#i made a post a few weeks ago where i tagged it something about if people put half the effort into learning about my interests as i do

[halfvalid]

the blade daughter, pt. 1

ABOUT

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

alternate title: dracule mihawk cures your daddy issues!

rating: mature

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!dracule mihawk | live action!straw hat ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 23.6k total | 8.3k this part

description: as the daughter of dracule mihawk, you've been living alone at home, unwilling to go out and find a life of your own due to the belief that your father needs you around. but when he sends you off to buy him a jacket, you end up running into a pirate crew—and a particular swordsman—that end up changing how you feel.

tags: mihawk's daughter!reader, female reader, canon-typical violence, cursing, no use of 'y/n', pet names per mihawk ('dear', 'darling', 'sweetheart', 'little hawk'), emotional hurt/comfort, sexual harassment (from nameless OC), slow burn

author’s note: finally she's here! i'm posting it spaced out because i don't want to overload you all with a 23.6k fic in one post... IMPORTANT NOTE: i did some research from the animanga for mihawk's personality, weapons, and home, but this is still very much only a fic for OPLA and not the other iterations of the material.

the fic is not exactly only a romance; it focuses a lot on the reader's personal character development along with her relationship with mihawk too. i hope you guys don't mind! i kind of lost the plot lol.

reader is mihawk's biological daughter, but is stated to take after her mother and doesn't bear similarity to mihawk. so the fic is poc reader friendly!

Your dad was late to dinner again. 

To be fair, Dracule Mihawk didn’t exactly follow a schedule. He was fickle—back when you’d been a girl, he’d been around all the time, because although he was a lot of things, Mihawk was not an absentee parent. But as you’d grown older, he started being less strict, leaving you alone for days and weeks until you’d finally matured into an adult. Mihawk spent most of his time away from the house, now—but you agreed to have dinner together every week, no matter what part of the ocean he was in. 

And he was late. 

You’d started cooking the meal early, only for Mihawk to not show up when everything was ready. Or after everything was ready. Or even when everything had cooled, and you’d eaten your fill, and waited in your chair for him to arrive. He finally showed up a quarter past two in the morning, the doors of the dining room bursting open to announce his entrance. 

You cracked an eye open from where you’d been dozing in your seat. “You’re late.” 

“I’m sorry, darling,” Mihawk said, taking his hat off and bowing with a flourish. He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. “I got a little busy. Garp had me deal with a pirate in the East Blue.” 

You made a face at him as he sat down to eat. “Could’ve at least let me know. Den den mushi exist for a reason.” 

“Ah, well, my apologies.” Mihawk sighed, dramatic as ever—you couldn’t find it in you to be mad at him for more than a few minutes, though, something he knew well. “It would’ve gone quickly had some upstart not challenged me to a duel. So I had to spend the night.” He tsked, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “And then I went to visit an old friend. Red-haired Shanks.”

“I remember him.” You got up from your seat, moving to the kitchen to rifle in the icebox for a popsicle. “Another duel? What’s this week’s body count?” 

“You know I don’t tally such trifling matters, sweetheart,” Mihawk said. You shrugged, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen to watch him start eating. “This pasta is cold.” 

“Wasn’t cold four hours ago,” you said, languidly licking at your popsicle. “No sympathy here, dad.” 

“Fine,” Mihawk said. “Anyway, I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of the man. Tall, green hair, three swords.” He wrinkled his nose. “Said people called him the Demon.” 

“Roronoa Zoro,” you affirmed, slipping into the chair beside your father. “Scariest pirate hunter in the East Blue. You killed him?” 

“Clearly not much of a pirate hunter, considering he’s a pirate now,” Mihawk said, the scrape of his knife and fork ringing around the room. “Joined the man I Garp sent me after, this little boy in a straw hat. And no. I let him and his crew go.” 

You paused, voice faltering as you registered the words. “You let him live?” 

“Yes. He was rather interesting. I expect he’ll come find me later,” Mihawk answered. You stared at him, still baffled. Your father was a lot of things, but a man of mercy was not one of them. Your earliest memory of him exacting his power over others was when you’d been two, watching from your crib as he speared the nanny for calling you a brat. A touching gesture, for certain, but still. “But enough about work. How have you been, little hawk?” 

“Bored,” you said with a sigh. “It’s so dull on this island.” 

Mihawk looked amused. “You could leave. I’m not restricting you here anymore.” Back in your teen years, Mihawk hadn’t let you leave the house—something about enemies wanting to kill his daughter or whatever else nonsense. He’d trained you personally, though, so you were nearly as fearsome as your father—able to beat anyone in combat in the blink of an eye. “You don’t have to stay.” 

“The house would get all dusty,” you protested, lips tugging into a line. And it wasn’t like you hadn’t done any exploring. Mihawk had taken you to all four seas throughout your adolescence, and you’d taken vacations to everywhere of importance. You just—didn’t have much of a point to leave, really. You very much preferred not to, something tying you firmly to the island, to your castle. “And besides, where would I even go?” 

“I hear the East Blue is interesting this time of year,” Mihawk said. “You could venture around here, but…” He shrugged. “The Grand Line is dangerous.” 

You made a face. “I’ve lived here my entire life. I can take care of myself.” 

“Certainly,” Mihawk agreed easily. “But it’s simply not worth it. You really should get out more, dear. It’s not good for your health.” 

“Maybe,” you said, but you weren’t very enthusiastic about it. “Here, I’ll clean Yoru for you while you finish eating.” You moved around the back of his chair, lifting his sword off the jacket he hadn’t bothered to shed from his back. You grimaced upon seeing a line of dried blood along the blade. “Dad.”

“Sorry, dear,” Mihawk said, and you rolled your eyes, carrying the sword over to the living room. You set Yoru down with a heavy thud, pulling out a box of materials. Mihawk came over to watch you, one arm propped against the doorway as his aureate eyes gazed down as you worked.

Compared to your dad, you looked relatively normal. You’d always taken after your mother—a mysterious woman you barely had any memories of—and the relation between the two of you was never immediately obvious. The fact your eyes were plainly normal instead of bearing the golden hawk eyes Mihawk had was another factor added to that, too. 

You pulled out a bottle of oil, pouring it generously over Yoru’s blade before grabbing a cloth to carefully wipe it with. “Where in the East Blue?” you asked abruptly, not looking up. Mihawk’s fork clinked along the ceramic of his bowl, presumably surprised you’d actually consider the offer of leaving. 

“Well, I could send you out to run some errands if you wish. I’ve got some things to attend to,” Mihawk optioned. “There’s this one store in Loguetown with a rather nice jacket I’ve had my eye on.”

You shot him a disbelieving look. “You want me to go to the East Blue to buy you a jacket.” 

Mihawk shrugged. “My birthday’s coming up.” 

“No, it’s not.” You slid your rag along the edge of Yoru’s blade, folding it in half before wiping the entire thing again to ensure there was no grime left. “Finished. Maybe I’ll just stay—” 

Mihawk gave you a look. 

“Fine. Loguetown it is,” you said with a sigh. “Don’t give me a crew. I’ll just take one of the sloops. I’ll get your dumb jacket for you.” You got up, tossing the cloth over a shoulder to hand wash later. “I’ll leave later today.” 

Mihawk clicked his tongue. “You’re so enthusiastic, darling. I can practically see the excitement oozing off of you.” 

You rolled your eyes, moving past him to go up to your room. “Short trip,” you said. “No more than a couple of days.” 

“The little hawk, so incited to leave the nest.”

“Shut up.” 

Mihawk had complied with your wishes, as when you woke up the next morning, he had already prepared a sloop for you to board alone. You packed some of your things, not being too fussy about the clothing or other objects, knowing that the boat was already well-stocked on its own. Mihawk waited to send you off, though you knew he probably had affairs to attend to by now. 

“Be good, darling,” he said, while you were loading up the last of your stuff. Just like your father, you preferred to wear your sword on your back; a present he’d given you at the age of thirteen. “I’ll call you. I’ve got business in the South Blue.” 

“Have fun,” you said, and he kissed the back of your hand before pushing you off. 

Loguetown was just how you’d remembered it, buzzing with civilians and pirates alike. The stores were plentiful, and filled to the brim with customers—it was all a little overwhelming compared to the peace and quiet you were used to. Still, it wasn’t a bad place to stay for a few weeks, and you might as well take your time there. 

You slung your coat on as you exited the docks, glancing around the town in search of something to do first. Since you weren’t especially interested in retrieving a jacket for your father just yet, you beelined to the nearest tavern to grab something to eat. It was a lot easier traveling without Mihawk at your side—as much as you loved him, he had the habit of attracting both trouble and fear wherever he went, and he was near impossible to go out with. 

