#but it turns into a glaringly obvious thing he would miss if it changed (AND IT DID WHEN DEKU RAN AWAY)

[chandralia]

the intimacy of Deku just sitting behind Bakugo in class…

#I could write a NOVEL about this #SO I WILL #it’s such a ‘so close yet so far’ thing like??? #and the calm existence between the two #having to be quiet—to pass test papers back between one another— #every shift or sigh or stretch or yawn catching Deku’s attention #and the same for Bakugo’s Professional Eavesdropper ears #ALSO #the imagery of Deku always following behind Bakugo being threaded through something as mundane as class #Deku being seated behind Bakugo is like a funny jab at another annoyance Bakugo has to endure #but it turns into a glaringly obvious thing he would miss if it changed (AND IT DID WHEN DEKU RAN AWAY) #and in a story where tiny details are carefully chosen by the author SURE everyone else’s seats might be randomized #but not bkdk’s #Deku has the cliche anime protagonist desk position AND BAKUGO IS RIGHT IN FRONT IF HIM? #not off to the side or a row over—RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM??? #this just reiterates Bakugo as the deuteragonist too #ALSO ALSO it just scratches an itch in my brain #bkdk #dkbk #bakudeku #dekubaku #:’)

[sapphicstacks]

You ever make a shitpost that turns into a full character meta? Anyways: Imogen’s relationship with Pâté De Rolo.

When Laudna first introduces Pâté to the group, Imogen tells Orym that she “never gets used to it.” At first it felt like, this is The Thing. Imogen had already shown that she was down for Laudna’s whole Laudna-ness but it seemed Pâté was the first time Imogen showed a little recognition that something was a little funky. Imogen is down for all of Laudna’s quirks, she doesn’t even bat an eyelash at most of them but Pâté is kind of the one thing Imogen is still tentative about. However, with the added context of later episodes, it seems that Imogen’s relationship to this horny dead rat with a bird skull is actually a reflection of Imogen’s respect for Laudna’s agency.

There’s a blink-and-you-miss-it way that Imogen shows her love to Laudna. You could notice it in small moments but it was hard to put into words until very recently when Laudna’s resurrection ritual made it glaringly obvious. Imogen deeply respects Laudna’s personhood and cares for her agency. Any part of Laudna that she has little to no control over, Imogen won’t be caught dead trepidatious or weirded out by— especially in front of Laudna.

The fact that, of all of Laudna’s Things, Pâté was the only one Imogen gives pause to is important because it’s explicitly not an intrinsic aspect of Laudna. Yes, Laudna created and is controlling him but it’s distinctly Not Laudna. It’s not her body or her spookiness or her ichor or anything else that she can’t control. Pâté is a something Laudna can fully control and that’s why it is okay for Imogen to be hesitant. Her trepidation only is allowed to exist because it doesn’t conflict with her respect for Laudna’s personhood.

And over the span of 30+ episodes, it doesn’t get better. Imogen giggles and engages with Pâté sure, but she is still hesitating, still acknowledging that it’s weird. When Laudna dies and the puppet that gave her pause is tied to Imogen’s belt without a second thought, Imogen protects that horny rat just as Laudna would for a week— its an act of service to Laudna but it doesn’t mean that Imogen doesn’t have hesitation. In fact, it’s still there when Laudna returns and tells Percy about Pâté.

But that changes the moment that Pâté comes to life. There is no more hesitation for Imogen, no side comments or grimaced looks about how weird Pâté is. One minute it is there and then it is gone with one casting of Find Familiar later. She treats the independent Pâté just as she treats Laudna: with a deep and full respect for his personhood.

Under the sun tree? While the entire group is showing even greater confusion about Pâté now that he isn’t puppeted by Laudna, Imogen is giggling and telling Laudna “it’s good, it’s good!”

Imogen doesn’t show any apprehension on her face when Pâté is doing an interpretive dance by the fire. Why? Because Pâté is suddenly an aspect of Laudna that is beyond Laudna’s control. Pâté’s weird comments and mannerisms are no longer active choices made by Laudna and therefore, Imogen’s previous trepidation is no longer allowed to exist. Imogen’s treatment of Pâté is a reflection of the subtle, yet deeply important, ways Imogen cares for Laudna.

It doesn’t really matter whether Imogen’s love for Laudna is platonic or romantic in these moments. Imogen shows Laudna that she deeply loves Laudna by proving with her actions that she deeply respects her personhood. Sure, it is definitely funny that Imogen shows it through her treatment of a horny dead rat with a cockney accent but its also so distinctly them. Those small, silly, almost throwaway moments that have so much more meaning baked in.

#to be honest i really made that as a shitpost with half a thought in my brain about it #but then y’all really wanted it and i actually had to write a meta #this could change and Imogen could be weirded out angina in the future but she’s not right now #and i think the premise still stands #Imogen loves all of Laudna and doesn’t shame her for anything out of her control #the one time she did it during their fight was like her biggest regret at the time #they love each other so well #gAHH #cr meta #critical role #cr3 #cr spoilers #critrole #bells hells #laudna #imodna #imogen temult #critical role spoilers #pate de rolo

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

I wonder how Yves would deal with his s/o absolutely hate his guts. Like just one meeting and they already find his existence insufferable for no reason at all.

Another Anon Sent: Me , personally, would find Yves annoying as hell in real life. Mf is too composed

TW: mentions of past physical abuse (on Yves's side)

There is always a reason. Many reasons. The most glaringly obvious one is that if you don't like how he presents himself. Yves's existence already challenged a wide array of norms that had been established since the publishing of the bible. Maybe you don't like that he's a "man", "cosplaying" as a "woman". He knows a lot of people didn't, many of his old scars hidden under his turtleneck are there to prove that. Perhaps he's too good for you, unintentionally reminding you of your own inferiority. Perhaps, like what was described, he is too composed and put together that it seems suspicious.

And he understands that. He cannot please every category of people he comes across. This could mean you hating his entire being and viciously attacking his character for being the way he is. Yves accepted that, but it doesn't mean it hurts him any less. He may try his best to accommodate your wants, he can be malleable but only to a certain extent. His hair and makeup carry the weight of emotions and memories that you can never experience, and his mannerisms make up the legacy of all the crucial fragments of his life. Yves has his own identity and he cannot lose that. Without one, he knows he will fall apart and wither, all of his hard work will be for naught and you will be left unprotected.

Your hatred for him is an integral part of you, developed over years of exposure to your environment. No one is born loathing, it is the buildup of teachings from adults that causes it. As selfish as he is, he wouldn't just expunge it completely from your mind, even if he knows he can rewire your brain to an obedient little thing. That isn't you.

However, tolerance can be learned. If Yves knows you would have hated him upon initial contact, he wouldn't reveal himself too early. You still had years of maturing to catch up. He has time, he can wait. Yves will tailor your experiences, letting you mingle with diversity, and broaden your view of the world. He knows all the buttons, the levers, and the switches in your mind and how he could manipulate them to better you.

Not to say all your friends are paid actors and actresses, Yves doesn't even need to do that most of the time. All he needs is information, about who will be there, when will they be and why will they be there. And just like fate itself, Yves will bring you to them. Change needs to be gradual, the human mind simply cannot take massive shocks.

Maybe you find his tranquility irritating because you didn't grow up seeing that. Your home life could have been chaotic, unpredictable, and constantly needing you to turn on survival mode. Hence, seeing Yves as an anomaly in the world and rejecting the unknown. You're used to the mayhem, not the peace; at least in disorder, you know what to expect.

Then, Yves will give you a frame of reference. You will meet people of varying degrees of collectiveness, with him being on the extreme end of the spectrum. You will see more and more portrayals of similar personalities in the media. Then, surely but slowly, you will change.

Right?

Perhaps, no. You won't. You could stay the same and it would only mean his hypothesis wasn't correct. You might even get worse. And that is alright, this is in no way, shape or form a failure. He still succeeded, he succeeded in obtaining data. This is the scientific method, no outcome is still an outcome. It is this attitude that got Yves to where he is, to the mammoth collections in his office. He will try again, with another experiment design, with another hypothesis based on the last study's results. Why didn't it work? Was there something he missed? Did his bias get in the way? Was he not looking at the big picture this whole time?

Regardless, he will keep going. Each time, he learns something new about you that others may deem insignificant. But could potentially be the determining factor. And he notes it down without missing a beat.

That is why it takes years. That is why you're more likely to meet Yves only later in life. You still need more time to develop your views and you are constantly changing whether you like it or not.

Knowledge may not be the cure to hatred, but it is the cure to ignorance. Yves would do is present the world as best as he can in front of you, and let you think for yourself. To him, the gift of choice is the ultimate expression of love.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc yves

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Once Upon A Time on the Razor Crest

Summary: You (Ann) are looking to escape a bad situation with the help of Marshall Vance and Fennec, only to find yourself as a farm hand on the Razor Crest Ranch.

A/N: Hello Lovelies,

I may have mentioned a while back that I had a surprise for all of you, well here it is. A new Djarin fic, a modern/sci-fi AU, with Western Din.

Who can't love Din Djarin as a cowboy? I mean? hello!

The story will be a set of series all combined to tell the story of the Razor Crest Ranch.

Due to the past history of the OC there will be discussions alluding to past domestic abuse, please note that as it could be a trigger for some.

Warnings: Hints of past trauma, discussions of death, pseudonym, I think that's it, if I miss any warnings please let me know.

AO3 Link |   Words: 1,414 |   Next

Main Master List   |  Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

THE RAZOR CREST SEVEN

CHAPTER ONE

Yet, the land … sorry the ranch we were coming up to was breath taking, it backed on to two mountain ranges, in the distance. It looked like a happy place, almost idyllic in setting. If someone had told me, six years ago, my life would have changed so drastically from the fast, bustling, tall skyscrapers of Coruscant to this backwater, country ranch, I would’ve told them they were dreaming and full of crap. 

The road Marshall Vanth was driving on wasn't what I expected at all. The road was dusty and bumpy, and there were some glaringly obvious pot holes that he felt the need to go over. 

“You’ll like him” Cobb broke the silence that had filled his truck, “he may seem rough around the edges, but he’s a good man, just doesn’t like talking much. Or laughing. Or … well anyways, he’s a good man. Lost his wife a few years back, during childbirth, it was a really rough time, but her aunt Peli really stepped up and helped him out. His kid’s name is Grogu, good kid. Sweet kid. But definitely takes after him, in the silent department, but he’s been coming more and more out of his shell since he started attending school.”

“I see” I nodded as I listened to the information he had to provide. At least he had a very nice and soothing voice, however it didn’t seem to help the nervousness that was slowly etching it’s way into my system, as it grew with each passing minute. I clenched my hands against my knee, no one had mentioned anything about a kid, they told me this was just a ranch hand type of job, “How old?”

“Umm … let’s see” Cobb rested his elbow on his door as his forefinger trailed against his bottom lip, “Well she died … it’s … yeah … five or six, yeah around six years old.”

A huge tension released itself at hearing that, thank goodness it wasn’t a baby or a two year-old, I didn’t need any more reminders of the hell that had been my previous life, “Oh, so a young guy, kindergarten or Grade 1?”

“Yeah, somewhere around there, but like I said sweet kid” Cobb turned to look at his passenger, “listen if you don’t feel comfortable in anyway shape or form, give me a call and I’ll pick you up, Fennec and I can figure out some other plan. But you should know this guy … well he’s the kind of guy you want on your side.”

“Meaning?”

“If he considers you a friend or family, or if he respects you, he’ll fight tooth and nail for you. You can ask the next rancher down the way, Boba Fett, he’s had Din help him out a number of times.”

I simply nodded, trying to take in everything I could about the ranch that was drawing closer, the house was nice, a simple two-storey ranch home with a wrap around porch. There was a porch swing by the main door, a lovely blanket and several pillows draped across it. It strangely looked warm and inviting and yet gave the feeling that you were not welcomed.  

Behind the ranch, a water tower loomed from behind the roof, it looked well maintained despite adding to the menacing feel of the ranch. “Hmmm”

“What?”

“Oh nothing, I just really thought water towers were a thing of the past.”

“He’s a man who likes to be well prepared.”

Somehow knowing that little bit extra, made the ranch seem more welcoming, not a lot but a little. Like maybe five percent more welcoming. Okay, one. 

My eyes shifted from the ranch to the barn standing at the end of the road, the shingles looked newly replaced, however it definitely needed a paint job but looked functioning and not at all creepy like in some of those horror vids people were so fond of.

“You can’t see it from the road, but behind the house, there’s a lovely garden that Camilla planted and cultivated. She loved plants, flowers, herbs, in fact she planted lots of fresh herbs that she used for medicinal purposes. Something her grandmother taught her. I think. Maybe a great aunt. Either way, he's made an effort to keep it going strong. People from all around used to come to see her for medicinal help, since there’s only doctor in town, and he lives on the other end of the way. There's still a few who come and collect what they need but it's… yeah it's not the same. 

Anyway, there's also a lemon tree, various fruits and vegetables in general. When there’s an abundance, usually he’ll take a portion give to the elderly ones and the orphanage, and the rest whatever he doesn’t use he’ll sell, that’s what that stand was back at the entrance of the driveway” Vance motioned over his shoulder. “Well at least it's supposed to be for that, more often than not he just gives them away.” 

Cobb kept talking, sometimes having another person fill the silence helped ease the uneasiness I was feeling “He has two horses, a mare and a stallion, the hope is to have a foul by next spring, but who knows. Their names are Taika and Misty, he also has a nerf named Bessie. A nuna coop, with about 10 to 15 nunas, if none of the wolves got them.”

I turned my head to look at Cobb, shock written all over my face, “Wolves? I’m sorry did you say wolves?”

“Well yeah, we’re in Aq Vetina, and you’re pretty far out in the backcountry here, there are wolves.” Cobb let out a laugh, “Don’t worry, he’s a really good shot, use to be some sort of sniper or marine or something before he got married and settled down here. I think he was born here and then moved away or maybe not. I believe his brother is still in the military, but he doesn’t really talk about him. He’s not a ‘sharer’ per se.”

“That’s fine, I’m not exactly a sharer either” I smirked, and frankly I didn’t exactly want to be having a discussion with regards to the hell that had been my life on Coruscant. 

As we neared the ranch grew larger, I still couldn’t believe this was real. Not to mention, I couldn’t believe how long this driveway was, felt like I’d been on driving up to this ranch for half my life.

“How do you want me to introduce you?” Vance always made sure to give this option to anyone he was helping, it wasn’t his place to tell anyone their story that was their choice. 

It was the rule he and Fennec came up with, when they started this particular avenue of help. Not to mention it was a protection for those who needed the help; often times those that came to him and Fenn were ones that had no other recourse.

“Annie”

“Annie?”

“Yeah” 

“Last name?”

“Jones. Annie Jones”

“Generic enough, I like it. Remember, if you don’t feel comfortable…” Cobb stated as they pulled up to the front door, the truck’s brakes squeaking as he pressed down gently, followed by a slight shudder as the motor turned off.

“I comm you or Fennec at the number you gave me” I finished.

“Exactly, but give it a chance first, he really is a good guy. Silent, grumpy, opinionated, but good guy. I wouldn’t just let anyone interview with him. I value his friendship, and there’s always a chance he may not hire you.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, he’s not the only one who needs an extra hand, but I have a good feeling about this. Either way, I’ll wait around the property, till I hear the go ahead from him or you, and if you change your mind later on, no harm. Alright?”

I nodded, as I wiped the tears there were beginning to well up, I cried enough in the past few years, I didn’t need to cry anymore. Truthfully, I didn’t even know why I was crying, I cleared my throat overwhelmed by the kindness from not only Cobb but Fenn too, “I don’t know how to thank you guys”

“No need” he offered as he took the key out of the ignition, “we’ll make sure to ‘find’ your documentation with the correct information.”

“Thanks”

“Now are you ready to do this?”

“I think so”

AO3 Link |   Next

Main Master List   |  Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

Tag List:

@littlemisspascal@sprout-fics@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24 @spicymcnuggies @lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian

#din djarin x reader #din djarin series #din djarin fanfiction #din x reader #western din #cowboy din djarin #western din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian x ofc #the mandalorian #cobb vanth #grogu #mandalorian and grogu #peli motto #fennec shand #boba fett #mando fic #mando fanfiction #mando x reader #mando #the mandolarian

[velvetwyrme]

📌 info and directory

Heya! I'm Doozi, and this is my sideblog for all my fanfic/fanart content :]!! Currently posting Undertale related works but that may change in the future as my interests shift!

I tend to post reader insert/self-insert content, and occasionally you may also find Papcest or Sanscest here. I also post suggestive and explicit content over at @velvetsqwyrme on occasion ;]

YOU ARE IN CHARGE OF CURATING YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE. Do whatever, and block things as you like/need. I do my best to tag things, but please let me know if I miss anything.

ART TAG - AO3/WRITING - FIC RECS - COMMISSIONS - KO-FI

You can also find a list of my fics under the readmore :]!

Ongoing Works:

Flipping Fate [SFW] - Underfell!Papyrus (Edge) / Reader

Who knew that going along to a book club with your writer friend would land you in a romantic enemies to lovers slowburn? (co-written and beta read by @collegecomics18) Tags: #flippingfate #ff extras

Finished Works:

exes of varying degrees (EOVD) [MATURE] - Swapfell!Papyrus (Rus) / Reader (Previous relations with Everyone.)

[Warning for Suggestive Content and Discussions of Sexual Content] You go to meet your boyfriend's family and as it turns out you have encountered them all in the past! You even know some of them rather... intimately you could say. Extra scenes and bonus content (both NSFW and SFW) can be found in the companion fic! Tags: #eovd #exes and whys #eovd extras

UP HIGH! [SFW] - Underswap!Papyrus / Reader

Short Oneshot for Papyrus Self-ship Week > Prompt: Accidental Hand Holding Sometimes it's easy to forget that most of Papyrus' knowledge of the Surface was dependent on whatever could be salvaged from the dump. But at times like these, it becomes glaringly obvious. You have made a point to show him everything he's missed out on, in a hands on way.

#pinned #tags for easy access: #my art #flippingfate #ff extras #eovd #exesandwhys #wip #<- for work previews #chatter #fashion lineups

[random-writer-4884]

Bandage Wrap and some Sugar Chicken (Tony Stark X Depressed Reader)

Bandage Wrap and some Sugar Chicken

Tony Stark x Depressed Reader

By: @random-writer-4884

Description: After taking care of Tony and his mental health, your own mental health starts to collapse. You continuously push aside your own feelings until Tony and the team are away on a mission. While they're gone the temptation of the knife becomes a bit too much. (This fic is cannon divergent)

Content Warnings: Self Harm, Blood, cutting, descriptions of cutting, death, temporary death.

