctor.” Gale informed him, leveling him a strong look, “I think we should get a little list for the other girls. Play it off, could be for anyone. Penicillin, sulfa, that sorta thing. Does that sorta thing cure…their sorta thing?” Cleven admittedly obfuscated towards the end, not really expecting John Brady to know what cured venereal diseases but more hoping for an opinion of solidarity, like one does when ordering a risky plate off the menu.

Major Cleven never learned whether Captain Brady thought penicillin would work or not, there was a commotion outside the main center compound’s administrative building, and then the sudden appearance of guards dragging between them a slumped figure.

A dragged body was bad in most situations, at the prison camp it was cause for more than a little ire and panic. When Gale recognized the stature of their burden, the familiar span of the shoulders, the dark mop of curls hung low, his own brisk walk turned into a full on sprint across the muddy yard, Brady at his heels full of the same enlightenment.

“The hell did you do to him?” Cleven bellowed at the reasonably perturbed guards who were already mounting a defense of their blamelessness for Egan’s unconscious state.

“Nothing!” the more fluent of the two protested, “He vas being processed, yes? And he falls over, like zat. Nothing. Did nothing. Check him, he is—“ the guard made a motion to his face signifying the battlement Gale had already noticed as Egan trudged in. Back when Egan was awake and on his own two feet. “We? Nothing!”

Gale took Egan from them like a mother being handed their child, full frontal weight of his large friend propped against him and he succeeded at little more than keeping them both from hitting the mud. He was already weaker than when he first got there and the proof was here in the staggering weight of a man he used to hold his own against. Crank and Johnny and Demarco were beside him before he can even look for assistance, expressions of compassion and anger at Egan’s plight all melding into a series of disbelieving grunts as they heaved him up between them, carrying his dead weight like a feedsack. Gale and Brady take under his arms, Crank and Benny his legs. Gale studied the completely bashed face of his friend, a seething deduction brewing as to how he came to be in such a state.

“The showers.” he directed his men as they stalled midway in the yard after having got the weight of him hoisted.

They created a stir as they went, the dire oddity of the scene drawing attention as they shuffled through camp.

“Holy shit, is that Egan?” Talullah Smith came to a sudden halt in their path.

“Move!” Gale told her. “Or get the door.”

“He even alive?” Murphy was with her, no doubt obeying Cleven’s order for no woman to be unattended around camp, and he scrambled alongside to help as they mounted the steps and passed through the door Smith held until they were in the dank and echoing, poorly tiled room. There were a few other men in here, washing clothes and dabbing at their underarms. The showers themselves were not on today, hadn’t been for days, and Gale knew the large trough sinks down the middle of the room were their best bet for a triage and an initial wash.

“Somebody get his boots off, come on.”

It was horrible, grunting, grappling work trying to keep Egan’s dead weight up as they tugged off encrusted articles of clothing one after another, cringing at the bruises each grip and pull necessarily aggravated.

“Sorry Bucky.” Demarco apologized repeatedly to the insensible man as he adjusted his grip on his ribs for Brady to pull the slate gray button up off him.

“Smith, you can go.” Cleven noticed her lingering by the door, consternation written all over her face at Egan’s state, Murphy shadowing her. It wasn’t suitable for a woman to remain for the rest of it, whatever skill she had at setting fingers was a little below the pay grade of John Egan’s injuries. “You and Murph, can go get Doc Vega. Again.”

He sent Brady a look but the boy was too busy to notice, helping pull a very discolored arm out of a Bucky’s standard issue, fleece-less jacket. “What’d the looney do with his sheepskin?” he asked.

“Gave it to, Kidd.” Brady grunted, “Right before Munster. Said you didn’t like it.”

I’ll be damned: no lucky deuce and no lucky jacket and no fighter escorts, how were they supposed to manage to stay in the sky with recklessness like that? “You sentimental sunnuvabitch,” he hissed mournfully at his friend’s flopping head as they got him stripped and the full extent of his bruises came in view, “-supposed to be the last ones up.”

If anyone else understood what he meant in his mournful rage, they didn’t heed it, and if they didn’t understand they also did not press him for his meaning.

“Let’s get him up.”

Collectively they grabbed a limb apiece again and hoisted Bucky, groaning themselves under the bare weight of him.

“What did his mother feed him?” Benny protested as they staggered, and dumped him onto the longest of the troughs, getting a weak moan of protest from their specimen at the cold and hard surface.

“Major?” Crank begged hopefully of his closed eyes as Gale worked at the pump on the faucet, the gurgle of chilled water preceding the blast.

“I’m gonna use this, lad.” Brady was informing one of the armpit washing boys down the way, swiping their washcloth with kind presumption and returning to squeeze it out under Cleven’s growing steam.

Gently as he had his sister’s scalp, Brady began to use the wet cloth to scrub and wipe at the blood dried in an ominous swirl around Bucky’s eye as Gale continued to pump.

“He’s gonna catch chill.” Demarco warned.

“Haul some buckets?” Gale asked if they were willing, the kitchen combine was not so far away with fires and tin pails.

“We’ll be back.” Benny agreed.

“Brady, go with him.” Cleven unceremoniously pried the washcloth from the boy’s hand; silent weeping was an art Gale had perfected as a child but he’d not seen it in a grown man until today, “Go.”

While they were gone Gale did his best to keep the chilled water somewhat diverted, with Crank’s help he even managed to roll Bucky on his side and probe at his blackened ribs. As is, Bucky began to shiver and when Doc Vega got there; he was none too gentle in his hurried and angry assessment.

“Fractured ribs.” he rubbed the washcloth across his face like he was sanding the deck back home, “Possible fractured orbit. Eye socket, Cleven, looks busted. Just keep him propped, hope his eye doesn’t fall back into his skull.” Gale stared back at him unblinking, there was only ever one question these days and after a beat Doc Vega answered it, “And no, don’t have anything for it.”

Brady and DeMarco had returned with their now tepid water in time to hear this. “Should we wash him?” Benny gestured hopelessly.

“Yeah, he’ll probably sleep it off. If we’re lucky. Get him clean, get him warm.”

Gale began to pump anew and Brady gently tipped his warm bucket over Egan’s clotted curls, running his fingers through to disentangle the crusted snarls. Unfortunately their irrepressible patient took the kindness for a waterboarding and began to thrash, sending a shower of cold droplets over his caregivers.

“Buck?” a wrecked voice, punctuated by chattering teeth, stalled them all. “I saw Buck, where’s Buck, I found Buck, wh-“

“Yeah, yeah Bucky, it’s me.” Gale dropped his task and crouched over him, shivering himself as the sink ledge dampened the front of his own clothes.

“Buck!” Egan begged again, arms reaching out until Gale found himself all but tipped into the sink himself, arms wound around Egan’s pale shoulders with their blooming blue mottle, “M’so goddamn cold, Buck.”

“I know, I know, I’ve got ya. I swear, I’ve got ya.” Gale squeezed him tighter, “Almost over. Gettin’ you freshened up. We’ve got ladies here now.” he joked.

John’s head rolled listlessly on Gale’s forearm and his sharp blue eyes flitted across the washroom ceiling until he caught sight of someone else dear hovering over him with another pail, “Brady, what’re you cryin’ for?” he croaked.

“You.” the kid didn’t miss a beat. “So sorry Bucky, I’m so sorry.

“Hey,” Bucky’s voice strengthened with vehemence, “s’not your fault. None of it.”

“Yeah,” Gale agreed, gently peeling a flake of blood off his ear, “that plane was going down anyway without your lucky jacket.”

Bucky somehow had the stamina and the facial expertise to look sheepish at that despite his disfigurement. “Why'd you guys put me in the sink? Animals! Get me out, too goddamn cold, get me out. Gale! Get me out.”

“Ok, ok, shh, ok.”

There was a compassionate scramble to help Bucky sit up and swing his legs over the side, the groaning and swaying of the Major a hardly promising sign for the excursion he seemed intent to make. Suddenly they were helping to prop him on his feet again, and while he was no longer the dead, unconscious weight of before, he was now six feet something of bare, slippery flesh vibrating between them all in a terrible chill. Murphy and Smith had brought blankets along with the Doc, and gratifyingly someone from their combine had proffered a t-shirt and fresh skivvies.

Crank and Brady swayed dangerously with his weight on their shoulders as Gale knelt down and made his shaking legs step into them. Bucky’s own hand arrested him standing up by placing a clumsy hand on his cheek.

“Where’d you get these?” he was thumbing at those scars Gale hadn’t managed to live down.

“Flack.” Gale maintaIned as he rose to his feet, “What the hell happened to you?“

Bucky gave him his old lopsided grin, “War, Buck.”

“Too much of this kind of war lately.” Crank pointed out unamused, wounds were one thing but what was with the abuse? It didn’t seem to stay away, even from the strongest or most esteemed of their number.

Bucky’s brow ticked in curiosity at the allusion to others but he was too drained to keep his thoughts ordered, “Marched us through a town, RAF had just paid a call. Townspeople didn’t exactly come out with flowers.”

“Holy shit.” Benny sucked his teeth in a grimace, noticing how the other men down the way paused their chores to listen in.

“They attacked you?” Cleven’s tone left little room for questioning.

Bucky gave them a wincing little smile, tilting his head in a shrug, “Yeah, guards just let them at us. I’m the only one who made it.”

“What?” Came up in a chorus, his doleful audience suddenly animated, “You mean they killed the rest?”

“One got knifed,” Bucky stared down at Brady’s work on lacing his boots, skivvies and boots, now he looked like all the other clowns here, “the others - guess they beat them, too. I heard shots. Woke up in a cart on the way to a nice, quiet little spot in the woods.”

“Jesus Christ:” Crank uttered, “Jesus Christ.”

“I’ll be ok.” Bucky muttered, scuffing his boots to see how heavy they felt, his limbs wouldn’t stop shivering and he had a sick feeling it wasn’t from cold alone.

“Yeah, you will.” Cleven’s pained eyes ordered him sternly and to swipe away that horrid crease between his brows, Egan would do anything.

“Yeah.” he agreed.

“Let’s get you a bunk.” Brady prodded, slipping back under one of his armpits, wiry shoulders having more strength in them than Bucky credited, “We’ve got a nice little sick ward going.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah; and no medical supplies.”

“Great.”

“Yeah, it’s a real well oiled machine they got here.” Benny snarked as the lot of them kept pace with Egan’s limps across to their combine -it wasn’t under discussion where he’d bunk, he would be in with them.

“What’d you name the place?” Egan asked dismally at the threshold of their combine.

“We didn’t.” Gale admitted his unimaginative oversight for the second time in twenty four hours on these same steps.

“No?” Egan slapped at the boring raw lumber and sniffed, “You let Maureen in billet in here?” he asked suddenly.

“Y-yeah.” Gale was wary and his defense at the ready, “All the women who’ve arrived so far are in this one, so we can help guard them. Yes, Maureen’s in with us.”

It was better just to say it, to head off the teasing and the suggestions and the disorder right away. Cleven smiled back at Bucky confidently, waiting for this friend to get a move on over the threshold.

“Huh, ok,” Egan made a funny little face; “then I christen you,” he went on addressing the combine itself, clearing his throat loudly to collect before spitting on the doorframe above Benny’s disgusted head, “Love Shack Number Nine.”

“Just -get your ass inside.” Gale shoved at him between his shoulders and Bucky -with Brady still tucked dutifully under a wing- entered his new home.

Gale gave him a preliminary roster of inmates in each barrack, “We’re down near the end.” and by the time they got to their own room Crank had to help support Bucky’s other side, the brief surge of energy the cold water and friendly faces had given him waning fast.

“Just so goddamn hard to breathe.” He tried to explain, wincing at the pull of his arms as they clumsily shouldered into their room.

It was empty except for Ida in her bunk and Maureen beside her who stood up fast as a lightning bolt at the sight of Egan. “Jumping Jehoshaphat, what happened to you?” She rushed him but pulled back before her usual greeting of hugs to survey the damage, suspecting a squeeze might be too cruel even by Egan’s standards.

“I’m ok, Candy.” he assured, smooth as butter as he reached for her and ran busted knuckles over the curl of her hair, “God you’re a sight for sore eyes after all these ugly bastards.”

“Really though, what happened?” she shied away from his pacifying touches, glaring at the others to start spilling the beans.

“They tried to lynch him.” Gale saw there was nothing for, she’d wheedle it out at some point and after what she’d seemingly endured, what exactly was he shielding her from? “Killed everyone else with him.”

Maureen’s worried eyes dulled sadly at this and she proceeded to hug herself, hands carefully tucked into her armpits, “Gosh, Bucky.” she mumbled.

“Hey, said I’m alright, didn’t I?” Bucky coaxed, swaying towards Maureen and laying a heavy hand on her small shoulder. It tipped him too far forward and he had to clutch at and brace himself on the bunk slat behind her head. Suddenly he was peering over her shoulder and instead of empty sheets as he expected in the lowest bunk, he found the bruised face of a superior he didn’t know had even been shot down. “What the hell happened to her?”

At the silence that followed this very simple question, Bucky swung his head round to stare the men down. It made the world rock, window blurring into the room in a nauseating sheet of white and Buck had too many eyes and all of them sad and Crank hadn’t even a face but a blob and his vision was shot to shit with spots but as no one said a word, he repeated his question in a yell that surprised even himself, “What happened to her?”

“The Gestapo kept taking them from the Dulag.” Brady’s voice was soft and thin in his ringing ears, like a child explaining the fate of a broken toy, “They even took them to a camp. A women’s prison camp.”

“Am I missing the part where any of that promises a face like that?” Bucky demanded, trying to get the goddamn window to stop whiting out his vision.

Gale’s voice was on his other side, the side without the window, he wanted to look at him but he was afraid to move his head again and for the spots to get large and everything go black one more time. “Long time before they’d recognize them as combatants, Bucky,” Gale laid a preemptively calming hand on Egan’s arm, “SS knocked them around bad.”

That’s all Gale really knew of it. Most of it had been gotten out of Smith who seemed most fit and most angry over it all. The others were skittish or tired.

“Knocked them around.” Bucky repeated bitterly, disbelieving Cleven’s moderate retelling, “Who’s them? Who else?”

“We’ve got a little over a dozen of the girls here.” Gale replied, “Brought them in a group, some downed weeks before others. Held them while figuring out what to do before they brought them here.”

“What to do?” Bucky knew he was back to yelling and the spots were getting excited from it, “Treat them like officers being a little too much to ask?”

“Like they treated you?” Demarco weighed in, if only to take the heat off his co-pilot, “Like they treated Buck?” -or maybe not.

“The fuck did they do to him?” Bucky really did try to turn his head this time and he was blindly groping for Cleven’s soft cheeks even as the spots took over his vision and his knees began to buckle. Gale grabbed him on the way down with Candy’s help, but Egan heard her exclamation of pain from it.

Steadied, with his hands back on the bunk slat, Bucky willed away the spots and stared down at Kendeigh’s supportive hands on his waist -or what shoulda been hands. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen an uglier set of paws.

“Were you with her?” he asked, gravelly and not to be ignored.

“Most of the time.” Maureen whispered back and if Gale could have cleared the room for her he would’ve.

“Then what the hell happened to her?” Bucky summoned the last bit of himself and stared down the auburn beauty of his erstwhile drinking buddy, “No really Kendeigh, answer me. I’m your superior, you don’t have recourse, you answer to me. What’re you gonna do, huh? Ask your fairy godmother colonel if you can ignore me? Huh? ‘Hey ida got a sec, Ida?’ No? Looks like her office is closed. Fucking talk to me, Candy. Start with those hands. What happened?”

“Someone stood on them.” -if Gale had to hear Maureen repeat it one more time in that monotone way he was going to start chewing through his cheek.

“Why?” Bucky always had such simple questions, it was one of his wisdoms and Maureen hated it right now, her eyes flashing and her face reddening as she ducked away from the stare of friends.

“So I’d stop fighting him.” The statement was hardly legible, her voice had gone so wispy.