The tavern was full, but not too crowded, and you managed to slip over to the bar without much trouble. It seemed to mostly consist of pirates—rough men with flowing jackets and holsters of guns and swords at their hip, clustered together in groupings that clearly proved their alliances with each other. You were one of the only patrons who was alone.

You gestured for the barkeep, and she bustled over from where she was serving a particularly ragtag group of pirates. They were mismatched, colors oddly paired—a girl with neon orange hair, a short man with a straw hat, one wearing a flowery shirt and goggles and the last man dressed in clothes far too formal for a bar. “What can I get for you?” she asked, a thick brogue dragging down her words. 

You told her your drink order, still eyeing the group. The barkeep followed your vision and let out a sigh. “Don’t bother. Three men have already tried to capture him for the bounty.  Broke half my furniture. And we got a rule here, anyway—no fightin’.” 

“Does he have a bounty?” you asked with a frown. She scoffed. 

“Does he ever. Thirty million berry, child. Highest in the East Blue.” She shook her head. “That crew won’t let anyone touch ‘im. Hell, I think his first mate’s still outside cleaning up the bodies.” She sighed again. “Well, I’ll have that drink out for you in a moment.” 

You nodded, slipping into the closest available chair. Now that you were paying attention, you could see practically every pair of eyes fixed on the group—specifically, on the man in the center wearing the straw hat. 

Before you could ask another question, the door to the tavern opened, and a lean, green-haired man filled the doorway. You glanced over at the barkeep, a flash of recognition in your eyes. “That’s Roronoa Zoro.” 

“Aye,” she said, setting your drink in front of you. “If there’s someone who might be able to cash in that bounty, it’d be him. But believe it or not, he’s with the Straw Hat.” 

You watched as the pirate hunter made his way to the table the others sat at. The glint of his famed three earrings reflected off the tavern lights, and the sword on his hip swayed as he walked—but there was only one rather than the three you’d heard tales about. “Yeah, my father said something of the sort.” 

The barkeep hummed, turning to attend to a pirate who’d taken a seat at your left. “And who’s your father, lass?” 

“Dracule Mihawk.” 

The pirate beside you raised his head, turning towards you in almost alarm. Beside him, his crew quieted, and the barkeep glanced up to meet your eyes. “Dracule Mihawk?” she repeated incredulously. 

“He sent me to buy him a coat,” you said. “I don’t suppose you know where any shops are around here?” 

“Er, there’s a shop off main you might want to see,” the barkeep said, eyes flickering over to the pirate crew that had changed their focus to you. “Anything else for you, then?” 

“I’m good, thanks,” you said, taking another sip of your drink. She nodded, leaving the bar in favor of moving over to another table. The pirate beside you turned slowly, stool scraping against the floor as he sneered down at you.

“Dracule Mihawk’s daughter, eh?” he asked. “Care if I buy you a drink?” Behind him, the rest of his crew tittered. You just sighed.

“Sorry, my father doesn’t let me go out with anyone who hasn’t bested me in combat.” You knocked back the rest of your drink, glancing up and down the pirate’s figure. He didn’t look like much—two pistols strapped to the hip, a longsword on the other, a raggedy leather jacket with a hat to match. 

The pirate scoffed. “Please,” he said, though you could see his skin turning rapidly crimson. “I doubt you’re even related to him. No hawk eyes or nothing.” 

You met his gaze, lips tightening into a line. “I take after my mother.” 

“Biggest lie I ever heard, aye, crew?” The pirate turned back towards the rest of his men, and they cheered in agreement. You huffed out a sigh, trying your very best not to turn combative—despite everything, you were proud of your relationship with your father, and anyone trying to call you a liar for your lineage just left you vexed and angry. Before you could step away, though, the pirate turned towards the rest of the tavern, apparently having had a bit too much liquor. He raised his voice, practically yelling now. “Oi! This girl thinks she’s the daughter of Dracule Mihawk!” 

Out of your peripheral vision, you saw Roronoa Zoro look up, the rest of his crew glancing over at you at the words. You were distracted within a second, the pirate shoving your arm. “Hey, don’t look away, girl. I’m trying to—” 

You grabbed onto his wrist, nails razor-sharp as they embedded into his skin. “Don’t touch me.” 

“Oh, you think you’re tough, do you?” The pirate yanked his hand out of your grip. “Did your daddy teach you how to fight, huh? Think you can beat me?” 

“I know I can beat you,” you answered. The pirate reached for his sword, then, fingers tightening around the hilt. 

“Alright, let’s make it a bet then. You beat me, I believe your claim about being Mihawk’s daughter.” His lips curled back into an ugly sneer, and you debated stepping out of the conversation and just going off to find that shop for your dad’s coat anyway. Fights like these were never worth getting into, and you really didn’t want to break any more of the barkeep’s furniture after she’d let out her annoyances to you. 

Before you could, though, the pirate opened his big mouth once again. 

“I beat you, and you go to bed with me.”

You were whipping your sword out before you could even think, red flashing in your vision as you scraped your blade out from the holster on your back. The metal gleamed under the lights, white steel bright as day as you leveled it in your hand. It wasn’t the largest weapon, a perfectly balanced cut-and-thrust spadroon with a golden hilt wrapped in white ribbon. You tightened your grip on the handle. 

“I beat you,” you hissed, voice low, “and you’re dead.” 

He lunged for you, pulling his sword out in one solid stroke and meeting yours in a loud clang. You shot an apologetic look towards the barkeep, spinning on your back leg and kicking the pirate away. The force caused him to stumble, sword skittering to the side as you shoved it off your blade. 

One of his crew members had cocked a gun to your head, and you spun your swords toward him, blade cutting through the metal like it was butter. The rest of the crew stepped back, one or two of them lunging for you. You parried all of their attacks, shoving them to the ground until they stopped trying to fight. 

The captain had gotten up, a fierce snarl upon his face as you slammed your blade down towards him. He blocked it with his sword, and then went for various attacks towards your figure—you dodged each one of them, parrying them easily as you moved backwards. At the last one, you used your weight to buck the sword back in his direction, and he stumbled again. 

You ducked down, sweeping him off his feet with a well-aimed kick to his shins, and he fell, sword clattering out of reach as he dropped flat on his back. You towered over him, pointing the edge of your blade at his throat. 

“You want me to go outside to kill him?” you asked. The barkeep sighed. 

“If you don’t mind, lass.” 

“Not at all.” You bent over, grabbing firmly onto the pirate’s shirt and yanking him upwards. His crew made a move towards you, but you just shoved your sword in their direction, and they stepped away. You spun your sword’s hilt around in your hand with a flourish, then started dragging the captain out the tavern door. 

“No—wait—let me go,” the pirate begged, once you dropped him to the gravel outside and moved your sword to his throat again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t mean it—you’re a pretty girl, that’s all—” 

“I don’t date men who can’t beat me in combat,” you said coolly. “Lower your expectations.” With that, you spun your sword again, sliding it back on the holster of your jacket. “I’ll let you live just this once. If you ever make any comments towards a woman again—” 

“I get it. I’m sorry,” the man said, scrambling to his feet. You just eyed him. 

“I need another drink.” 

The tavern was dead silent when you returned to your seat, gingerly sitting back down on the stool you’d first occupied. “Another drink, if you don’t mind,” you said to the barkeep, and she nodded. A moment passed as she filled your mug, and then she asked—

“Is Dracule Mihawk really your father?” 

“Unfortunately,” you muttered, taking the drink she offered and taking a swig. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the Straw Hat pirate and his crew muttering amongst themselves. One of them nudged Roronoa Zoro in the side, and he grimaced, the loose shirt he wore parting with the motion. You caught a glimpse of bandages, wound tight with blood seeping through a familiar line. Yoru’s doing. 

Zoro stood up, making his way over to the bar beside you. He propped his elbows on the table, but he didn’t sit, nodding at the barkeep. “Another round for my friends,” he said. His voice was quieter than you’d expected; a low mutter and almost soft in timbre. He glanced over at you, eyes flickering down and up again before he spoke. “I tried to kill your father.” 

“Yeah, he told me,” you said. “Roronoa Zoro. What happened to your other two swords?” 

Zoro scoffed. “Your dad.” 

“He can be a little dramatic sometimes,” you said apologetically. He glanced over you again.

“You don’t look much like him.” He paused. “Figured I’d know if Mihawk had a daughter.” 