Nothing was wrong, per-say, you were just tired. It had been long. Long days, long weeks, long months. It had simply been long.

The fight against Loki had caused so many damages. The structural damage was glaringly obvious, although the repairs were happening quickly. I had watched as Stark Tower quickly became Avengers Tower. There have been a lot of changes to your home. You didn’t necessarily mind, it wasn’t too bad having more people to hang out with if you so chose to. Besides, you and Tony had a large handful of floors all to yourself. A few of those were only for you. And any floor you wanted to be out of reach for the avengers were entirely out of reach. Locked and kept strictly to you (and Tony). 

Loki was under strict monitoring and was secluded to his own floor within the tower. With some help from the asgardians and shield, they were able to fashion some fancy, yet comfy, bracelets to keep him from using magic. 

That was absolutely fantastic! Thor was very enthusiastic that his brother wouldn’t have to be locked in an asgardian prison (although it was rumored to be quite a nice place). 

And while it was quite a well planned out solution, there was one thing that wasn’t taken into account.

Tony

The man who consistently pushes away his own thoughts and feelings for others. It's true that to the public eye he appears to be some spoiled rich man without a care in the world, no one has quite realized the impact becoming Iron-Man had made on him.

You had spent countless nights holding him while he suffered from Afghanistan, and how much trauma he had. Finally things had started to look up for him. He started doing some things for himself, smiling. How his smile lit up the room. Maybe it didn’t for others, but damn did it make you happy. 

What no one had expected was for Tony to die. Granted he wasn’t dead now, but JARVIS had reported that once he fell from the wormhole and he was back online that Tony’s heart had stopped. It was a miracle he was alive, and while it was an amazing thing it left him with even more trauma.

More sleepless nights, he stopped smiling for himself again, and you did everything you could to be there for him. And after many more months of taking care of him you finally saw some progress. Smiles started returning, he was eating without having to be reminded. There were always bad days but it was so much better than before.

Of course nothing was exactly easy anymore. While you had been taking care of him, your own mental health had suffered. You wouldn’t call yourself suicidal, or even wanting to hurt yourself, but the knife was tempting. 

Okay, maybe something was wrong, but you certainly weren’t going to admit that. Besides, Tony already had enough going on. With Loki living in the same building, it was hard to avoid the anxiety attacks.

Tony and the rest of the team were on a mission, you had a few hours left before they would return. Besides, once they did everyone would be exhausted, Tony would either lock himself into his workshop or he would go straight to bed. You had plenty of time all to yourself.

You went to your floor, and coded to lock Tony out. Although it really wouldn’t matter. No one would walk in on you. 

“JARVIS, Turn off the cameras and audio surveillance in this room.”  

“Miss, are you sure about that?” The AI pipped in relatively quickly

You sighed “Turn them off JARVIS.”

“Yes Miss.” Was the simple reply. 

You sat down on the bed and pulled out your knife. You had made sure razors blades had been removed after Loki’s invasion, if for no other reason than because trauma can fuck with someones brain. 

You took a deep breath and put the knife to your thigh.

Just one cut.

That turned into two

Into three.

Four…

Five…

Six… 

You had forgotten how hard it could be once you started. The blood was addicting. Just a couple of droplets at first, then more. You had kept up with wiping it up, if for no other reason to avoid the question of blood on the sheets. 

You sat for a few minutes, just wiping the blood as it fell. Not quite giving it the chance to stop.  The pain stung, and it was somehow calming. 

It was nice… until there was a loud knock at the door. 

“JARVIS! I thought I locked down this floor!”

“You did Miss, but it has been overridden.” JARVIS calmly replied. 

You quickly stuffed the knife and dirty towel under the sheets, ruffled your hair, and quickly hid underneath the covers. “Who is it?” 

“It's me darling, open up please.” 

It was Tony… and he wasn’t supposed to see this. You didn’t reply right away, and you heard his call to JARVIS.

“JARVIS, override the door lock and let me the hell in.” 

Yeah that was expected. You heard a click and the door whirred open and closed as he walked in. You closed your eyes quickly, and slowly opened them when you felt his weight dip onto the bed.

“Good morning, sleepy head” he said as he placed his hand on your hair, gently brushing it aside. You faked a yawn and leaned into his hand.

“Morning. What time is it? You aren’t supposed to be back yet.” You said, trying to make it sound as sleepy and realistic as possible.

“It's late enough,” Tony said, “that you shouldn’t be in bed anymore.” He moved his hand so his thumb was right under your eye and gently rubbed in up and down. “And I’m home, because the mission didn’t need me anymore. Besides, I wanted to spend some time with you.”

“Tones that’s so sweet.” You feigned a stretch and another yawn. “I’ll get dressed and I’ll meet you in the living room in a few minutes and we can watch something or order some food.”

He nodded. Good, it would give you time to wrap this up and get dressed before he could figure it out. “Actually, I think I’d like to just stay here. Perhaps just some snuggles. I am a bit tired.” 

“How about we get dinner! I’m sure you're absolutely starving! We could get some of the Shawarma you've been begging me to try?” You struggled trying to find anything to deter him from the bed.

He started to pick up the covers, and you quickly shuffled to try to pull them down. 

“Darling” he started, before he even revealed your thighs “I know something is very wrong, and I need you to tell me. Otherwise I’ll find out myself. Alright?” You froze. There was no way you were getting out of this. 

You weren’t speaking. Just staring at him in fear. What if he got angry? What if he threw you out? 

He sighed as he continued lifting up the covers, revealing your thighs next to a bloody knife and towel. Tony looked from your thighs back into your eyes. You were shaking, and tears began to form in your eyes. 

You closed your eyes and turned away, expecting some sort of outlash. Instead you were met with the towel gently pressing onto your thigh. You opened your eyes to watch him sit down next to you and gently dab at the wounds. 

When he saw you staring he took one hand away to place on your face and gave a gentle kiss to your forehead. “It's alright sweetheart, I’ll be right back. I just need to grab something, alright?” You looked at him and nodded.

He got up from the bed and walked out the door, before it closed behind him you heard him call out to JARVIS. From there you couldn’t understand the conversation. So you simply sat there and waited for his return. 

When you looked down at what you had done, you immediately felt terrible. Angry red lines glared back at you and you couldn’t stop the tears. With all you did to help Tony and not be a burden, here you are… being a burden to him.

He came back into the room a few minutes later, and sat down on the bed. He had a box in his hand that he set down so he could hold your face. “It's alright princess, cry all you need to. I’m right here for you.” With that he pulled you into his chest and held you as you cried, gently letting his fingers comb through your hair. 

Once the sobs subsided, and you were left with some hiccups, Tony gently pulled you away from his chest. “I’m going to need to clean these now, is that alright darling?” You nodded as he opened the box he had set down. You didn’t watch as he cleaned it, but you felt as he gently wrapped it with a bangaging wrap. 

When he was done, he slowly leaned over and gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead. He pulled away with a gentle smile. 

“C’mon now sweetheart. Dinner should be here any time now. I had JARVIS order that sugar chicken stuff you like from, ugh what was it?”

“Panda Express, sir” Jarvis piped in 

“Yeah! That! I had him get whatever you tend to get, I can never remember between Panda and the family run place a few blocks away.” He smiled as he got up from the bed and grabbed one of his seriously oversized shirts and handed it to you. 

“This should be nice and comfortable. Be gentle on that leg. Try not to sleep on it or do anything strenuous. It shouldn’t be needing stitches, but if they get torn open I’ll have to send you to get some. For now they’re good though.” 

Once you finished fumbling with the shirt he handed you, you looked back up at him. “Tony?” Your voice was barely more than a whisper. He hummed in response. “How did you know what to do? And why weren’t you angry? And-” 

Tony gently puts a finger to your mouth to cut you off. “I’m not angry because no one should get angry over this. Clearly you're hurting, and it wouldn’t help to get angry.” He sat back down next to you before continuing. “I’ve had my struggles too sweetheart, I didn’t want to risk you getting an infection. I got one once and ooh it was a struggle to deal with on my own. I didn’t need the press to get involved.” 

He pulled you into a hug when JARVIS spoke through the speakers. “While I am very sorry to interrupt you both, your dinner has arrived and Mr. Hogan is getting very impatient since he cannot leave the elevator.”

Tony chuckled as he stood up. You went to follow but he reached an arm under your shoulder blades and the other under your knees and picked you up. You started to protest but Tony simply ignored you as he sat you down on the couch.

As Tony strutted to the elevator you realized you never actually found out why he was back so early. “Tony! Why are you actually back so early?”

He turned back to look at you “Oh! Yeah! JARVIS told me that you had locked the floor, turned off the video and audio. I sorta figured something wasn’t right so I dipped out on the mission. They were fine without me.” He quickly turned on his heels and went to the elevator.

You looked up at the ceiling before shouting,

“JARVIS YOU TRAITOR!”

#tony stark x reader #the avengers #mcu #tony stark #iron man #iron man x reader #x reader #sh #Tony stark x depressed reader #depressed reader #cutt1ng #cannon divergent #set after #avengers 1 #avengers 2012 #anthony edward stark #fanfiction #avengers #marvel avengers #Anthony stark #Anthony stark x reader #jarvis #tony #J.A.R.V.I.S

[winksasleeplesseye]

recordatio (two)

SUMMARY: Soon after President Graham's daughter has been kidnapped, one of AUPIT's top operators is taken as well. Graham puts Leon on the case and now he's here in Spain. Thinking about the mission and the past few years.

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

WARNINGS: cursing, some violence mentioned

[SERIES MASTERLIST]

Spain

2004

Leon is sure he’d always wear a scowl on his face, with the thoughts that ran through his head, it’d almost become his resting face as of late. He’d certainly never imagined this is what his life would turn out to be.

Things changed on a massive scale after Raccoon City, that was pretty clear.

But, the chain of events afterward still trips Leon up every once in a while. To put it lightly, it was a shitshow. 

Resting his head in his palm, he kept his eyes trained on the forest outside the car window as the car whizzed past. The darkness and the gloominess seemed to match how he felt and looked. Like shit. 

Any residual feelings of happiness or any related emotion had long been buried deep within himself. He learned that quickly after everything, that part would probably never fully come back as it once was. 

He looked over the pictures in his lap once again. One of a girl he only knew recently and one of a woman he’d never forget. Leon considers it purely coincidence that the president’s daughter and their first best agent (he did not ever think anyone could really be better than her) are both found in the same area.

But at the same time, he knows that can’t be the case. 

He’d been briefed on both. 

Amara's disappearance puzzled him more. 

Amara. 

Just thinking about her set off loneliness in Leon. Regrettably, the last they’d seen of one another had been so long ago that Leon was afraid he’d forget her. Her eyes. Her smile. Everything about her.

A part of him wanted her to forget him altogether. But another couldn’t bear it. It’s probably why there was a sick, underlying excitement that Leon had to be able to save her…to just see her again despite the circumstances. 

He had to admit, his avoidance of her had been self-imposed. She had never asked him to leave her but they both made deals they couldn’t take back and Leon wouldn’t be able to live with himself, knowing he was the direct cause of her suffering, especially at the hands of the government. 

Her and Sherry. 

Both of them were innocent. 

They deserved normal lives. As normal as one could get after what they’d all been through. 

Get your shit together, you idiot.

“So, tell me, Yanqui….why did you come to this horrible place? As close to nowhere that I’ve ever seen?” The older officer’s voice breaks him out of his pensive reverie, giving him a sidelong glance. The mission is on a need-to-know basis and quite frankly, these officers didn’t need to know anything beyond the surface level. 

“Let’s just say—looking for some people,” Leon answers plainly, calmly. Keeping his cards close to his chest is necessary. 

He’d learned that very quickly. The world of espionage trumped the world of your friendly neighborhood beat cop. 

“These people must be very important, eh?” The officer turns back to look at the dark road ahead. He continues speaking. “The chief gave the orders himself. “Help him,” he said.”  

“Well, I’m sure you boys didn’t come all the way out here to roast marshmallows…or maybe you did,” Leon attempts to joke. Eh, he’s a bit rusty. The older officer still manages a slight chuckle. 

“You have a strange sense of humor,” he states. Leon wants to be offended but he doesn’t have it in him to debate him otherwise. “I’m gonna let you in on a little secret. Just between us.” 

Leon waits for him to continue. 

“A lot of people have gone missing around here. And it’s been that way for a while now.” 

He takes the information into consideration. Clearly, this isn’t their first rodeo but it also makes it glaringly obvious to Leon that they, for lack of a better term, were incompetent. 

Telling him this as if it weren’t the least bit concerning…is concerning. 

If this were six years ago, the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed rookie cop in him wouldn’t be able to stomach such a thing. Well, Leon now still couldn’t stomach that. But he’s not about to tell these men how to do their jobs so he keeps his response simple enough. 

“Well then…should be just another day in the office, right?”

The officer hums. “I mean, last week there was a search for some missing hikers.” 

“I’m sure you’ll do your best to help me…” He just wants to get this conversation over with. Thankfully, that seems to be it so he turns his eyes back out towards the scenery. 

It seems like hours before they’ve come to the very end of the road. Realistically it was probably more likely thirty minutes but Leon hadn’t checked his watch. 

“I think this is it,” the young officer announced. 

Leon turned his head forward as the older officer addressed him, “Nature calls, eh? I’ll be right back.” He simply nods in response. 

He follows the man with his eyes as he sets off to do what he has to do until he no longer sees him. He wasn’t about to watch nor want to see a man take a leak. 

The younger officer offers him a smoke and he waves him off.

A dense fog sat just above the bushes, weeds, grass and rocks sprawled out before the car. The trees and their thin branches bent in towards each other, almost like they were preparing to nab anyone who got near them. 

Just ahead on the left in a small clearing within the thicket, beyond an old, rotted fence, nestled just above the tall grass, Leon noticed a strange wooden symbol. 

Not exactly a cross, he knows those too well. This was different. 

Leon really didn’t want to think too much about what it meant but he would keep an eye for more of these symbols. It was put there for a reason. 

“He sure is taking his time. Did he fall in?” The young officer questions out loud, looking at the direction his partner had left. Leon kept his eyes trained in that direction too. It had been a bit but he didn’t want to question the officer’s bathroom habits. 

Somehow, he could just sense the eyes burning into the side of his head from the rearview mirror. 

“Maybe you better go and take a look?” 

Have to do everything myself, don’t I? 

Leon got out of the car, glancing towards the path the officer had taken. 

“I’ll watch the car. Wouldn’t want to get a parking ticket.” The young officer had a stupid smile on his face as Leon turned to look at him before walking ahead to the path, which was blocked by sharp branches. 

Leon sighs to himself. “So much for helping me.” 

Fuck. 

That’s just about the only thing Leon could repeatedly say as he fought like hell with these people. Something is seriously wrong with them. 

As if shit didn’t already hit the fan back at the lodge, discovering the body of the other younger officer being burnt alive in effigy in the village square probably sent it through the ceiling.

While Leon didn’t exactly expect a walk in the park as far as missions go, he definitely wasn’t expecting shit to go sideways this fast. 

Nor did he expect a mangled looking maniac with a bag over his head to try his best to gut him like a fish with a chainsaw. 

It’s Leon’s lucky day, isn’t it?

The only benefit now is that he was less like a deer in headlights at even the mere sight of a hostile individual—zombie or otherwise—and didn’t hesitate, not even for a second. That split second could cost someone their life if they weren’t quick. 

Go with your gut, don’t think. 

The first thing he’d been taught that stuck with him. Leon did consider himself a bit of an overthinker even now outside of his work, every interaction, every single thing he’d done, but Kra—Major instilled in him that in the heat of battle that overthinking your next moves was the difference between an alive soldier and a dead soldier. 

Leon wanted to be neither if he thought too much about it. He just wanted to be Leon.

But right now, he was down to the wire and he’d exhausted all his firepower to keep the villagers at bay. He didn’t come this far to fail. 

Leon pulls out the knife he’d been carrying since Raccoon, more than ready to defend himself and fight like hell as they close in on him from all sides but a chiming of a bell stops the villagers dead in their tracks. 

“Huh?” 

Leon quietly followed after them, they had laid down their weapons and walked toward the chiming that emanated from their church’s bell. Almost in a trance-like state as they muttered the same words over and over again. 

Was that all it took to stop their attack on him? Somehow he wished he knew that sooner.

A slight cold breeze goes through the air as Leon watches them file in one by one to the church, one of the villagers with his bloodshot red, almost beady eyes stares him down as he shuts the door. 

But it seemed as though absolutely no thought was held behind his eyes. Something about it unnerved the shit out of Leon. He can take dirty looks thrown at him, he’d gotten his fair share during training, but at least he could tell they were alive. These people? They were almost like…zombies. 

Leon can’t help but be a tad annoyed but for once, he saw the bright side of this only briefly though. He even had time to joke to himself. “Where’s everyone going? Bingo?” 

It’s dark, severely dark. And smells like a potato sack, lake water, and skunk. Or what she assumes is skunk. 

Amara finds that she’s more shocked at being alive than being tied up in a horrendous-smelling sack. The man, Bitore Mendez, if she remembered correctly what Luis called him, had thrown her so hard, she should be dead. 

She guessed that’s one benefit to this…power. It feels disgusting to even think that. 

Of course, that power certainly wasn’t getting her out of this bag anytime soon. She grunted as she tried with all her might to perhaps loosen some of the ropes tied around various parts of her body. 

No luck.

Whatever happened in the time she was unconscious in Luis’ lab to now certainly had something to do with it but it worried her how unbothered she actually was about it. 

“What did they plan to do to me? Roast me over a fire?” She asks no one in particular, though it’s a bit muffled considering the sack right up against her face.

The gash at her side stings slightly, no doubt that it was scabbed over by now. 

Footsteps sounded nearby, and the shining of a flashlight illuminated the small holes in the material of the sack. Amara froze when the footsteps stopped, she only prayed it wasn’t that big guy again. Another bout with him might actually kill her. Well, if she’d call it a bout…he had her bested from the start. 

The same flashlight now shines even brighter in her eyes, free from the cover of the sack to obscure some of it.  

Amara instinctively looks away, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the space beyond the light. 

“You changed your hair.” Amara’s head snaps back towards the light, looking above it to see…

…Leon?

No way. She had to be dreaming. 

But…she knows those blue eyes anywhere. She also notices fairly purple eye bags underneath them, a clear sign that he hasn’t been sleeping much. His hair is definitely lighter too. His voice is deeper, more mature. He was still as fine as five Fridays, thank goodness. Things had changed, yet stayed the same at the same time. 

He was definitely not how she remembered him, but somehow to her, that was a good thing. Maybe if she could reach out and touch him, she’d have more confirmation. He’s real. He’s here. 

Amara cycles through all the things she could say right now, but all she manages to say despite the situation with a stupid smile in return is, “You got bigger.”