“He, this ‘he’ -he knew you were an Officer?” Gale hadn’t thought to ask that, and he’d thought of so many things to ask that never made it out his throat, but Bucky did. “An army Air Force combatant?”

Maureen swallowed hard before throwing her head back, neck taut and nose flaring -Gale didn’t think he’d ever seen her more magnificent. “He knocked my cap off before it.” she answered at last, a cold hard meeting of blue eyes and Bucky stared her down, “And he laughed at the engraving on my belt buckle when he undid my pants.” There was dead silence for a beat before she went on, “They tore the wing patches off Ida’s shirt, you can see the holes there, see? Johnny’s not fixed them yet.”

Bucky slumped to a seat on Ida’s bunk, a shaky hand extending to push down the blanket and expose her shoulder, and there was a jagged tear in the standard issue, sure enough. “What’s Johnny been fixing?” he asked, voice hollow as he thumbed at Ida’s mottled skin, she was white as a ghost beneath the blue discoloration. Bucky wondered if he looked half as rough.

Johnny was then in a squat beside him, rummaging under the bunk before pulling out a pair of trousers. He tossed them into Bucky’s lap, wordlessly. Drab olive, Brady’s tidy repairs obvious due to the clashing thread, and also blood -so much goddamn blood down the inseams, meticulously scrubbed out but stained all the same and woven together by the white stitches. “You bastards let him do this?” Bucky asked the men incredulously, rage beginning to boil over and it didn’t have a single source and it certainly had no rightful outlet, “None of you can handle a fuckin’ needle? No? No, go on then, let a brother sew up this shit, let him get to think long and hard about what each fuckin’ rip means for his sister! You goddamn cowards -you haven’t even asked them! You haven’t talked about it with the girls, have you?”

“Bucky, Bucky come on now,” Gale tried reasoning with him, “they just got in. So did you. Let’s, let’s take it easy, save our mad for the ones who deserve it.”

“Oh, oh you don’t think that’s us then, Major Cleven?” Egan scoffed, “Because we didn’t do it, isn’t our fault at all?”

“It’s not!” Crank insisted behind Gale’s back, “Gonna blame Buck for your ribs, too?”

That defeated him. Bucky’s fury visibly dimmed in his eyes and Gale would have almost preferred the insulting rage over the dead helplessness that followed, it was too reminiscent of his own. “They’re safe, you’re safe.” he summarized gruffly, “Doc says sleep for both you and her.”

“Sleep.” Bucky mumbled as he looked back to Ida, trying to imagine with masochistic singleness of mind the sort of men who’d enjoy picking a strong woman like her apart -he could bring them to mind too easily. “Sure, just…sleep it off.”

“I don’t want her going to the doctor.” John Brady insisted once more like this had never been argued before in this very room.

“He no good?” was all Bucky asked.

“No sir.” Brady was emphatic and relieved to be taken at vaguest value.

“Brady’s the only one to say that,” Cleven butted in, “and he won’t specify.” Gale may have shot a glare at Ida’s brother, Bucky’s own predicament causing a double issue. “You need one, she needs one, too.”

“I-I trust my little Fox.” Bucky disagreed, although it was less impressive by both the use of a nickname and the slurring stumble that occurred right after as he attempted to get up from the bunk and pat Brady’s cheek. This small movement caused such disturbance in his fragile equilibrium that he would have nearly toppled if Cleven and Kendeigh hadn’t been at his side to catch him. “Goddamn! Goddamn, I’m dizzy as hell.” he repeated, “And cold. I don’t want a doctor, I want a blanket. And a nap.”

“Just what the doctor ordered.” Gale repeated dryly with a ghost of a grin that would have normally riled Bucky into smushing it between his fingers. He was too far away for that and Bucky was too dizzy to reach.

“M’gonna sleep for a week.” He announced.

“They’ll be in here for roll if you don’t show.” Gale begged.

“Good luck to them, moving me.” Bucky grumbled and shook a boot across the room before Brady knelt and helped with the other one. How many times had the sweet kid been shoeing him today? He should start calling him mom.

“They’ll come for her too, if she misses again.” Gale pushed, “A guard came and checked to make sure she was alive this morning.”

“They’ll just take her to the doctor.” Brady repeated hopelessly.

“No they won’t.” Bucky assured him, already fully convinced of two things Gale very much held in suspicion, and he’d been here under half an hour, “They won’t.” he repeated and, before anyone could fully credit their eyes, he appeared to use his last gasp of strength and dexterity to roll Ida Brady, none too gently, further in her bunk toward the wall before climbing in after her and sagging into the meager bedding.

“John!” Cleven had too many objections to itemize at present and all of them were tidily conveyed by use of his Christian name.

“They can’t take her from us like this, Buck.” Bucky was slurring worse than ever, now obstructed by a pillowcase and Ida’s torn head.

“She doesn’t wanna be touched.” Gale hissed urgently, side eyeing Demarco who seemed beyond caution and was now viewing this as analytically as a laboratory experiment.

“S’ok.” Bucky mumbled, “Ida always knows me.”

Gale and Johnny exchanged helpless looks, with Gale choosing to flavor his own with no small amount of accusation towards the younger man. But then, both occupants of the bunk became -and stayed- still, and no seizing episodes followed the heavy burden of Bucky’s arm over Ida’s ribs. So, with shrugs and outstretched hands of mere mortal impotency, they resigned themselves to life with Bucky in Love Shack Number Nine.

“I forgot how loud he could get.” Crank’s mutter broke the silence.

“We should get some salve at least.” Demarco observed with a nod to Bukcy’s face and Kendeigh, who had been oddly quiet and sat with legs swinging on her bunk, echoed in agreement.

“I thought maybe penicillin, too.” Gale asked the room at large.

“Why not ask for the keys to the front gate while we’re at it?” Crank snarked, “That krout sawbones never gave me shit for Murphy’s cuts, hasn’t even tended Hambone since he got out of hospital.”

“Hambone hasn’t gone to him because Brady has scared him off.” Cleven retorted, “Any of you have a better idea?”

“I could try.” Maureen spoke up, “He might -respond?- if a woman asked.”

“No.” Cleven shut that down with a sharp cut of his hand through the air, “No way in hell.”

“I’ll go sir.“ Brady’s soft assurance broke the tenseness, Gale watched the boy stoically as he rose from his place by Ida’s -and now Egan’s- bunk, and grabbed his pipe off the table, “Salve and penicillin?” he confirmed, face cocked shyly back at Cleven once more from the doorway.

“Salve and penicillin.” Cleven affirmed, “And Brady-“ he halted the boy, “-you sure about this?”

“He knows me.” Brady’s eyebrows drew together, a sudden strong expression on his face, nonplussed in a way that made Cleven feel like he was the one slow in the head, “Fixed the shoulder.” he reminded, gesticulating to the joint that had been dislocated by a poor parachute landing, no doubt caused by arguing too long and close to the ground in a spiraling plane with Major Egan. “I’ll get you the stuff, sir.”

Brady shoved his pipe in his mouth and dug his hands into his coat pockets as he walked down the drafty hallway. Conversations from the various rooms drifted to his ear, odd still to hear the high tones of female chatter amongst them. He found himself rolling his last bit of tobacco round and round in his pocket as he neared the door, he’d been saving it for a real doozy of a day; for some catastrophe that needed nicotine to wash it down, or else a holiday that deserved the special exception. Ramming his once hurt shoulder into the door to open it, Brady decided today would have to be significant enough.

The day he got salve and penicillin.

“You just chew on that thing instead of smoke it now?” The laconic humor of his bombardier startled him mid shiver, it wasn’t even that cold outside he just felt poorly and everything was getting real cold and awful as he stood rooted to their steps and eyeing the main compound.

“No, I was gettin’ ready to pack it.” He answered Hamilton, leveling him a scrutinizing look over the pipe in question, “How’ve you been keepin’ occupied?”

“This and that.” Hambone shrugged, gold teeth still glinting as he assessed Brady. “Where you headed?”

“Who says I’m headed anyplace?”

“Word is Egan’s here and half dead.” Hambone scratched at his scar, the rough sutures too late in being taken out and now causing irritation, Brady almost felt guilty for that. “And now you're out here eyeing the Pill Hut. I’d say you’re going to that doctor.”

Hambone never really got enough credit for his smarts, and Brady wished he’d stop using them only when it concerned things Johnny was already having enough trouble psyching himself up for -like radioing the tower to admit they were lost or visiting this freak in a white coat.

“They need some stuff.” He conceded.

“Gonna waste good baccy on it?” Hambone scoffed again, “Come on, I feel like a walk. Haven’t seen inside the place anyway, all your ghost stories were too spooky.” Hambone was mocking him, but he was also beginning to walk towards the hut with the plain expectation of accompanying Brady.

“Hambone-“

“With all due respect, just shut it, Captain.” Hambone gave him a look, and it was the first one today that made Brady feel seen without feeling all of two inches tall, “If I have to rub these stitches on those rough pillows one more night I’m gonna claw my face back open.”

Brady didn’t doubt he would, so in a spooked and complacent mood, pilot followed grinning bombardier down the muddy lanes to the doctor’s shack.

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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#mota fanfic #masters of the air fic #mota fic #masters of the air #mota #gale cleven #John Egan #john brady #hambone hamilton #charles cruikshank #benny demarco #those who can #integrated au #gale cleven x oc #Gale x Maureen #mota oc

[itsabouttimex2]

Ahhhhh the Tang Sanzang and Wukong fic was so good! I adore the interactions between demon reader and them- though i am curious how did the rest of the JTTW crew react to the mischievous scamp of the forest?

Taken Aboard

Pilgrim Reactions:

(I had to use this gif again because there is jackshit for Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing in the LMK gif community. Give me my boys….)

Ao Lie is… rather confused that his master saw fit to bring along a child on this dangerous journey. After all, the path ahead is fraught with many dangers and perils. Perhaps the little one would be safer in the care of a monastery? Or even a kindly pair who had long wished for a child? Sure, they may be a demon, but they’re clearly not malicious or cruel!

However, the monk is set in his actions. Your wrists are cuffed with blessed bands, set to restrict when a sutra (separate from Wukong’s) is chanted. Your ragged clothing is replaced with a proper, covering cossack and walking shoes that they had to force your feet into as you screamed and kicked.

But in spite of the confusion he bears, Lie is a little happy, too! He’s got a little sister/brother to dote on now! As one of the gentler and less troublesome members of this little gang, he’s often tasked with watching over them, especially when the group is attacked by demons.

Though it takes him a while to coax you into actually taking him up on it, the white dragon horse frequently offers you rides. At first, you’re a bit too proud to accept, trudging along even as you tire from walking. He wants so bad for you to trust him, and maybe; in time, to consider him an older brother. And if that means he has to pester and push you into accepting a little bit of doting? So be it!

And one day you will accept. Worn to exhaustion from another demon attack and thoroughly admonished by your master after another escape attempt, your body is worn and sore. The fillets around your wrists have ground your skin raw, leaving you to whimper with each step that makes the cuffs jangle against your fresh wounds.

So, finally… you clamber up and onto his back with a few pained noises, sniffling into his lavish white mane.

“Brother Lie,” you hiccup, arms snaking around his neck. “Master got angry with me again.”

“Oh dear… did you try to run away again? Little one, it’s much safer to stay with your brothers and master!” Though his voice is not without compassion, he clearly sympathizes more with the monk who’s been intent on keeping you around. Mostly because he agrees with not letting something as small and precious as your little self take even a single step out of sight.

He… he just doesn’t want to lose you, that’s all! It’s not strange to want to protect a fellow demon! Why, you’re hardly more than a baby! Look at you, you poor thing! Tiny features and scrawny form and big eyes!

How could he risk you being unhappy? How could he risk you being hurt?

“Stay with me, little one! Big brother will find you something nice to eat! And then I’ll see if master has something for your poor wrists, hmm?”

———————————————————————

Sun Wukong is somewhat baffled that you’re being brought along, honestly.

Baby? A baby? A little forest-dwelling baby?Why, you’re no taller than his hip! Here, come here and “let him check your height” and then he snatches you off the ground with a grin.

“I may be no tree, but you’re hardly even a flower,” the monkey teases casually, throwing you into the air. “You haven’t even sprouted, bud! How are you going to keep up with such little legs? Aren’t you supposed to be the ‘Keeper of Great Beasts’, Y/N?” He catches you, then another throw, higher into the air. “Kiddo, they’d crush you under their feet and not feel a thing!”

“Wukong! Be gentle with the child! And stop teasing them!”

“Aww, but they like it,” he calls back to his master, patting your head as you flail to gain purchase from the arm he’s tucked you under, strangled by the accidental grip he has around your throat.

He’s, uh… not the gentlest or most responsible.

But- he makes for a good playmate! And that doesn’t sound all too serious or important, sure… but Y/N has a lot of skills they need to build, and socialization is one of them. Under Sanzang’s watchful eye are you pulled into many games and chases, helping you build basic skills and strength as you and Wukong wrestle or race.

I like to think he carries you on his back like a baby monkey when you get too tired, clinging tight to his strong-as-iron fur, nestling against the near-invulnerable fluff from behind.

“Brother Wukong, tell me your titles,” you say sleepily, having gaining some modicum of respect for the simian through constant playing and occasional training with him.

“And then tell you how I got them?” “And then tell me how you got them.”

This exchange essentially boils down “tell me a bedtime story,” and “sure, sweetie” but the only one who realizes that is the Great Monk, Tang Sanzang- who is trying very hard not to melt from the cuteness of it all.

Y/N getting to enjoy some measure of a happy and harm-free childhood in the form of the Great Sage’s furry arms, one hand thumping your back as he recites an old tale or two.

This massively improves Sanzang’s opinion of him, too. Seeing Wukong genuinely tamper down the ego and potential bloodlust (assuming he’s anything like in the novel) to be truly gentle with someone who definitely needs someone to trust and rely on… it’s quite redeeming of his character, certainly.

Probably tampers down his yandere behavior the best… until you get injured, and then all the other pilgrims get to see the strength with which he used to wreak havoc on Heaven.

And there will be blood. And bone shards. And brain matter. And eventually, the utter and thorough destruction of what was once a demon. No one can sway him from the carnage, not even the tightening-fillet sutra.

After all, isn’t every “big brother’s” job to protect his little siblings?

——————————————————————-—-

Zhu Baije is probably the most resistant to having you along, mostly because he knows he’ll have to be “polite” and “patient” with you around, some whelp dragged to the world from the root of a fallen fruit tree.

Often tries to trick you out of food, but gets petulant when you try the same thing with him. And then he has the gall to ask you to help him identify poisonous plants and berries for him to snack on. Under threat of the sutra being recited, you grudgingly give him proper advice.

Now, it’s not that he can’t be sweet and doting-

It’s just that he doesn’t want to be.

Also, he brings out the idiot in you very quickly, causing Sanzang to try and supervise any and all interactions between the two of you. Because when he doesn’t, you get this:

“Y/N, there’s a stronghold of demons here! What are we supposed to do?!”

Y/N, who has lived in a sprawling forest with big scary animals from the moment they were born: “…maybe we should try to make ourselves look bigger.”

“Brother Swine, come and help me overturn this log!” “S-Swine?! You little brat, you better call me by my name!” “Or else what… Brother Swine?” “Or else I’ll-“

“Enough,” calls the Great Monk, stern and tired. “Enough squabbling, my disciples! If we are to see this journey to the end, we must all cooperate! Please, Zhu Bajie, lend your hand to Y/N. They asked not out of laziness, but as acknowledgment of your strength!”

“…huh. Alright, then! I can help!”

But, slowly, he does come to care about you. Letting you rest your head on his gut like a squishy pillow, carrying you when you get hurt, making sugar-sweetened herbal tea to share with you, letting you hide behind him when Sanzang is looking for you…

And then he eats the first human being who tries to hurt you. All across you is a messy shower of splattered gore and sundered organs, painting your face and body.

It’s proof, crimson and wet, that he really does love you, in spite of everything.

——————————————————————-—-

Sha Wujing, to start off- adores Y/N. They’re tiny! They’re cute! They transform into adorable animals! They can talk to beasts and trees!