“I take after my mother, and he’s very overprotective,” you said, getting just the slightest bit annoyed about everyone questioning your parentage. The barkeep returned then, sliding five beers across the table over to Zoro, and you stood up. “Now if you’d excuse me, I have some shopping to do.” 

You exited the tavern after paying your tab, wandering around the streets of Loguetown to find the closest clothing store. Your father’s style was ridiculously grand, so it’d be something in the nicer branch of the city—you had just entered your best guess when you pulled out a shell phone, pushing the little snail into your ear and calling your father’s number. 

He picked up on the first ring. “What is it, darling?” 

“Did you have a specific coat in mind?” You glanced through a row of black leather, trying to find one that’d match Mihawk’s liking. “I’m at this place called Lady Tide’s Dressing Boutique. It’s the bougiest place I could find.” 

“Lady Tide’s would be correct,” Mihawk said. “I trust your taste. Pick something I’d like.” 

“You better be paying me back for this,” you threatened, turning the corner as you spoke. You jumped back in surprise, letting out a squeak as the Straw Hat pirate from before appeared right in front of you, a grin stretching up his face. 

Mihawk’s laugh crackled through the line at your surprise. “Get startled, dear?” 

“The pirate Garp sent you after is stalking me,” you deadpanned. The Straw Hat pirate’s grin only widened. “I’ll call you back.” 

You hung up, taking the den den mushi out of your ear and back into its case. “What?” 

“You’re a really good fighter,” the Straw Hat said brightly. “I’m Monkey D. Luffy, and I’m going to be King of the Pirates. You should think about joining my crew!” 

“I—” you stared at him in disbelief, mind reeling from the whiplash of his words. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m not a pirate.”

Luffy tilted his head to the side in question. “But your dad is Mihawk.”

“That doesn’t make me a pirate. I just stay at home for the most part,” you said. Luffy continued following you around the store, however, even as you stepped past him to browse more jackets. You glimpsed the rest of his crew hanging around the store, though none seemed to do any actual shopping. You figured Lady Tide’s was probably out of their price range. “Why are you still following me?” 

“I think you should join my crew,” Luffy repeated. “Have you ever been to the Grand Line? That’s where we’re headed next.”

You gave him a look. “I live in the Grand Line.” 

“Whoa,” Luffy breathed. “Well, you must know all about it, then!” 

You turned away from him, picking a jacket off the rack in front of you and appraising it. Golden buttons, long tailcoat, wide lapels—not really Mihawk’s taste. You set it back. “Not really,” you finally answered. “Like I said, I stay at home for the most part. Haven’t done much exploring.” 

“Don’t you want to?” Luffy asked, taking a step closer to you. You flinched. “Your dad’s one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea! You should be going out and adventuring, not just staying at home and doing whatever Mihawk tells you to!” 

“Don’t,” you snapped, voice low. “I stay home because I want to. Not because my dad forces me to.” Your words bore no lie, but still, there was a rumble of uncertainty deep in your gut. Mihawk had always been supportive, but pirating had always been his thing. You preferred the solace of your own home, and there was no point in adventuring when Mihawk had seen it all before. 

“I’m just saying, what do you even do all day?” Luffy asked with a quirk of the lip. “Stay home and clean? Go out once in a while to buy groceries or get stuff for your dad?” He gestured at the coat you were holding, and you flushed, shoving it back onto the rack. “Isn’t it boring? Don’t you want more than such an average life?” 

“I’m perfectly happy with my life right now, thank you,” you snapped. “Go preach to someone else.” 

Luffy had stopped walking, then, looking at you with an almost sympathetic expression on his face. “Living isn’t the same as thriving, you know,” he said. “You should go out. Find adventure. Aren’t there things you want to know? Questions you want answered?” 

“Luffy.” You turned to see Roronoa Zoro move to his captain’s side, head dipping as he spoke to him. His tone was quiet, but you could still overhear— “Leave her alone. We’ve got business.” 

Luffy looked dejected at that, but he agreed, bowing his head towards you before turning to the rest of his crew. They’d gathered by the mouth of the store, engaged in their own various activities as they waited. You watched Luffy turn to leave, words climbing up your throat even as you tried to swallow them down. “Wait!” 

Luffy turned, that bright smile reappearing on his face. “What?” 

“I want to know one thing,” you said, taking a step closer to the captain and his first mate. You glanced up at Zoro, who met your gaze. His face seemed carved of steel, skin bearing no grimace, eyes betraying nothing. “Why did my father let you live?” 

Zoro looked away, and you realized he probably didn’t know the answer himself. Before you could speak again, though, Luffy interrupted. 

“Because Zoro’s the best,” he declared, capturing your attention away from the injured swordsman. He slapped Zoro’s bicep with a heavy thud, and you were surprised when the other man didn’t even flinch. “And he’s gonna be better than Mihawk one day. He’s going to defeat him in a duel and take his title and become—” 

“The world’s greatest swordsman,” Zoro finished. The words were muttered under his breath, clearly to himself rather than intending for you to hear. 

You watched them for a moment before finally turning away. “Okay,” you said. “Good luck with that.” 

Luffy stared at you for a moment longer, but Zoro was already turning away and walking towards the rest of the crew. There was an unsettling feeling in your gut, one you tried to squash. Whatever—you had better things to do than worry about some Straw Hat pirate and a retired pirate hunter. 

You returned to your browsing, looking through various jacket designs until you finally fell across one you were certain your father liked. It was ridiculously expensive, but your father’s taste had always been so—you purchased it without a second thought, slinging it across a shoulder and returning to your sloop for the rest of the day. 

To your great disappointment, the Straw Hat pirate’s words continued to echo throughout your head. His demeanor was off-putting, to say the least—the extreme amounts of candor and cheeriness he had made for a disorienting combination. Even as you tried to stop thinking about his terrifyingly honest words, you couldn’t. Don’t you want more than such an average life?

You sighed, mood irritable from the day's events. You’d returned to your sloop and hadn’t done much of anything for a few hours—past having a meal and cleaning up your boat, there was nothing to do. You mulled over your options, wondering if you shouldn’t just start the journey back home. But Luffy’s words came back to you. 

“I need a drink,” you muttered, donning your coat and leaving to attend the first bar you could find. 

You went someplace ritzy this time, near the peak of Loguetown where neon lights glimmered in the dark hour. It was crowded, and music blasted through the bar, pounding bass nearly making the floor reverberate. You slipped inside without much trouble, squeezing through the crowd and making way for the bar at the other end of the room. 

You bought yourself a drink, knocking it back in just a few gulps. There were marines patrolling around in the building, although none of them seemed too keen on completing any of their duties. Pirates walked around freely too, but these ones were more dignified than the ones you’d seen in the tavern at town. 

“You hear Straw Hat Luffy’s here at Loguetown right now?” someone muttered to your right. You glanced over with a furtive gaze to see who was speaking—two men, dressed in fine silks and coats. Swords dangled from their hips. Pirates, maybe, or pirate hunters. “His ship’s docked over by south port.” 

“You’re not going to try and nab him, are you?” the other pirate hunter asked, fingers pinched around a thin glass of something. “That bounty’s hefty, but fighting them’ll be…” 

“I’m getting a bunch of hunters together,” the first one said. “We’ll split the bounty. At midnight, once the whole crew’s asleep. I followed the navigator; seems they’re not leaving until the morning.” 

“Thirty million split between many isn’t much.” 

“Well.” The hunter made a vague gesture, a smirk playing at his lips. “I doubt we’ll all be alive by the end of the night, if you know what I mean.” 

“Right.” The second hunter downed the rest of his drink. “I’ll be there. Where’s the rendezvous point?” 

“Slip forty at south port. Come at midnight,” the first one replied. “My boat. Theirs is at fifty-two.” 

You turned away, knocking back the last of your drink before setting the glass back down on the counter. Your mind reeled, and you pulled out a pocket watch to check the time. Nearly eleven. Only an hour left. 

“Another drink,” you called, but you stopped after that one. Logically, you knew the Straw Hat crew would be able to handle themselves. Your father wouldn’t have let Zoro go had he not been an impressive fighter—and Luffy certainly had to have some tricks up his sleeve, having such a high bounty and all. But an ambush was an ambush. 

You needed to go home. 

You paid your bill and slunk outside, taking the long road down to the port. You were docked in the east, but you found yourself wandering towards south port, hands shoved in your pockets and sword heavy on your back. 

There was no logical reason to get involved with pirates, you tried to tell yourself. That was Dracule Mihawk’s area of expertise. That was Dracule Mihawk’s life. Not his daughter’s. You were not a pirate—there was no point in being one. Mihawk has done everything already. 