Leon tries to fight an obvious smile, something Amara thinks he hasn’t done in a while. “Comes with age.” 

He pulls out a knife, cutting through some of the ropes around her body and the circulation she didn’t know she was losing comes back to her quickly. A slight tingle in her muscles at the sensation. 

“Can you stand?” Leon offers her a hand. 

Amara nods, clenching her fists a few times. “Think so,” She takes his hand, immediately ignoring the electricity that pulsed through her at the contact. Frankly, she wanted more. 

Beyond Leon’s flashlight, she couldn’t see much else in this room. Maybe a few wooden boxes and things covered in drapes that hadn’t seen a good wash in at least a decade. She could definitely hear the familiar push and pull of water against the shore outside. 

 It was terrifyingly dark but standing by the light made her feel safe for the moment. Even with barely any light, Amara takes a good, long look at Leon as he scans the room. 

His softer, more cherub features she remembered from Raccoon City were replaced by more hardened, defined edges. His face seemed etched in a permanent hard stare that relayed a message that he didn’t want to be fucked with. 

Unmistakably Leon. Just without the glow of optimism. 

Such is the way of going from a boy to a man, she guesses.  That and a zombie outbreak that destroyed a whole city. 

Throwing caution to the wind, Amara grips Leon tightly in a hug. He’s warm, almost snuggly with his fur-lined bomber jacket and not to mention, the muscle he packed on. “You really are a sight for sore eyes, Kennedy, you know that?” She mutters, resting her head against the collar of his jacket. Leon seems hesitant to hug her back, but eventually, she feels a hand on the small of her back and another over her shoulders. 

Their hug is brief, but it’s more than enough for Amara right now. What she really wants is to kiss those plump lips of his but this situation probably isn’t the most appropriate time for it, all things considered.

Glancing around the area, she eyes another sack moving around in the dark. “You should probably get that guy out too.” 

Leon followed her line of sight with his flashlight, moving closer and kneeling down to rip open the sack. She wanted to laugh at seeing Luis with duct tape over his mouth but decided against it. They must really not want him to talk for some reason. 

With no warning, Leon rips the tape quickly to be met with a grunt of pain on Luis’ end. “That really hurts, you know?” 

“Seemed like you really wanted to talk.” 

“How observant, senor. Now, uh, say, uh, you got a smoke?”

“You know, those things'll kill ya.”

His eyes fell upon Amara once again, “Hermosa, help me out here, would ya?” 

She wears an almost flirtatious smile, “Of course, guapo. What do you need, besides a lesson in manners?" Luis briefly screwed his face up in what Amara assumes is annoyance. 

“Oh, well, maybe just untie me then?” He shuffled around within the bag, turning on his side and his eyes widened at something behind them. 

“¡Joder! Not this guy.” 

Both of them turn their eyes toward…

“Oh, come on!” Amara rolls her eyes while Leon immediately aims his gun at—who else?—Mendez. Something about his presence immediately numbs all her senses, she can’t move, can’t think, can’t do anything. 

She tries with all her might, breaking a sweat at the effort to even move from her kneeling position on the floor. It was like an invisible elephant had decided to sit on her shoulders.

What the hell? 

“Who are you? Stop right there!” She can hear Leon try his best to remain in agent mode, but Mendez yokes him up easily by the throat. He throws Leon as if he were merely a bug in his path. 

The force of it breaks down one of the wooden boxes and Amara can just barely see as Leon’s body laid at an awkward angle within the broken pieces of the remnants of the box, head hung down limply against his chest.

It was like her voice had been taken from her, she couldn’t even scream for Leon as Mendez stood over him, she couldn’t see what he was doing to him before whatever held her in place seemed to cut her airways now. 

The last thing she sees before passing out is Mendez turning towards her.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #Leon kennedy x oc #oc amara moore #leon kennedy x black oc #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #leon scott kennedy #re4 remake #resident evil #black oc #mixed race oc #mixed oc #original black character #luis serra #luis serra navarro #aod fic #ashley graham #Leon kennedy x mixed race oc #re 2 #re 2 remake fanfic #re 4 remake fanfic

[7-wonders]

Series

Love Me Now–Meeting Duncan’s family for the first time, you’re faced with the glaringly obvious facts: You don’t belong. 

Part One | Part Two

Memento Mori–When being in the wrong place at the wrong time lands (Y/N) in the blood-stained hands of D.C.’s most notorious crime boss, Duncan Shepherd, she finds herself unexpectedly in his debt. Perhaps owing the dangerous man a favor would be more torturous if he weren’t so engaging.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14

Beauty and the Beast!Duncan Shepherd AU

Wilted Roses Smell Just as Sweet–How Duncan came to become the monster that he is when he and reader’s paths cross.

This Place of Wrath and Tears–Jim is missing, and nothing can prepare you for what you stumble upon in your quest to find him.

A Gentleman’s Guide to Wooing Your Prisoner–You begin to resign yourself to life in a prison cell, when things somehow manage to become even stranger. Alternately, Duncan deals with his staff and fellow prisoners having hope for the first time since the curse was placed on his home and everyone in it.

This Cruel Trick of Fate–A quick blurb from Duncan’s POV.

Down the Rabbit Hole–You make a decision about your stay at the enchanted manor, but at what cost?

Days In the Sun–Readers can have little a Beauty and the Beast oneshot, as a treat

Hints of Kindness–With Duncan, it seems to be one step forward and two steps back.

Here's Where She Meets Prince Charming (but she won't discover that it's him 'til Chapter 3)–Thunderstorms do not conjure good memories for Duncan. He finds a kindred spirit in you.

Something There–It’s one of the best times of the year, and Duncan is about to find out why you love it so much.

Letters to Jim

Oneshots

Gala Blues–At a political gala, you’re ridiculed and objectified by some of Duncan’s colleagues. A fight ensues between you and Duncan, continuing to a standoff that can only end in one way.

 Kiss Me Through the Phone–The Republican jerk who follows you on Twitter turns out to actually be kind of nice. You’re more than content with him just being an internet acquaintance, but plans change when it turns out that he’s going to be attending the same event tonight as you.

Come Out and Play–Your boyfriend, Duncan, has a few tricks up his sleeve to help you relax after the stressful day you had.

From the Desk Of…–The mandatory class you’re forced to take this semester is enough to make you consider dropping out of college. The only thing that makes it bearable is your teacher: Professor Duncan Shepherd. He’s smart, handsome, witty, and, not to mention, twenty years your senior. 

Like an Animal (werewolf!Duncan)–Duncan finds himself in big trouble when he gets trapped in an elevator with you the night before his shift and in the midst of his heat. (Werewolf!Duncan Shepherd)

Service With a Scribble–Duncan’s a dick to a cashier, and (Y/N) decides to get back at him with a healthy dose of kindness.

Violent Delights (incubus!Duncan)–Accidentally summoning a seductive incubus leaves you between a rock and a hard place, but do you really want out of this as much as you claim?

As the World Falls Down–You’ve stood by Duncan through thick and thin, but when the true intention of the app he’s been developing is revealed, everything crashes down around you.

Inside Out–After one too many instances of Duncan being the token stuck-up rich guy, you’re ready to show him how the rest of America lives by taking him through a day in your life.

All the Time In the World–Life has thrown you a few curveballs lately. Between absolute chaos wreaking havoc at your job, being too busy to sleep and your schedule not meshing with Duncan’s, you’re stressed beyond measure. So stressed, in fact, that you don’t notice you miss your period until you’re two weeks late. 

Duncan Shepherd NSFW Alphabet

Single Dad!Duncan

Clingy Werewolf Boi

Honey Honey, Nearly Kills Me (werewolf!Duncan)–You learn Duncan's secret in probably the worst way

Popular Duncan tags: #werewolf duncan #professor duncan

#please ignore me updating masterlists for the first time in two years #you don't see anything #just read and enjoy #duncan sheperd imagine #duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd imagines #duncan shepherd x reader

[normal-looking-male]

am i allowed to ask what the deal is with hunter? i don’t mean to be rude im genuinely curious and remember little to nothing about s2 :0

GREAT QUESTION. I'm gonna avoid tagging this as anything Owl House-related at all, but if somebow a fan of Hunter sees this: Scroll past. You're not gonna like this post. (This is written spontaneously and without any reviewing or editing, so if I stop making sense at a certain point, R.I.P. to me, I guess.)

:readmore:

So, in his first appearances as the Golden Guard, he was pretty much just a snarky extension of Belos. A little shit causing trouble for the protagonists, threatening them and clearly revelling in his deeds.

And then the mask came off, and Dana mentioning that he's one of her favourites became glaringly obvious. Suddenly, this guy whose whole thing was that he was unquestioningly loyal and obedient to Evil White Man McGee, and as just another antagonist, he was great! But then suddenly he was this poor innocent little guy that just wanted to impress his uncle. Adorable, but this awkward uwu little guy was a bit of a tone shift. Where was all this timidity and morals when he was all for dropping best titan, my boy King, to his death?

It's just. So glaringly obvious Dana wanted to pull a Zuko, but Zuko was there from Book One of Avatar, and we could actually see him be an impatient and traumatised teenager, we saw his tragedy before we saw his cruelty. In fact, we are made aware early on that the reason he's on this quest in the first place was because his "crime" was not wanting people to die. We didn't get that with Hunter. We are just informed that he was led to believe what's right and what's wrong by Belos. But unless I missed something, he's most definitely been revelling in the damage he did on his own, without Belos there to tell him "now threaten their dog", or something.

Hunter could see the destruction that was caused by the Emperor's coven, and had an olive branch extended to him one after another by pretty much everyone else in the cast, but none of Belos' actions or the damage they did mattered to him until he found out he's a Grimwalker. He didn't absolutely obey Belos anymore, and would hide Flapjack from him and whatnot, but he was still loyal, and would excuse every horrible thing Witch Hitler ever did, until it affected him personally.

And that was probably the nail in the coffin for me. He only started to team up with the good guys proper after he found out he was just Belos' attempt at resurrecting Caleb. He only cared about the damage Belos has done and will do when he was the victim for a change. Kinda like every other teenage cis white boy that realised Nazism Is Bad, Actually, only when it affected him in a negative way. But, because he made some sad noises and was an awkward dorky uwu bean, the fandom latched onto him. Mostly it was the straight women that saw another angsty Varian-Kylo Ren-Hordak-(HORRIBLY MISINTERPRETED) Zuko-Some other villains whose names I can't be bothered to remember kind of guy, who was blatantly antagonistic and violent, clearly took pleasure or pride in his evil deeds, and had some vUlNeRaBlE sCeNeS, and then did a heel turn at the last possible second. Usually because, again, now that he felt he didn't wanna be a mass murderer anymore, he was now gonna be a good guy, everyone else be damned.

Of course the second his mask came off he was shipped with Luz and Amity (even though Amity is a lesbian, but hey, when has canon ever mattered to that part of the Owl House fandom), of course when that stopped working, he was shipped with Willow. And, here's the fun part, it's not because they work together. It's just shipping for the sake of shipping, just so that their special little blorbo can be shoved into dicussions about characters other than him, and most likely in part just the straight women using Willow as a vessel for projection, because they wanna kiss the angsty white boy, and Willow's more of a self-insert in that scenario. If Amity wasn't confirmed lesbian, I guarantee she'd be shipped with him way more, because the majority of the straight women that would eat the dirt off of Hunter's shoes are... Drumroll... Crackers themselves. Amity would just easier to project onto for them.

The recent episode isn't helping. Even in the conversation at the start that Hunter has with Luz, the second she mentions her worries and struggles, of course he makes it about himself. I shouldn't have been surprised at the audacity, given how self-centered his worldview is, but I just. I can't. I can't overlook that just because he got excited about wolves, or because Flapjack had to sacrifice himself to save his sorry ass, or because other characters just inexplicably care for the guy that would have probably executed them himself, if the Grimwalker part never became apparent to him.

The crew was robbed of a proper third season, we did not get everything Dana had planned for him, and me typing up this whole post is kinda hypocritical, given that the reason I don't even engage with the community anymore is because of the Hunter oversatutation. There's better characters to focus on. I'm just so damn tired of seeing him as a "parallel to Amity", or "sibling to Luz", or "crushing on Willow", or "adopted by Eda", I've genuinely had enough of this guy. He did not have an actual redemption arc. He just abruptly switched to being intended as sympathetic to the audience, because he's Dana's favourite, and the majority or the audience gobbled it up. My general distaste for angsty dickheads becoming The Fandom's Faves is also probably not helping with my growing disdain for his character, and what he represents in fandoms overall.

There's three potential fixes that could have been for him.

Disney not being jerks, and letting us have the full story. Maybe in that alternate timeline where Hunter actually had all his development, grew past what Belos drilled into his head, and actually at least properly apologised to the ones he hurt and betrayed (no, him kneeling before Camila is not cute, it's a sign the guy still thinks he has to serve someone, and no, Luz, he is not family, he triED TO KILL YOUR ACTUAL FOUND FAMILY ON MULTIPLE OCCASIONS, ARE YOU INSANE-), I could actually move past my own dislike of him, and at least be neutral about his presence in the show.

Dana making up her mind about him either being a little shit or Just A Little Guy..., and also him actually willingly wanting to leave the Emperor's Coven for the sake of anyone besides himself. She had to just. Make him not selfish, it is not that hard. Make him actually compassionate and caring instead of other characters saying he is, and making him go 🥺🥺🥺 at that. It would change the order of certain events, but would at least work with the rest of the plot.

Keep him a bad guy without the uwu bean part, or just cut him out entirely. You'd have to rewrite the way the story progresses quite a lot, but that wouldn't be too big of a loss.

Also, I tend to half-jokingly headcanon characters as LGBTA+ even though canon would kinda go against that, but he's the exception. Like, not even from a "historical accuracy" standpoint. I can see, for example, Brendan from Secret Of Kells as transmasc. Ninth century my ass, the entire Abbey of Kells is Welcoming And Accepting[tm], and nothing gives me reason to believe any of the inhabitants would have been dicks about it. Meanwhile Belos canonically wants to wipe out witches in a very brutal way, most likely because he's still salty that Caleb boinked one, and is one of the most inarguably evil villains in recent kids' (well, teens seem to be more like the target audience, but y'know) media. If his bro 2.0 exhibited any signs of not being a cishet, he'd be dumped into that one cave where the previous Golden Guards got thrown out, and then patched to be cishet in the next update.

#if you're reading this remember to eat every four hours + stay hydrated + take breaks + take your meds + charge your electronics #treat yourself and have fun 'n' stuff

[deepdarkdelights]

Run Little Red (Namjoon x Reader)

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Werewolf Namjoon, Stalking, Obsession, Forced Relationships, Blood (Lots of it), Gore, Fear, Panic/Anxiety, Discussions of discovering dead bodies, People going missing, Devious Intentions, Depictions of Guns, Mourning, Wolf Courtship Rituals

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 

<<Forbidden Fables Masterlist>>

Preview:  A calm life in a small village was all you ever knew, your days spent in the bakery and keeping to yourself. You liked the quiet and gentle nature of your life, but one day a wolf stands outside of your window, a stranger arrives, and people begin to go missing. Do you dare don your red coat and enter the forest?

A/N: Hello babes! My fellow authors and myself decided to change up the order of our release dates for our Forbidden Fables Collab! And, since I recently finished this little beauty, I get to release it first. yay! Now I can sit back and savor the delectable writings of my fellow authors 💜 I hope you enjoy Run Little Red it was fun to make! I can’t wait to read the comments and asks 💜

There was a wolf outside your window. 

It’s eyes gleaming in the early morning light like molten gold with silver fur that melted into the snow. 

You sat up in bed, wrapping your patchwork quilt around your shoulders as you scooted to the foot of the bed. It was staring at you, that much you were sure of. And that startled you, the almost human like appearance to its gaze was intense and unsettling. It was an animal, but it appeared to be far more intelligent than you had first anticipated. 

Maybe it was hungry, perhaps that was why it was so intent on peering through your window.

No, it certainly wasn’t, that was evident. What you had missed before was glaringly obvious now, its silver muzzle was stained in red. It had made a fresh kill before it had wandered over to your cottage mere feet from the woods. 

So, if it wasn’t hungry, why was it here?

You watched in morbid fascination as its tongue slipped out of its mouth and laved over the fresh, thick, crimson blood that decorated its muzzle. You could see the rows of sharp canines hidden within its maw for mere seconds before the wolf clenched its jaw shut and settled on its hindlegs in the drift of snow.

“My, what big teeth you have.” You whispered to yourself, your voice seemingly louder in the empty room.  

You couldn’t help but wonder what it had made it’s meal. Perhaps a deer, or a squirrel, maybe a bird, or even a small, innocent, little rabbit. 

That would have been ideal. But, you knew it was most likely one of the poor farmer’s livestock. Your village was small and self sufficient, rarely reaching out to its neighboring villages and rarely receiving visitors of its own. So, when the cattle and the goats began to disappear, only their entrails remaining, the town quickly became suspicious. 

It was either one of two things, rebellious teenagers making a hassle for everyone, or a wolf amongst you.   

If only you had known what was to come. 

You stared back warily out the window at the creature, suddenly realizing just how easily it could bust through your flimsy window if it wanted to. This wolf was probably the largest you had ever seen, it was almost the size of a pony, with long limbs that held thick muscle from the time it spent chasing down its prey. You were certain a simple snap of its jaws would kill you in an instant if it desired to do so. 

It’s gaze had not left you, petrifying you to your very spot. You felt like the two of you were playing a game, waiting to see who would be the one to make the first move. 

The call of your mother’s voice was the tie breaker. 

You rose to your feet, your bare skin brushing over the cool wood of the floor as you retreated through your door, back first. 

“Yes?” You replied, angling your neck to the hallway for a moment. 

“Hurry, sweetheart! You’re going to be late!” She called back from the kitchen. 

The bakery had been in your family for the past three generations now, starting with your grandfather, then your mother, and now you. Your mother was showing signs of her age now, her hands were unsteady and unreliable creating more of a mess than a sellable meal. So, it was your turn now. It was the only thing you could do for her, besides be married off and you weren’t quite ready for that. No one was. 

At least that was the gentle way of putting it, in reality you had made yourself quite the social pariah. You were a determined woman, one who liked to keep to herself, one who liked owning the bakery and not having to sign over the ownership to a husband. You had your mother to care for, a business to run, and a grandmother that lived deep in the woods to fret over. 

It didn’t really matter what you wanted, you did what was necessary to stay afloat. 

“Just a minute!” You called once more before slinking back into your room. 

There was a noticeable difference about the space now, the wolf was gone. The only sign he had ever been there being the large dip in the snow that his form had disrupted and a track of paw prints headed into the forest. How strange. 

You shook your head in an attempt to clear your thoughts, you didn’t want to think about what you would have to do if the creature returned. The shotgun looming over you from above the front door said enough.