And… they treat him like a person. An actual, thinking, feeling, person.

He definitely tries to dote on the kid, and I think he’s a strong contender for being their favorite person. How monstrous he is! How powerful! Like the great beasts that lived in their forest, tall and proud and imposing!

Wujing reminds them of home, essentially. Y/N is constantly crawling all over him as they would the beasts of their grand forest. He allows the strange behavior, understanding that the kid’s never had real interaction with other people outside of toying with travelers or waylaying attackers.

Always kneeling my down to their level and trying to make the child feel safe and heard. He often shares tales of his river and interesting passerby, and Y/N responds in turn, speaking of their forest. The two of them laugh and bond over their shared experiences.

And off the side, Sanzang is listening in with horror all across his face as they compare stories of killing and eating invaders who dared come to their homes.

Lots of piggyback and shoulders rides, and just barely being able to peel over his red mop of hair. He’s also one of the only people who you let mess with your hair, allowing him to comb and braid it.

“Brother Sand,” you call aloud, a nickname just a touch more affectionate than those you’ve given his companions. “Come look at the creatures I have found in the riverbank!”

And man drops everything to spend a little more time with you, happy to let you push little creatures into his massive palms as he teaches you their names.

And maybe, if things go wrong… the bloody butchering and head-piking/skull-stringing of anyone who even looks at you wrong. Maybe.

In general, just an absolute delight.

——————————————————————-—-

Tang Sanzang believes entirely in the possibility of anyone becoming a better person through hard work and effort.

So little Y/N, the Guardian who Spreads Growth, Keeper of Great Beasts:

Put flatteringly: Is adopted by five men and treated as a cherished; if troublesome, little sibling who is doted on and allowed to become a better person. Lots of good food and cozy clothing, and they never go hungry or cold again. They’re taught to read and write, and never are without unconditional love.

Put unflatteringly: is forcibly displaced from their home and made to adopt new customs and styles, severed from that which they know and love to become someone else’s idea of “right”. Also they get torture bands slapped on their wrists.

Sanzang tries to be fatherly and kind with Y/N, attempting to delve into the “why” of any mischievous or cruel actions you commit instead of simply writing them off as “bad”.

“So… you thought that man was going to hurt you?”

“He smiled at me! With all his teeth! It was a threat, Master! And then he walked towards me with a hand out!”

“…I see. You were scared of being hurt, then?”

“I- No! No! I didn’t say I was scared! I wasn’t!”

Lots of “therapy sessions” to help work through your feral mindset and improve your problem solving skills.

In general, solving problems while trying not to be frustrated. For example:

Given that Y/N has never once cut their hair, it’s even longer than they are tall, and proves to be quite a bit of trouble. And they respond violently to his attempts to cut it, screaming and swiping like a feral cat. It takes a few weeks of nudging and asking, but Sanzang gets them to submit to a “trim” that cuts more than five feet of hair away and still leaves the little demon’s locks dangling down to their ankles. He’ll try for more later, but allows you to be for a while.

Then, cutting your nails. And washing the grime from your body. And getting you into shoes that you’ll keep on. He settles for boots with laces, given that you can’t tie or untie them. Y/N, you’re sitting on the ground in front of him seething because you aren’t flexible enough to bend forward and chew through the twine lacing. Also, in order for him to get them on in the first place someone has to restrain you, so one of your “brothers” is getting the silent treatment. (It’s Wukong.)

He won’t ever be “Brother Sanzang” or “Brother Monk”, but he will get something better:

“…father,” you’ll finally say after a full year of traveling with him, lying in a puddle of tears with your head in his lap. “Please… please forgive me, father.”

“Oh, Y/N… of course, of course. Come now, sit with me. Let me tend your wounds and wipe your tears. All will be well.. my child.”

And maybe, just maybe… he’ll think about taking one of your circlets off.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere Ao Lie #Yandere Zhu Baije #Yandere Sha Wujing #Yandere Sun Wukong #Yandere Tang Sanzang #Journeyfam #Yandere Memes #Yandere Brother #Yandere Father

[excalibur-gone-missing]

Paring: jeonghan x you

Requested: yes [Can you please write something angsty for prince DK? Or if this is too vague, what do you think about a bet au with Jeonghan?] [By anon]

Genre: angst, coworkers to lovers, fluff, fuckboy au, opposites au, bet au

Warning(s): misogyny, jeonghan is an asshole and so is seungcheol, [if you find more pls inform ]

Summary: Jeonghan had plans on never talking to the quite coworker they hired, but like doesn't always pan out the way we want to. But when you add money to the problem, plus both your feelings, you have the perfect recipe for disaster.

Word count: 5.2k

Other works

disclaimer: this is not the exact representation of the subjects in real life. I just use them for my inspiration.

a/n: I request each and every one of you to comment on this fic don't be a silent reader it helps me as an author to understand my readers and i would love to communicate with all of you. Constructive criticism is always welcomed by me so do talk about this fic or send me an ask. Plus, if you loved it enough don't forget to reblog, it will help me reach a larger audience.

a/n 2: i hope it was what you wanted, thanks for the ask btw!

Everyone at the office knew that Jeonghan was a free spirit, he worked hard and partied even harder. He like living his life in the most happening way possible. Be it weekend trips, bike trips to the mountains or staying in the countryside for a week and working remote while enjoying the serenity that comes with it, he was down for anything.

Funnily enough he was referred to as the least energetic person in his friend group. So, one can imagine overzealous they normally were.

His work more often than not was impeccable, no one could fault him at all. The rising star of the corporate world they called him at the office. In his five years at the job the man had garnered more approval than anyone else.

He liked his life, and he would not trade it for anything else.

Now, unlike Jeonghan you resided on the other side of the spectrum. Your kind of life was pretty monotonous waking up before your alarm, making your bed, skipping meals, and surviving on coffee, reaching, and leaving work on the dot and crying while rewatching your favorite shows, was your kind of life. You like staying in during the weekends and cleaning up the mess you make in your living space during the weekdays and trying everything in your power to not upset your cat while doing so.

Its calm, chill, maybe a bit boring but it worked for you and brought you peace.

You were the newest recruit in your office and from the first day you captured the attention of most of your coworkers for your meticulous and polite words.

More often than not you refuse to talk to your coworkers ensuring that there stays a professional boundary between you all and if they would not catch onto your behavior, you would politely decline them.

Never that interested in networking, you refuse to talk to more people than you need to.

Jeonghan caught onto it pretty early, but why did it matter to him what you did, so like everyone else he went on his own way and simply chose to ignore you.

Ten months into your new job was when you first had a real conversation with the man. It was pretty late at night, both of you had to stay back for overtime. That was when you saw him struggling with his presentation for the next day’s meeting.

That day you broke the ‘no talking to my coworkers rule unless and until it’s very important’ rule.

“what’s the problem?” you politely asked the man.

“Oh, I am having slight problem with the numbers here,” the man replies looking visibly confused and surprised.

“If you want, I can help you out” you kindly stated as Jeonghan casually just turned his laptop towards you.

So, for the next one and half hours you both sat there and diligently worked on the presentation and by the end of it the material looked rather good and presentation worthy.

Looking extremely grateful the pretty man said, “I am so thankful you helped me out today, so why don’t I repay you by dropping you off at your house, it’s pretty late you know.”

Looking at your watch you politely replied, “no worries, plus if I rush a bit, I can catch the last bus home so please don’t bother.”

Jeonghan looked bummed at this, but he was obliged nonetheless as he knew you to be an introverted lady and he did not want to make you uncomfortable.

--

The next time you and Jeonghan had a conversation, was again at a night when you both were staying at the office over time. By this time, you have become pretty comfortable with each other, not enough to hold a conversation but enough to spare a quick nod and a smile while passing by each other’s cubicles.

He was done with the day’s work and was about to leave the office when he noticed you hunched over your laptop looking frustratingly at your screen which showed you an open excel sheet with infinite numbers.

Feeling like he owed you the help, Jeonghan strode towards you and calmly said “let me see.”

Jumping in shock you looked at him and replied, “oh no don’t bother I can figure it out you should go home it’s pretty late you know.”

Tsking at your reply he grabbed a chair to sit beside you while saying “it’s only fair, you helped me out so I should help you now.”

You let him, in actuality you needed that little help from him, the data entries were annoying you and you absolutely did not like it one bit.

Just like that time passed by again resulting in the clock to show that it was quarter past one by the time you both were done.

This time though Jeonghan shut down all your protests to go about his own way and your reluctance to inconvenience him with a simple “it’s pretty late and I won’t let you get followed by some creeps on the road plus the last bus is gone anyways so you are coming with me.”

On the way he stopped at a convenience store to get some dinner for you both and you devoured your ramen while chatting with him.

You both were pretty similar, in some cases for example you both had this extreme love for Legos that existed beyond measurable amounts, both of you loved your pets to death, albeit his was a rock and yours was a cat, but as he said “we don’t discriminate peoples pets here, they can have what they want to but given its legal and safe for the pet.”

On the other hand, Jeonghan liked you too, he was happy he could be the first one to break your shell to meet the real you and he was proud of this. It was close to an achievement for him.

--

“Han like this new chick in his office.”

Joshua loudly announced to the group of boys sprawled in his living room one evening. Jeonghan’s friends had come to his house to hang out and to get drunk out of their wits to forget the stress of the tedious weekend they had. They were all friends from college, now working jobs in the most contrasting industries ever like Seungcheol was the manager for their states football club and Soonyoung was a choreographer working with famous celebrities, Hansol on the other hand was the proud of a pet shelter and the one and only Joshua was an English history professor who most days worked overtime at the university. But at the end of the day, they were all the loud and obnoxious assholes he knew and loved from his younger days, and nothing could compare to that.

“Really you never told us about this one hyung?” Mingyu enquires.

“Nah she is just a new hire at the office, does not like talking to people at all. She is more antisocial than Wonwoo’s ass.”

“Really now, antisocial?” Seungcheol enquires, not missing Jeonghan’s defensive tone.

“Yes, Cheol antisocial, plus I don’t even know her enough,” the male says while rolling his eyes at his friends interest with you.

“Maybe you could talk to her and get her out of her shell, you are a pretty good mediator in our group I think you could do that,” pipes up the ever so benevolent Seokmin.

“Yes, you could,” Seungcheol joins him smirking a bit.

Now thoroughly annoyed Jeonghan exclaims “no I cannot. The only way someone can get that stuck up bitch out of her shell will be fucking her or something and I do not want to do so!”

“What if I pay you, will you do it then,” Seungcheol says still smirking.

“Do what?”

“Fuck her enough to get her out of her shell.”

The whole room goes silent at that statement.

“Hyung, I don’t think it’s right,” the youngest of them, Chan, suddenly speaks.

“Yes, its morally incorrect man,” Jeonghan agrees.

“I will pay you, plus life is pretty boring. This will give us something to talk about for at least the next year,” the oldest explains still smiling a bit.

“I agree with the others, its emotionally taxing and nothing good will come out of doing something like this man, plus what are we teenagers making bets about emotionally harming others?” Joshua says.

“Jeonghan, you do it and I will give you a thousand bucks,” the oldest says calmly. At the same time all the men in the room let out an exasperated sigh, knowing there is no winning with this stubborn man, while hoping silently that Jeonghan does not succumb to the greed.

But alas they were wrong, so wrong. An amount that lucrative will only be passed by a fool and Jeonghan was no such thing. He stood up from his place at the loveseat and confidently strode over to Seungcheol.

“You better keep your fucking word,” he says while shaking the older man’s hand.

While Seungcheol smiles and says, “you know what you complete the bet within the next six month I’ll give you a five thousand and if you don’t end up doing it, you gotta pay me pal.”

--

After that evening with his friends, Jeonghan was pretty stressed, because why should he not be? Making you sleep with him is hard enough, but making a situationship out of it sounds even harder. Now he thoroughly regrets accepting the bet.

You on the other hand are pretty happy and quiet as you often are. Very much unaware of his internal turmoil, as you keep talking excitedly about the new Lego death star you bought.

Yes, you and Jeonghan have bonded quite a bit these past few days, he likes spending time with you too, and so do you. It is a nice and comfortable friendship you both have built, and you like it.

“Why don’t you let me come to your place this weekend, and we can build the set together. We can get takeout later too,” he suddenly speaks up shocking you with such forward proposition.

“Well only if you want to though no pressure, it’s just that I really wanted to build the death star and was planning to buy it but like couldn’t make enough time to do –”

“Sure, you can come,” you speak up stopping his nervous rant.

“Are you sure?” Jeonghan asks just to make sure he heard it correctly.

“Yes, I am, it will be fun to build the Lego set together,” you say smiling.

“Yes, it would be, but like are you really sure,” he says again to make sure he is really not hard at hearing.

“Jeonghan if you ask me once again, I will take back what I just said.”

This makes him stop talking at all and he proceeds to show you his beautiful smile, making you feel a bit giddy inside.

“So, I will come this Saturday and we shall make the death star cuz we can,” he sings, making you bark out a laugh at him.

Little do you know you just poured a cool bucket of water on the burning flames on anxiety inside Jeonghan’s brain and he is extremely happy about that.

--

The next Saturday comes rolls in slowly, the tedious and boring week is over, and it is time for self-care and a lot of friendship building activities or that’s what you thought.

The man was mad and when you say mad you mean it. The Lego making only lasted for like two hours before he had hidden all the pieces of the part that you were making, resulting you to search for them all over the house. Moreover, after diligently searching and finding nothing, you had given up when he had produced all those pieces from his pockets shocking you to the core.

This little stunt had made you force him to pay for the takeout and when you were both fed and watered, he had proposed a game of chess. Only problem, you never knew one could cheat in this game too. He moved the pieces wrong.

Result. You both had the pettiest fight ever wherein the man with all his might tried to convince you that the rook was indeed supposed to move diagonally.

“You don’t understand, that is how the game is played. Are you sure you ever played this before?” he had asked.

“Hani you are wrong, please the rook never in its whole life moved diagonally, it always moved straight.”

“Maybe that is what your problem is, you are so uptight, you refuse to accept the differences in our opinions!”

“Oh, now I'm uptight, you are only being this difficult cuz you are losing!”

“I wouldn’t if you let me play the rook diagonally.”

“But that is not how it is played! Why don’t you—"

All your rants stop just like that, it took you at least five business days to actually realize that Jeonghan had kissed you. But once you got over that shock, you closed your eyes and moved your lips along with his.

Jeonghan, thoroughly exasperated by your intense argument, impulsively sought to quiet you by placing a soft, lingering kiss on your plump lips. Almost immediately, regret washed over him as he feared he had acted rashly at the worst possible moment. Mentally preparing to distance himself from you for the rest of your time together, he was taken aback when you reciprocated the kiss, instantly dissolving all his worries and leaving him pleasantly surprised.

You broke the kiss to take a breath, both looking visibly flustered.

“Do you want to stay the night, or do you want to go?” you asked him while looking at him with your sparkling eyes, making Jeonghan want to glue his ass to your house, but he being the gentleman he was declined the offer.

“I would really like to take you out on a date. As I really like you, so I won’t spoil my chances with you by staying tonight.”

To say you were surprised would be an understatement. You always thought of the man to be a Casanova, so the idea of him taking you on a date while simultaneously insinuating that he won’t take any harsh steps with you was a nice little change and you were all for it.

--

It was all smooth sailing after that.

Jeonghan took you to an amusement park for the date next Sunday and oh boy did you enjoy yourself to the fullest.

Both of you had the time of your lives. Making sure to go on every ride, play every game and eating every junk you found there. By the end of it you were visibly exhausted and elated with how the day went.

The following day you were visibly happier in the office and even had a small conversation with one of your coworkers.

This went on for the following month, with each and every date you opened up to Jeonghan more and more, and so did he.

He loved spending time with you and vice versa. It was during your regular Friday movie nights, a ritual you both had established as you both liked watching movies and bonded while talking about them, when Jeonghan absolutely bored with the movie scooted a bit too close to you in hopes of gaining your attention by annoying you, a typical Jeonghan move. When you both ended up making love on the couch.

This was only the start of a lot of escapades you would have with the man.