You stepped onto the pier of south port, the wooden ramp trembling under your feet. They were shoddily constructed; oak on water, with pegs every few feet or so and ropes thrown casually across the walkways. It was overcrowded with boats, too—ships of every kind and size, smushed into spots not big enough for them depending on how much you paid the dock men. The moon shimmered on the surface of the East Blue. She was calm today, waves lapping at the edges of the docks, tranquil in the night. 

You checked your watch again. Nearly midnight. 

Dock forty moored a relatively small ship, but it was crowded with men—ten or fifteen, maybe, and you knew they’d be killing each other when the fight was through. Thirty million berry divided between so many people was barely worth it. You slunk past them, counting the numbers of the boat berths. 

You knew the boat before you looked at the slip number based on appearance alone. It was large in size, a caravel sporting a gigantic goat figurehead. You stared at it, brows furrowed, jaw slack. Well, it was certainly a ship. There was a large sail boasting the ship’s jolly roger—a crudely designed skull and crossbones sporting the same straw hat their captain wore. 

With a sigh, you pulled yourself onboard, careful to not make a sound as you landed on the deck. It was quiet, but you doubted the crew didn’t have at least one lookout for trouble. You tiptoed around the mast, moving towards the foredeck.

You were just about to step a foot on the staircase when a gleaming katana came to your throat. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Roronoa Zoro was as calm as ever as he held a blade to your jugular, posture perfectly straight, eyes tilted in your direction. You glanced down at the blade, registering the smooth metal. It was the white-handled one; upon seeing it closer, you could better register its quality. It must’ve been insanely durable, more so than his other blades considering Yoru hadn’t shattered this one in battle—one of the strongest blades in the world. 

“What’s the sword’s name?” you asked. 

Zoro ignored your question. “What are you doing here?” he repeated. 

You sighed, turning towards him, although you were careful not to touch the sword. Zoro’s grip didn’t budge. “There are pirate hunters coming here,” you answered. “At midnight. An ambush.” 

Zoro still didn’t move. The night sky cast his entire face in shadow, the only light on board being a trembling lantern by the interior doors. You could just barely see the gleam of one eye, yellow light shining on his cheekbone. “Why would you come?” 

“Honestly, I don’t know,” you answered coolly. “My father let you go for a reason. It’d be a shame if you died before you realized why.” It was an easy lie—because the real reason was one you didn’t want to think about. Because Luffy’s words struck something in you. Because they rang true. 

“We don’t need your protection.” 

You shrugged, only one shoulder moving upwards before relaxing again. “Just a friendly warning.” 

Carefully, Zoro lowered his blade, the steel scraping along the edge of its scabbard opening before he slid it closed. “The Wado Ichimonji.” 

Your eyes were still on the sheathed katana. “Hm?” 

“The sword. Its name is Wado Ichimonji.” 

You tilted your head back, angling it towards the sword strapped to your jacket. “Hiru,” you said. “That’s mine.” 

“Day,” Zoro translated. “You have matching swords with your father?” 

“Just matching names,” you answered. “It’s a spadroon, not a kreigsmesser. Much smaller than Yoru. Birthday present. When I was thirteen.” 

Zoro eyed you. “I’ll wake the rest of the crew,” he said. “You can go.” 

You made no move to, consulting your watch as Zoro rang the ship’s bell. Five minutes to midnight. You could already hear the near-noiseless patter of footsteps on the pier. 

The orange-haired woman was the first out, fingers wrapped around a short wooden rod. She exchanged a look with Zoro, and he nodded towards the pier. She somehow knew exactly what he meant from that, dodging back inside the ship and returning, dragging a dark-haired man out. 

“Uh, what’s going on?” the man asked, stifling a yawn as he fiddled with a slingshot. Both Zoro and the woman shushed him. “Jeez, okay.” He noticed you then. “Oh, hey, you’re the hawk dude’s kid—”

“Shut up, Usopp,” the woman snapped. She’d moved by the boat’s side, ducked under the rim. The footsteps were getting louder. 

The blond man came out next, hands shoved casually in his pockets and dressed in clothes you genuinely did not think functioned as sleepwear. “Hunters,” the orange-haired woman said. “Ambush.” 

“Isn’t that lovely,” the blond man murmured. He caught your eye, and a smile lit up his face. “Well, hello there.” 

Both Zoro and the woman rolled their eyes. Before the blond could say anything more, though, the hunters’ footsteps abruptly stopped. 

The orange-haired woman spun up from her crouch, wooden stick extending into a long staff as she whipped it out. She slammed one end of the staff into an incoming hunter’s gut as he leapt aboard the ship, forcing him off the side of the vessel.

Everything happened all at once, then—you heard the slick shing! of Zoro unsheathing his katana, and the blond was up and running towards another gaggle of hunters within the second, legs flying in an assortment of well-placed kicks. 

You reached over your shoulder, tugging Hiru out of its straps. The blade shone bright under the moonlight, and you caught an incoming hunter’s sword with the lick of it, shoving him backwards as you spun.

“Why’s Mihawk’s girl here?” the blond called, as he slid across the deck, leg raising up into a spinning hook. “Not that I’m complaining, of course. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He met your eyes and winked, leaving you staring in utter disbelief until another hunter distracted you. “I’m Sanji!” 

“Okay?” you asked blankly, letting out a huff of exertion as you whipped your sword toward the hunter. He’d pulled out one of his guns, wielding his blade one-handed as he fumbled with the trigger. You breathed in, recalling your father’s words from the thousands of hours spent training. Take advantage of any imbalances, sweetheart. Focus on the center of gravity. 

You aimed a sliding kick at the man’s gun, using Hiru to push against his blade. The pressure caused him to fling halfway across the ship, body thudding against the mast before falling to the ground in a heap. 

“Impressive,” Sanji whistled from his spot across the ship. 

“Shut up,” Zoro and the orange-haired woman said in unison. Zoro was beside the fallen hunter in a second, katana slashing cleanly through his torso before he spun and shoved the blade straight into an incoming man’s stomach. Sanji just scoffed. 

“Show-off,” he said accusatively. Zoro rolled his eyes, turning towards Sanji to argue, when you glimpsed someone at his back. You lunged for the man, sword cutting cleanly through his jugular before he fell across the deck, decollated. 

Zoro turned, glancing over his shoulder at the body and then up at you. “You’re welcome,” you said, flicking Hiru to the side. Spatters of blood dripped off its blade. 

“...Right.” The number of hunters had considerably thinned, only three or four left. The orange-haired woman was still fighting two of them, placing hits of her bo staff along two mens’ skulls. Usopp had crouched by the forecastle, firing pellets off with his slingshot. Sanji dusted off the final two men, until only the ringleader was left. 

“Wait, wait.” The hunter backed away until he ran into the ship’s railing. He scrambled for his pistol, but as Zoro, Sanji, and the orange-haired woman advanced on him, apparently realized the idea was in vain. “We—we can talk about this.” 

“I don’t think we can.” You turned at the new voice, watching as Luffy slipped out from the captain’s chambers. His hand came up to adjust his hat, crowned atop his head as always. “You came aboard my ship and tried to hurt my friends.” 

The hunter’s jaw fell slack, mouth drying over as Luffy came to stand in front of him. The rest of the crew had parted to allow him space, and Luffy titled his head up, the lick of light from the lantern shining against his skin. A crescent-shaped scar under his eye glowed bright, the skin paler than the rest of his face.

“Gum gum…” he started, voice steadily rising in volume as he extended his hand backwards, fingers curled into a fist. To your surprise, his arm just kept stretching back, limb getting longer and longer with a distinctly rubbery stretch until it was all the way at the other side of the ship. “Pistol!” 

His arm snapped back all in one, knocking the hunter straight in the jaw and shoving him off the ship in one, devastating blow. You stared at his flailing body, watching as he dropped straight into the ocean ten or so meters away with a loud plop. 

You turned towards Luffy, one brow arched in question. “You’re a Devil Fruit eater?”

“The Gum Gum fruit,” Luffy said brightly. He adjusted his hat once more, fixing it atop his head before reaching an arm out to pat you on the shoulder. “Thank you for warning us. You’re a good person.” 

“Don’t mention it.” You glanced down at Hiru. “Have anything I can clean my blade with?” 

“Sure! Let Sanji cook you something while you’re here,” Luffy said. “It’s the least we can do.” 

“Of course,” Sanji said with a little bow. “What would you like? Name anything and I’ll make it.” 

You eyed him. “…Anything.” 

Sanji let out an exaggerated sigh. “So uninspired. Meet you in the kitchen, then. We can leave the mosshead to clean up the bodies.” 