You couldn’t allow a predator to get comfy around your home, that would only invite trouble into your life.

You dressed yourself quickly that morning in as many layers as you could. The walk to the bakery wasn’t a far one, but it was a frigid one. You made sure to wear your wool stockings and your leather boots, the snow looked to be thick and you didn’t fancy the idea of wet feet all day while you worked. 

You leaned over the side of your bed, scooping up your bag and throwing the keys inside of it in one motion. The extra sleep you had gotten the night before had cost you the time you needed in the morning to ready yourself. 

Once you gave yourself a quick look over and ran through your mental checklist, you rushed out of your room and into the main room of the house. Your house was more like a cottage, it was incredibly small. With only your mother’s room, your room, and the kitchen in one corner with the fireplace in the other it made for a quaint and cozy home. Albeit a cramped one. 

“Your breakfast is on the table.” Your mother said, smoothing a stray hair behind her ear with trembling hands. 

You could see her cleaning up the mess she had made that morning in an attempt to show you kindness. Normally, you were the one to wake early and prepare the both of you for the day ahead. But she had also told you many times before that she was your mother and she was supposed to take care of you as well. 

You eyed the bowl of steaming porridge that sat upon the rickety table. “I don’t think I’ll have the time to eat it.”

“Then you’ll make the time.” She huffed, wiping a wet rag over the counter in two swipes. 

“I shouldn’t have overslept.” You sighed, resting your bag on the floor as you took a seat. 

“You needed the rest, dear. You’re up every morning at the crack of dawn and you don’t come home until nightfall. You don’t need to work that much.” She chided you, smoothing her hands over your hair in a fond manner. 

“I do, for you and for Grandmother.” You reminded her. The cost of living was not cheap. 

“And what about you? You should be spending time with people your age, not working yourself to the bone.”

“I don’t need anyone but you, and Grandmother.” You smiled before sipping at your spoon quickly, hissing as you burned the tip of your tongue in your haste. 

“Youth is wasted on the young.” She chided under her breath, spurring a giggle from your throat. 

You finished your food as quickly as you could before excusing yourself from the table and heading for the door. 

“Your cloak, dear!” Your mother called as you pulled the door open, the chill of the snow seeping into your bones. 

“Yes, mother!” You chirped with an amused roll of your eyes as you curled your fingers around the crimson fabric of the cloak. Your grandmother had made it herself two winters ago, as much as you loved it and her you had to admit it was a tad ostentatious and you weren’t exactly one for attention. But it was warm and it served its purpose well. 

The door creaked shut behind you, squeaking softly as it settled back into the frame. The snow had fallen much higher than you had previously anticipated. You tightened the ties of your cloak and delicately flipped the large hood over your head before gripping your layers of skirts and hiking them up as you began your journey. 

It was rather slippery that day, you couldn’t restrain the slight squeals that fell from your parted lips each time the heel of your boot found a patch of ice and sent you sliding. You were certain you should have caught the attention of a few passerbys, but to your surprise a large group of them had become preoccupied. 

There were about fourteen of them, all in one great circle fervently discussing something. They seemed to be worried, panicked even. It had caught your attention now that the group was made up mostly of men excluding the butcher’s wife and daughter. Both’s cheeks were stained red, their eyes brimming with unshed tears as they held onto each other tight in the crisp air. 

Your face tensed in confusion as you approached the bakery, the group not too far away from you. 

“Oh, poor Sarah.” A tender voice cooed worriedly from next door. It was the tailor, she and her apprentice were stood outside, thick shawls wrapped around the both of them. 

You occupied yourself by rifling through your leather satchel, pretending to look for the shop keys you held in that very hand. You knew that eavesdropping wasn’t very polite, but you also were the curious sort, and that curiosity demanded to be satiated. 

“Don’t worry, miss. I’m sure they’ll find him soon, you know how the young ones are.” The apprentice said, her hand resting on the tailor’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort. 

“It’s not like William though, he’s a sweet boy. It doesn’t make any sense for him to go up and missing at the crack of dawn.” She replied, her dark eyes narrowing in suspicion. “I just find it funny is all, that a stranger shows up here the same day that Sarah’s boy disappears.”

“Coincidence isn’t evidence.” The apprentice hummed, pulling her shawl tighter around herself  as she began to back up against the shop door, aggravated by the chilly air. “I’m sure he’ll turn up, with a search party that size he’ll be back home in no time.”

With that, you finally retrieved your “missing” keys and unlocked the door, sliding into the safety of the bakery. You knew William as well, he really was a sweet kid...to most. Your heart did go out to Sarah though, you didn’t know the pain of a missing child but you could empathize. The sight of her broken face remained burned into your mind as you readied the shop, lighting the hearth and preparing your materials to start your first batch of bread for the day. Your late start was going to nip you in the behind, most of the women arrived by noon to get their first pick of goods and the two hours it would take to make your batches was going to loom over your head the entire time. 

You were mid kneading your dough when the familiar tinkle of the bell above the shop door demanded your attention. You paused for a moment, your aching arms thanking you for the short reprieve. Almost immediately your breath was caught in your throat. You had been expecting one of the regular mothers wandering their way in, or perhaps even one of their children running errands. Not this man that stood before you. 

This was most obviously the stranger the tailor had been referring to moments earlier, there was no mistake. Your village was small, everyone knew everyone and this stranger looked nothing like any of the people in your town. 

He was so much taller than anybody else, broader too. But most astonishing was his pure silver hair and the deep honey shade of his eyes. You had never seen anyone as young as him with hair that light, it surely wasn’t grey, the shade far too bright to be mistaken with something that dull. He was damn near ethereal and unfairly attractive. His looks had almost distracted you from his attire but now that you were paying attention, he was severely underdressed for the weather. He had to be freezing cold. 

“Hello, can I help you?” You asked softly, patting your hands against your apron to remove the excess flour from your skin. 

He had a rather confident stance, like he was the owner of the shop instead of you, you who was slightly cowering and thrumming with anxiety. 

He sent you a wide grin, his teeth were pearly white and for some unknown reason that sent your heart crashing into your stomach. You could have sworn they even looked slightly pointy at the ends, not unlike those of the creature you had seen outside your window that morning. You had almost been distracted by the sweet dimples that rested in his cheeks. What duality he had. 

He tilted his head back slightly, peering down at you from above, “Hm, I’m looking for something sweet.” He hummed. 

“Sweet?” You mumbled to yourself, resting your hand on your hip in thought.

“Oh! I made some sweet rolls yesterday, how about that?” You said with a snap of your fingers, retreating further into the shop without a response from him. 

Now in work mode you busied yourself with preparing the stranger’s order. You couldn’t help but wonder why he had arrived, what his reason for being there was. Barely anybody passed through your village, and they certainly didn’t stay as long as he had. 

Once you had retrieved the tray of rolls you set them on the counter before grabbing a pot of freshly warmed icing and gently drizzling it over top. Once each roll had been thoroughly coated, you set the pot aside and headed to the cupboard to retrieve a bag for them.  

“Perfect.” You sighed in irritation, craning your neck back to see the top of the shelf. 

Normally, you had endless amounts of bags and never needed the ones stored on the top shelf. But this winter had been far more difficult than past ones and your stock had not been refilled in quite a while. 

Desperately not wanting to search for your wooden stool, you stubbornly resorted to balancing on the tips of your toes, your fingers just barely brushing against the material of the bags. You groaned in frustration, bouncing up slightly only to knock the bags back further on the shelf and worsen the ache in your shoulder. 

Just as you were about to give up and resort to looking for your rickety stool, you felt a hand settle on your waist and a chest press against your back as the stranger reached up and grabbed the bags for you. He was incredibly warm, so warm you thought he may even be sick. He felt as warm as the heat emanating from a fire of fresh coals and that was incredibly alarming, but also explained his state of dress.

You flinched in surprise as you felt him set the bags aside and settle his other hand on your shoulder. It was deathly quiet, the only sounds being his slow, steady breaths underlying your panicked ones accompanied by the calm rise and fall of his chest against your back. You had never been this close to anyone before, it was incredibly uncomfortable. 

You felt much like a rabbit, cornered, panicking, and believing that if you stayed still enough he wouldn’t see you and would go away. 

He gently rested his forehead against your hair, nuzzling from side to side before reaching up and playing with a stray strand. You could feel him taking a deeper breath this time, humming softly like he was pleased. 

“Sweet.” He mumbled to himself. 

Oh. Oh, no. Who did this man think he was? You were not on the menu. You shuddered in fear before jerking away, smacking his hands off of you. 

You turned on your heel, backing away from him as you fixed him with an annoyed glare. The look he gave you was one of clear confusion, a layer of hurt and frustration buried beneath. 

“I’m not sure how things work where you come from, but normally you ask for permission before you go touching someone you don’t know.” You huffed, slamming the empty bag on the counter as you began to package the rolls. 

It didn’t matter if he was attractive or not, you were not going to let him touch you as he pleased or get the wrong message that you weren’t even conveying in the first place. 

The stranger rounded the counter, the block of wood effectively separating the two of you, making you feel a little safer. His eyes looked darker than before, less like honey and more like amber. 

His confident demeanor had returned, effectively confusing you even more. 

“Forgive me,” He said, another smile gracing his lips as he rested his forearms on the countertop, “It seems we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot? My name is Namjoon, and yours?” 

So, he did have the capability to be somewhat of a gentleman. He was rather well spoken, and his strange mannerisms and quiet demeanor had all but disappeared in a flash. 

So, begrudgingly, you replied with your name. 

He repeated it after you, his tongue swiping over the full flesh of his lower lip like he was tasting it, sending a chill down your spine. 

“I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, you were correct in assuming where I come from we do greetings a little differently.” He said with a soft chuckle, his amber eyes tracing every movement you made. 

You did feel a little bad now for how you had lashed out at him. Normally, you weren’t one who was quick to anger, but that still didn’t excuse what he had done. 

“It’s alright,” You said, slowly, “You need to be more careful though, if that had been anyone else I don’t think you would have gone unscathed.” 

“Are most of your people so quick to violence?” He asked, titling his head slowly, a strong sense of intrigue exuding from his form. 

“I wouldn’t say so normally, but we’re all a little on edge as of late. Our livestock has been attacked and just this morning one of us went missing.”

“Missing?” He asked, a new glow to eyes. 

“Yes, I’m afraid so. The butcher’s son hasn’t been seen all day, it’s very unlike him.” You said, your teeth sinking into your lower lip, unsure if you should tell him more. But, considering it concerned him you felt maybe it was in his best interest to tell him. 

“If I were you, I wouldn’t stick around for too long. Some find it suspicious you turned up the same day that William went missing.” 

“And what if I don’t feel like leaving just yet?” He asked, disregarding the information you had just given him as if he had no reason to be worried. 

You had no answer for him, truly you didn’t. The packaged rolls sat between the two of you and a long stretch of silence as he stared at you and waited for a response that didn’t come. And, without another word, he dropped a few too many coins on the counter, gathered up the bag, and headed for the front door. 

He stopped for only a moment, his fingers gently stroking at your red cloak you had hung up beside the door. His amber gaze trailed over each stitch as he lightly grazed the material a few more times. 

“I’ll be seeing you soon, little red.” 

~~~~~~~

After he had left, your day had not gotten any easier. Just as you had expected, it had been another busy day. You had managed to satisfy all of your customers, despite that late start you had made. 

There were a few upsides to the job you had, one being that it allowed you to tune into any gossip you would normally miss out on. You were more of a hit with the older women of the village, the people your age finding you to be a tad strange and off putting. 

That day your shop had been filled with hushed whispers of what had come to pass, the search party still had not returned from their trip to recover William. The outlook was not in the boy’s favor, not with the increase in predator activity you had been receiving as of late. You weren’t so sure you would be seeing William walking back into town any time soon. 

Once the day had come to an end, the sun dipping just below the tree line and casting shades of red over the snow, you had extinguished the lights of your shop and were locking up, your hood drawn over your head. That was when you found out the horrible truth. 

As you slid the shop keys into your bag and turned on your heel, you saw the search party emerging from the woods. And with them, you could see a blanketed form lying in the snow, the sheet swaddling the body slowing turning red. 

You swallowed harshly, turning as quickly as you could and beginning to make your way through the snow and away from what you knew was coming. You didn’t want to see the look on Sarah’s face, you didn’t want to watch her go boneless in the arms of her husband. But it didn’t matter what you saw or didn’t see, you would never forget the sound of her screams piercing the crisp, snowy air.

Your breath was visible in hot puffs in front of your face as you felt the burn of tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes. It didn’t matter if you didn’t care for William, it didn’t matter if you knew what he was really like, there was nothing quite like the sound of a mother’s heartbreak. It was enough to send anybody down to their knees. 

Your numb fingers wiped away the warm tears rushing down your cheeks, and amidst your blurry vision you could have sworn you saw a familiar figure slinking off into the woods, a flash of silver hair that just barely materialized. You could have sworn that that was Namjoon disappearing like a ghost into the frigid depths of the forest. 

You shook your head, you shouldn’t bother yourself with what he was doing, your main goal should be getting home before the sun completely dips below the horizon and plunges you into darkness. So, with that thought, you rushed home. 

Once you entered the cottage, things didn’t get any better. Your mother was stood there, waiting anxiously for your arrival. As soon as you had stepped foot inside she whipped the door shut and helped you remove your cloak as you toed your boots off. 

“No more working late, do you hear me?” She said, gripping your shoulders to get you to look at her. “It’s not safe out there.”

“Word travels fast then?” You asked humorlessly. 

“It’s a shame what happened to that boy, and I’ll be damned if that happens to you.” She replied sternly. 

“And what about Grandmother then? What do we do about her? She’s out there, all alone, with no one to protect her.”

“She has the lumberjack-”

“And he only checks on her every two weeks.” You interrupted, “Let me go out tomorrow and bring her back to us. I’ll go first thing in the morning.”

Your mother bit her lip, her hands shakily settling on her hips as she thought to herself. “I’ll go with you then.”

“No, you can’t possibly think you’ll be able to make the trip. The snow is thick and it’s a long walk there, you’ll exhaust yourself. It’ll be better if I go, faster too.” You said as you approached the fireplace, raising your hands to the flames to warm them. 

“And your grandmother, you think she’ll be able to make it back through the snow?” She probed, raising her eyebrow. 

She had a point, if you were saying she wouldn’t be able to make it there how would you expect your grandmother to make it back with you? 

You rested your hand on the back of your neck, pacing the floor and causing your layers of skirts to swirl around your ankles. You came to a sudden stop, your eyes settling on the shotgun that was mounted above your front door. Idea.

You didn’t like the thought of her being out there all alone, but if you knew she had something to protect her from the wild animals that would make you feel much better. 

“Alright, what if I bring her some supplies instead? I’ll grab some things that’ll last her a good while and I’ll show her how to use the shotgun. I’ve saved up some money of my own, I could purchase us a new one.” You mused out loud.

You loved your grandmother, she was the last living member of your father’s side of the family, she was the only connection you had to him at this point. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing her just yet, not when you could prevent it from those creatures that were beginning to terrorize your people. 

Your mother was silent once more, her thumb settled between her lips as she nervously chewed at the nail. She didn’t like the idea of you headed out into the woods alone, but she was comforted by the thought of you taking the shotgun with you, that much you were certain of. 

“We don’t know when the next storm will hit, and the last thing we need is for her to be stuck out there, all alone, with no food, surrounded by the wild. Let me go.”

And that was enough to break her resilience. 

“Promise me, promise me that you’ll come back.” She whispered, her body visibly sagging as those words left her lips. 

“It goes without saying.” You murmured, wrapping her up in your embrace. 

It was easier this way, you didn’t want to make a promise you had no certainty in keeping. 

The air in the cottage had lost all tension, everything was much calmer than before. But your peace could only last for so long. It was when you entered your bedroom that you realized something else was wrong.

The room was positively frigid, and upon further inspection you realized that your window had been pried open, the cold winter air surging forth and snuffing out any traces of heat. 

You surged forward and grasped the window, attempting to swing it shut as quickly as you could to try and insulate whatever warmth was left. But the thick scent of copper quickly stalled your movements. Instead of closing the window, you found yourself leaning forward into the brisk air, sniffing intently as you tried to make out where the scent was emanating from. You didn’t have to look far.

Your hands sealed themselves over your mouth, smothering the scream that threatened to break through them. 

Sitting in the snow where the wolf had once laid, was a human heart. The snow seemed to sizzle around it, the organ still warm and slick with blood that carved rivers and valleys into the pure ice. 

You could feel bile rising up your throat, your vision shaking so violently it made it appear that the heart was vibrating with steady pumps like it was still alive. 

And, to your horror, you could make out a form a few feet back in the snow. The only thing that was visible in the pitch black were it’s molten gold eyes, shining back at you in recognition before it scuttled away into the darkness.

You frantically slammed the window shut and drew the curtains closed tight. 

There was no mistake now, someone or something had been following you. 

~~~~~~~

When you awoke the next morning from a restless sleep, you elected to keep your discovery to yourself.

Although you were incredibly frightened by what you had seen, the last thing you needed was to scare your already frail mother. Your grandmother was still in need of assistance, and you couldn’t allow your mother to halt your plans. You had a mission to accomplish, and you were set on completing it with a shotgun slung over your arm and a picnic basket on the other. 

So, you shakily grasped your red cloak and wrapped it around your shoulders in haste, your fingers struggling to do up the ties at the base of your throat. Once you had completed the normally easy task, you slipped your basket onto the inside of your elbow and pulled down the shotgun from its resting place above the door. 

You regularly cleaned it, a task your father had enjoyed teaching you at a young age, so you were certain it wouldn’t jam if you needed to use it in a hurry. You slid a box of ammunition into your pocket, one for you, and another box into the picnic basket, one for your grandmother. 

And then you were off, bidding your mother goodbye with a hug and a swift kiss to her cheek, and an unspoken promise tittering on the edges of your lips saying that you would be home for supper. But those words were better left unspoken. 

The sun was just barely peeking through the thick clouds overhead, you were certain a blizzard was brewing. This only urged you to move quicker through the cleared paths. 

But the clouds weren’t the only foreboding message that morning, it was the mother’s wailing in the town square. There were three more now, holding each other in a comforting manner as they wept into each other’s shoulders. 

More children had been snatched from their mothers.

Sarah sat by herself, of her own volition, an obsidian mourning veil obscuring her tear stained features. A chill ran down your back as you urged yourself to walk by them quicker, she looked more like an executioner than she did a mourner, surrounded by a choir of weeping women. 

You could still hear the echoes of her cries in the back of your mind, the raw chords striking your ears once more. 