After that one night, Jeonghan was all over you at all times. Be it at the office or be it at home he was with you or texting you all the time. Your nights were now filled with heavy make outs and intense love making sessions.

Everybody at the office knew about you both. On top of that you were more extroverted than ever. You even went out with your coworkers for an office dinner. Somehow, Jeonghan was praised for the change he brought in you, and like his ‘kind’ self, he declined all those compliments with a gracious smile.

He didn’t like to say it out loud, but he liked your changed self, more than your reserved one. Plus, he also took credit for the change, but it’s not like he would tell you that anytime soon.

--

 It was almost five months into dating Jeonghan, when he asked you to meet his friends. You knew he had a very loyal group of friends and you had never met them before. On the contrary Jeonghan had met your one and only best friend within only three months of dating. In the most best friend manner, the lady has hated his ass the whole-time side eyeing him constantly and leaving petty remarks here and there. But that night she had called you and told you something she didn’t ever say for any of your boyfriends “I can see he loves you a lot. For the first time you chose the correct guy.”

Getting your strict best friend to like Jeonghan was like clearing the first hurdle of your relation. For the first time, you were proud of your choice in men and especially your boyfriend.

“Oh, I would love to meet them, but would they like me,” you were rightfully concerned about the boys liking you. As much as you were independent, you would like to gain the approval of your boyfriend’s friends like any girlfriend.

“They are dorks through and through, they will love, don’t worry” he had said while kissing your forehead to calm you down.

“Plus, you will fit right in, they are nice people,” he later added.

--

That evening, Jeonghan had taken you to the Korean BBQ place downtown where they all were meeting. The night had started rocky but within an hour you were having fun with Mingyu and Seokmin, all worries forgotten. Jeonghan had looked at you with pride blooming in his chest with how happy you looked with his friends, enjoying yourself.

It seems that all the twelve of them had liked you a lot saying you were the perfect partner for Jeonghan, someone who could ground him at the same time let him be himself.

The BBQ party came to an end, but the boys still had a lot of energy, so they went to the karaoke next taking both you and Jeonghan with them. Although you were thoroughly exhausted, you had complied to go, seeing Jeonghan have so much fun was a sight you didn’t want to miss.

You had gone to the bathroom the first thing right after reaching the karaoke place, to wake you up and also to do your business. Seungkwan had accompanied you claiming, “all that soju and walking has made my bladder shake like never before!” it’s not a lie though, they did drink like it will be the last time they ever get to drink.

As you came out of the restroom, Seungkwan gave you a kind smile and said “I have never seen Jeonghan this happy before, not even with us. I'm sure he likes you a lot.”

Smiling at him you said, “I think I love him; I have not said that to him yet, but I really think I do.”

With a sassy ‘good for you’ from the one and only Boo, you both made your way to the room that your group had booked.

As you reached closer, you could hear all the boys talking to each other.

“I approve, she is an angel, she even consoled Soon when he cried” said one of them making you smile a bit. By this time Seungkwan had stopped with you too eavesdropping on his friends as he is as dramatic as one can be.

“She is nothing like what you described her to be you know, she is nice and kind and far from being stuck up,” someone else said.

“Nah she is not, that stuck up once you get to know her, contrary to that she is very cheery and I like her you know,” Jeonghan had replied making you feel extra giddy inside.

“Hey bro if you like her that much maybe we should call off the deal we made, I see how much you like her and if you ask me, I will say she is a keeper,” with this statement, a silence washed over the whole group. You looked at Seungkwan to understand what was happening, but the man refused to look at you still stubbornly pretending to listen to the conversation.

“I said I like her, not like her enough to let go of the five thousand you offered” you suddenly heard Jeonghan speak making you even more confused about the whole ordeal.

“I think you will regret it you let her go hyung,” Seokmin suddenly said with a very somber tone generating a lot of assertive noises from the group.

“She won’t bring me five thousand, plus I fucked her got into a relationship with her and made her the fun-loving bitch she is now. It was a tedious process, but I completed my work, so I deserve the money.”

It was hard hearing the man you loved so much make such a degrading comment. At this point you were shaking with emotions so much that even Seungkwan who refused to look at you during this whole time, had to hold you steady.

“Did you know about this,” you asked him.

The boy with his eyes downcast just nodded his head.

“I won’t even ask you why you didn’t tell me about it, I get it you are his friend makes sense.”

“Hey none of us wanted him to do anything like this, but your Jeonghan is unstoppable sometimes and about the wrong things.”

“I think I should get going, I’ve heard enough.”

“Hey y/n we like you a lot, so please stay in contact with us later, no matter what your verdict is,” the younger man pleaded with glistening eyes, making you almost accept the request out of pity.

You ignored everyone and strode into the room bustling with men, heading straight for the couch. Without hesitation, you grabbed your bag and, as you walked out, approached Jeonghan and delivered a firm slap to his face. "We're done," you declared before exiting the room without glancing at anyone else.

--

The minute you had left, Jeonghan felt his life crashing down on him. The looks of disapproval from his friends and the pure disappointment that radiated off you caught him off guard. He had thought he could get out of it with both the girl and the money, but suddenly he realized he didn’t even need the said money, he only needed you. The weight of his words came to haunt me as soon as he had spoken them.

He immediately attempted to follow you but was stopped by Seungkwan, “did you see her face, if you follow her now, she will resent you more. Not like you don’t deserve it, but you are still my friend.”

The tone of his voice showed how much he was upset with Jeonghan. So much so that the younger male could not even look at his face.

“You are my hyung, but you know what I like her more, never have I ever thought you would do something like this,” he continued, “I hope she never forgives you.”  

Hearing that Jeonghan couldn’t control himself and punched Seungkwan and a fight broke out. The boys trying their best to resolve it.

“It’s already a mess, can you both stop making it worse!” Mingyu said as Seungkwan punched Jeonghan back square on the jaw.

“Tell that shit to not meddle in my business then” comes Jeonghan’s voice.

“Maybe if you didn’t break her heart I wouldn’t, she was a fucking nice person,” Seungkwan shouted back as Mingyu dragged him out.

The night was ruined, and it was all because of Jeonghan.

--

That night you came home and cried your heart out ignoring all the calls from Jeonghan and the other boys, with whom you had exchanged numbers during the hangout. Thankfully, it was a Sunday the next day, so you didn’t have to look at the man who broke your heart, but it pained you so much to even move a muscle. It was like your heart was ripped out of your body. The pain was immeasurable.

There were at least a hundred missed calls on your phone and thirty of them from all of the boys. Your best friend come to your place that Sunday and tried her best to console a sad you, but nothing could stop you from beating yourself up for trusting a man like him. it’s true you loved him, and you regrated doing so, you didn’t blame Jeonghan for breaking your heart, you blamed yourself for being weak enough for you to let Jeonghan do so to you, for letting the man step all over you like you were a piece of trash that had no place in the normal world. The degrading things that he had said about you kept echoing in your ears, making it hard for you to think of anything else.

It was like you had forgotten all about your vow to never let anyone step over you and take away a piece of you from yourself. You were so hurt that you refused to see Jeonghan at all. So, on the next Monday you asked your HR for a weeklong leave and the kind lady obliged owing to your stellar performance at your department.

You turned off your phone that week and went to stay with you friend as the house was too lonely for you and the more you stayed there, the more you felt the memories of you and Jeonghan coming to haunt you.

--

On that Monday, Jeonghan woke up with a newfound determination. He was resolved to confront you and explain that his hurtful words from that night stemmed from his own inability to accept his feelings. He believed that once he clarified his side of the story, your compassionate nature would lead you to forgive him. He was even prepared to humble himself, willing to beg for your forgiveness if necessary. However, fate intervened when he discovered you had taken a week-long leave from the office.

The realization of consequences hit him suddenly. Yes, he understood the gravity of his actions, but he was willing to face any repercussions if it meant having you back in his arms. Anything seemed bearable compared to the thought of losing you.

By Wednesday, Jeonghan found himself standing at your doorstep, desperately knocking, hoping to speak with you. To his dismay, a neighbor informed him that you had been absent since Monday. His heart sank realizing he had missed his chance to reconcile with you.

He had made a solemn vow to himself that he would reach out to you no matter what obstacles lay in his path, willing to go to any lengths to make amends. However, he now realized the depth of his mistake. Reflecting on his actions, he understood that he should have heeded the advice of his friends earlier, but it was too late for regrets.

Jeonghan's determination to win you back consumed him. He felt a deep pang of regret for not acting sooner and for failing to appreciate the warnings from his friends. Now, facing the reality of your absence, he grappled with the weight of his impulsive behavior.

In the days that followed, Jeonghan resolved to wait patiently for your return, determined to seize any opportunity to make things right. He hoped against hope that he hadn't irreparably damaged the bond between you. Each passing day without you served as a sobering reminder of the importance of listening to his instincts and valuing the counsel of those who cared about him.

--

The next week you opened your phone to see it has blown up with Jeonghan’s messages and there were a few from Seungkwan asking you if you are okay and telling you that he had punched Jeonghan for being an asshole to you and that most of the people didn’t agree with Jeonghan’s antics but its hard to stop Jeonghan when is like that.

Taking pity of the boy you and answered him accepting his apology and telling him you were happy that he punched the guy.

His answer came immediately, saying he was happy that there is no bad blood among you two and he prefers you more than Jeonghan anyways making you laugh at his cuteness.

When you returned back to the office, the first thing you did was hand them your resignation letter. The next thing on your list was avoid Jeonghan till you leave work, at which you were pretty successful.

And just like that you were done with your time in the office and were moving onto another job before Jeonghan could even get hold of you.

--

Its has been three years since and life had never been better. You became friends with Seungkwan, Seokmin and Soonyoung immediately. You four hangout quite frequently. The three younger men like you a lot too. It’s a strong bond you have created with them. If anyone asks you would say the only good thing that came from your ex was the friends you made while with him.

On top of that you also have been in a relation with a man who treats you right and loves you to death. Its like you have at last reached the light at the end of the tunnel.

--

Jeonghan on the other hand drowned himself in work after you left, the man tried his best to forget your existence and was very thankful his work helped him do so. But whenever he was out with his friends he couldn’t stop himself from asking about you and always he got the same answer of ‘none of your fucking business’ from Seungkwan.

But it was different this time, it was the ever so kind Seokmin who answered him.

“Hyung she moved on, and you should too.” Hearing that he stood up, he didn’t know why. Would he go to your house and beg for your forgiveness again or will he call you while asking you to give him another chance?

Truth to be told, he didn’t know.

“Hyung please don’t mess this up for her. She is happy,” Seokmin spoke up again, kindly holding his hand to pull him down back onto his seat. It felt like Jeonghan’s life has come crashing down on him once again. One lone tear left his eye, too embarrassed to cry in front of his friends, he puts up a happy front while saying “of course Seok, I would do nothing to hurt her.”

All his friends looked at the man in pity, hoping that faith was kinder to him. but they couldn’t deny that he single handedly destroyed his life either. He was still their friend and he deserved to be happy to but so did you. The man sat in silence for some time till Joshua loudly declared he wanted to go to the arcade and all the others enthusiastically agreed, happy about the distraction.

That is when Jeonghan realized life has gone on and not stopped for anyone, the time he was supposed to seize his moment has passed and it wont ever come back. He now has to live his life without the presence of one of the most precious thing he ever had the privilege to possess, your love.

a/n 3: thank you all for reading !!

#svt #angst #fluff #jeonghan #f2l #coworkers #seventeen x reader #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen jeonghan #seventeen angst #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen x oc #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan angst #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan x y/n #jeonghan x oc #jeonghan x you #yoon jeonghan #svt angst #svt imagines #svt fanfic #svt au #svt x reader #svt fanfiction

[bandgie]

stray kids as tattoo artists? I read a fic on AO3 once where Jisung Chan and Felix all owned a tattoo parlour (called Red Lights hehe) and reader worked there and got brought into their OT8 poly relationship and it lives rent free in my brain.

But anyway, what do you think they would be like as tattoo artists? Who would tattoo what body parts? Who would fuck you in the chair, who would give you head/let you suck them off, and who would force themselves to remain professional even though you can see they're hard?

wait I so need the fic if you have it plzzz

MDNI 18+ under the cut

fucking you

lee know - you have such a shy yet aroused look the moment you're in the chair. he'd touch you lightly at first, knuckles bumping against your breasts to clean the skin for the tattoo. your breath would hitch, your eyes would stare into his and you'd bite your lip. all it takes is a little nod from your end and he's undoing his belt

hyunjin - no because he never really does this. he's usually so professional, even with the hungry eyes staring at him, but there's just something so sexy about you. maybe it's the tattoos you already have, slightly faded and in need of a touch up. once he establishes that you are, in fact, wanting him the same way he wants you, he'd go to the front door of his shop and flip the sign to 'closed'

Seungmin - you'd have to beg him for it ngl. you're a regular at his parlor and he just loves how flustered you get. Seungmin doesn't mind teasing you for your session, but you just cant take it anymore. you'd make him move the stencil over and over again just under your boobs because 'its just not right' and you'd offer to take off your shirt so it's easier for him. that's the last straw for him and he'd waste no time in getting you on his cock

oral sex

changbin - he's giving you head, no questions asked. he's shaving the inner part of your thigh and your legs just look so good in shorts. he's gulping, eyes wide and briefly looking at your crotch. you notice though, and you'd gently place your hand over his and push the razor away, opening your legs so he can get a better look. he might panic at first, claiming he didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, but you shush him and grab the back of his head to guide him to your cunt.

han - you're on your tummy, feeling han prep you for a back tattoo. honestly, if he wasn't so nervous he'd fuck you just like that, but you start giving him innocent compliments that lead to you not-so-innocently sitting him on the laid out chair and getting on your knees. he's just so cute whimpering and biting into his hand while his thighs tremble around your face

professional

chan - this honestly shouldn't be a surprise. he takes his job very seriously, and no matter how many times your hand accidentally brushes against his cock or how prettily you bat your eyelashes, he will not do anything out of line. but ofc you can see the strain, and tent in his jeans that must be so uncomfortable. he's got a red blush on his ears, but he's so keen on making sure he's professional throughout the session. maybe you just need to make another appointment

felix - I think he likes knowing that you know he's horny, if that makes sense. it's the yearning that really turns him on, the longing stares, the lip bite he does when his touches linger. even if it makes his cock throb, he just loves teasing you too much to do anything. still, I do think he'd grind his front against your body 'accidentally' and he wouldn't say no if you start palming him while he shaves your arm to clean to area

jeongin - is just nervous. he really isn't sure if you're flirting with him or not. a lot of girls try to do favors in getting out of paying, but you're just so persistent you tip very good after each session. he's thought about taking things a step further, but he really isn't sure how to. if he's doing a chest tattoo, his hand will find purchase on your tit, a small blush on his face saying it helps in keeping him anchored. you don't push him, a sweet smile on your face as you tell him you don't mind, that it feels good. he gulps, cock hardening in his sweats and he prays he doesn't have to stand for a while

not proofread lmao

#smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids #skz #skz hard hours #skz hard thoughts #skz hyunjin #skz changbin #skz seungmin #skz chan smut #skz lee know #changbin smut #Felix smut #poly!skz #ot8 skz #seungmin #jeongin #han #Jisung han

[sashi-ya]

𝑨𝑩𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑼𝑫𝑺 ⛈ [chapter 1: introduction] 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭! 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐋𝐚𝐰 𝐱 𝐅! 𝐂𝐄𝐎! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

⇝ Interactive fic format welcome to the first chapter! as mentioned previously this will be an interactive fic! how does it work? by the end of every chapter you will find a poll section where you will be able to vote for what's coming in the next chapter! what will reader do? what will be the consequences? have fun! ⇝ tw: the story is set to be an awakening for reader. you will find topics as loneliness, hints of depression and suicidal tendencies. be specially careful if this topics are triggering for you. there is no smut in this chapter, but it will be in the following ones. ⇝ don't forget to vote at the end of every chapter!

Nobody, never, told you no. And nobody, ever, will. Miss Independent. Miss Successful. The Boss.