The orange-haired woman just rolled her eyes. “I’m going back to bed,” she declared. She glanced over at you, appraising you in one solid sweep up and down your body. “I’m Nami.” 

With that final word, she departed, snapping closed her staff and slipping back into the boat. Luffy, Usopp, and Sanji shuffled into the boat, presumably the kitchen. Zoro just sighed, setting his katana to the side to start cleaning up the corpses left after the battle. 

You made no move to follow the others inside, watching as Zoro easily lifted up one of the hunters. The lines of his biceps strained as he climbed off the ship, still hefting the body before finally placing it down on the pier. 

“Just toss them into the ocean,” you called. Zoro glanced over his shoulder, registering you standing there. He picked another body up. 

“I don’t want to block our slip,” he answered. 

“Fair enough. Any oil around here?” You wandered to the ship’s side, glancing through the boxes fixed to the deck. Zoro gestured in some direction that harmed more than it helped, really, but you dug through some boxes before unearthing something you could clean Hiru with. 

You worked in silence, slicking the blade with the oil and rubbing off all the blood and mess that had gotten onto it. Zoro was quick, piling up all the corpses and barely-alive bodies by the dock. He shoved a few of them awake with his boot. “Go find a doctor,” you heard him mutter under his breath. You suppressed a laugh. 

Eventually, Zoro climbed back on board, searching for his sword only to find it in your hands. You carefully polished off the last of the blade, then presented it to him. “You’re welcome.” 

“…Thanks,” Zoro said, sheathing it in one smooth swipe.

“The cut,” you said, glancing down at his torso again. His shirt was covering the bandages, but you knew they were still there. “It was Yoru that did it. Not Kogatana.” 

“The big one, yeah,” Zoro answered. You watched him thoughtfully, although you didn’t say a word. He seemed to get impatient by that, and was speaking just a moment afterwards— “Why?” 

You gave a quick shake of your head. “Nothing,” you answered, the lie slipping easily off your tongue. But your mind churned with thoughts, the mere brain activity making your stomach curdle. It hadn’t clicked before, but now—your father didn’t use Yoru on anyone who wasn’t worthy. And letting Zoro live—letting the entire crew go, against Garp’s orders? 

This was a more interesting group than you’d anticipated. 

Zoro eyed you for a moment as you were lost in thought, though he didn’t say anything to interrupt you. Once you finally looked up, he adjusted, clearing his throat. “Should go inside to make sure the waiter isn’t burning down the kitchen,” he said, straightening.  

You stood up, sliding Hiru into its scabbard on your back. “The… waiter?” 

Zoro shook his head. “Long story.” He gestured with his head, nodding towards the double doors. “Kitchen.” 

You followed him, the soft aroma of garlic and meat wafting around the room the instant you stepped foot inside. Everyone was crowded around the kitchen island, propped on chairs and staring as Sanji prepared a meal before them. You joined the group, glancing over Usopp’s shoulder to watch. 

There was a stir-fry on the stove, garlic and onions joined by various other vegetables. Sanji drizzled soy sauce along the pan, scraping it around once with his spatula before turning down the heat. He added in some rice—leftover, it looked—along with some battered eggs, mixing it all together. 

“Vegetable and chicken fried rice,” Sanji said, turning off the heat once everything had cooked through and starting to distribute it into servings. “I went for something universal because I don’t know what you like.” He met your eyes, flashing a giant, warm smile again. You took the bowl he offered, fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic. 

“Thank you,” you said. The four of you stood in silence, and you had the feeling that you were intruding. The crew was a tight unit, that much was certain—wound tightly around each other, ropes intersecting in delicate knots and bows. You turned your attention to your meal. You hadn’t had a real supper, so the food was a welcome surprise, and it was damn near close to the best thing you’d ever tasted. 

“So,” Luffy started, “Not to bug you about it a hundred times, but…” You glanced up. His expression was earnest as he met your eyes, lips tugged upwards in an encouraging smile even as he spoke. “Are you joining us?”

“Am I—? Oh,” you said, realizing what it was Luffy was referring to. “Is the offer still standing?” 

“Always,” he answered brightly. “You’d be a good fit for our crew, you know.” 

Would you really? There wasn’t much of anything special about you besides your parentage. You were as skilled a swordswoman as any, but there were hundreds better and stronger than you. There was no one thing you truly excelled at. “I’ll think about it,” you said hesitantly. 

“Well, think quick. We leave at dawn,” Luffy said. “Meet us back here at blue hour if you’d like to join up.” He smiled again, all unassuming, and it was hard to believe a boy so pleasant had a thirty million berry bounty hanging suspended over his head. He yawned, stretching out his long limbs. “Well, I’m off to sleep. Sanji’s next watch.” He glanced over at Zoro. “Why don’t you walk her back to her slip, Zoro?” 

 Your brows furrowed, about to object, but Zoro was already standing up. He opted to say nothing, leaving you to set down your empty bowl and say your goodbyes in a hurry to follow him out. 

The bodies on the pier had thinned, the alive ones presumably having dragged themselves to town to find a doctor. Zoro stepped over the heap of corpses, and you followed suit, walking in silence down south port. “I’m a little far,” you said. “You might lose your way heading back.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Zoro dismissed. “I’m… sorry about Luffy. He can get overly enthusiastic.” 

“Oh, it’s fine,” you said with a shake of your head. “Are the rest of the crew open to me joining, though? It didn’t seem like he consulted any of you.” 

Zoro’s brows lifted at that, though you weren’t certain why. “We’re all fine with it,” he said eventually. “Luffy wouldn’t invite someone who wouldn’t fit.” He hesitated, the plod of your footsteps creaking against the dock walkway for a few paces before he parted his lips again. “I’m going to fight Mihawk again, you know.” 

“I figured,” you answered. You could feel Zoro’s eyes on you, scraping along your skin like they were blades themselves. 

“You’re not upset by that?” 

“Everyone wants to kill him for some reason or another,” you said. “You’re not the first.” Though there was something undeniably special about him. The fact he was still alive, for one. “I figure you’re a long way from that, so I’ll have a father for a few years more until you try to kill him again.” 

There was something in the way you phrased your words that sounded so very ironic, and Zoro couldn’t suppress the light grunt from escaping his lips. It was dry, brittle—but closer to a laugh than a scoff, you could tell. “Is that your blessing?” 

“Sure,” you said. “I, Dracule Mihawk’s daughter, hereby allow you, Roronoa Zoro, to murder my father in a duel.” The lightness in your tone dropped. “If you don’t mind me asking…” you took in a light breath, letting the taste of the words melt on your tongue before slipping them out. “Why do you want to, anyway? Defeat him, I mean?” 

“I made a promise to someone a long time ago,” Zoro answered. His footsteps slowed as you reached your slip, the small sloop you’d sailed all the way to Loguetown calm as ever where it was moored. The black sails—vague, nondescript—sucked away all the light the moon attempted to cast on it, so it was even darker than the rest of the surroundings. “I told her I would become the world’s greatest swordsman.”

“That’s heavy,” you remarked, turning to face your companion. His skin was waxy and dull under the moonlight—aftereffects of the injury he still hadn’t fully recovered from. Zoro just shrugged. 

“Maybe. It’s my life’s dream.” 

“He’s a good father,” you said. “I think he’d like you.” You paused. “Well, he does. He wouldn’t have let you live if he didn’t.” 

Zoro stiffened, the lines of his body tightening, spine pulling up just slightly. You noticed the change—you always did. Observation had always been one of your biggest strengths. Maybe you hadn’t gotten the golden irises your father had, but you had hawk eyes of your own in that way. Never missing a thing, picking out all flaws and details in a scene. “I’m not sure if I want him to like me.” 

“He doesn’t feel hatred for a lot of people,” you said. “Just disdain. Though I’m fairly certain he’d have skewered that drunk at the bar earlier if he’d been with me.” 

“The one who—” Zoro looked distinctly uncomfortable as he remembered what the pirate had offered you. He made a vague gesture instead, just mildly vulgar in motion. You suppressed a laugh. 

“Exactly,” you agreed. “He doesn’t have patience for that sort of thing. He also feels no man who’s weaker than me in combat isn’t man enough to be with me, though I have questions about that particular rule.” 

Zoro snorted. “You could definitely do better than the drunk pirate.” 

“Right.” You glanced up at the moon, watching the steady silver glow of her face along the edge of the horizon. She was full, round and white, soft powder creasing the dents and shadows of her face. “I’m out for the night, then. Thank you for walking me.” 