You tightened your grip on the strap of your shotgun, your pace slowing as you reached the bridge that led you into the forest. You felt like you could breathe now, despite the knowledge that people your own age had lost their lives in the thick overgrowth before you. The relief that you felt from the women in the square outweighed your fear.

The bridge creaked in protest as your boots tapped against the wood. It would need to be repaired come spring. 

“Little red!” A voice called from the treeline causing you to suddenly stop, snow kicking up beneath your boots. 

Moments later, a familiar figure emerged from the frost coated trees, tall, ash hair, and honey eyes. Namjoon. 

“Where are you off to, little red?” He cooed, his voice low with a sultry edge that sent shivers down your spine. You couldn’t tell if they were delighted or terrified chills. 

“My grandmother’s, what are you doing here?” You asked, your body tense and defensive. 

He drew nearer now, a wide grin gracing his lips with a set of teeth so white they resembled the snow beneath your boots. The closer he got the more you noticed about him. His perfect white teeth seemed a little sharper than most, and the clothes he wore were once more, not suited for the frigid weather. 

“I caught sight of this old thing,” He hummed, his finger tracing over your cloak and the strap of your shotgun as he slowly circled you, “And couldn’t help but see you.”

You stepped back hesitantly, his presence was unnerving. Without saying anything more you pulled away from his reach and began to walk by him briskly, headed into the woods. 

“Leaving so soon? We only just met.” He laughed, it would have been a nice contagious laughter had you not heard the bitter edge to it. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have the time to dawdle, Namjoon. I need to reach her before the storm hits.”

“Well then, won’t you let me accompany you?”

“I don’t need an escort, I know my way just fine, thank you very much.” 

“And what about the beasts then?” He asked from beside you, sending you halting to a stop. 

“Beasts?” You asked slowly, gazing up at him from beneath the cover of your hood. 

“Well, surely you know?” He asked in a patronizing tone, his honey eyes narrowing. “Four people from your village have gone missing, red. Surely you know that wasn’t an accident. Great beasts have roamed this forest for centuries and they don’t take kindly to intruders. It would be much safer if I came with you.”

You stood there for a moment in silence, contemplating his words. He was not wrong, two people were much safer than just one. 

So, begrudgingly, you accepted his offer. 

His hand quickly captured your own, his fingers intertwining with yours as he pressed his side tightly to your own with a grin. How bold. You were struck once more by the fact that he was incredibly warm, it was no wonder why he wasn’t bundled up like you were. It felt like he had struck a fever. 

Namjoon filled the silence between the two of you surprisingly well, telling you stories of the great beasts that roamed the woods, effectively scaring you and holding your attention. He had a way of speaking that drew people in, like a siren from the stories your father had read to you. 

It was easy to forget with him, easy to forget why you had been frightened in the first place, easy to sink into his side as his warmth seeped into your flesh, and easy to get lost in his voice. 

That was of course, until you felt him pulling you off of the path. 

You dug your heels into the snow, tugging at his hand violently. “Namjoon!”

“Yes?” He asked.

“What are you doing? Her cottage is this way, we stay on the path, we never leave the path.” You said, gesturing towards the dirt pathway beneath the two of you. 

That was a spoken rule in your village, never go off of the path. 

“That’s ridiculous,” He chuckled, “If we continue the way you were going, that doubles the time it takes to get there, it’s better we take the shortcut.”

“No.” You sternly said. 

“And why not?”

“Because, there’s predators out there! Mountain lions, bears, wolves!”

A mischievous smirk pulled at the corners of his lips, “Are you scared of wolves, little red?”

“I’m scared of anything that wants to eat me.” You replied with a dry tone. 

“Well you do smell very sweet-”

“Namjoon!”

He took a deep breath, his eyes darting between you and the shortcut. “I promise you, nothing will hurt you while I’m here. Besides, did you know some flowers bloom in the winter?”

“What? You can’t be serious.”

“I am, there’s a field of flowers this way, all different breeds that bloom in the dead of winter. Don’t you think your grandmother would enjoy those?” 

You chewed at your lip uneasily. He knew exactly what to say to make you question your own actions. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want to see what he was talking about, and you knew that yes, your grandmother would be elated by something so cheery in the bleak winter months. 

So, after a few moments of consideration, you agreed.

And Namjoon had not been lying. After a few minutes of trekking through the deep snow the two of you emerged into a clearing, and just like he said, it was filled with flowers of all different breeds. 

You found yourself crouching down into the field, your fingers trailing over each velvety petal that had somehow found a way to survive in the clutches of an icy death. Your favorites were the deep red roses. They were a dead match for your cloak, a beautiful color that was delicately dusted with soft flakes of snow. 

You couldn’t help but greedily pluck several blossoms from the foliage, slipping them into your basket. 

And, amidst your excitement, you hadn’t noticed just how close your companion had gotten until you felt him. That incredible warmth had returned as he crouched down behind you, and just like he had in the bakery, you felt him lightly nuzzling your head and breathing in your scent as he pressed himself closer to you, his arms winding around your body in an attempt to pull you even tighter to him. 

You froze, your finger mid pull on the rose’s stem causing you to slice the appendage on a stray thorn. You hissed in pain as you watched the blood drip from the tip of your finger before rolling down your wrist and carving a pool into the snow beneath you. 

And, without a thought, Namjoon’s hand encircled your wrist and yanked it up to his face. 

His once honey eyes appeared brighter than before, his long lashes fluttering as his warm breath misted over your skin. And before you could stop him, he licked a line up your wrist, collecting the blood, and pressed your finger to his lips swiping his tongue over the wound. 

You yelped in surprise, wrenching your hand free from his grip as your heart pounded violently. You rose to your feet and stumbled backwards through the snow. 

Namjoon remained where he was crouched, a sudden hunger evident in his honey gaze, a gaze that was not so unfamiliar. 

“We-we need to go!” You stuttered, turning on your heel and retreating from whatever had just happened. 

You held your hand close to your chest as you walked, frightened by what had just transpired. A part of you suddenly wished you had made your journey alone as you had previously intended.

But the harsh crunch of snow behind you reminded you of the choice you made, and the molten glare digging into your back exemplified it. 

~~~~~~~

The rest of your journey was made in complete silence, a new tension had settled between the two of you. And, true to Namjoon’s word, the way he had taken you was indeed a shortcut. So, you felt no remorse as you sprinted toward the cottage ahead of you and threw a weak thank you over your shoulder. 

You couldn’t stand the awkward tension anymore, you couldn’t stand being in his presence any longer than you needed to. 

As soon as you approached the front door, you threw it open and let it shut behind you. You leaned against the door for a moment to catch your breath before you shrugged the shotgun off of your shoulder and strung it up on the hook beside the front door. 

“Grandmother!” You called as you began to approach the kitchen door, “I’m here!”

And upon opening it, a blood curdling scream broke free from your lips. 

The sight before you could only be described as a massacre. Your hands desperately tried to cover your eyes, but the damage had already been done. There was blood, so much blood amongst other things laid out atop the counter. 

You fell backwards, your body sliding down the wall as hoarse screams raked through your throat. The unmistakable scent of blood was thick in the kitchen sending your stomach churning in your gut. You knew that scent, it was clear as day whatever had remained in that room had once been human. 

“Sweetheart?” A familiar voice called out to you. 

And upon opening your eyes, you saw your grandmother standing before you. The sudden feeling of elation surging through your body at the sight of her alive quickly died out. She wore a leather apron stained with blood, both fresh and old, and her hands were gloved. You quickly stood and began to back away from her, your sense of self preservation suddenly kicking in, your eyes zeroing in on the meat cleaver she held in her left hand. 

“Sweetheart, calm down.” She whispered softly, carefully setting the blade down on the counter beside the gorey mess. 

Your eyes were darting everywhere but her, panicked breaths leaving your parted lips. Your gaze finally settled in the corner of the room where a pile of clothing sat and a familiar axe. The lumberjack, she had murdered the lumberjack. 

“Why?” You cried, trembling as if you had been drenched to the bone. “Why did you do it?!” 

“I had too sweetie, I have to feed them.”

“Them? Who?” You asked, backing out of the kitchen as she followed your trail, her face soft with sympathy despite the flecks of blood that decorated her cheeks. 

“The wolves, of course. I made a deal with them long ago, if I fed them in the winter I could stay here.” She replied, her voice alarmingly calm. “The lumberjack was a sweet man but this winter was a rough one, not many travelers I’m afraid.”

“You’ve gone mad.” You whispered. 

“I know this is a lot to take in, but it’s best if you listen to me darling. Your grandfather was one of them, he courted me and then we had your father and your uncles. It’s always tricky with litters, you never know who is going to take after who. Your father though, he was the most human out of all of them. Poor thing couldn’t even shift.” She sighed, her eyes glazing over.

“You need help, you’re not well.” You tried again, doing your best to keep distance between the two of you.

“I know you’re a bit shaken up, but you need to listen to me, it’s in your best interest.” She sighed, untying the leather apron from around her waist. 

“That cloak you’re wearing, it’s a symbol that you’ve come of age and Namjoon has had every intention of courting you. He’s been rather obvious really, he’s becoming quite frustrated with you.” 

You suddenly became still, your mind flashing through every time Namjoon had ever touched the very item you were wearing. What she was saying, although deluded, had some semblance of truth. 

“I-I have to go.” You mumbled, your throat tightening from the copper scent and smell of flesh that hung heavily in the air. You needed to get home and far away from her before she killed you too. 

A deep sadness spread over her features as her head hung low, shaking from side to side. “Don’t run,” She breathed, “They find the chase seductive.”

All this time you had been slowly backing away from the person you loved the most, and now you had been stopped by the feeling of a solid form behind you. You quickly spun around, a shriek of horror escaping you as you met the bright, gold eyes of your escort, Namjoon. 

And, without thinking, you ran. 

Your cloak was fluttering behind you rapidly in the harsh, cold winds, the snow coming down thicker than it ever had before. And, to your absolute horror, a loud howl was echoing throughout the trees. 

You peered over your shoulder as you sprinted to the best of your ability through the snow drifts. The wolf that had sat outside your window days before had returned and was chasing you down. Now that there was nothing separating you from the creature you were terrified, it was massive and hunting you down. It had the clear advantage, you were inevitably going to die. You were never going home again, another child was going to be ripped from their mother. 

Tears were pouring down your cheeks like waterfalls as you blindly ran, unsure as to where you were going. You knew that you didn’t have time, four legs were faster than two and you were greatly impaired by the weather. 

With no goal in mind, no destination in sight, you ran in hopes you would be able to live for a little longer. You did your best to weave between the trees, slide down hills of snow, and keep running for your life. Your lungs burned and your legs ached but still you ran, even as you heard the loud steps of the wolf coming nearer and nearer.

And, just as you had lost all hope, an outcropping of rocks became visible at the base of a snowy hill. And with every intention to save your life, you recklessly threw yourself down the hill allowing gravity to take over for you. 

The second you felt yourself cease rolling, you rose to your unsteady legs and dizzily stumbled into the cluster of rocks, pulling yourself into the shelter away from the blizzard.

But your hope was fleeting as you came to a realization. The shelter was a den, one that had clearly been in use. It was littered with furs, blankets, books, and materials for a fire. The creature had been corralling you to this very location. 

You turned as another burst of adrenaline shot through your body only to be stunted by the sight of the silver wolf blocking the exit to the den. 

It’s bright eyes stared back at you with a gleam of satisfaction as it crouched down, shimming it’s way into the den and backing you up further into its depths. 

You watched, horrified, as the wolf began to whimper, it’s body shaking violently as the sound of bones beginning to snap and crunch echoed throughout the space, reforming and distorting themselves into vaguely familiar shapes as it’s fur began to melt away. 

Those bright golden eyes faded to a recognizable honey shade, and the silver fur disappeared and showed itself as ashen hair. On the floor of the den sat Namjoon in the place of where the powerful wolf had once stood. 

He carefully rolled his head from side to side, his neck cracking loudly in response as he rose to his feet. A mischievous smirk pulled at his lips, a triumphant gleam to his eyes as he confidently approached your trembling form. 

A broken cry escaped from your throat as you felt him press his forehead to your own, lightly nuzzling his head against yours. His strange behavior now made sense, he had been courting you in a way that was unfamiliar to you, but natural to him. 

All of the people that had gone missing were male’s your age, he had been wiping out the competition. 

And the bloody organ he had left outside of your window, had been a horrific present. A show of his dominance and his twisted affection. 

You were crying uncontrollably now, everything you had experienced suddenly crashing down on you. You flinched in terror as you felt his fingers grip your jaw, his lips just brushing against your own and he hummed happily.

“You have nowhere left to run, little red.” 

#bts #bts namjoon #bts x reader #namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x reader #yandere #yandere bts #yandere namjoon #bts fanfic #yandere namjoon x reader #yandere kpop #yandere bts x reader #werewolf namjoon #werewolf namjoon x reader #yandere werewolf #werewolf bts #werewolf bts x reader #hyrbid namjoon #hybrid bts #bts rm #yandere rm #yandere rm x reader

[tommyspeakycap]

Sei il mio amore più grande

he really didn’t believe in love at first sight until the day his eyes first landed on you

“you are my greatest love”

The blonde that still claims most of his formerly brown hair continues to capture the irritated attention of the man in the mirror. He huffs a sigh, tugging his hand through the soft strands once again. With his colour slowly growing back through, he can’t seem to find a way to make it sit that he seems nice enough for today.

He doesn’t know why he suddenly feels so much pressure, nerved bubbling his stomach and making his heart beat that little bit faster than it usually would, but everybody reckons it’s got a little something to do with you. You joined them only a month ago as a new photographer. On your very first day, it had been glaringly obvious in his sudden stuttering and fact he seemed to forget that he is actually very fluent in English, that Jorginho had taken something of a liking towards you. His cheeks were ridiculously red and he had Mason doubled over in laughter at the sight of him trying to help you lifting stuff that he then dropped because his hands were trembling to much.

Since then, he had managed to get fair amount of those things under control. A few deep breaths could steady his hands, but certainly wouldn’t stop them from shaking ever so slightly when you were around and he could now just about string a sentence together in order to have a conversation with you. None of them can really get to grips with why he’s like this, he’s liked plenty of women in his life and he’s never once been the kind to end up like this around people. Alas, he is beginning to wonder if he might actually have fallen in love with you the very first minute he met you.

“You know it’s for a prank, right Jorgi?” Mason teases, bumping his shoulder against the taller midfielders as his face appears next to him in the mirror. Jorginho sighs, muttering something under his breath in Italian as a curse at the smiling brunette next to him. “Yes.” He huffs, “But we have the actual shoot after, and-”

“And pretty miss (y/n) is going to be the one taking those photos, right?” Mason cuts him off before he can cough up an excuse, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively to prompt Jorginho to roll his eyes again, turning away from Mason. “I wouldn’t know.” He shrugs.

A loud, forced and clearly disbelieving bark of laughter is forced from between the lips of the Chelsea captain who had been lacing his boots a few feet away from the pair chosen to do the prank on Timo this afternoon. Azpilecueta stands up, boots clicking against the changing room floor as he walks over to the pair to pat Jorginho’s shoulder twice to chortle a simple, “Of course you would.” Before passing both and heading out the door. Mason laughs loudly, shaking his head happily despite the clear dissatisfaction of the man at the brunt of his teasing. Timo sticks his head into the dressing room, “They are ready for us now.”

Jorginho and Mason nod, the latter going to head for the door immediately while Jorgi stays behind a moment to take one last look at his hair before opting to grab his cap from his cubby, sitting it on backwards and hoping no one asks him to take it off.

“What’s funny?” He hears Timo ask Mason in the hall, his long legs attempting to scramble him out the heavy changing room door before the young England international gets a chance to spread his believed rumour through the entire squad via Mr can’t keep his mouth shut Werner. He just about gets out the door, reaching his arm out to tru silence Mason just as the words hit his ears. “Nothing, just Jorgi’s fancy for (y/n).”

It’s going to be a long day.

Laughing at Timo making a fool of himself for this fake tyre ad took a portion of the Italian international mind off of you, but it’s hard when you’re sitting off behind the fake director of the ad. His eyes keep landing on you.

You’re sitting cross legged on the floor out of the visible camera shot so you don’t get caught in the prank video and you’re rarely even watching what’s going on. Jorginho has only seen you raise your head a few times, glancing up to see what was going on with a small smile before looking back down at your laptop sitting in front of you on the floor. Every time he catches a glimpse at your face, you’ve got that soft look of concentration gracing your features as you skim through and edit photos as you go. Watching you work is a sight to behold, making his heart warm and genuinely content. It’s something he’s never felt before. Contentment in just being in the same vicinity as another.

“Well now I’ll pass you onto the real photographer so you can get this advertisement done and then you guys can get back to work!” The director laughs, gesturing over to you as you push yourself to your feet, laptop tucked under your arm with your camera hanging around your neck. “Alright J, hat off. Mase over by the tyres and Timo you can go. The first shots were actually alright.” You instruct, laying your laptop down onto the chair by the tall cameras with the ring lights illuminating the green screen section of the room. You click a few photos of Mason the second he gets around the props, knowing you’re usually best to catch him off guard laughing or looking serious than you are to try and get him to do all of those things on cue. Mason unintentionally always makes you work for that paycheque you get from Chelsea.

“Jorgi hat please.” You note offhandedly, the frowning man unsure of how you had even seen him without actually looking up from your camera.

But you always see him.

Your eyes find him in every crowded room, searching for the safety he brings to you. The comfort he feels in your presence is ever so clearly felt the same by you. He finds you in the crowds just as your eyes find him and if he senses nerves in your being, he’ll bump his shoulder against yours and make a joke. Maybe he’ll even just start a random conversation, ask you about what it was like snapping pictures for your last team, and make a joke about how you’ve upgraded in every way. He’s so gentle and kind to you, always so very sweet and even often speaks to you in the soft spoken fluency of his mother tongue despite the fact you understand none of it. Jorginho does these things because they make you smile with that glisten your eyes. It’s anticipation and genuine interest for his words. Infatuation with the way he can switch between multiple different languages without much of an issue.

Infatuation with him.

He sighs to himself, hand running over the material of the black cap he had grabbed quickly leaving the changing room. He tugs it off with another nervous sigh, but you have little reaction to the muddle of brown and blonde sat atop his head. Instead, you just usher him into the frame of the picture. He watched nervously as you raise the camera up to them before dropping it back to showcase your frown hidden behind the black frame. “What’ve you done to your hair?” You query, tilting your head ever so slightly to the side. Heat flies to the midfielders cheeks, mouth suddenly dry and completely unable to fathom up a single solitary word.

“Just needs his roots done.” Mason tries to joke, attempting to stop the poor man beside him having his heart crushed anymore than it already has been. “Don’t be ridiculous.” You shake you head, throwing a slightly glare at the younger man as you approach them. You reach your hands up, your camera dangling in the space between you and the tall Italian as you raise to your tip toes. Even then, you’re shorter than him when you reach up to his head.

“There’s nothing wrong with the colour. I think it’s pretty actually, a nice blend y’know? I mean with wearing the cap, you’ve messed it.” You mutter your explanation, eyes focussed on his stands of hair that you run your fingers through in order to urge them into the the correct place in which they would usually sit. But the entire time his eyes are focussed on you, stunned to the spot as he watches the concentration on your face. Except it’s different this time than watching you work because your focus, your entire concentration and that look in your eyes is solely based on him. You’re entire attention in that moment is on him and the feeling of your hands moving easily, softly, perfectly through his hair is another level of just pure bliss. His stomach flips and tumbles, exploding with a million butterflies as though he’s merely a teenager again. You reduce a confident man to a speechless mess in the very best way once again, just like you did two months ago when he first met you.

“That’s better.” You state, but the Italian barely hears your words for his eyes are locked in the lips that speak them. They move beautifully, looking as soft as lips could be and more kissable with every single second that passed with them right in front of his face. This moment feels so painfully intimate to him and for you, this is work. You’re working and he’s realising that he has actually fallen head over heels in love already. He has since the second he laid eyes on you hauling in bags that you couldn’t even begin to carry full of camera equipment that he offered to help you with (and again, dropped most of), despite the fact he had never been one to believe in love at first sight. His mind was changed the day he first saw you as his world came full circle, like the universe had put you there to fill the home in his heart that even having and euro winners medal to add to his collection couldn’t fill.

It’s impossible not to study every single inch of your face in the moments you had been in front of him so close. To him, it felt like a much longer duration of time that he knew it had been. Probably merely a minute and yet even a lifetime wouldn’t have been enough to fully appreciate the range of beauty that every part of you carries.

It feels almost as though he can’t actually take his eyes off you, even when you turn to Mason to shift your sweet concentrate gaze into a firm glare. “Don’t tease his hair,” you scold before turning back, “I really do like it.”

Your little soft smile is so breathtakingly beautiful and so earth-shatteringly adorable that at the same time Jorginho’s heart skips a beat, his lungs stumble over a breath they fail to take. You literally stole it right from him, gifting life back into his body with the tiny, almost unnoticeable wink to follow.

It’s a moment that feels like everything for you and him, but one Mason uses to take matters into his own hands the sneakiest of ways. He uses that moment to sweep up Jorgi’s cap from where he had left it, keeping it tucked behind his back until the moment that you give Mason the clear to go with only a few more shots left of Jorginho before you can finish for the day. As soon as he gets that call, he does as he’s told probably for the first time you’ve met him. The cap that belongs to the midfielder, gifted to him by his sister during the summer. Mason knows that everybody else - including you - knows how important it is to him. It’s all part of his plan.

“You’re good to go now J.” You smile, turning away from him while flicking through your camera as he stands still frozen on the spot. He doesn’t want to leave now. He doesn’t want to walk out of this room without finally telling you what’s been on his mind for two months now. Alas, all he can do is stand there staring at you like an idiot. You can feel him staring, feel his eyes burning into you incessantly as he remains where he’s been standing since you touched his hair. You’ve spent half the time worrying you’ve overstepped the mark and the other half worrying that you’re pictures will be blurry from the shaky hands that worrying brought you.

He watches you still as you pack your stuff away, except at least he pretends to be helping to clean up while you shove your laptop in and pack your camera carefully into its little bag.

“Don’t forgot this.” He says softly, prompting you turn around quickly. You stand chest to chest with him unexpectedly. His breath fans over your face, eyes locking in on those lips once again as they dance dangerously close to one another. “Thank you.” You whisper, seemingly mere millimetres and a fraction of a second from the moment you’ve thought about in hazy daydreams since you met the handsome footballer when someone thuds the door open and you both fly apart quickly. Flushed cheeks and fumbling hands have you grabbing your phone from him and bidding a very awkward goodbye as you hurry out the door and Jorginho turns to the ever unsuspecting Kai who’s just about to ask if anyone’s seem Timo when you quickly skirt past him with a haphazard goodbye thrown over your shoulder.

Kai doesn’t get an answer from his teammate either, who simply chooses to shoot him a harsh glare before he too leaves the room.