“I don’t care about a stupid storm, get me a damn ticket NOW” you order. The sound of your voice echoes against the many glass windows of your rooftop office. You don’t mind, nor care for your safety… all you have in your life is your job. Biggest enterprise that leads many markets and won’t ever stop growing. At least not on your watch.  

Your hills click harder against the cold marble of the floor, a tuft of hair gets curled around your finger, the insides of your mouth are heavily bitten. Nobody, however, knows you can get anxious. And nobody should, either.

“The… the airport is closed, Miss” your assistant, Usopp, informs.

Your eyes are glued to the blurred image of the city. You can see almost all of it from your position. And it’s that, exactly, what money and power makes you feel; like you are above them all.

“Then get the jet” you venously spit, as if your assistant was stupid enough not to think of that already. “I don’t give a fuck if it’s closed, we are taking off from the vineyard runway”

You notice your secretary nervously trying to find any type of words that could stop you from doing such stupidity, but he finally gives up and simply says “yes, boss...”

He walks away, already with his phone in his hands. He needs to call the private pilot on a Thursday night, with a cyclone outside, just because you couldn’t wait.

The tuft you’ve been playing with around your finger is now behind your ear. You tucked it. As always, your hand did it. Your long red nails did. Loneliness never made you less successful; in fact, quite the opposite.

Through the glass wall, covered in uncountable raindrops, your blurred vision finally fixes into the many buildings around. All of them, so late in the evening, begin to show candid lights throughout them. Families that join and play together. Lonely people hugging their pets. Couples dancing and kissing, or even looking through their windows. None of them, but you, show a single silhouette tonight.

“Boss, I’m- I…” your assistant breaks your bubble of hate and self-awareness. “The pilot says he is not flying tonight. It’s too dangerous” he excuses himself. In fact, his head bowed down exposes how mortified he is by not being able to accomplish your orders.

You turn around and massage your temple. There is a very important meeting you need to attend tomorrow morning. You can’t wait.

“Put Doffy on the line and leave me alone” you straight and coldly say.

He nods, leaving immediately, closing the heavy doors behind him. Not even five seconds after, the sound of your phone announces  Mr. Donquixote is waiting on the line.

“My sweet (Name), to what do I owe the pleasure of your call? Are you feeling lonely tonight? You can come home whenever you can” the excentric billionaire, who you sometimes fuck with, sings through the phone.

“I need your private pilot. Now. Flying my jet from the vineyards” you say, not much information is given. He probably understands.

He laughs. Extremely loudly.

“No pilot will take you anywhere tonight but let me see if my nephew wants to risk his life. The kid wants to die often, and apparently you too” he keeps laughing while telling you such terrible statement.

“I need a pilot, not a kid Doflamingo” “He is, indeed, a pilot. Give me twenty minutes, I’ll send it to your vineyard. But you owe me one… you know exactly those lips are my weakness”

Done. Problem fixed. You always know who to call when you need something; you know nobody really cares about your wellbeing but only the things they could get in return if you owe them something.

A carry on is always packed with essential stuff on your office; many are the times you spend travelling compared to those you spend at your own house. You grab it along with your coat and your keys.  You don’t wait for your chauffer; you don’t want to hear blabbering about safety.

“It’s just rain. What’s gonna happen? Am I getting my stilettos wet? So what?”

There isn’t much traffic, the many lights are indeed going the opposite way to yours. Everybody seems to be returning home, while you are driving straight to the outside of the city. Your vineyards aren’t that far but are certainly on a much rural zone.

Thunder roar in the open sky, the darkest night seems to be only illuminated by the power of those flashing lights inside growing grey towers of fluff.

“Bet is gonna be a very fun flight ~” you hum, as you imagine the little powerful plane crossing the menacing clouds ahead.

It takes you little time to arrive to your destination, the engine of your car is way more powerful than most of the automobiles out there.

Right by the door of your vineyards, a man that seems to be on the bones, salutes you.

“Yohohoho! What are you doing here, Boss? Welcome! Do I prepare a glass of Merlot or maybe a Pinot Noir for you tonight? ” he asks, taking his hat off, revealing an amazing afro underneath.

“Brook, take this to the jet. The pilot will be here at any minute, he is a new one so let him pass the door” you instruct your housekeeper, throwing your carry on at him.

His eyes, deep into the sockets of his skull, open wide. Of course, nobody expects you to fly with such storm outside… but that’s just you, and exactly how you are.

“Sure, Boss. I’ll sort everything out for you right away”

You take a swift look at the main house of your vineyards. Everything is perfectly clean and well kept. You are satisfied; your personnel works perfectly well. Except your private pilot, that one is already fired.

You sit down, flopping maybe onto a fancy couch. Nobody is watching, you are allowed to rest for at least just a moment. However, the calm lasts no longer than a couple of seconds.

“Miss (Name), the pilot is here” Brook comments, making your shut eyes to open slowly and -mostly- annoyed. You didn’t expect to see a man standing right next to your employee, but there he is.

“Who are you? why aren’t you on the plane already?” you ask, not even standing up but crossing your legs as you stiff your back muscles. Your thighs, flash a little bit of them underneath the cut of your pencil tight skirt. Your red nails carve on the sides of the armchairs.

The man, of steel eyes and dark hair smirks just a little with defiance and superior demeanour. Something you most likely don’t fancy but makes your insides… anxiously alive.

Wearing nothing but a private pilot uniform, he stands right in front of you. It shows that he is clearly not used to serve, but to be served. And you soon remember this man, who’s been called a “kid”, is in fact Donquixote Doflamingo’s nephew.

“You must be Doffy’s nephew; you are just like him; you don’t bow before anyone. Don’t you?” you ask, this time standing up. Not even your high heels are enough to surpass his height.

He hums. “Trafalgar Law, and I’m not like him” he spits. Apparently he is not only spoiled, but also hates his own family. “I’m not here to work for you, I am here because I’ve been told you needed a favour. You should know how to fly planes by now” he states.

You burn. How dare him tell you are not independent enough.

“Indeed, I do. Apparently you aren’t aware of the fact that I can’t fly without another pilot because of stupid laws and regulations. This isn’t a helicopter; this is a jet” you inform him, walking right pass him and asserting dominance with your hand on his shoulder.

You look him in the eye with a side look. Law, does the same. You are close, so close you can hear his breathing. And your image, imponent and beautiful, reflects on the golden hoops that hang from his right ear.

Both, intensely fight in silence. For what, however, none of you exactly know. And the energy between you two, could probably alter the weather, and the world itself…

“Come on, I have no time to waste. I need to be in London by tomorrow morning” you break the silence. Walking towards a big hall that takes you to the hangar, you turn around just for a couple of seconds to give a last lethal look at your new young companion.

Just a hint of flustered cheeks show in his face, but it’s enough for you to feel like you have won the battle of dominance. Or that’s what you thought.

The heavy steps behind you, makes you internally smile. You are used to be followed by almost mute employees, walking on eggshells not to piss you off. But Law is different; he is not doing this for the money, nor status. He is as suicidal as you, flying in this weather should be prohibited… in fact, it is. But the rich never ask for permission. You are know you are above everything else. And that includes the clouds, too.

“Give me a second, let me sort the charts” Law says, taking a look at the papers in his hands before climbing into the jet.

You nod, as you do the same with your laptop. Something inside you tells you to stop; that those conditions will bring more than mere turbulence. Yet, your cold heart, tells you something louder than your reason; “who cares if something happens, after all? Just do it”

Half an hour after, and a couple of swift looks at each other, Law and you are already set to departure.

For the first time since he arrived you notice the tattoos on his hands; knuckles inked with the word “D.E.A.T.H” rip a scoff from you. It is quite funny to you, that those hands could most likely either fly you to death if you aren’t lucky enough, or to London if you are.

“We don’t need to fly now, we can wait until the conditions seem better” Law murmurs, as those inked fingers turn on every button of the plane. “Your plans aren’t more important than any life”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤOh. So, he is not that willing to die as Doffy said…

#above the clouds interactive fic ⛈ #trafalgar law x reader #Trafalgar Law 𝘹 F! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 #trafalgar law headcanons #trafalgar law x you #valentines day #trafalgar law scenarios #trafalgar law #law headcanons #trafalgar law smut #law smut #law one piece #law scenarios #law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #law x you #law x y/n #law imagine #one piece smut #one piece x reader #one piece x reader smut #heart pirates law #law #one piece x you #op smut #op x reader #op scenario #one piece #op imagines #op law

[fluentmoviequoter]

A Room Away (No More)

Part 2 of A Room Away

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!roommate!reader

Summary: Your abusive ex reaches out, and you hide it from Tim until it's almost too late.

Warnings: angst, domestic violence, abuse, assault, anxiety/panic attacks, fluff and a happy ending guaranteed!!

Word Count: 3.7k+ words

A/N: A Room Away is one of the first Tim fics I wrote and it took me a few months, but I loved writing this continuation! I hope you enjoy!🤍

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Tim’s thumb brushes back and forth over a nearly invisible scar on your arm as you wait for your dinner guests. Remembering that it has been days since your last nightmare and nearly a week without a migraine makes you smile, and Tim glances at you but doesn’t ask any questions. The doorbell rings and he grumbles under his breath as he leaves your side. As he opens the door to invite Angela and Wesley in, your phone vibrates beside you. Tim is giving Angela a hard time, as usual, and you take the moment when her attention isn’t on you to read the new text.

Unknown There is nowhere you can go that my love won’t lead me to find you.

The sentence is familiar, too familiar. You read the message again, and before you finish another comes through.

Unknown Los Angeles isn’t big enough to hide you from me.

“Are you okay?” Angela asks.

You lock your phone quickly and clear your throat before you look up at her and nod. The message repeats over and over in your head. Your phone may not know who sent the text, but you do, and knowing that your ex is in the same city as you terrifies you. Deep down, you know you should tell Tim, but you can’t.

“How’s Timothy treating you?” Angela adds.

She sits beside you, and you try to forget about the text for now. “He still won’t reduce my rent,” you complain jokingly.

Tim watches you from his spot in the kitchen. The last few weeks have been good. Your nightmares are becoming less frequent, you let Tim touch you without flinching or panicking, but the look on your face right now isn’t right.

“How are things?” Wesley asks. “Need a prenup, yet?”

“Funny, Wesley,” Tim replies without looking away from you. “I hope Angela cleans you out in the divorce.”

“He can keep the kids,” Angela adds from beside you.

“Good luck getting rid of me,” Wesley says. He lowers his voice and turns away from Angela to ask, “Seriously, Tim, is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Things are good, great even. I just don’t want to do anything that makes us go backward.”

“Abusive relationships are hard to get over, but you’re helping her with that, Tim.”

“I hope so.”

“Wasn’t a question, Sergeant.”

Tim rolls his eyes as he puts your favorite food on a plate. It isn’t often that Angela and Wesley come over, but right now, Tim wishes he was alone with you so he could check on you. You don’t seem to hide things from him on purpose, and he understands the time it takes to trust people after having your trust betrayed and being abused. He’ll never push, but the moment you pull, he’s there. Never more than a phone call or a room away.

“Here you go,” Tim murmurs as he passes you a plate.

Your shoulders tense as he nears you but drop just as quickly. The jumpiness is something that was completely gone just yesterday, and Tim furrows his brows as he watches you accept the plate and look out the window. He runs a finger over your jawline to bring your attention back to him, and you smile at him.

“You alright?” he asks.

It seems to be everyone’s question tonight, and you once again lie, “Yeah.”

Tim nods and you thank him for the food before moving to sit by Angela. With his eyes on you throughout dinner, Tim decides that something is wrong, and he needs to get to the bottom of it. You open up as the night continues, yet when Angela and Wesley leave, you fall silent as you clear the table.

“Hey,” Tim calls softly.

He wraps a kind hand around your wrist to stop you, and you flinch away from him involuntarily. Tim raises his hands, and you drop your chin toward your chest and fight the tears threatening to spill. You’re scared because of the text, but that is no reason to move away from Tim. As you struggle not to panic, Tim whispers that everything is okay.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe out.

Tim shakes his head to remind you that you never have to apologize. You step closer and pinch his shirt between your fingers before wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. Strong arms settle over your back, and you push your cheek over Tim’s heart.

“I’m just feeling off, or something,” you say. “Please don’t worry about me.”

Tim hums and moves a hand to brush your hair away from your face. He won’t agree not to worry about you, and it’s too late to pretend like he’s not already doing just that.

The next few days pass slowly, and as you continue to spend more time at home, Tim’s concerns grow. You’re up and moving around, so it’s not a migraine, but you haven’t worked more than eight hours in three days. Every time Tim sees you at home, he hugs you, kisses you, and silently reminds you that he’s right beside you, but you keep up your act that nothing is wrong. It’s a failing façade, though, and you’re just waiting to break.

When you wake just after 1 in the morning, you can’t stop the scream that escapes. Your ex was in your room, in Tim’s home, and when he was done with you he was going to cross the hall and do the same to Tim. Of all the nightmares you’ve had, seeing Tim moments away from being hurt was the scariest of them all. You pull your knees up to your chest and drop your head as you sob, your panicked scream making way for the fear you’ve been burying since you got the text.

Tim comes in without question or knocking, and when your door hits the wall, you lift your head and flinch to the other side of your bed. At the sight of Tim, however, you launch yourself toward him and let him pull you close. You cry against his chest as he whispers comforting promises, but the only thing that helps you is the tangible reminder that he is safe. You tell yourself over and over, clutch his shirt, and listen to his heartbeat. He’s safe, and he won’t let anything happen to either one of us.

As he holds you, Tim keeps you as close as possible. He knows that you shouldn’t ask questions now. Not that you’d give him an honest answer anyway, he thinks. Whatever you’ve been hiding is making you scared, and it breaks Tim’s heart to see you affected this way. Waking up to your scream scared him, so he can only imagine what must be going through your mind.

Unknown I saw the planetarium today. Can you see it from your new home?

Unknown Met a girl in the supermarket who looked like you. But I won’t settle for second best.

Unknown Clues, clues, clues. Am I getting closer, baby?

With each new text you receive, you have to talk yourself out of running from Tim. You don’t want to pull away from him, but you constantly worry that if you’re found, Tim will be in danger, too. A knock on your door draws your attention away from the newest message, and Tim smiles when you meet his eyes.

“Want to go to lunch? Just us?” he offers.

You should say no, but you nod before standing. Nothing bad can happen in public, and being beside Tim is the safest place to be, you think. Even as you try to convince yourself that going to lunch will be fine, you can feel the fear and anxiety building in your chest. It weighs down on you and makes it hard to breathe, so you measure each breath and focus on Tim instead of the adrenal responses flooding your body.

Tim turns into a random subdivision and slows down. You raise your brows and look at him, but he only offers a hand extended over the console. When you lay your hand over his, he intertwines his fingers with yours and pulls your hand closer to him. He makes another turn, and you realize that he’s not taking a shortcut to the restaurant.

“What are you doing?” you inquire quietly.

“I don’t want to push you too hard or too soon,” he says. “But something is bothering you, and I can’t help if you stop talking to me.”

“Tim, I’m fine, I promise. I’ve just been feeling off.”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’ll pass.”

“What will pass? Pushing me away and blocking me out won’t fix whatever is happening!”

“And telling you will?” you ask. You’re getting defensive because you’re scared, and you try to pull your hand away so you can stop talking to him.

“Why did you ever let me in if it was just going to end like this? I’m with you, but why can’t you trust me enough to tell you what’s making you scream in the middle of the night and jump when I walk up behind you?”

“Because he can threaten me all he wants, but I don’t want Brent to find you too!” you snap.

“Brent?” Tim asks lowly. He pulls his hand away and sets his jaw to ask, “Brent who?”

You shrink in the passenger seat and whisper his last name. Tim’s brakes squeal as he presses the pedal to the floor and parks on the side of the road. You can tell without looking at him that he’s angry, and you slipping up and saying your ex’s name certainly didn’t help.

“Get out,” Tim orders.

“Are you serious?” you whisper brokenly.

“Out of my truck. Now.”