Zoro shrugged. He didn’t say anything, so you turned away, stepping onto your sloop without another word. You ducked into the interior room, closing the door firmly behind you so you could finally relax. 

You had only a handful of hours of rest ahead of you, after all.

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

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[proxima-writes]

title: toyin’ with them older guys

pairing: bartender!joel miller/female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

chapters: 1/1

read on ao3 | masterlist

summary:

Joel Miller is the grumpy bartender and owner of your favorite bar near campus, where you attend trivia every Tuesday night. Thinking there’s no way Joel could return your feelings, your friend suggests trying out Tinder.

But when you bring them to the bar for a date, they keep leaving mid date with no explanation.

Maybe there’s something Joel isn’t telling you after all.

author’s note: thank you to everyone who hyped me up to post this when i wasn’t sure how i felt about it. your comments mean the world 💕

content warnings/additional tags: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), alternate universe - no cordyceps outbreak, no use of y/n, unspecified age gap, alcohol references/consumption, possessive behavior, jealousy, mild violence (in the form of Joel kicking someone out of his bar), brief reference to Sarah’s mom and divorce, tinder dates, bribery, dirty talk, begging, pet names, praise kink, unprotected p in v, oral (m receiving), spanking. let me know if i’ve missed anything!

There’s a bar near the university that you love to go to for multiple reasons.

For one, they have great drinks. For two, their loaded tater tots are the best drunk food you’ve ever had the pleasure of consuming.

But the number one reason, above all else, is the grumpy bartender and owner, Joel Miller.

The first time you saw him, he was challenging a kid with a fake ID, his arms crossed over his broad chest, emphasizing the strain of his flannel over his biceps. When the kid tried to take a swing at him, he grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back before marching him out of the bar and kicking him to the curb.

Your friend had to remind you to breathe.

He hosts a trivia night at the bar on Tuesday nights, the perfect excuse to see the man weekly. You sit at the bar each time, scribbling your answers on the notepad as you sip on a vodka cranberry and sneak glances at the older man while he works.

One night, you were struggling to answer a question about where the Lord of the Rings trilogy was filmed when Joel leaned across the bar, bringing his lips close to your ear to say, “New Zealand.”

You’d gotten the point, thanks to him. And from that day forward, he’d linger near your corner of the bar, watching to see if you needed help with an answer. Eventually, you started showing up earlier and earlier for trivia night, just for the chance to talk to him.

You told him about your PhD program and the research you were conducting. You wanted to be a psychologist, but for now you’re just a perpetual student. You miss winter weather in Colorado, but appreciate not having to store a giant jacket anywhere in your small apartment. Your favorite season is fall, and your favorite holiday is Halloween.

He tells you about buying the bar a few years ago, after his divorce from Sarah’s mom and ensuing custody battle had been finalized, an investment he made with his brother Tommy. They’d fixed it up themselves and made it a popular local spot. His favorite movie is Indiana Jones and he prefers whiskey over any other drink.

It’s no surprise that along the way you’d fallen in love with the man.

Too bad he’d never feel the same.

————

Joel remembers the first night he saw you. Your rosy cheeks and tipsy smile as you leaned forward to say, “Vodka cranberry, please. With lime .”

“Lime, huh?” He remembers saying. You nodded your head vigorously.

“The lime is the best part,” you insisted. He chuckled.

“Not the vodka?”

“Gross, no.”

He tossed in three lime slices and you shimmied your shoulders with glee.

You come into the bar, alone, for trivia night on Tuesdays now. You’re a fountain of random facts, but every once in a while he’ll feed you an answer to help you out because he likes the smile that you give him in return.

He has no right to be looking at you the way that he finds himself doing every week. Eyes wandering to the way your jeans hug your ass or drifting to your cleavage when you rest your elbows against the bar.

But between the conversations and the trivia and the sweet smiles, he’d gone and fallen in love.

Which is why when you come to trivia night with a man who wraps an arm around your waist, Joel loses his goddamn mind and does the stupidest thing ever.

You get up to go to the bathroom and Joel leans across the bar to address the guy, keeping his eyes on the bathroom.

“I’ll give you $100 if you leave right now,” Joel says.

“What?”

“Hundred bucks if you walk out that door and don’t talk to that girl again,” he says again. He digs his wallet from his pants and pulls a bill out, setting it on the bar top.

Without further question, the man grabs the money and stuffs it in his pocket as he heads out the door. Joel feels a flash of guilt when you return from the bathroom and look around for your missing date.

“Said he had an emergency,” Joel lies. He’s surprised when you look relieved.

“He was kind of boring, anyways,” you shrug, dragging your notepad and pen closer to you. “He probably would have just dragged us down.”

Us, Joel thinks.

He could get used to that.

________

Your friend, Marie, had convinced you to try out Tinder. She was absolutely certain you were missing out on the love of your life by not swiping mindlessly through profiles that held no interest to you.

You weren’t about to confess your unrequited love for the local bartender to get her off your case, so that’s how you ended up on a date with Michael. He was a law student and liked kayaking and hiking.

You liked neither of those things, but he had curly brown hair and you had a type, so why not give it a shot?

You didn’t have it in you to be too upset when you returned from the bathroom only to find out from Joel that Michael had left. Joel slid you another vodka cranberry with lime and your night went as it always did.

When Marie asked you the next morning how the date went and you told her he bailed, she insisted on picking your next one. She chose Scott, a financial analyst at a local bank.

You’re starting to think Marie doesn’t know you very well.

Regardless, you show up at the bar for another trivia night date. Scott is tall and lean, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and he wore a suit to a bar. When you comment on it, he pulls a face and says he came straight from work.

“Not all of us are lucky enough to not have real jobs,” he says. You blink at him, surprised by the hostility.

That hostility continues when Joel approaches the two of you at the bar, lips turned down in a scowl, and Scott decides to order for you.

“She’ll take a vodka water with lemon and I’ll have Bulleit, neat.”

Joel raises his eyebrows at Scott, his eyes flicking to you briefly, before he sets a plastic cup on the bar top. He holds Michael’s gaze as he pours a shot of vodka into your cup, before using the soda gun to dispense cranberry juice. You have to bite back your smile.

“Vodka cranberry with lime,” he says, sliding you your drink. “And your whiskey will be right out.”

“That’s not what I ordered,” Scott replies.

“Yeah, but it’s what she would’ve.”

Scott sputters, face going an alarming shade of red with his indignation.

“I’ll be right back,” you mutter, taking your drink with you as you head to the bathroom.

________

“I’m not paying for that drink,” the blonde asshole says, knocking his knuckles against the bar for emphasis. Joel huffs a laugh.

“I don’t give a shit, kid. I want you out of my bar,” he says, planting both hands on the wood.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Get the fuck out of my bar.”

“I’m on a date!”

“Not anymore.” Joel rounds the bar and gets up in the little weasel’s face. “Get. Out.”

The boy’s eyes go wide, like he realizes that maybe Joel isn’t playing around. He scrambles from his barstool, standing to his full height like he’s about to challenge Joel.

“You can’t kick me out, old man,” the blonde snaps.

Joel’s had enough. He fists a hand in the starched white shirt collar, driving him back towards the exit. The other patrons move out of the way, some whistling and cheering Joel on. He shoves the man out the door and looks at the doorman.

“He doesn’t come back inside,” he says. “And you? Don’t ever fuckin’ talk to her again.”

Joel returns to the bar as you’re walking up. For a moment, he worries that you may have seen him acting like a caveman getting rid of his competition, but you look around in confusion.

“Where’s Scott?” You ask.

“He forgot about somethin’ at work,” Joel says. Your brow furrows.

“Kinda weird that’s happened to me twice now,” you comment.

Joel just shrugs.

________

You don’t tell Joel about how you saw him throw Scott out of his bar that night.

You’d just left the bathroom when you saw Joel stomp out from behind the bar, his eyes dark and fixed on your date. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but based on the affronted way Scott was responding, it wasn’t anything good.

You crept closer to the scene, but stayed amongst the crowd. Joel marched Scott backwards with a fist tangled in his collar, shoving him out the door.

“And you? Don’t you ever fuckin’ talk to her again.”

Your mouth went dry at his words and your mind reeled at the implications. Was he doing this from a place of friendship? Or…could he maybe feel the same way you do?

Only one way to find out.

You call up Travis, a good friend from undergrad who still lived in town.

“Trav, I need your help,” you say when he answers the phone.

“Burying a body type of help or financial type of help?” He replies easily.

“Actually, more experimental.”

“I don’t swing that way.”