~~~~

The rain had been incessant since midday, but it seemed to have gotten much heavier im the evening almost the second you realised you’d have to go back out in it. You were unpacking your bag looking for your little SD card for the camera when you pulled out the cap that you knew belonged to Jorginho and you’re cursing the world trying to figure out how the hell it got there in the first place. You’d considered waiting until monday, but a friend had reminded you of the international break and you panicked about him not having it when he went anyway, so you ended up heading out in the direction of his house to drop it to him.

The length of the walk just to his gate gets you pretty much soaked, but you’ve kept the cap tucked under your hoodie to attempt to keep it dry. He buzzed you through the gate quickly, tugging open his door in anticipation to watch you walk quickly up the drive.

“Come in, come in.” He ushers, standing out on the doorstep despite the rain. “It’s okay, i just wanted to drop this off. Ended up in my bag somehow.” You explain, holding out the cap to Jorginho, who shoots you a disbelieving look of shock. “Don’t be silly, come inside!” He yells over the pounding storm, “You’ll get sick if you go home like that.” He gestures to your soaked clothes and sodden hair, making you grimace slightly at the sore sight you must be standing there. He doesn’t give you any more time to think about it, because instead he pulls you in by the wrist with the rainwater dripping off your body onto his nice hardwood flooring.

He’s also quick to insist that you chance so you don’t get sick, bringing you a hoodie and some probably more expensive than you even know joggers. “Sorry about that,” you laugh softly, “I’m not sure how it even got in my bag.” You admit with a shrug, although you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have some level of suspicion as to how it had gotten there and you can almost be certain it had something to do with Mason Mount.

“It’s okay.” Jorginho grins, his eyes scanning over your body to take in the sight of you in his clothes. You look beautiful, cheeks flushed, nose red from the cold as you’re completely drowned on his hoodie. You’re so, so unbelievably adorable with the sleeves flopped over your hands. “Probably looks better on you anyway.”

Your cheeks flush at his words, shaking your head with a laugh. “I wouldn’t be so sure, suits you.” You retort, shuffling over to where he’s standing leaning against his kitchen island with a pot of pasta still bubbling on the stove and his dryer rumbling round drying your soaked clothes. He reaches for that cap off the surface as you slide yourself onto a barstool. He shuffles over, his slippers scuffing against the shining floor of his beautiful kitchen until he stands in front of you just like you did earlier on that day. The cap is placed gently backwards on top of your head.

Jorginho brushes your hair out over your shoulders softly, flattening the hat down at the back as a smile immediately stretches over his features. His eyes are so kind, top teeth pressing down his bottom lip to try and suppress that smile to absolutely no avail. “No,” he says softly. One of his hands cups your cheek and the other your chin with his thumb gently sweeping over the smooth skin of your bottom lip. “It looks far better on you, mia bella.”

The soft words are just about as soft as his lips are in yours, silky smooth and moving in perfect motion. It’s slow, careful, barely even there and then it’s deep and full of emotion. It’s pouring out the words that both of you have been holding back for months. His belief in love at first sight was distinctly unfavourable until the day he met you. Now, he’s down to the ground certain that he fell in love with you the second he seen you. That, and he’s also very certain that he isn’t just in love with you. There’s more to it than that, being in love would be too simply almost to describe the way he feels for you. His heart is wildly infatuated with everything about you, everything you do only serving to make him love you even more. It’s almost ridiculous and the only thing that makes sense in his mind is that not only are you his love at first sight, but also his one.

The one that few people get lucky enough to know. You’re his. You’re his one perfect love, that great love that only fate finds. Two souls made to fit one another, two people always meant to find each other.

One day, he might tell you that in a way you’ll understand. Maybe he’ll tell when you’re married, on your wedding day. Maybe after you have a child or maybe when you’re growing old together with little grandkids running around.

For now, he’ll collect you in his arms after an world-stopping kiss and mumble into your hair the words that carry more weight than you can know in this moment.

“Sei il mio amore più grande.”

#jorginho #jorginho x reader #jorginho imagine #jorginho imagines #footie fics #football fics #footballer fics #footballer imagines #football imagines #chelsea imagines #jorginho frello x reader

[wheelsup]

coffee is the sixth love language | part two

Summary: Over three cups of coffee, Spencer realized his feelings for you. And over three cups of coffee, he acts on them. gn!Reader.

A/N: the italicized this time indicates Spencer’s thoughts, not reader’s. part of this story is inspired directly from these comments made by @doctorthreephds on the reblog! thanks for letting me incorporate them :)

category: fluff, sfw

warnings: technically none, but the “profiling” part is kind of a reach.

word count: 3k

     Once Spencer was firmly resolute on asking you out, he knew he wanted it to be special in a way that only the two of you could appreciate. He realized that he had yet to be the one bringing you coffee, and so it felt only right that it should be how he makes his first move. He woke up extra early on a weekday morning to stop by your favorite coffee shop on his way to work because he knew you loved their banana nut muffins and double-brewed coffee. It was an extra twenty-five minutes out of the way for work each way, so you only got to go there on the rare occasion that you had a day off and were not out of town on a case. It might have been ridiculous to drive fifty minutes for a single damn muffin, but Spencer wanted to make this perfect for you by any means necessary. This was one of the special times that Spencer drove his car, needing the extra speed in order to complete his mission.

     He picked up your regular drink order and the muffin and was anxiously on his way back to Quantico. As per his plan he arrived at the office before you did, though not too much earlier because he wanted to make sure your coffee was still hot by the time you got it. If Spencer’s calculations were correct - which they almost always were - you would arrive within a two to four and a half minute window from when he did. Spencer took out a sharpie from his desk drawer and delicately scrawled a message onto the top corner of the pastry bag holding your muffin. He thought it felt like something out of a cheesy romance novel, the kind of novels that you could find in the fifty cent clearance bins, but dammit if Spencer didn’t deserve a little cheesy romance in his life. The other benefit of this was that he thought he would almost certainly choke on his words if he had to ask you himself. He set the two items on your desk and returned to his own to sit and observe. Spencer hoped it would be the first of many coffees he could buy you.

It wasn’t until you had already walked into the bullpen and were halfway to your desk that Spencer realized he had forgotten to sign his name to the bag. How were you supposed to react to him asking you out if you didn’t actually know it was him? And oh God, he left unsealed food on the desk of an FBI agent, with no indication of who had put it there. That is infinitely more suspicious than it is romantic. He wouldn’t be surprised if she took it straight to the trash can. So long for cheesy romance, Dr. Reid.

     But Spencer was absolutely elated when your first reaction was to peek into the bag and gasp out of joy at what was inside. He watched you break off a piece of your beloved banana nut muffin and chew it gleefully, and all he could think of was how cute you looked when you were happy. Shortly followed by concern that a federal agent would so readily eat unmarked food that could have been tampered with. That’s something I should bring up to her on the date. 

     Spencer’s stomach was in knots not knowing if you would pick up on the message. You swallowed that chunk of the muffin and turned the bag over to find an almost illegible black script that you had nearly missed: Would you like to have coffee with me? It just felt like all of the air had been knocked out of your body. 

     It didn’t even take you half a second to know who this was from; there were so many tells it was Spencer. Before you even noticed the note, you knew it was from him when you saw what was inside the bag. The whole team knew what your favorite coffee shop was because you had talked about it enough times. Hell, you even owned a oversized tee with their name on it that you kept in your go bag as a sleep shirt. But nobody knew what your favorite muffin was because you never mentioned it. In fact, if you thought about it there were maybe only a handful of times over the six months you’d been at the BAU that you even elected to eat this pastry in lieu of a real breakfast. But if anyone was going to detect a pattern, it would have been Dr. Reid. Of course he would pick up on the fact that you only picked those out at cafes when you felt like having a sweet treat, or that when Penelope brought in baked goods for the office you would only indulge if you saw your favorite item in the lineup. 

     You already knew it, but in case you had any doubt, the note itself confirmed your theory twice. One indicator was the phrasing choice would you as opposed to will you. Use of would posits a hypothetical, as in hypothetically, would you have an interest in drinking coffee together, rather than a hard, come with me to get coffee. The hesitance in the tone came off as if the sender were testing the waters, wanting to put the idea out there without coming off as too strong. Because it was reserved, it gave you room to think if you would genuinely enjoy doing so as opposed to making you feel like you should oblige. That level of respect screamed Spencer to you. And though it was so glaringly obvious, if you needed some concrete evidence it was the fact that nobody else had such endearingly atrocious handwriting like Dr. Reid. It was something you always found hilariously ironic for a man who often analyzes other people’s writing styles for work. You wondered what his way of scribbling said about him, and hoped he could tell you on that date of yours. 

     You looked straight at him, finding that his eyes were already fixed on you.

     “Yes.” 

     One word was all you had to say to make the lump in Spencer’s throat disappear, replaced by the sensation that his heart was leaping out of his chest. He was going to keep that memory stored in his brain forever, just to replay the moment when the future of your relationship changed with a simple word. Little did he know that when you finished that muffin, you neatly folded the pastry bag and tucked it into your desk drawer, saving it for the exact same purpose. 

_____

     Spencer had gotten to see your favorite coffee spot already, so for your date you requested that he take you to his to make it even. It was small, but incredibly cozy under the soft ambiance provided by string lights and charm of their mismatched furniture. There was one exposed brick wall adjacent to another that was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf; it housed copies that loyal patrons left behind for others to pick up. All of those books had different colors of post-its peeking out from the pages. It was almost too eclectic and disorganized for what you would expect Dr. Reid to be into, but at the same time it made perfect sense to you.

     “You know, I think I just learned something about you.” You leaned gently into his side to tell him, both hands wrapped around your coffee cup because you were too nervous to know what else to do with them. Spencer was the kind of guy to sit adjacent to you at a table, rather than across, and you loved that about him. You loved having him as close to you as possible. 

     Spencer’s lips pulled at the edges to form a perfect, lazy smile. “What did you learn about me?” The team had an agreement not to profile each other, but under your gaze, Spencer never felt the kind of scrutiny that came with picking people apart. He trusted that whatever you had to say was going to be kind.

     “I think this place says so much about you. Something about how all those books are donations passed on from locals, and that people feel comfortable taking a book off the shelf and opening it up to read what others recommend. The fact that they leave little notes in it for the next reader to share what those stories meant to each of them. Nobody asked those people to do that, but they all chose to take part in these small actions that ended up creating an entire community.” It was one of the most beautifully human things you’d ever witnessed. A group of people engaging in understated and innocent gestures of love between perfect strangers, completely unprompted. “I think you value simple acts, the kind that can take on profound meaning without even intending to. Like when silence feels so comfortable when you’re with the right person.” You paused to take in his reaction as a gauge for how right or wrong you may be. He gave no objection to what you had posited, eyes simply glued to you in intense focus. Spencer was hanging on everything you said, wordlessly encouraging you to divulge more theories you’d developed on him.

     “And, visually, this furniture reminds me of a family home. The kind where some items were handed down for generations, some bought new, and others gifted by a distant relative who has no idea what the family likes.” Spencer’s soft laughter mirrored your own at your very accurate description of the shop’s decor. The room truly could not be more disjointed in its aesthetic, but that was entirely its charm. “It probably reflects that there are some aspects of your life that just don’t make sense to you, that almost seem to conflict with each other. For a guy so smart, I’m sure it’s scary to feel like you don’t understand something, and there are probably dark spots in that brain of yours that you try to hide from the world. But in this room, these things that don’t seem like they work together actually amount to something so lovely. And just like the charmingly hideous suede couch and the oddly fur-covered armchairs, every facet of you deserves appreciation because without them you wouldn’t make up to be the beautiful person you are overall.” 

     Neither of you could pinpoint the moment which your hands had drifted together, fingers loosely intertwined in gentle embrace. There was too much to unpack in what you had said for Spencer to know where to begin. The only thing he could say for sure was that he was astounded by how deeply you understood him without him ever saying any of those things. He considered that maybe you understood him better than he did himself and wished that he could spend his whole life observing the world through the same rose-tinted lenses with which you viewed him. At a loss for words, Spencer chose not to say any right then. The silence I have with you is the most comfortable I’ve ever had. 

_____

     After each of you consumed one too many caffeinated beverages, you still were not prepared to let the date end. You were willing to sit there and have as many espresso drinks as you could to keep talking to Spencer. 

     The universe must have been in support of your romance as the overcast skies broke and began to rain just minutes after the two of you had left the shop. Spencer was walking you back to your apartment, clearly forcing his long legs to slow down their naturally fast stride so to extend how long it took to get there. He could get an extra thirteen minutes with you this way. Spencer was given his perfect excuse to keep the date going in the form of heavy downpour; his apartment was far closer than yours, and he proposed you two should seek shelter together until it stopped. I hope it never stops. 

     Spencer held tightly onto your hand as he ran with you through the rain, giggling all the way to his apartment. He may not like wet, cold climates, but he sure did like holding your hand. Being next to you made him feel incredibly warm somehow when the temperature outside was very much not. And you felt completely at peace sitting on Spencer’s couch wearing one of his sweaters that he lent you. Truthfully, your own clothes weren’t so wet from the rain that it was necessary, but you both pretended it absolutely was just to be able to experience this. 

     It was clear that the rain would be going for a while and all you wanted to do to pass the time was continue listening to Spencer talk. You discovered that when he’s not interrupted, he loves to go on runaway tangents, often bouncing between different trains of thought as one idea sparked him to remember another. It was almost a sport to keep up with him, but it was perhaps the only one you’ve ever enjoyed. It was so easy when everything he said interested you. You loved that Spencer taught you something new every day, but no matter how niche a piece of trivia or shocking an unknown fact was, it could not beat the things that he taught you about himself. He was letting you in on so many unseen dimensions of himself whether he knew it or not, the explicit ones revealing implicit ones. 

     You had happily stayed in his home for hours, absorbing every word he spoke. What entertained you the most was the ability of your conversation to jump from deep, serious places to lighthearted stories filled with jokes and teasing and back again in a way that felt completely natural. Your favorite anecdote of his was the story of how he got addicted to coffee. It was the BAU’s favorite inside-joke that Spencer liked his coffee sickeningly sweet and you always wondered how he could tolerate it. Just looking at it made your teeth ache. When he told you why, you thought that the backstory was even sweeter than the coffee.

     As a twelve year old college student, Spencer found himself experiencing sleep deprivation for the first time in his life. The course load was more rigorous than he had in high school and even the boy genius needed to readjust to the new expectations of college. More importantly, he needed to cope with pulling late nights at the library if he wanted his first degree by the time he was eligible for a driver’s license. The Red Bulls that the other kids seem to gravitate to seemed far too aggressive for Spencer, their potent smell of chemicals a huge turn off. They were definitely not for him. 