You slide out of the passenger seat and close the door behind you. Tears have been building in your eyes for a week, and you let them fall freely now. You’re scared and hurting, but Tim refuses to look at you as you stand on the curb.

“Tim, please don’t do this,” you plead through the rolled-down window.

Tim doesn’t answer, and when he shifts the truck back into drive, you know he’s serious about leaving you here.

“Tim, please!” you beg through your tears.

“Go home,” he says over the engine.

The truck pulls away from the curb where you stand, and you harshly wipe your tears away to clear your vision. As you dig for your phone, you know it’s time to take Angela up on her offer. She said to call if Tim was ever mean to you, and you think leaving you on the side of the road counts.

Tim turns around in a nearby cul-de-sac and parks behind a tree where you can’t see him, but he can keep an eye on you. He’s angry and needed a second to calm down, but he never intended to leave you. He sighs as he types the name of your ex into his phone. He’ll ask Angela to run it later. When Tim looks back up at you, you have your back to him, and your phone raised to your ear. Your shoulders shake as you cry, and Tim taps his knuckles against his steering wheel. He made you cry this time, and though he’s glad to have a few answers, he wishes this wasn’t how he got them.

After moving in, you confided in Tim that Angela told you to call her if he was ever mean to you. When her car pulls up and you climb into the passenger seat, Tim shakes his head fondly. You’re mad at him, but you’re still perfect in his eyes. Now that he knows you’re safe, Tim decides to stop by the station and do some digging on your ex.

“I think I’m going to text Tim,” you say.

“What? No! He abandoned you. Just eat your ice cream and wait for him to come and beg on his knees,” Angela replies. She points her spoon at you and adds, “You’re too good for him, anyway.”

“I think that’s the other way around.”

“Fine,” she groans. “Text him. But I’m still mad at him.”

Your text to Tim is short, a simple apology, just: I’m sorry. His response is nearly immediate, and you smile when his name pops up in the notification.

Tim I’m not mad at you. I know you’re with Angela. Want me to pick you up?

Tim You don’t have to come home if you’re not ready. Whatever you want.

Your response is a promise that what you want is to be with Tim. Angela rolls her eyes at your smile, but she’s happy for you and Tim. After all, it’s because of her that you found a place a live and met Tim. She begins to ask a question, but your ringing phone cuts her off.

“Tim?” you ask as you answer.

“When did the texts start?” he inquires.

“Uh, about a week ago, I guess.”

“Change of plans, then. Let me talk to Angela.”

You pass the phone to Angela, and she listens for a moment before she stands and walks into her bedroom. Whatever they’re talking about, they don’t want you to know about. Tim said there was a change of plans, which sounds suspiciously like he won’t be taking you home tonight. The panic from earlier returns slowly as you wonder if he’ll ever let you go home again.

“Your boyfriend wants to talk,” Angela says, cutting through your doubt as she returns your phone.

“Sorry,” Tim begins. “I looked into your ex. He flew into LAX about a week ago, so the texts weren’t just threats. He’s here. And a week is a long time when you’re trying to find someone. I want you to stay at Angela’s tonight, okay?”

“Are you- are you working tonight?” you ask softly.

“I am now. Brent’s got an arrest warrant, and the threats he sent you make him a higher priority. We’re gonna look for him. We will find him,” Tim promises.

“Be careful, Tim.”

“I will. I have to get home to you, right?”

“Right.”

“I’ll call you later and check in. Let Angela know if you get more texts, please.”

“I will. Sorry for not telling you sooner.”

“I promise I’m not mad at you.”

“I know,” you murmur. “See you later, Tim.”

Tim’s decision to drive by his house before he starts looking for your abusive ex was both a precaution and about Kojo. The house looks exactly as it had when he left with you for lunch, and Tim puts Kojo in the front seat of his shop before driving toward Angela and Wesley’s house. If Brent goes to his house to find you, both you and Kojo will be safe and sound with Angela Lopez prepared to defend you. There aren’t many people Tim trusts, but when you called Angela, he knew you made the right choice. It’s the one he would have made, too.

Kojo pushes past Angela to meet you when she opens the door. You happily invite him into your lap and hug him tightly. He soothes your nerves without trying, and you loosen your grip on him only to look up at Tim.

“Nothing yet,” he says with a shake of his head. “I’m a call away if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Tim,” you reply.

He lays a hand on your shoulder and smiles as he promises, “I’ve got you.”

“Where’s your car?” Angela asks you.

“I just moved it. Public parking off Sepulveda,” Tim answers for you. “He doesn’t seem like the smartest guy in the world, but, just in case.”

“He’s not,” you agree.

Tim slowly pulls his hand away before he leaves again, and you lean closer to Kojo for his comfort. Angela disappears into her bedroom again a few minutes later and returns in a rush.

“I have to go. There’s been a homicide,” she explains. “I called Tim and he’ll be here in less than thirty minutes. Don’t answer the door for anyone; he and Wesley have keys.” She slows to ask, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Go solve a homicide.”

She rushes out the front door and locks it behind her, but you stand and double-check it anyway. Your phone is empty of notifications, and you can only wait until Tim arrives. After you settle beside Kojo again, you give him your attention. You and he freeze simultaneously when your phone chimes on the coffee table.

Unknown Walk outside or you will cost them everything.

You read it twice before you realize what he’s asking you to do. The moment you step out in the open, he can do anything and everything he wants. But you look around and see the life Tim and Angela have built for themselves and know that you can’t do anything to jeopardize that or their safety. So, you quickly shepherd Kojo into a bedroom and lock the door before slowly flipping the locks on the front door and stepping out into the Los Angeles night. The sun recently set, but there’s enough light you can see someone standing at the corner of the yard. Tim can’t be more than a few minutes away, but his thirty-minute estimation feels like an eternity.

“Los Angeles,” Brent says before laughing. “I knew you’d run somewhere you could hide but the city of angels? You, baby, were never going to fit in here.”

“What do you want?” you ask, willing your voice to be strong.

Brent smiles and you take a step back as he moves closer. You stumble against the sidewalk behind you, and Brent surges forward to wrap a cruel hand around your arm. He twists your skin with his grip, and everything about his touch is the opposite of Tim’s. For the first time since you met Brent, you fight back. Your free hand makes contact with his jaw, but he recovers quickly and shoves you to the ground.

Pulling your knees up, you try to create momentum to knock Brent off of you, but he pushes your legs down and shoves the heel of his hand between your ribs. The air is driven from your lungs, but you know you can’t stop fighting. When Brent moves his hands, so one is holding your face and the other is reaching for something in his waistband, you panic. You need Tim, but he’s a call away, and you left your phone inside.

“Domestic dispute and assault in progress at…”

Tim doesn’t hear anything past Angela’s address, and he hits the lights as he makes the final turn onto her street. Several neighbors are gathered on the opposite side of the street and watching an altercation in Angela’s front yard when he reaches the curb. A woman screams, and Tim slams the shop into park when he sees the glint of a gun being pulled. He opens the shop door and immediately ducks as a shot is fired. “L.A.P.D. Put down the weapon!” he yells from behind his open door.

He calls your name, but there’s no sound. No reply, no calls or screams from the neighbors, and Tim peeks around the door. Slowly, the gun is tossed to the side and the man, your ex, slowly clambers onto his hands and knees. When he sits back and puts his hands up, Tim has a clear view of you lying on the ground. There’s blood on your face, and you’re not moving, so Tim rushes forward. Two more police cars join Tim’s shop, but his complete focus is on you. He kneels beside you and pushes two fingers against your pulse point.

“I’m okay,” you whisper when you feel Tim’s skin on yours.

Tim sighs and drops his head before wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling your torso off the ground and into a hug. You return his tight grip as he sits on the sidewalk and holds you close. Two other officers handcuff Brent and put him in the back of a cruiser, and you’re surprised but pleased with the lack of threats directed toward you.

“Sergeant Bradford, the weapon was discharged, but the bullet was fired into a tree. CSU will gather data for ballistics,” an officer tells Tim quickly.

His grip tightens on you at the mention of the gunshot, and you sigh against his shoulder. As you lean up, he gets a better look at the bruise under your jaw and the fresh blood pooling against the older, dried blood under your nose. He moves you gently so he can stand and calls for a paramedic.

“Tim, I’m fine,” you say with a painful chuckle.

“Respectfully, I want a second opinion,” he replies. “And then we’re going home.”

“Don’t forget Kojo.”

“I’ll get him.”

“Oh, you may need a key.”

Tim furrows his brows at you but doesn’t ask what you’re talking about as he lowers beside you again. His hand in yours distracts you from the pokes and prods of the paramedics, and your mind is no longer anxious and scared, but excited to go home and remind Tim how much you appreciate his protectiveness.

Tim doesn’t let you out of his sight or his hold from the moment you enter his house. He pulls you against him and sits on the couch, inviting Kojo to join you. You’re finally okay, and it makes it easier for both you and Tim to show the affection you’ve been avoiding.

“I don’t want to be a call away anymore,” Tim confesses softly. “Not a room away… I need to be right beside you.”

“Tim, I only asked for the separation because I had to have it. Thinking that he would come after me was concerning, but the closer I got to you, the more worried I was he’d hurt you, too.”

“I understand that, but it’s over now. So, it’s your choice again.”

You nod and tilt your bruised face up from Tim’s chest to look into his eyes. “I don’t want to be a room away either,” you whisper.

Tim smiles and brushes a gentle thumb over your cheekbone before withdrawing his touch from your face. He kisses you gently, a series of pecks more than a real kiss, before allowing you to move closer.

As you fall asleep in Tim’s arms, you’ve never felt more at home. His touch, his presence, his protectiveness, and his care make him special, and he’s the best roommate-turned-more you could have asked for.

“I love you,” Tim whispers, and you wake up faster than ever.

#tim bradford x reader #hanna writes✯ #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford fic #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie abc #fem!reader

[greywritesthings]

Weeks

Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Warnings - (fic based from Tobias Hankel episode) Drug use, torture, mentions of seizures / convulsions, drug use, panic attack, rage, crying, death by GSW, withdrawal

A/N - This is a vague enemies to lovers ig, I really do like it even if it doesn't deal with the nicest of topics, comments, reblogs and likes appreciated <33

Spencer Reid masterlist

Masterlist

“Can you just leave me to do my thing for ten minutes Reid!” You near enough yell at him but he still doesn't move, he hasn't said anything for the last half an hour, he's just been sitting a foot away from you watching what you were doing and it was driving you insane. “I haven't done anything y/n. I’m just thinking about what you're doing is all.” he shrugs at you. You just huff and spin around from the board deciding to step out for coffee. You stop in your tracks as Hotch enters the room and gives you a look before turning to Reid and doing the same. “You two need to get some air, go and interview Tobias Hankel, Garcia's sending you the address. Reid is driving there, Y/n you will drive back unless you come to an agreement without an argument, do I make myself clear?”  His tone leaves zero room for argument so you just walk off to the SUV with Spencer in tow. 

After a tension-filled drive to the address Garcia had sent you and Spencer to, you get to clamber out of the SUV and find yourself at the wooden cabin where Tobias Hankel apparently lived. Reid decides to split off to the barn he had seen while you went up to the main door and knocked where it took you less than two minutes to decide he was suspicious enough to bring in. When you tried to arrest him however he ran out the back before you got the chance. You take a chance and head out into the corn fields where you found Reid unconscious on the floor, head bloody but you noted he was still breathing as you spun on your heel. “You son of a bitch! What the fuck are you doing!” you yell. You reach down for your second weapon at your ankle, cursing yourself for leaving your first one in the SUV by accident but Tobias lunges at you from behind catching you off balance. It's a struggle when you hit the floor but he gets the upper hand with a piece of wood and darkness quickly overtakes your vision. 

“Y/n, wake up, cmon” you hear someone whispering to you, not entirely sure who yet, the only thing you were sure of was that your head hurt like a motherfucker. You groan as you open your eyes. “y/n. I know you're probably concussed given the gash on your head but you have to focus sweets, with me, eyes open.” It's Spencer, he's calling you sweets? Well you must either be dead or pretty damn close. “He's taken us to a second location and shaken the police tail, he asked for directions and went the opposite way, we have to figure a way out of here sweetheart and I need your brains with me to do that okay?” you finally make eye contact with him, focused on him, he looks exhausted, you figure he's been through other things while youve been unconscious. Anything you were going to say was cut off by the sound of footsteps approaching and the look of pure fear coursing through Reid's eyes.  

By the time that Tobias’s father was done with you it had broken spencer, his own torture was bad but hearing your own cries felt worse. You tried reciting bible scriptures you remembered to no avail, the beating just continued. He wanted a confession of sin and wouldn't stop till he got it. 

Then he did, Tobias getting to take over and Spencer had to listen and watch as you begged him not to give you the dilaudid and then lose yourself to the high as it took hold. It pained him to watch, if he could have he would have thrown up. Somehow it all got worse, Spencer watched as you were forced to choose a person to kill, he hoped you were too high to remember it but really he could tell you were mentally present and it made his heart twist. 

When the team managed to cut off the videos you were Charles's target, much to Spencer's dismay. He hadn't been through much in comparison to you at this point and he knew your body couldn't take another beating. He watches on with tears streaming down his face as Charles continuously hits you before shoving your chair backwards, forcing the chair to fall to the floor. He's forced to watch, unable to tear his eyes away as you convulse and eventually go limp, flatlining with Tobias trying to revive you. He has a small glimpse of relief when he is finally successful knowing you're still alive but it's replaced with dread at the fact that now you will be put through even more.  

You were praying to every god you didn't believe in that Hotch got the message, you didn't have an eidetic memory but you knew the bible and you hoped that hotch would understand the misquote of genesis. You were so high at this point your brain felt like cotton and Spencer was forced to just watch on. You knew eventually Charles would have enough of you and end you in one way or another and you were right. He dragged you out to dig your own grave, threatening to bury you alive. He left Spencer in the cabin for now, you guessed he would deal with him later so it was up to you to save at least him if not the both of you if the team didn't get to you in time. 

You saw the glint of flashlights before Charles did and managed to trick him even if you were high as ever, pulling his own gun on him managing to get a shot as Spencer, Emily and Hotch round the corner towards you. “Y/N!” Spencer cried out, you realised he thought you were the one shot. The three flashlights land on you looking like a deer in headlights as you knelt over Tobias's body. “Sup guys, kinda chilly out isn't it?” you let out a dry laugh, desperately trying to remove the horrified look from their faces. Spencer was the first to move towards you. “Come here sweet girl, come here, god i'm so sorry” He wraps himself around you. You know hes been taking the brunt of the mental torture the last however long so you let him, He practically holds you up as you lean against him. “You're going to be okay, we are going to be okay, I promise.” he whispers before he lets himself be slightly separated from you. Emily loops an arm around your waist as Spencer does the same so they can guide you to the ambulance waiting nearby. 

–

It had been three weeks since you spent those five days of hell with Tobias Hankle and so far you were struggling, nightmares plagued your sleep and cravings plagued you when you were awake. You had managed to keep the bottles of dilaudid from Tobias's body. You knew sooner or later someone would catch on and you would be out of a job, your friends and with them your family. You would lose everything and everyone you loved if you didn't get a handle on it. Luckily you had another four weeks to kick the habit before you were back in the BAU, for now it was light paperwork at home when you could and the occasional conference call with the team so you weren’t isolated.

You were sitting in the bathroom with a new needle and a vial ready when three loud knocks sounded at your door, breaking you out of your trance. You practically fall over getting to your front door, withdrawals hitting hard from timing out the doses longer and longer. You knew you didn't look good and anyone would put you as an addict in withdrawal, you were biting at your nails, your pupils were blown out of proportion and you just overall looked a mess. 