“No, listen to me, I have a hypothesis,” you insist, explaining the situation to him. How you’ve been on two dates at Joel’s bar but each time, the men have left without another word. And how after what you witnessed, you’re inclined to believe that it’s not a coincidence.

You ask Travis to come with you to the next trivia night. All he needs to do is pretend to be there on a date with you. A bit of hand holding, maybe an arm around the waist. Nothing more.

“But what if he tries to threaten my life?” Travis asks.

“Well…I mean…every experiment has risks,” you reply flippantly. He sputters indignantly down the line. “I’ll buy you your drinks and get you tater tots.”

He’s silent for a moment before responding, “Fine. Extra jalapeños and I’m not getting well liquor.”

“Thank you!”

________

You come into his bar with another man. His arm is draped over your shoulders as you approach the bar and Joel has to set the glass he’s drying down before it shatters in his hands.

“Joel! This is Travis,” you say, gesturing to your date. He forces a smile, reaching a hand across the bar to shake his hand.

“What can I get started for you?” Joel asks. The man, Travis, orders an old-fashioned with top shelf whiskey, while you request your regular.

“I’ll be right back,” you say as Joel is pouring the drinks. You weave through the crowd towards the bathrooms and Joel leans in to address Travis.

“I’ll pay you $100 to leave this date,” Joel says.

Travis smirks. “Make it $200.”

“Are you serious?”

“That depends, are you?”

Joel’s eyes flick towards the back of the bar and he reaches into his pocket for his wallet. He pulls out four fifties, dropping them on the bar.

Travis pockets the money before adding, “You know, there’s cheaper ways to get the girl.”

“Get out,” Joel grunts. The younger man laughs his way to the door, and you appear at the bar a moment later.

“Where’d Travis go?” You ask.

“Oh, he—“

“Can I get an order of the loaded tots?” Travis asks, cutting Joel off from making up an excuse for his absence and sitting back down on the stool beside you with a shit eating grin. “She owes me.”

“Owes you?” Joel asks through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, she lost a bet. I told her I could get the number of that guy over there in less than three minutes and she doubted my charm.”

“Travis and I went to undergrad together,” you explain. “We just wanted to hang out and catch up.”

Shit.

________

Travis decides to leave after two plates of loaded tots and one too many drinks. You help him call an Uber, but you stay behind as the bar starts to clear out.

It’s just Joel behind the bar, wiping down the wood and setting bottles back to their rightful spots as you sip from a cup of water. The kitchen has closed down and the music has been shut off, leaving the two of you in loaded silence.

“So…,” you say, twirling your straw in your near empty cup. “You wanna tell me what that was all about?”

Joel’s shoulders go tense before he releases a deep sigh, turning to face you. The bar separates you, and it feels like miles of distance when all you want to do is get your hands on him now that your hypothesis has been proven.

Joel Miller likes you. And he’s been sabotaging your dates because of it. Perhaps you should be more upset, but all you can feel is an effervescent giddiness bubbling in your veins.

While he struggles to find the words, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You reach across the bar, hooking your fingers into the collar of his t-shirt and tugging him forward. You lean over to meet him halfway, pressing your lips to his.

You pull back and look into his eyes. The coffee colored brown of his irises seems darker, his eyes half lidded as he looks at you.

“You wanna get out of here?” He asks.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

________

Joel’s got one hand on the wheel of the truck and the other resting on your thigh. He has to keep a hand on you because he’s worried that if he doesn’t anchor himself, he’ll wake up from this dream.

You kissed him. You reached across the bar and dragged his lips to yours in a way he’d only dreamed of doing a thousand times since you’d sauntered into his life.

He can’t help the small smile that tilts his lips up at the thought.

“What’s got you smiling over there?” You ask, your voice teasing. He glances at you.

“You do, darlin’,” he says. He relishes in the pink that blooms across your cheeks at the pet name.

Joel drives to his house, parking the truck in the driveway of his little bungalow. His bachelor pad, as Tommy calls it.

Maybe not for much longer.

He circles the truck to open the door for you, helping you down from the cab. He keeps his hand on your low back as he leads you up the porch steps and through the door.

You toe off your shoes in the entryway, letting them join the pair of sneakers Joel left by the door. You’re wearing a pair of socks with tiny cats printed on them, the sight so endearing to him he can’t hold back his laugh.

“What?” You ask.

“Nothin’, just…like the look of you here. In my house,” he says.

“Yeah?” You take a step closer to him, toe to toe as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Yeah,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging your body against his. The heat of you even through the layers of your clothes sends a shiver down his spine.

You press your hands to his chest, sliding them up and over his shoulders before linking them behind his neck.

“You gonna give me a real kiss?” You whisper back. Your lips are so tantalizingly close that they ghost across his as you speak.

He closes the distance, lips dancing with yours as he kisses you senseless. The feel of you against him, moving with him, sends sparks skittering across his skin. He’s unable to hold still, hands roaming from your back to your waist to your hips as your mouths part and your tongues tangle with increased desperation.

Joel slides his hands to the backs of your thighs, crouching slightly to lift you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. Your core slides against his growing hardness and he groans at the sensation as you let out the neediest whimper.

He wants to hear more.

He walks you both through the empty house until he reaches his bedroom, tossing you on top of sheets still rumpled from last night’s sleep. You scramble to sit up on your knees, moving to the edge of the bed and curling your fingers into the waist of his jeans.

“Can I suck your cock, Joel?” You ask, voice all breathy as you stare up at him with your big doe eyes. “Please?”

Joel’s mouth has gone bone dry. “Yeah? You want my cock in that pretty mouth of yours, sweetheart?”

You nod your head, fingers working on the buckle of his belt. His hands work in tandem with yours to get his fly open, shoving the denim down his thighs until he can step out of them. His cock tents his boxers, a wet spot already apparent on the fabric and he watches as you reach a hand out to stroke him, a groan escaping him at the feel of your warm palm against him.

“Take your clothes off and get on your knees,” Joel commands. He lifts his own shirt over his head as you unbutton and remove your pants, shimmying the tight fabric down your legs. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed as he watches you lift your shirt up and off.

His eyes rove your body hungrily. Your perfect tits and gorgeous curves, the way you flush beneath his gaze.

“Come here, baby,” he says, crooking a finger. You come to stand between his legs and he reaches around your back, unhooking your bra with deft fingers.

“You’re rather skilled at that, Mr. Miller,” you tease.

“I’m old, not dead.” He slips the straps from your shoulders, tugging the last barrier between him and your tits away. “God, baby, these all for me?”

“Mhm,” you him as he wraps his hand around the weight of one breast, thumb teasing your pert nipple.

“Tell me somethin’,” Joel asks, “why’d you bring all those boys around when you knew you needed a man?”

You lick your lips. “Didn’t know if the only man I wanted would want me back.”

Your voice is small and vulnerable as you say it, and that just won’t do. “Don’t just want you, baby. Need you.”

Your face lights up in the brightest grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby. Need you so fuckin’ bad,” he tells you, digging his fingers into your hips. “S’why I had to play dirty.”

Your smile turns downright salacious. You drop to your knees, running your hands up his thighs. “Show me how much you need me, Joel.”

________

Joel shoves his boxers down, exposing his cock to your hungry gaze. It’s gorgeously thick, the head a dark red from his arousal, a pearl of precum sitting in the slit. You lean forward and dart your tongue out to gather it.

“Don’t tease, sweetheart,” Joel says through gritted teeth. You keep your eyes fixed to his as you take him in hand, swirling your tongue over the sensitive head before taking him further into your mouth.

His hand is instantly in your hair. Not pressing, but his fingers tangle in the strands and tug deliciously against your scalp. He moans as you take him as far back into your throat as you can manage.

“Fuck, your mouth is better than I ever dreamed,” he says, voice rough.

“You’ve thought about this?” You ask when you draw back for breath, hand pumping his length in place of your mouth.

“‘Course, baby. These pretty lips wrapped around me, beggin’ for me to make them all swollen and used,” he says, standing and bringing a thumb to your lips and swiping it across their spit slick surface. “Open up.”

He uses his thumb to press against your bottom lip, opening your mouth as he takes his cock in hand and feeds it slowly between your lips. The smooth, hot length of him dragging across your tongue makes you moan.

“You like that, baby?” He growls, pumping his hips in shallow thrusts. “Like me usin’ your mouth how I want?”

You try to nod, your movement restricted by the grip of his hand that’s returned to your hair. There’s spit trailing down your chin and tears gathering in the corners of your eyes from the effort of keeping your mouth open for his thick length. You know you must look like a mess but with Joel staring down at you with his lust drunk expression, you feel on top of the world.