     He remembered how often his mom used to drink coffee, always in the morning while Spencer got ready for school. Being at CalTech and away from his mother, who remained in Las Vegas most of the time due to her condition, made him so homesick that he took up a coffee habit as a reminder of her. He loved the way it smelled like every comfort he had ever known. 

     Though he appreciated its smell, Spencer, of course, was not ready back then to love the way it tasted. He was still after all a twelve year old boy who had a sweet tooth like any other kid. The bitter drink was almost offensive to him, so he always made his coffee with extra, extra sugar. He was a menace to the baristas at the campus coffee cart because they would have to refill the shaker every time he stopped by. As it turned out, Spencer was actually a little troublemaker in his youth. 

     You utterly adored this story and the way it humanized Spencer in a way that other people did not consider often enough. Yes, he was the genius in incredibly advanced classes for his age, but he was also a little kid who behaved as all little kids did. He also experienced struggle and had to cope with it just like everyone else. He was not, as some chose to believe, a complete anomaly beyond understanding. Those many misunderstood idiosyncrasies Spencer had started to feel grounded as you learned more about him and could appreciate how and why they came to be.  

     But the night was dwindling down and two of you had gone through many stories since the start of your day together. Hitting a caffeine crash, you found yourself unable to keep some rogue yawns at bay. It was only eight o’clock in the evening, not an unreasonable time for you to ask Spencer to drive you back home. The rain was letting up to a mellow drizzle. Spencer was running out of excuses to keep you here.

     But you thought about how still hadn’t heard about his first pet lizard, which he caught in his backyard, and you didn’t yet know what kind of music he listened to when he was fourteen. And you no longer thought you needed to make excuses to stay with him longer, so you told him honestly that all you really wanted was to stay the night with him and keep hearing his stories. So you asked him if he would set on a fresh pot of coffee, just so you both could sip at it, staying awake all night together.

     He happily did so, and while he set the large coffee pot on and took out two cups from his cabinet, he thought, this is the first of many wishes of yours that I’d like to make come true.

______

PART THREE

Tag list: @rexorangecounty @rachel-voychuk @snitchthewitch @spencer-blake-supremacy @happyreid187 @rainsong01 @librarymagic 

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #mgg #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #fluff #my fic #criminal minds self insert

[romioneficfest]

Little Unicorn Day Center

Title: Little Unicorns Daycare Center

Prompt: day 2 - meet cute

Rating: G

Author:

Brief Summary

Any Content warnings: 

Hermione had cared for many children in the three years since she had opened the Little Unicorns Daycare Center, and she had always been careful to be impartial and fair to every little boy and girl that walked through her doors.

But she couldn’t deny that Lily was one of her favorites.

The vivacious red-headed girl had been in her care for around six months, and it had been obvious from the start that she was different from the other kids. She was well ahead of the group on her reading comprehension, and she had a highly developed sense of humor for her age. She also loved to tell detailed, fantastical stories about magical creatures, and people flying around on broomsticks, and Hermione was amazed at the depth of her imagination.

Hermione had only ever met Lily’s mother, Ginny, who shared her daughter’s long red hair and quick wit. Ginny was always in and out of the cottage in a hurry when she came to drop Lily off or pick her up, but she was always friendly enough. She knew that Ginny was in publishing, and her husband in law enforcement, jobs that surely kept them both very busy, so Hermione didn’t think anything of the quick visits.

It never struck her as odd, either, that she had never met Lily’s father; it was common for her to deal with one parent more than the other. She finally met him on a cold, snowy day, when the front door opened and Lily burst in, shedding her hat and gloves before she had even made it past Hermione’s desk, and a tall, gorgeous red-headed man trailing behind her.

He smiled apologetically as he bent to pick up Lily’s things to hand to her. “Sorry about that. Is she always like this?”

Hermione’s fingers brushed against his as she took the gloves, and she was surely imagining the spark that ignited her skin at the contact. “Oh, it’s um…” Hermione unconsciously raised her hand to flatten her bushy hair before scolding herself. This man was married, and it surely did not matter how her hair looked. “It’s finger paint day. I’m sure she’s just excited.”

“Oh, that explains it, then. Can’t say I blame her.”

He gave her another brilliant smile, and she melted as she looked up into his vibrant blue eyes. Lily had bright eyes, too, but hers were an almost unnatural shade of green. Ginny’s, if Hermione remembered correctly, were brown, and for a fleeting moment, she hoped that maybe the man was a family friend or something. But then she saw the shiny gold detective's badge pinned to his trousers, and the hair color, of course, was unmistakable. Even so, Hermione couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Will you be picking Lily up this afternoon?”

“Nah, Gin just had an early meeting this morning. She’ll get her later, like normal.”

Hermione hoped that her disappointment wasn’t glaringly obvious. Her instant attraction to this man was undeniable, but it was also incredibly inappropriate. He was a parent of one of her charges, for goodness sake! Hermione put on the most neutral smile she could muster and then motioned to a pile of papers that she was certain were nothing more than coloring sheets. “Okay, I hope you have a lovely day. If you’ll excuse me, I really should get back to work.”

“Oh, yeah, me too.” He leaned to the side to look through the open doorway into the playroom beyond the lobby. “Bye, Lil! Be good!” Hermione heard no response from the adjacent room, but he turned without one and gave a slight wave of goodbye to Hermione before heading back out into the cold.

It was several weeks before she saw him again. Lily again raced through the door while her father ambled in behind her and smiled at Hermione. “Must be finger-paint day again,” he said teasingly as he approached the desk. “I realize I didn’t properly introduce myself before. I’m Ron.” He held out his hand for Hermione to shake and she took it, trying to ignore the warmth of his palm.

“Hermione.” Their hands remained linked for just an instant longer than was probably proper, and Hermione forced herself to break their gaze. “Lily’s a wonderful child,” she said, determined to focus on the little girl.

“Yeah, she’s a hoot. She—“ Ron cut himself off with a frown and fished a buzzing pager from his coat pocket. “Sorry, duty calls.” She caught another glimpse of his badge and nodded in understanding. “Nice to see you again.”

“You, too.” Hermione lifted her hand in farewell, and she was so distracted by the view of him from behind, that it completely slipped her mind that Ron was not the name of the other parent on Lily’s paperwork.

She saw Ron several more times over the following months, and he was always so charming with her. Hermione was horribly embarrassed by her attraction to another woman’s husband—though she had noticed that he didn’t wear a ring—and even worse, the fact that the feeling seemed to be mutual. She wanted to believe that it was just his personality, that he was the outgoing type, and not that he was a man who would shamelessly flirt with other women. He didn’t seem to be the sort who would do such a thing. Or maybe she just didn’t want to admit to herself how unseemly her behavior was. Either way, Lily would be moving on to kindergarten soon, and she could forget all about Ron.

Usually if she saw Ron, it was at Lily’s morning drop-off, so Hermione was surprised when he appeared one afternoon at pick-up time. He was quieter than usual, not his typical cheery self. “Lily!” Hermione called to the other room. “Time to go!”

“Coming!” the little girl hollered back as Ron approached her desk.

“Hi,” he said, his tone soft. She didn’t know him all that well, even now, but he actually sounded nervous. “So, I um...wanted to ask you something?”

Hermione’s heart started pounding, and she rubbed her palms against her jeans anxiously. “Sure,” she replied, and she hoped he couldn’t hear the tremor in her voice.

He hesitated, and then blurted out, “Are you free for dinner tonight?” He must have registered the look of shock on her face at his overt invitation, and he began to ramble. “I’ve got to take Lily home, but after that, or—or maybe this weekend we could—“

Hermione gave a vehement shake of her head and lowered her voice to hiss at him, “That is wildly inappropriate!” As much as she couldn’t deny that there was a chemistry between them, acting on it was a whole different matter.

“I—“ He seemed taken aback by the severity of her response. “I can take the rejection, but...inappropriate?”

She looked at him incredulously. “Yes. I don’t make it a habit to fraternize with—“

“Uncle Ron!” Lily’s exclamation and pounding footsteps cut her off and stopped her cold. The little girl threw her arms around one of Ron’s long legs, and he reached down to pat her head.

“Hey, kiddo. Have a good day today?”

Lily nodded. “Where’s mummy?”

“Waiting at home, and your dad is picking up your brothers.”

She then glanced at Hermione before gazing up at Ron with a knowing look beyond her years. “Did you come just to say hi to Miss Hermione?” Lily half-covered her mouth to whisper loudly to Hermione, “My mummy says he fancies you.”

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. Here she had been berating herself all these months for nothing. She wracked her brain, but she couldn’t recall Lily ever mentioning her father or Ron by name, and she had never addressed him directly until now. She had just been assuming that Ron was off-limits, and couldn’t remember ever being so pleased to be wrong.

Ron’s face was red with embarrassment, but he was still smiling shyly at her, and the look was incredibly endearing. “Did you really think I was her dad? Haven’t you ever met Harry?” Hermione shook her head.

“No, I haven’t, actually. I saw your badge and, well, your hair—I just assumed.”

“So...any chance that changes your mind about dinner?” he asked hopefully.

Hermione crouched down to the ground and motioned Lily over. “Maybe you could tell your Uncle Ron,” she said in a stage whisper, “that I fancy him, too?”

Lily nodded eagerly before scampering back over to Ron. “Uncle Ron! Miss Hermione said she fancies you.”

Hermione straightened and beamed at Ron. “Seven okay?”

“Tonight?” Hermione nodded; she didn’t want to wait any longer to get to know him better. “Brilliant. Seven it is.” He took Lily’s hand and led her toward the door, glancing back over his shoulder at Hermione with a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

#hpfic #Romione FicFest 2021 #romione #ron weasley #hermione granger #Rated G #Ace Safe #No content warning #citrus free #Queue up for the Dragon

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

Here Goes Everything (K.NJ)

Warnings : drug use, alcohol, parties, hook ups, swearing, fwb

Word Count : 3890

Synopsis : he’s too good for her, and she knows that. he’s tall, handsome, smart, kind, everything you could ask for. and she’s addicted to drugs, alcohol and partying. so she settles for fwb with a guy she met at a party, while he begins to fall for the perfect woman.

“You’re going to ruin yourself if you continue like this.” He wasn’t exactly yelling, but his voice was loud and booming as he paced my living room, running his hands through his hair.

           “It’s my life, Joon.” I countered, standing from the couch, and standing in front of him, effectively stopping his pacing. “You’re not my dad and you’re not my boyfriend. So why does it matter what I do?” A soft laugh left his lips as he rolled his eyes.

           “You know what, you’re right. I’m not your boyfriend, I shouldn’t care.” He was gone with the slam of my door. I collapsed back onto my couch, immediately calling Yoongi and telling him to bring the good stuff. Within minutes he was on my couch as we took turns doing lines and shots.

           “I heard Jackson is throwing a party.” He threw out as I rested my head on his shoulder, waiting for the drugs and alcohol to kick in and let me forget Namjoon.

           “Shit, his parties are the best. We invited?” I moved slightly so my chin was resting on his shoulder so I could look at his face. He smirked, showing me his text conversation with Jackson earlier.

           “Of course we are. We’re the life of the party.” I got up from the couch to get changed. I threw on something I knew would get me the attention I craved; a pair of denim shorts that just covered my ass, a black cropped tank top, and a baggy sweater that I stole from Yoongi months ago. I left it unzipped so it would slide off one of my arms, and quickly slid on my comfy heeled combat boots. “Who you trying to impress looking like that?” Yoongi asked when I made my way back to the living room, licking his lips as he gave me a once over. I threw my arms lazily around his neck and his hands immediately wrapped around my waist, bringing me closer to him.

           “As if you have to ask.” I teased, glancing down at his lips. He didn’t hesitate in closing the minimal space between us, soft gasps escaping from both of us.

           It wasn’t hard to find Jackson when we arrived at his place. The man was made for throwing parties; he was the biggest social butterfly I’ve ever met. He was making rounds, greeting everyone, and making sure everyone was having a great time. His eyes were on me the second I walked in the door, and he left the group he was talking to to greet me. “And the party queen arrives.” He smirked, bringing me in for a hug.

           “We had to stop to get more of the good shit.” Yoongi said, taking Jackson’s attention away from me.

           “You guys started without me?” Jackson jokingly pouted, causing both Yoongi and I to roll our eyes. “Meet me in my room, I’ll grab Jungkook and Jae Beom.” We nodded and headed upstairs to the last room on the left and set up. It didn’t take long for the other 3 to join us for some lines. We sat and joked around for a while so it could kick in, and then we joined the party raging on downstairs.

           “You look so good tonight.” Yoongi moaned into my ear as he wrapped his arms around me from behind as I made us some drinks. His lips were soon pressing on the side of my neck, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses before I turned around in his arms and pressed my lips to his. My hands gripped onto his hair as his tongue begged for entrance, which I fully obliged.

           “Always a show when you two get together.” Jungkook chuckled, causing us to break apart. Yoongi didn’t move, just kept his arms wrapped tightly around me as I placed my hands on his chest and looked over to Jungkook.

           “We’re not dating.” I corrected. He put his hands up in surrender, but I could see the teasing look in his eyes. “Just fucking.” I added, pressing a quick kiss to Yoongi’s cheek.

           “Love is dumb anyway.” Yoongi chimed in. “I get all the benefits, none of the bullshit.” He smirked, pulling me in for another heated kiss. Love is dumb, which is why I settle for this instead allowing myself to fall completely head over heels for my best friend.

           Kim Namjoon is every girls dream when it comes to dating. He’s considerate, kind, giving, loving, funny, smart, tall, and not to mention sexy as fuck. He’s always had my entire heart since the day we met in our first year of high school. Someone had decided to dump their smoothie on my shirt, and without thinking, Namjoon had slipped his sweater on my shoulders, grabbing my arms, and sliding them through the arm holes before zipping it up, effectively hiding the stain.

           I was already on a slippery slope back then, drinking with friends much older than I. But he saved me, honestly speaking. He helped me get my grades up, helped me get into and then graduate college. He was there for every hard night, every sick day, and has seen me at my best and my worst. Kim Namjoon was everything I needed and everything I wanted.

           Yoongi was the complete opposite of Namjoon. He did drugs, drank, and partied all the time. He dropped out of college to party and could barely hold down a job. He introduced me to Jackson, Jae Beom and Jungkook, and soon the 5 of us became the life of every party.

           I met Yoongi soon after Namjoon started dating a girl who was perfect for him. It had been years since I stepped foot in a party, but when I was walking and heard the pounding music, it was like it was calling for me. Like fate had put me there at that time on purpose, so I could find Min Yoongi and get over the pain of losing my first love.

           I remembered walking through the door, and Yoongi’s eyes immediately met mine. It’s like he could see how broken I was and took me under his wing. Within a couple hours, I had completely forgotten about Namjoon and miss perfect.

           It became a regular thing for me again, staying out late and not remembering what I did. Because when I woke up the next day, I was met with the realization that the only man I’ve ever loved, will never love me. So every night I drank myself into oblivion and slept with Yoongi. It was the closest thing to love I’ll ever get.

           “I want you to meet her.” Namjoon told me a few days later as we sat on the couch, watching some movie I already forget the name of. “You’re my best friend and she’s been asking to meet you.” He had told me lots about her in the past. How smart she is, how pretty she is, how absolutely perfect she is. It is glaringly obvious how much different she is from me.

           “Whatever.” I said under my breath, really not in the mood to hear about his perfect girlfriend. “Should we invite her to dinner then?” I asked in a monotone voice, not looking away from the tv, though I had no idea what was going on with the characters on the screen. The only thing I could focus on was the new cologne Namjoon was wearing, and how close he was sitting to me.

           “She’d love that.” He smiled, immediately pulling out his phone to text her.

           “I’m bringing Yoongi then. I don’t want to third-wheel.” His head snapped up to look at me when I said that. Besides, I’ll need drugs to get through this. I thought to myself, texting Yoongi to see if he was free.

           “So you two are officially dating?” Namjoon asked, causing me to look over at him for the first time since we sat down. All he was wearing was a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but somehow he looked incredible. His girlfriend was so lucky, and I hope she knew that. I hope she treats him like the king he is, because if she were to break his heart, she’d be breaking mine too.

           “You know I don’t date, Joon.” I chuckled, rolling my eyes as the absurdity that I’d be able to love anyone that wasn’t him.

           Yoongi and I quickly snuck into my room to do a couple lines before meeting Namjoon back in the living room so we could leave for the restaurant. The two of them have met on multiple occasions during these last few months, but they never seemed to get along. Namjoon blamed Yoongi for getting me back into partying, and Yoongi hates that Namjoon can’t see the great girl in front of him.

           As expected, she was stunning, even in her simple sundress. Namjoon’s face completely lit up when she joined our table. “You must be Y/N.” She exclaimed with a wide smile. “Joonie has told me so much about you.” Why did I think this was a good idea? I could feel the tears spring to my eyes just watching them interact, wishing it was me.

           “Did you just want to leave? Jackson’s throwing another party.” Yoongi whispered in my ear. “A pool party with his closest friends.” He added with a playful smirk as he pinched my side. I let out a little squeal, catching the attention of Namjoon and Ji Soo.

           “We should hurry and order. Yoongi just reminded me that it’s our friend’s birthday tonight.” I lied with a small smile, and Ji Soo immediately agreed.

           “Don’t want you to miss another party.” Namjoon said with a displeased look on his face.

           “So glad you see it our way.” Yoongi bit back, a smile on his face as he cocked his head to the side. Ji Soo looked between the two of them, obviously sensing the sudden tension in the air.

           “You seriously can’t skip this party?” His question was directed at me, but Yoongi answered.

           “Didn’t you hear her? It’s our friend’s birthday.”

           “And which friend would that be?” Namjoon countered, completely ignoring both Ji Soo and I, who just looked at each other, not wanting to get involved.

           “Jackson.” Yoongi said, placing his elbows on the table and resting his head in his hands, looking over at Namjoon with a playful look in his eyes, but I could see the anger in the way his jaw was clenching. “You know, the guy who threw her a huge birthday bash when her best friend forgot her birthday.” Namjoon’s eyes widened when he heard that, but I refused to look at him, keeping my head down as I pretended to look through the menu. I could tell that Namjoon was going through the days in his mind, trying to see if Yoongi was telling the truth.

           “Y/N, why didn’t you say anything?” I glanced up for just a second before looking back to the menu like it was the most interesting book in the world.

           “You were busy with Ji Soo. It’s not that big a deal. I had a good day.” I still remembered getting ready for our birthday tradition of ordering in and watching a bunch of movies in a fort. A tradition that was started by Namjoon in high school when he found out no one remembered my birthday. He asked his parents if I could come over for the night, and I remember seeing the horribly built fort in his room and crying.