You manage to unlock your door after looking through the peephole and seeing it was only spencer. “Hey spence, what do you need?” You ask, hoping and praying it was just to borrow a book or a case file so you could get on with your task. He looks you up and down with a look of concern. “I need you to let me in, pack a bag and come stay at my house while you detox.” His eyes still show concern but his tone gives you no room for argument, but you try anyway. “I don't know what you mean Spence, detoxing from what exactly?” You try and meet his gaze but you're so antsy it's impossible. He places a hand on the door and pushes in past you and closes the door behind him, still gentle. “Honey, i know you took the dilaudid from Tobias okay and I know you’re addicted to it, you can't go into a rehab centre without losing your post permanently so your staying with me for the foreseeable, we have an extra four weeks off from Hotch so we have eight weeks to get you to functioning again. This is a non optional, so, tell me where it is before i go through your apartment myself. Please, let me help you.” He keeps a hard but caring tone and it forces you to give in, you know he's right. “Bathroom, Cupboard above the washer and in the copy of sherlock holmes with the orange cover” you look to the floor in pure shame. “Sweets, you don't need to be ashamed, it's not your fault, you didn't choose to be addicted, okay? It was given to you against your will, I don't blame you okay? I just want you back okay” He says as he tips your chin up, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He still doesn't look angry or disappointed, just caring. “You're going to be okay, you just have to let me help you. Go pack a bag while I clear out and we will go to mine okay? I turned the office into a guest bedroom for you.” and with that he turns away, walking into your kitchen. You take a second before your feet start to move on their own, moving towards the bedroom so you can do as he asked and pack a bag of things you would need to live at his for the next however long. 

—

It had been two weeks and you felt slightly better. Your heart wasn't beating at a million miles a minute, your pupils were regular and you weren't sweating all the time and you finally had an appetite but emotionally you were still strung out. The cravings were still hard to deal with and it made you an emotional mess, one second you were fine then seeing red angry and that quickly turned into floods of tears but Spencer didn't once react to you. He just gave you coping mechanisms and comfort. He held you as you cried for hours on end every night till you fell asleep, if he left you he tucked you under a weighted blanket and left lamps on through the apartment so you could find his room should you need him in the night. 

—

The team knew you were staying with Spencer, they didnt know why but they knew you were struggling, they assumed it was from the kidnapping, not the fact you had spent weeks addicted to drugs and so they assumed that you would appreciate them coming over to hang out, something that was a semi regular occurrence prior to the kidnapping. 

Three knocks pull you and Spencer pulls from your activities, he was reading and you were tucked into his side drawing a mandala on a small art pad he had given you. “Were you expecting anyone?” you ask. “No honey and I'm guessing you weren't so I have no clue.” he says, the nickname easily slipping in place of your name now. You uncurl yourself as he stands up from the couch, going over to the door and looking through the peephole. “It's the team, you want to change?” he asks knowing that while you didn't really care how the team saw you you probably would mind them seeing you in just Spencer's sweater vest and a pair of boxers. You nod quickly and slip into your room as he unlocks the door greeting the others. 

By the time you come out they’re all stood in the living room chatting between themselves seemingly waiting for something and you realise they're waiting on you. You feel their eyes on you as you walk in and then they all start moving and talking at the same time. Multiple forms of how are you and we miss you's getting fired your way. Before you can realise you're pulled into one pair of arms and then another as a third ruffles your hair. It's overwhelming and it makes your skin crawl. Your peace and quiet, the sanctuary that you had gotten used to in Spencer's apartment had been interrupted and you couldn't deal with it. You pry yourself out of the arms that had you trapped and bolt towards the nearest door, spencers room, directly down the hall, and slam the door behind you as the tears start to fall down your cheeks, sobs wracking through your chest as your mind races and the cravings come back full force again. 

“Darling, I need you to let me in, they’re gone okay? Open the door for me.” Spencer asks quietly so as not to spook you, he was nervous for your reaction to the team and had tried to emphasise the point of not to overwhelm you but he knew they would get over excited and were used to you being very touchy so your reaction like this was out of the ordinary. You moved out of the way of the door and pulled Spencer's sweater over your shirt and curled up under his covers. Spencer decided to try the door and his heart melted at the sight, you looked peaceful, a stark contrast to the panicked look he saw in your eye earlier, similar to what he saw when you were with Tobias, it had hurt and he had nearly snapped at the team to get them out but Hotch and Rossi had ushered them out before he could, Hotch saying that you and spencer could take more time if you needed, the brass had already approved it alongside working from home for the pair of you.  He crept over to the bed and got in, wrapping his arms around you as you nestled further into his chest, relaxing against him. 

—

It had been twelve weeks since you moved into Spencer's apartment and you were over the worst of the cravings, the mood swings and irritability were almost non-existent but you now dealt with the anxiety of being asked to move out every night. You had gone back to work a week ago now and you and Spencer were on desk duty for another week for formality reasons. It was nice living with another person and it was even better that person being Spencer. Now you were getting better you had started cooking for him, often making dinner while he made you breakfast. You both went about your days naturally, you divided up chores without question and Spencer started buying your favourite snacks regularly when he went grocery shopping, something he refused to let you do when he found out that the fluorescent lights bothered you. You thought your fears were coming true when one night he called for you from the living room to talk.  

“So, look I’ve been thinking about something and-” You cut him off before he finishes his sentence. “You want me to move back into my own place again? I can do that, I mean it's not like i can live here forever is it, this was just while i was in recovery and getting over the worst of the withdrawals, I can pack up over the weekend and be out by monday dont worry.” You rush over the sentence, tears filling your eyes as you stare at the couch. Over the weeks you had been living with Spencer you had realised that you had started liking him. You knew he wouldn't do the same, given the things he had seen in the last three months it was fair enough but being told to leave hurt nonetheless. 

“This is the one fault about you, jumping to conclusions, now will you allow me to finish with words or can I just show you?” His words cause you to look him in the face with confusion. You don't get any more thoughts or words as Spencer's hands reach over to cut either side of your face and his lips are on yours, soft and vaguely unsure until you relax and push back, reaching to tangle your hands in his hair. After a minute you both pull away, “I don't want you to move out, the opposite actually, I want you to move in permanently” He says with a smile. All you do is nod, going in for another kiss with a smile. 

Taglist: @reidstheyfriend , @oosnapitskat, @lover-of-books-and-tea

Join it here!

#greyswritings #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #dr spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[pinegreenapples]

Radiostatic Fic Recs

Do you like radiostatic? Are you looking for something good to read? Here are some of my personal favorites that I think everyone should read! As a reminder, if you don't like something listed, just don't read it! And don't bother the author or me! Staying in your lane is free! 😊

Finished works

Control + V

Vox and Alastor are on the cusp of a relationship but Alastor worries that he isn't enough for Vox. Val interferes.

Get Your Thrill Just to Get At Me

Alastor experiences a rut for the first time and Vox refuses to waste good dick on a panic attack.

Hold Me Like A Grudge

This one's ABO and pretty much just smut. Suppressants fail all over the city! Guess we gotta fuck!

Put Your Fingers Back to the Keys

Alastor gets publicly summoned by Lilith and Vox searches for him.

Escape Was Just a Nod and a Casual Wave

This one's a really cool predator/prey fic where Vox chases Alastor.

Keep You Like an Oath

Alastor sneaks into V Tower and discovers Vox's video logs. It causes a revelation.

Lucidity's Fog

Vox has one final sex dream of him and Alastor together.

How to Commission a Radio Demon Body Pillow (and other assorted things)

This one is based off a tumblr ask thread about Vox having an insane amount of Alastor paraphernalia. It's funny, but it is one-sided.

Would You Download a Demon?

Alastor tells Vox and Rosie that he sold his soul. Vox does something so stupid, it's smart.

Classic and Better

Oooohhhhoooo, this bad boy is what made me start writing again. The characterization of them is so good and I love it so much. Alastor tempts Vox back into his folds and Vox follows blindly.

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Alastor lays claim to Vox by biting him. This one is short and sweet.

Couple's Therapy

This one was funny and sadly too short. Modern day Alastor and Vox decide to go to therapy as a joke and it actually makes them realize a thing or two.

Bambi

I love this piece. It's cute! Vox and Alastor have two different versions of Bambi-their clashing interpretations lead to an adorable misunderstanding.

Joking Matters

Vox and Alastor got married to consolidate their power and have kept their relationship a secret since.

Obligations

Vox trades for Alastor's soul but it isn't at all like how he wanted. They both cope in their own ways.

Meant to Be Yours

This one's one-sided. Vox gets rejected and takes it really badly. An excellent piece exploring his side.

Bargains

This one is also so so so good. Alastor has a rut cycle and the only person who knows is Vox. However, Alastor hates that he has a rut and takes it out on Vox. Vox just wants to know what Alastor actually wants.

Spite

This one is delicious. It's based off the first episode where Alastor says he pulled a few strings to get the commercial to air. Vox demands that he act in a porno for blackmail.

Just a Slave to Your Instincts

Vox researches deer instincts and uses it very effectively against Alastor.

That One Tuesday

Similar premise to Classic and Better but it involves more of the Hazbin cast and the main plotline of trying to redeem sinners.

Vox and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Afterlife

This one is light on the relationship but funny. Basically, every rut Alastor goes fucking nuts and takes it out on Vox. However, no one believes him and they think he's going crazy.

666: Live on Air!

An excellent series that does a good job exploring the push and pull between these two and what a relationship between them would look like with all their hang ups and miscommunications.

Seeking Solace

This story plays with Dom/Sub designations and Vox is a sub who hasn't dropped in too long. He calls Alastor to help.

Radio Made the Video Star

I haven't fully read through this series but it is well written and I'm liking it so far!

Thawing Out

Vox is in an abusive relationship with Valentino. Alastor finds him one night by accident when he's mulling over his relationship. For the first time, Alastor notices that something else might be going on at Vee Tower and he has these awful feelings about it that he can't seem to shake.

The Pitch

Vox swaggers into Alastor's radio tower to propose a deal, he ends up limping out. Wink wonk!

Hypnosis, Live in your Bedroom!

This is inspired by the 666 hypnosis fic and it is quite good! It’s another smut piece of Alastor and Vox exploring his hypnosis.

Other Place

This piece is really sentimental. It made me cry and think about death. Basically, Alastor visits Vox on the anniversary of his mother's death and they talk through his many emotions.

This Wasn't on the Agenda

One-sided but funny! Vox and Alastor start a hissy fit in an overlord meeting about their brief sexual history together.

Staticradio Woodland Fun

This one's cutesy! Vox and Alastor are both mythical creatures experiencing rut and so they spend it with each other.

Feeling from Grace

Angel Dust comes to Alastor with some concerns about Vox’s wellbeing. Alastor manages to fuck it up, as he does all things regarding Vox and feelings.

Music on T.V. and Sex on the Radio!?

This one’s funny and sexy. After their little fight on air, Vox tracks Alastor down in his tower to have some good old fashioned fun.

Stay

Alastor can’t seem to let Vox go, even when Vox decides he can’t keep playing this game anymore.

Like Old Times

Alastor pays Vox a visit in his office after their musical spat to say hello.

Deer in the Backlights

This piece is nice in the way that it explores Vox finally getting closure from his obsession with Alastor. Val and Velvette set up a meeting for Vox and Alastor to finally fuck and get rid of their weird psychosexual tension. Vox wonders if this was really what he wanted all along.

198

This one is pure smut and it’s so delightful. Vox manages to mind break Alastor and turn him into his own personal sex toy. I also highly recommend anything by childishsadism, they write very compelling work!

Undisclosed Desires

Alastor and Vox get into another fight and Alastor finds he likes it a lot more than he thought he would.

To Be Yours

This is my own work! Alastor hears Vox open their personal frequency for the first time in years. Curious, he goes to find out why exactly Vox has chosen to break the silence.

Unfinished works

Addicted

Addicted is really good. Vox finds out he's been drugged by Val for decades and as a result has long term amnesia. He runs away and tries to reckon with a past he can't even remember.

Hypnotic

This one is a rape fic. Vox hypnotizes Alastor against his will and forces him to recount his first sexual encounter as he has sex with him.

Prey of the Video Star

This one is really really good! After the battle, Vox takes Alastor back to Vee tower, determined to finally make the other his. Alastor, weakened, struggles the best that he can even as the noose tightens around his neck.

Safe with Me

This one's good! It's a modern AU where Vox is a CEO and Alastor is a serial killer and podcaster. After separating as childhood friends, Vox and Alastor meet once again and find love with one another.

Equilibrium

Vox saves Alastor and accidentally creates a soulbond between them. This sets in motion a landslide of unexpected events between them.

The Answer is Yes

Okay, this one is extremely well written. It's a fascinating exploration of Vox and Alastor's relationship through a vignette style. It blends all sorts of memories with modern day and it's really cool. I like it a lot.

Bluest Monday

This one is so well written and the romance between them is absolutely heart wrenching. Alastor fears losing Vox to modernity, so he finally accepts Vox’s courting in an attempt to keep the other at his side. This decision has unintended consequences neither could foresee.

Hell’s Televisionary

This one is a really interesting take on Vox and his first few years in Hell. I’m really enjoying it! Vox is new to Hell and looking to make a name for himself. He’s also looking to reconnect with the elusive redhead that helped him when he first fell.

Rival Frequencies

Vox goes after Alastor after the extermination and patches him up. He discovers that maybe his feelings haven’t waned, and he tries to rekindle a friendship with Alastor again.

Tune On In!

This one is based off of an art post where Vox and Alastor got platonically married and details their life together.

Unraveling Emotions

Falling in love makes a sinner’s heart human again and their second death permanent. Vox has never stopped loving Alastor. Alastor makes a mistake and Vox nearly pays the price.

For my friends who liked my post, I hope this finds you!

@rae-does-stuff, @drakepad-luv-2000, @motherarts, @freakshowmemories, @bratpfanne-of-doom, @superpersonpatroleclipse , @nocakesformissedith , @coins-that-never-land , @matrixbearer2024, @dancingafterdark ,@pedi-bug , @starlightthenightwing , @unnecessarilysalty

#radiostatic #staticradio #staticlovetune

[0san-ta0]

Late Night Missing You

synopsis ★ whilst arthur is off on a trip you start feeling lonely and resort to some unconventional methods of entertainment

pairing ★ fem!reader x arthur fredrick (arthurtv) author's notes ★ this is my first time writing an actual fic so it might be kinda shitty! feedback and tips are appreciated!! and i hope you enjoy!! <33 (NOT PROOFREAD)

arthur had been in sri lanka with chip and the boys for almost a week. although to you it felt way longer than that. sure, the facetimes, texts and voice notes were great but you couldn't help it as the loneliness had started creeping in by day 3. your usual daily routine had shifted slightly but your mind couldn't keep up, cooking enough for two or sitting on the couch waiting for arthur to walk through the door. your mood had been in the trenches and sitting alone in your apartment wasn't helping. you didn't want to bother your other friends this late at night. so you decided to have an impromptu stream, talking with the random people on your computer and drinking was sure to cheer you up.

you sat in front of your computer, a random video playing on your screen. you dared your chat that they coudn't send in a video to make you laugh, but if you did laugh that you'd take a shot. it had been about an hour of watching the most unhinged and random tiktoks and you were loosing horribly. a video of a young girl running into a wall flashed across the screen, sending you spiralling into a fit of laughter once again. maybe you felt bad about laughing but your sense of humour was wrecked at this point and coupled with the alcohol any odd video had you wheezing and reaching for the bottle of Bailey's infront if you.

"chat I swear I didn't mean too that doesn't count. i'm not taking a shot! at this rate i'll die of alcohol poisoning before midnight."

the comments started flowing in a majority of them about your new found adventurism, the other half was wondering where arthur was that he isn't supervising you. it was strange that he wasn't hovering in the background making sure you stayed hydrated or preparing your shots when he knew you for a fact that you were gonna laugh. your eyes glossed over the arthur comments trying not to let your mood shift too much, choosing to focus on the funnier comments.

"lilia284 thank you for the sub! and guys arthur is out of the country so..." you trailed off as the comments started on another tangent about where arthur was exactly.