           We’ve gotten better at building forts over the years, but the tradition still went unmissed for 7 years, until this year. I could see the apologetic look in both Namjoon and Ji Soo’s eyes. She never meant to take Namjoon from me, but she was such a good person. Of course he would choose her over me, even on my birthday. “You know, I’m suddenly not hungry.” I chirped, closing the menu, and placing it back on the table. “Have a date night. Yoongi and I have somewhere to be.”  

           “Y/N!” Namjoon called after me, following Yoongi and I to the parking lot before grabbing my wrist and stopping me. “Why didn’t you remind me?”

           “I didn’t think I needed to.” I slid his hand off my wrist and slid my hand into Yoongi’s and we left. “You didn’t have to say that.” I whispered as he drove away, leaving Namjoon in the parking lot, staring after us, and Ji Soo sitting alone at a table meant for 4.

           “He deserved to know how horribly he’s been treating you lately.” I knew he was right. I would have never told Joon how much he’s been neglecting me since his relationship with Ji Soo began. “We’ll stop by your place to get your swim suit, then we’ll get drunk and forget about love.” He smiled at me, placing his hand on my thigh. Why did I have to fall in love with the only man who could never love me?

           “I’m going to have to throw more pool parties if this is what you look like in a bikini.” Jackson teased, pulling me in for a hug, kissing my cheek as we pulled away.

           “Always a flirt.” I joked back, blowing him a kiss. Everyone who was invited was already in the pool, enjoying the drinks and loud music. Jungkook and Jae Beom saw Yoongi and I standing with Jackson by the sliding glass door leading into his house, and quickly made their way towards us.

           “You two are always the last to arrive.” Jae Beom teased, bumping me lightly with his shoulder.

           “Probably fucking and losing track of time.” Jungkook jumped in, a teasing smile on his face. I threw my head back in laughter as Yoongi slid his arm around my waist.

           “If you’re jealous, just say so.” Yoongi quipped, pressing a soft kiss to my neck. “Who’s joining us in the kitchen?” He asked the three boys in a tone that alluded to what the plan was. All three of them followed us as we continued our tradition of getting absolutely trashed together.

           I found myself drinking more than usual as thoughts of Namjoon just wouldn’t leave my mind. I could still see the way his entire face lit up when Ji Soo joined us, as if she was the love of his life. And maybe she was. Maybe in due time I’d be a guest at their wedding, Yoongi on my arm as we try to get low-key trashed. We’d probably fuck in an abandoned room at whatever venue they decided on.

           I always pictured a life where Namjoon returned my feelings, and I was the one walking down the aisle towards him. He would smile when he saw me dressed in white, and he would whisper how beautiful I was when I met him at the alter. There would be no second thoughts, no cold feet. It’s like he’s my soulmate, but I’m not his. And that hurts.

           So I drown my sorrows in drugs and alcohol. Splashing around with all the guys in the pool, my vision blurring the more I drank. Yoongi sat me on the edge of the pool at one point, standing between my legs as we gave the rest of them a small show as we made out. Cheers were heard from all our friends and we couldn’t help but laugh at how high school this all felt.

           It wasn’t until Yoongi swam away, joining a game the rest of them were playing, that I realized just how drunk and unstable I was. I tried to stop myself from falling forwards, but I couldn’t. And the next thing I remember is hitting my head on the bottom of the pool and hearing everyone call my name.

           Blinding lights woke me up who knows how long later, and I could feel my head pound worse than any hangover I’ve ever felt. “Y/N!” Yoongi exclaimed when he saw my eyes opened, immediately taking my hand in his, bringing it to his lips and giving it a soft kiss. “You scared the shit out of me.” I finally took in my surroundings, realizing I was in a hospital room, an IV of fluids in my arm sobering me up quickly. My head whipped towards the door when it slid open, Namjoon walking in.

           “You’re up.” I nodded. “What the fuck were you thinking drinking that much?” He suddenly yelled, causing Yoongi to stand up and get into Namjoon’s face.

           “Do not fucking talk to her like that!” He countered.

           “I’m her best friend! I have a right to be concerned about her wellbeing. And if I’m honest, you are no help.” I wanted to say something, anything, to stop them from arguing, from saying things they won’t be able to take back.

           “Last I checked, I’m the person that’s been there for her lately. I’m the person that knows when she’s sad. I’m the person she calls when you yell at her. I’m the person who helps her forget why she’s sad in the first place!” Yoongi yelled, getting closer to Namjoon. “While you run off galivanting with your girlfriend and neglecting the person you call your best friend.”

           “I do not neglect Y/N! I make time for her all the fucking time. All you’ve done is undo all the progress I made getting her better.”

           “You make time for her and yet you missed her birthday and didn’t even realize it until I told you! I see her every fucking day, so I damn well know you’re not around as much as you think you are. You don’t even know how much she’s hurting.” Yoongi’s voice started getting softer, tears obviously welling up in his eyes. We were fuck buddies, but he’s still a close friend of mine. Seeing me hurt always seemed to hurt him as well. Namjoon then looked passed Yoongi and right at me.

           “Why don’t you talk to me anymore? Why does he know you’re hurting, and I don’t?” He pushed Yoongi to the side, stepping closer to me and taking the chair Yoongi was once sitting in.

           “Because you’re the one hurting me.” I admitted, tired of biting my tongue around him. Yoongi was right. Namjoon deserved to know how much he was hurting me. “You can’t see how in love with you I am, and brag to me about how perfect Ji Soo is, and it hurts because you’re right. She’s so perfect, especially for you. I’m just a fucking mess and I’m just lucky you’re my best friend, but I love you. So I drown my feelings in alcohol to forget about you.” Namjoon just stared at me. “I don’t expect you to ever return my feelings, Joon. But please for now, just leave.” He didn’t say anything and just left the room, Yoongi quickly taking a seat beside me again.

           “I’m proud of you, babe.” He smiled, taking my hand again. “He needed to hear it.” I nodded, refusing to meet his sympathy filled eyes. I deserve someone like Yoongi. Him and I are similar in the worst ways, but we complete each other in the best way. And yet I can’t stop being in love with the one man who is too good for me.

           Yoongi didn’t leave my side for the week of bed rest at home I was ordered to take. Neither one of us drank or did drugs, we didn’t even have sex the entire time. He just doted on me; cooking for me and helping me with absolutely everything. I’ve never felt more grateful for him than this moment. It almost helped me forget about Namjoon. Almost.

           The day Yoongi left, Namjoon was at my door, an apologetic look in his eyes. I invited him in as the two of us sat on my couch, silence draping over us. It was weird sitting in complete silence with him, neither one of us knowing what to say. “How come you never said anything?” Namjoon finally broke the silence.

           “I didn’t want to lose you. Like you said, you made me better. You helped me get on the right path, helped me graduate college, helped me become the person I was months ago. And I knew it was all one-sided. So I bit my tongue, and then you met Ji Soo, and I met Yoongi. Yoongi was able to help me forget that I was watching you fall in love with someone that wasn’t me.” Namjoon was staring at me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, knowing I would burst into tears the second I met his sympathetic eyes.

           “How do you know it’s one-sided?”

           “Oh please, Joon. You’re literally perfect. A genius with a 4.0 GPA, a wonderful job making good money. You’re such a kind and giving person, not thinking twice about helping a person in need, like giving me your sweater in high school. Not to mention you’re effortlessly handsome. And I’m a mess. I drink and do drugs. I was failing until you helped me. I can barely hold down a job. Just looking at us, anyone could tell that you’re way too good for me.” I laid all my thoughts on the table, wiping away some of the tears that began to fall. “It was inevitable that I was going to fall in love with you.” I added, taking a small glance towards him before looking back to my hands joined together in my lap.

           “You’re so much more than that, Y/N. You’re so smart when you apply yourself. You’re such a caring person, like you don’t even think about doing good for others, it’s just second nature to you. And you’re beautiful.” He reached over, brushing some hair away from my face. “So beautiful and you don’t even realize it.” His voice was soft as he spoke. “Sure, you got into the wrong crowd again and found yourself on that slippery slope once again, but relapse is a thing that happens during recovery.”

           “What if I don’t want to recover anymore?” I finally met his eyes as my tears fell more frequently.

           “Then I’ll just have to give you a reason to.” I scoffed.

           “And what reason is that?” He seemed to hesitate for only a second before closing the space between us in a sweet kiss. A kiss so much different than the ones I’ve shared with Yoongi. A kiss filled with love and passion. A kiss that brought me back to life.

           “Ji Soo broke up with me that evening at the restaurant. Because even she could see just how in love with you I am.” He whispered, his forehead resting against mine. “Is my love reason enough to continue your recovery?” He pulled back only slightly, his hand coming up to rest on my cheek, wiping away some of the stray tears.

           “Your love is the only drug I need.” I smiled, kissing him for the second time, my heart swelling with so much love. It was inevitable that I was going to fall in love with the man who saved me, but it was destiny that he fell in love with me too.

#bts imagine #bts au #kim namjoon imagine #kim namjoon au #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok

[scxrlettwxtches]

of secret rendezvous and fishnet tights | lee felix

genre: fluff, very very slight angst (?), idol au

warnings: heavy makeout session uwu

prompt: secret relationship -- aka lee felix enjoying your group’s concept change a little too much and having an existential crisis about it

word count: ~2k+

a/n: i hope this is alright, love! it’s a little more *ahem* steamy than what i normally write, so i apologize in advance if this isn’t what you were looking for!! >.< i also wanted to thank everyone for their super sweet words about my last seungmin fic. it really made me feel better about coming out of hiatus. as always, i love you all, and please feel free to leave comments and constructive criticism for me! <3 mwah (repost again cause the tags literally hate me)

You weren’t sure when your life became hushed whispers, fleeting kisses and empty closets, but once you agreed to date Lee Felix, it was all you knew.

“L-lix,” you let out a gasp as your boyfriend wasted no time in wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his lips against your cheek, trailing them down to your jaw, “Lix, darling, the door is still open--”

“Fuck the door,” he growled under his breath, sending shivers down your spine as you noticed him reach back and close the door with his foot, “I’ve missed you so much.”

You melted at those words, and your arms looped around his neck, pulling him closer as you stumbled until your back hit the wall of the closet, “It’s only been two weeks since we’ve met…”

“Two weeks too long,” Felix’s voice turned to a petulant whine as he cupped your cheeks, pressing his lips to yours almost hungrily. He knew this was wrong, he knew that Chan would probably scold him to the moon and back when they made it to the dorms, but he couldn’t wait.

You let out the softest of whines against his lips, overwhelmed and excited by Felix’s unusual eagerness. He wasn’t usually like this, rather opting for soft kisses and gentle touches. This, this felt like almost a carnal desire, and you briefly wondered what had happened to make Felix act this way.

“Baby, baby,” you cooed breathlessly, carding your fingers through his hair before you finally manage to pull away from his barrage of kisses, cupping his cheek to make him look at you, “Are you alright?”

Felix’s pout almost made you wanted to kiss him again. He looked quite like a kicked puppy, leaning into your touch as his grip tightened around  your waist, “Just missed you. Is that so shocking to hear?” he mumbled, averting his eyes as he tried to capture your lips once more, only for you to press to gentle fingers to his lips.

“Hey, Lix, talk to me, hm?” You smiled that soft, heartwarming smile that made Felix downright giddy. You only ever smiled at him like that. He’s never seen you smile like that to anyone else, your fellow group members, the camera, your fans. It was his smile.

The boy could never refuse you when you gave him that look, and he let out a sigh, allowing his head to droop and rest on your chest. He didn’t want to admit it, he didn’t want to, it was so embarrassing--

“You didn’t tell me your group was doing a concept change,” Felix finally mumbled out, his fingers playing with the leather straps that looped around your body as part of your performance outfit.

You blinked in utter surprise, eyes widening as you asked with your amusement barely hidden, “So, you shoved me into a broom closet because you got turned on by me wearing leather straps?”

“Don’t say it like that!” He frowned, looking up at you from where his chin was resting on your chest, a clear pout on his face, “You have no idea how hard it was to watch your comeback stage yesterday and keep a straight face around the other boys and the stylists.”

You could no longer hide your flustered giggles at this point, making Felix turn an even more adorable shade of pink as he huffed out, “It’s true! And it’s not just the straps,” his hands trailed from your waist down to the outside of your thigh with a ghost-like touch, “I-it’s the fishnets, too…”

“What? Is it too much?” you teased, brushing the strands of hair away from his face as you cooed internally, watching him shake his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Not too much, not at all. You just look so good,” he confessed, hiding his face as you felt him grow even more embarrassed, “I didn’t think you could look any more beautiful than you normally do, but I was so wrong.”

Your heart leapt out of your chest at those words, and you felt such a compelling urge to show your love, to touch him, to do anything that could convey just how much you loved Lee Felix. In the end, you settled with guiding his head up so you could press your lips delicately against his, an action that Felix was more than happy to comply with.

“I hate hiding,” he muttered against your lips as he grew more eager, standing up to his full height and effectively towering over you as he pressed you carefully against the wall, “I hate seeing how perfect you are on stage and not being able to tell everyone that you’re mine, that I’m so proud of you, that you’re my amazing girlfriend--”

“One day,” you replied softly, a phrase that you’ve repeatedly uttered whenever Felix got in these moods, “One day, when it won’t impact your group and mine.”

Felix let out a low growl at your words, trailing his kisses down to your neck as he played with the straps of your outfit, “I’m tired of waiting. Is what we’re doing so wrong that we have to hide like thieves?”

You sighed, pulling away slightly so you could look into his eyes as you poke, "It's not wrong," you said with a gentle smile, "One day. We'll go on dates, watch movies, go shopping without having to worry."

His hands cupped your cheek, bringing you impossibly closer as he kissed the tip of your nose, "I guess you have a point," he grumbled, although his disgruntled expression slowly began to fade into a look of love and restrained affectionI as if making up for all the times he had to stand beside you on stage, forcing himself to feign indifference even when his hands were itching to hold you, to touch you.

The poor boy's displeasure was glaringly obvious, especially for you, and you couldn't help but giggle, "Enough about sad things," you said, tugging at his jacket to pull him flush against you, "Are you free tonight? I don't have a schedule after this performance."

Felix's expression was never one to hide anything, and you watched as his face visibly brightened at your words, "I never thought I'd ever hear those words from you," he said excitedly. You were always so, so busy with everything, from your group activities to your acting career. Of course he was proud of you, he was more than proud of you for everything you were accomplishing. It was everything you've ever wanted, after all; he'd known that ever since you two had met as JYP trainees.

Still, sometimes, just sometimes, the little green monster that lived in the crevices of his heart wished that you would spend more time with him.

You smiled guiltily at his words, as if you already knew the thoughts he was hiding, "I know I haven't been the best girlfriend recently," you admitted, stroking his cheek, "I know I've been cancelling dates and being a little distant. I've worried you, haven't I?"

Felix held you tightly, shaking his head. It was almost heartbreaking to see how genuinely sincere he was when he looked at you, "I'm your boyfriend," he chuckled, pecking your lips, "It's my job to worry."

"Either way, I shouldn't make you worry unnecessarily," you said and your boyfriend only laughed quietly as he buried his face in your neck, both of you knowing that he would never lose his constant concern over your wellbeing. It wasn't like you were any different when it came to him, if you were being honest.

"You’re distracting me," you complained, realizing that Felix's gentle, goading lips on the soft skin of your neck were clouding your thoughts and making your brain fuzzy.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” he replied almost smugly, nipping your skin and feeling your body react immediately, tensing against him. Gosh, you never made it easy for him to keep his hands to himself!

You let out a shaky sigh as you felt him pressing you further against the wall, your hands automatically running up and down his toned back, "You know, I'm trying to find a way to spend more time with you, and you're ironically not helping."

"I don't wanna plan. I just wanna spend time with you now," Felix was almost on cloud nine at this point, your familiar perfume wafting into his nose as he continued to attack at your neck, still remembering to be careful not to leave marks (although he'd very much want to).

You caved, just as you always did, tilting your head to the side to give him better access while your hands slipped under his shirt, "Alright. You win. How much time do we have? Aren’t you performing soon?"

"Jisung's standing outside. He’ll knock when I need to go,” he spoke against your skin.

“Wow, does he owe you a favor?” You couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of shy, awkward little Jisung standing outside in the moment, playing with his hands as he tried to act natural.

“Just one or two,” Felix replied, pulling at your waist and squeezing the supple flesh gently.

You smiled, humming softly as you let him play as he wished, “It’s a little bit unfair to make him stand guard in front of a closet, don’t you think?”

Felix didn’t respond to your question with words. Rather, he suddenly lunged forward, effectively taking your breath away as he captured your lips with his, the ferocity of his movement causing your heart to pound.

“Enough about Jisung,” he growled under his breath as he pulled away just a hair, your lips now wet and kiss-swollen. This Felix didn’t come out very often, triggered by a mixture of unresolved sexual wanting and jealousy. And boy, did you love every moment he acted like this.

Your fingers found their permanent place in his hair as he kissed you again, drowning you in pleasure and relief. You had always thought that there was no greater feeling than being on stage, but this, this sensation of being swept away with love was incomparable. Felix couldn’t seem to get enough of you, kissing and nipping at your lips as his hands played with the leather straps around the upper half of your body, pulling and snapping them back against your torso and making you whimper.

Oh, this was a big problem. Neither of you will be able to stop very soon. What time was it again? Who was performing at the moment? You couldn’t even remember your own name as Felix explored your mouth with his eager tongue, the kiss dirty and perfect. A hand trailed down your soft thigh, lifting your leg up against his waist and beginning to play with the patterns of your leggings when-

The sound of frantic knuckles wrapping against the closet door startled both of you, and you would’ve almost unceremoniously fell on your butt if Felix did not grab your waist in the nick of time. The closet was dim, with light peeking in from the crevices of the door, but you were sure you looked a mess, and you thanked the gods that you had already performed for the day.

“Times’ up,” you sighed, trying not to sound disappointed as Felix held you close, burying his face in your soft hair.

“Don’t wanna go,” he said in frustration, obviously all worked up just like you were. Unfortunately, Jisung knocked on the door again, much more anxiously than the last.

You reached up, petting his head, “I know, baby. I know, but you should at least save your friend from having to explain why you’re in a broom closet with another idol, don’t you think?” you suggested.

Felix sighed, lifting his head to bend down and kiss your lips, “I guess you’re right,” he mumbled lowly against your soft lips. You expected him to take his leave right then and there, but to your surprise, his lips trailed to your ear, kissing your lobe as he growled.

“I’m going to rip those fishnets off tonight, angel.”

Gosh, you couldn’t wait.

.

a/n: f in the chat for jisung lol

#inkidz #districtninewriters #stayhavennet #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids reactions #stray kids drabbles #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz oneshots #my fics