"I can't tell you guys that but when it's released I'm sure you'll all be grateful for the lack of spoilers. now back to the videos and please no more children getting hurt I don't need to be clipped half drunk laughing at children. that's not good for my public image." then the topic switched to your most outrageous moments and you felt that you had successfully evaded the arthur topic and got your emotions in check.

restarting the video, it started with a man running and slipping down the stairs. your headphones playing at almost full volume you failed to hear the sound of the front door clicking open. filming had finished early and arthur wanted nothing more than to go home and lay in bed with you. walking into your shared apartment he looked around, searching for any sign of you before putting his suitcase down next to the door.

"y/n?" he called softly walking down the hall, poking his head into your dark bedroom before turning finding the light coming from your office door. he looked at the door and raised his eyebrows, you usually didn't stream this late perhaps you were doing some work.

then your voice came through, "this isn't fair that was a giggle, I don't deserve to drink for that you people just hate me!"

he stood outside the door confusion evident on his face, he took his phone from his pocket opening twitch. low and behold there you were front and center of his following page. he clicked the icon, just in time to see you poor a shot of Bailey's and down it.

another giggle escaped you lips as you placed the glass down on your desk, a smile making it's way to your lips. at this point you were more than buzzed and you could admit that comfortably. you turned to read off your donations and arthur saw his chance. he opened the chat and sent a 5 dollar donation to be read aloud.

'arthurtv $5 so this is what you do when I leave? I thought we got drunk together?'

your back stiffened slightly as you heard his name, you cleared you thought and smiled at the camera. "hi sweetheart!!" you waved at the camera and from outside arthur stood there smiling for a moment.

"I hope you're having fun and I miss you!" you mumbled, a pout making it's way to your face. then another donation came through.

'arthurtv $5 well if you really missed me you'd come outside!'

your eyebrows knit together as you looked between the door and her stream then back to the door. her chat started flooding with messages about going to get her man and a lot of comments along those lines. you said a quick goodbye to your stream before shutting down your PC and turning to the door. arthur stood outside waiting for you to open it, a few moments passed before the door was flung open. you stood Infront of him a stupid smile on your face as you flung yourself into his arms.

"arthur I freaking missed you so much!" he laughed softly, running a hand along your back.

"so you chose to get drunk online?" he questioned raising an eyebrow.

"it was a better idea than laying on the floor and crying."

#arthurtv x reader #arthurtv imagines #arthurtv #arthur frederick

[partycatty]

dark star!johnny cage > when i met you

johnny wants nothing more than to corrupt the pretty thing you are

warnings: we all know ds!jc is a piece of shit by now, have you read my other fics of him? LOL

notes: @iliketangerines ;)

MORE DS!JC > part 1* / part 2* / part 3* / part 4* / part 5* / part 6*

[ masterlist ]

• when johnny first laid his eyes on you, he was floored by just how... cute you were! there was a genuine attraction, he called it love at first sight, you called it "he asked me out 40 times until i said yes."

• in a literal sense, you were like a sweet little pet to him, something he wanted to leash and train to behave properly, to know how to be a star just like he was (though, you could never be at his level. he said so himself.)

• he would do absolutely anything for a single glance from you, from wearing his most expensive coat to spending an absolutely ridiculous amount of money at your workplace. with all these riches and no one to share with, he was ready to throw everything at you so you'd smile his way.

• johnny would sit in the corner of where you worked, covering his mouth with his palm and eyeing you down through his obnoxiously lavish sunglasses. you knew his gaze was on you, you always had, and it made you sweat bullets.

• lovebombing. he'd purr about what a good girl you are, how much he adores your every action, how he just wants to whisk you away and keep you for himself. johnny wanted you to fold quickly and easily; he was the cagester, nobody turns him down.

• he did actually love you in the beginning, as he would sit awake at night and fantasize about you sharing his giant bed with him. he wanted to toy with your hair, whisper sweet nothings, surprise you with gifts.

• you'd be the only think on his mind at the late hours in all senses. he wanted to fuck you stupid and then some, make you choke and slap you around until you served him like the toy you were.

• you were ensnared in his trap, the one he placed from the very beginning. you were charmed and it would lead to the worst mental downfall of your entire life.

• but, at the same time, he was so good to you. you lived the good life as tiring as it may be. johnny had no off switch, partying and blowing his money just to show you he could. you weren't going to find a better man than him, so you thought. not that he'd let you run off and choose another, anyway.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #mk1 #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage smut #mortal kombat smut

[floralcyanide]

ᴡᴀʟᴋ ᴏɴ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ ᴏʀ ᴅʀᴏᴡɴ ɪɪ — ᴄᴀʟʟᴜᴍ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇʀ

callum turner x reader

One of Callum's group members pulls a stunt that puts their life at risk, and you must calm Callum down.

✣ warnings: allergic reaction, smoking, mentions and use of needle

✣ word count: 0.6k

✣ author’s note: here's another part of the camp counselor au! it's a little short but I think I'll be writing more short fics for this au.

masterlist | divider credit: @cafekitsune

Boys will be boys. This means tween boys will dare each other to do things, even if it’s dangerous. A peanut allergy isn’t exempt from dares, unfortunately. Callum learns this quickly and harshly when one of the boys in his group consumes a peanut butter cup despite his life-threatening allergy to peanuts. He was dared by another boy in the group named Dallon to eat it, and Cole, who was the one allergic, wasn’t going to pass up a dare from Dallon. Cole didn’t want to be a wimp, so he ate it. Immediately, his throat begins to feel funny, and his tongue sits heavy in his mouth. Dallon starts to panic when Cole’s face turns red due to a lack of oxygen. Dallon bolts to where Callum is standing and talking to you in the mess hall.

“Uhh, Mister Callum?” Dallon wrings his hands nervously.

“Yes, Dallon?” Callum kneels down in front of the kid.

“Cole needs help.”

Callum looks over to where some kids are starting to gather around Cole, who is now struggling to breathe. Panic surges through Callum, and the both of you hurry over to the boy.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Callum asks Cole, and the boy weakly points to the candy wrapper.

“He’s allergic,” you say, eyes widening in realization, “Do you have an EpiPen?”

Cole nods, pointing to his backpack on the floor. Callum is rubbing Cole’s back to keep him as calm as possible, trying to keep himself calm as well. You rummage through the bag and find the pen. Luckily, knowing first aid was required to be a counselor, so you know how to use an EpiPen.

“Okay, Cole. You’re gonna feel a pinch in your leg,” you warn, uncapping the EpiPen and then injecting the needle into the boy’s thigh.

“Cal, go get the head counselor. Cole’s gonna have to go to the hospital, I’m afraid,” you grimace, “He could still go into shock.”

Callum nods and jogs out of the mess hall to call the head counselor over the walkie-talkie. He’s an absolute wreck. Watching a kid struggling to breathe was not on his to-do list today. Especially one of the boys in his group, for whom he is responsible. Callum wipes his sweaty forehead as you join him outside as the head counselor arrives and escorts Cole to the nursing cabin. Just as you are about to say something, Dallon walks up to you and Callum.

“It’s my fault, I dared him to eat it,” he frowns, “I didn’t think allergies were that serious.”

“It’s alright, Dallon,” Callum sighs, “But now you know what happens with allergies and not to do it again, right?”

“Right,” Dallon nods, “Am I in trouble, Mister Callum?”

“I think something like this is up to the head counselor, bud. But I don’t think you’ll go home just yet if it was an accident.”

The kids are given an extended lunch and are granted permission to go and play in the field by the lake until the head counselor figures things out. Cole is alert and breathing fine when paramedics arrive. You and Callum are hiding behind a nearby cabin as Callum sucks down a cigarette.

“He could’ve died,” Callum shakes his head, “And it’s because I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Even if you were, boys are gonna do boy stuff. You should know this,” you nudge him in the side, “When you’re that age, you’ll do anything you’re dared to. Cole may know how bad his reactions get and can tolerate them. Or maybe this was the first time he had a reaction to nuts. Either way, he handled it like a champ, and you were there to comfort him. You did great.”

“If anything, you did all the saving,” Callum snorts, “I would’ve chickened out trying to stab a kid with a needle.”

“Yeah, it’s scary, but at that moment, all that matters is helping the kid.”

“True,” Callum says, putting out his cigarette.

You kiss his cheek, “Let’s go before we get caught, or worse, someone gets hurt again today.”

#callum turner #callum turner x reader #callum turner x you #callum turner x y/n #camp counselor au #floralcyanide writes #callum turner fanfic #callum turner fanfiction #callum turner fic #callum turner imagine

[pandoa]

the henchman: a grimmer tale

where another overblot strikes night raven college, and the prefect is prepared to face the dark magic alongside both grim and their friends to save the day yet again. but... where was grim to begin with?

part two/prologue to this fic in grim's pov !! can be read separately grim x platonic!gender neutral reader

warnings: angst ~based off of the theory that grim eventually overblot and mc will be forced to fight him~

“Grim?” You called out into the empty hallways of your school, searching for your cat-like friend among the deserted classrooms of Night Raven. Through the windows of the college, you sensed that another event of chaos was brewing from the way the sky seemed to darken in black, foreboding smog as students from all over the campus began quickly making their escape from whatever discord that struck the premises of the school. 

Another overblot? The thought crossed your mind as you continued searching for Grim after being unsuccessful with finding him in his usual napping spot back at Ramshackle. Really, the thought of another overblot cursing Night Raven was not a surprising one. For something that was known to be a rare occurrence in a mage’s life, it was awfully common in the school you had happened to stumble upon after being taken away from your life back in your own world. Truthfully, all you wanted to do was to find your dear friend Grim and get this overblot over with.

But since when did things ever go your way in Twisted Wonderland in the first place?

“Grim?” You called out again, this time a little louder, until you spotted the familiar silhouettes of your four friends—Ace, Deuce, Jack, and Epel—approaching you in their usual group. Relief flooded over your senses as you hurried to meet them halfway, a thankful look to your face before you spoke. 

“Hey, have you guys seen Grim anywhere? Maybe somewhere near Ramshackle? I have to go get him before we go out to deal with that overblot again-”

“(Y/n),” Jack’s voice called out your name, his tone stern with a cold warning surrounding it, “Grim is the one who is overblotting. You won’t find him back at Ramshackle.”

You stopped in your own tracks as you turned to your friends. The slight shake in your voice was enough to make a few of them shift in regret. “W…what?” you managed to choke out.

Jack continued with his cold, direct tone, leaving you with no room to truly process what was actually happening, “We don’t know how it happened or what triggered him, but all we know is that Grim is overblotting right now as we speak. You do not want to see the state he’s in right now, not with everything you’ve been through together. It’s not safe either. Even the strongest mage in Twisted Wonderland would have trouble overcoming the blot in Grim.”

“It’s too dangerous to be out there, (Y/n),” Epel explained softly after Jack as he carefully walked closer to you. It was almost as if he was so scared that you would run away from them if he made any impulsive movements. The purple-haired first year then continued to speak while placing a sympathetic hand to your wrist, a gentle tug urging you to turn away from the havoc around you.

“Crowley sent us here to make sure you didn’t try to face Grim…” 

Epel and the rest of your first year friends all watched as your expression turned into one of bafflement at each of their actions. There was no way they were telling you to do what you think they wanted you to do. Grim was their friend too. They cared for him. They loved him as much as you did—or that’s what you always thought. There was no way they would just leave him to destroy himself in flames and dark, oozing blot…

No way.

“And you all were just going to what? Stop me from saving my best friend?” you spat as your eyes twitched in disbelief.

“...It was Crowley’s orders.”

The downcast gaze of each and every one of your friends sent a flurry of rage and anger through your veins. That answer was not enough. Not enough to turn your gaze away from your feline friend who absolutely needed you right now.

“To hell with what Crowley orders us to do!” A yell was heard from your form as you roughly yanked your wrist out of Epel’s grip, twisting to turn your attention back to Ace, Deuce, and Jack as well. 

“I don’t see him helping anytime soon!”

Ace interjected your outburst, clearly trying to at least reason with you. But nothing Ace or anyone else said to you would change your mind. That, you were sure of. “(Y/n), you know we would usually be on your side on this. But this time Grim’s overblot is just too danger-”

“It’s because it’s Grim out there that I have to help now!” You interrupted him back with a strain to your voice as you bit back a crack in your throat. A certain type of vulnerability no one had ever seen from you. Not until now. “He’s the only family I have left to hang on to!” 

“What do you guys not understand?!” 

You continued to shout as the group of first years noticed the small shaking of your hands. “(Y/n)... You know you can’t save everyone…”

… What?

A sharp pang then struck your stomach at those words as your expression contorted and ached into despair. Confusion filled the trembling of your form, the world around you suddenly going silent and suffocating. At that moment, everything surrounding you made you feel as if there were boulders being mounted onto your back as you stared into the grueling eyes of your friends in front of you, their gaze piercing and scrutinizing.

Why were they looking at you that way?

You’d never seen their expressions look so… distraught. Like they were lost and had no idea of what to do next. Even after everything you all had been through together—from dangerous spells, estranged housewardens, and random magical adventures—you still had never seen the faces of Ace, Deuce, Jack, and Epel appear so conflicted. So desolate. They were almost unrecognizable.

“Do you guys really think we should just let him suffer out there alone?” You glance up once more, ignoring their expressions as your voice softened. A sliver of pain was entwined in the way you could barely even bring yourself to finish your sentence.

“Ace? Jack? Epel?” You asked each and every one of them one by one, causing the young men to stand in silence as if even they, themselves, were ashamed of their own actions. A sigh then escaped your mouth at their reluctance to answer. 

“Even you, Deuce..?” You faced him, hoping that at least one of your first year friends would be on your side. But with the way Deuce just stood there, stance unwavering, you realized that for the first time since you met the people of Twisted Wonderland, you were inherently alone.

The deafening silence lasted for what felt like days until you managed to free your legs from the ground to begin slowly walking away, leaving all four of your friends to drown in their own thoughts. They clearly made their choice. And you would make yours. “I… I have to go,” you mumbled as you gradually turned running towards the shaking halls of Night Raven College. The first years remained rooted to the floors of the school as they wordlessly watched you flee, their expressions filled with worry and shame.

A sigh was then heard from Ace as he interrupted whatever thoughts were swirling through everyone’s minds. Walking the same path you had just been on, Ace then dragged Deuce with him as the two followed you into the trembling hallways surrounding you all after attempting to reassure Epel and Jack that they would handle this.

“We’ll go talk to them…” the two promised as they tried to catch up to wherever you had gone…

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“(Y/n)!” Ace’s voice rang in the flaming room, catching a certain prefect’s attention.

“What in Twisted Wonderland are you doing?!”

You turned to face your two friends, Ace and Deuce, with a petrified but unwavering look present in your eyes. Grim was out of control and if Crowley refused to help you for the thousandth time, someone had to stop him. 

Even a mere human with no magical abilities such as yourself would have to do.

“I’m saving Grim!” you replied back.

The Adeuce duo glanced at one another, concern for their friend clearly shown in their facial expressions.

“Saving him?! (Y/n), you’re insane if you think you can stop this!” 

Deuce added on to Ace’s chiding, his tone a bit softer as he gazed at the prefect, “(Y/n), there’s a big chance you won’t survive...”

You sighed, sorrow woven in the next words you said.

“Then I suppose I’m taking that risk. For Grim.” Screeching roars that could destroy one’s hearing enveloped the mirror chambers as the magicless freshman faced their beloved cat companion and friend.

You couldn’t comprehend why your friends tried to stop you. All you had wanted was for Grim to come home. Was that such a difficult thing to understand?

Tears began to threaten your eyes as you made your way towards what was left of the quickly disintegrating Night Raven mirror chambers as you left Ace and Deuce’s unreadable faces behind you. A combination of ashes, dust, and wet tears stung both of your eyes as you practically sprinted towards the raging chaos.

Blue flames mockingly danced around you as the heat radiated onto your sweltering skin. But despite the inevitable obstacles, you remained determined to bring your friend back to you as you took a deep breath, whispering your final string of hope into the smoke-filled air.

“Grim… please just come home… Please.”

a/n: alexa play i bet on losing dogs by mitski

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst theory #disney twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst grim #grim x reader #grim x platonic reader #platonic #twst angst #twst theories #twisted wonderland grim #deuce spade #ace trappola #epel felmier #jack howl #♢the scribe♢