“I gotta fuck you, baby, will you let me, huh? Let me feel that pretty little cunt strangle my cock?”

You hum around his length and he withdraws, tugging you up by your hair and pulling you into the dirtiest kiss, all tongue and teeth and blatant desire as he turns your bodies, shoving you down onto the bed.

Joel slips an arm beneath your low back, using it to pull you up the bed as he crawls on to join you. He positions himself between your legs, tearing the soaked fabric of your panties down in a frenzy.

He slides his fingers through your wetness before bringing them to his lips, sucking them into his mouth with a groan.

“Christ, I’m gonna feast on you for hours, baby, but I wanna fuck you so bad,” he says.

“Then fuck me, Joel, please,” you beg, lifting your hips so that his cock slips through your center. “Come on, wanna feel you.”

He lines himself up, pressing into you with a delicious stretch, the slight sting of it making you whine. He shushes you, not stopping until his hips press against the back of your thighs.

“Good fuckin’ girl, takin’ my cock like you were made for it,” he says, leaning forward to kiss you, the shift in angle making him go impossibly deeper. “Tell me when I can move, sweetheart.”

You shift your hips restlessly beneath him. “Please move, Joel, wanna feel it.”

Joel pulls back before slamming forward, the force of it making you slide up the bed as all the air leaves your lungs in a whoosh. His grin is sharp as he does it again and again to the tune of your desperate cries.

“Joel!” You cry, clawing at his back with each thrust. “Fuck, yes, yes!”

He withdraws abruptly, the loss of him as you clench around nothing making you whine pathetically. With a bruising grip on your hips, he twists your body until you’re on your belly, ass in the air and chest pressed to the mattress.

Joel slides back inside your tight heat, a palm slapping across one cheek then the other as he resumes his powerful thrusts.

“Fuck, darlin’, you’re so goddamn tight,” he growls. A hand presses to the back of your neck for leverage, changing the angle yet again. “Can you cum for me? Can you soak my fuckin’ cock, baby, I bet you can.”

You nod, the movement restricted, but you can’t form words. All you know is the feeling of Joel pounding into your body like he owns it.

The hand on your hips moves to the front of your body, fingers finding and pinching your clit. You sob against the mattress, the sheets wet beneath you from tears and drool.

“Come on, baby, fuckin’ cum for me,” he growls. “Won’t fill ya up until you do.”

That’s the visual that does it. The thought of Joel finishing with you, inside of you, dripping out of you too much for your lust addled brain. With a shout, the thin remnant of your control snaps and you pulse around him.

“Fuck yes, that’s it, sweetheart, good fuckin’ girl,” he praises, his hand leaving your neck as he sits up, his tempo fast and sloppy as he chases his release through yours. “You want me to cum in this tight little cunt, honey.”

“Yes, please,” you manage to slur, muffled by the sheets. With three more harsh thrusts, he does as promised, spilling inside of you with a shout.

He slows before withdrawing, your body collapsing against the mattress without him there to hold you up. He chuckles as he flops beside you, dragging you into the cradle of his body.

“You done playin’ games with those boys?” He asks, smiling smugly against your neck.

“Yeah, think I might be into older guys,” you tease. He pinches your hip, making you laugh.

“See if I ever help you during trivia again.”

________

Joel’s standing in front of you, arms crossed with a scowl on his face as you stare up at him with pleading eyes.

“Come on, baby, help me out,” you ask sweetly, batting your eyelashes.

“Last call for an answer to our final question! What is the only song credited to all five original members of the band Fleetwood Mac?”

Joel sighs, biting back his smile. “The Chain,” he tells you. You scribble the answer, running your paper up to the emcee. When you return to the bar, you lean across the polished surface and tug him towards you, planting a kiss to his lips.

He drags you back for another kiss. And another.

“Anytime, darlin’.”

Joel Miller tag list: @huffle-punk punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfell @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow

Join the tag list here!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #no use of y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel x female reader #joel miller fluff #joel the last of us #ao3 author #read on ao3

[wordstome]

how c.ai works and why it's unethical

Okay, since the AI discourse is happening again, I want to make this very clear, because a few weeks ago I had to explain to a (well meaning) person in the community how AI works. I'm going to be addressing people who are maybe younger or aren't familiar with the latest type of "AI", not people who purposely devalue the work of creatives and/or are shills.

The name "Artificial Intelligence" is a bit misleading when it comes to things like AI chatbots. When you think of AI, you think of a robot, and you might think that by making a chatbot you're simply programming a robot to talk about something you want them to talk about, and it's similar to an rp partner. But with current technology, that's not how AI works. For a breakdown on how AI is programmed, CGP grey made a great video about this several years ago (he updated the title and thumbnail recently)

I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend you watch this because CGP Grey is good at explaining, but the tl;dr for this post is this: bots are made with a metric shit-ton of data. In C.AI's case, the data is writing. Stolen writing, usually scraped fanfiction.

How do we know chatbots are stealing from fanfiction writers? It knows what omegaverse is [SOURCE] (it's a Wired article, put it in incognito mode if it won't let you read it), and when a Reddit user asked a chatbot to write a story about "Steve", it automatically wrote about characters named "Bucky" and "Tony" [SOURCE].

I also said this in the tags of a previous reblog, but when you're talking to C.AI bots, it's also taking your writing and using it in its algorithm: which seems fine until you realize 1. They're using your work uncredited 2. It's not staying private, they're using your work to make their service better, a service they're trying to make money off of.

"But Bucca," you might say. "Human writers work like that too. We read books and other fanfictions and that's how we come up with material for roleplay or fanfiction."

Well, what's the difference between plagiarism and original writing? The answer is that plagiarism is taking what someone else has made and simply editing it or mixing it up to look original. You didn't do any thinking yourself. C.AI doesn't "think" because it's not a brain, it takes all the fanfiction it was taught on, mixes it up with whatever topic you've given it, and generates a response like in old-timey mysteries where somebody cuts a bunch of letters out of magazines and pastes them together to write a letter.

(And might I remind you, people can't monetize their fanfiction the way C.AI is trying to monetize itself. Authors are very lax about fanfiction nowadays: we've come a long way since the Anne Rice days of terror. But this issue is cropping back up again with BookTok complaining that they can't pay someone else for bound copies of fanfiction. Don't do that either.)

Bottom line, here are the problems with using things like C.AI:

It is using material it doesn't have permission to use and doesn't credit anybody. Not only is it ethically wrong, but AI is already beginning to contend with copyright issues.

C.AI sucks at its job anyway. It's not good at basic story structure like building tension, and can't even remember things you've told it. I've also seen many instances of bots saying triggering or disgusting things that deeply upset the user. You don't get that with properly trigger tagged fanworks.

Your work and your time put into the app can be taken away from you at any moment and used to make money for someone else. I can't tell you how many times I've seen people who use AI panic about accidentally deleting a bot that they spent hours conversing with. Your time and effort is so much more stable and well-preserved if you wrote a fanfiction or roleplayed with someone and saved the chatlogs. The company that owns and runs C.AI can not only use whatever you've written as they see fit, they can take your shit away on a whim, either on purpose or by accident due to the nature of the Internet.

DON'T USE C.AI, OR AT THE VERY BARE MINIMUM DO NOT DO THE AI'S WORK FOR IT BY STEALING OTHER PEOPLES' WORK TO PUT INTO IT. Writing fanfiction is a communal labor of love. We share it with each other for free for the love of the original work and ideas we share. Not only can AI not replicate this, but it shouldn't.

(also, this goes without saying, but this entire post also applies to ai art)

#anti ai #cod fanfiction #c.ai #character ai #c.ai bot #c.ai chats #fanfiction #fanfiction writing #writing #writing fanfiction #on writing #fuck ai #ai is theft #call of duty #cod #long post #I'm not putting any of this under a readmore #Youtube

[elmhat]

DISC WAR FINALE - TUMBLR SIMULATOR

(The posts here are ordered from least to most recent, since I figured it was a better experience to read them chronologically.)

🟩 evilwarcriminal Follow

Mwahahaha… They'll never find my evil lair where I do evil things. Evilly. That I gave them a compass to

#sorry for vagueing #everything I do is mysterious

12 notes

💿 fuckdream123 Follow

just said my final goodbyes before my inevitable death and my friend couldn't even be assed to put on a shirt??

#cw nudity

56 notes

💿 fuckdream123 Follow

boats are so fucking boring man send me some asks or something

🟩 evilwarcriminal Follow

I'm about to kill you, can you please take this seriously

💿 fuckdream123 Follow

why'd you make it so fucking far away

🟩 evilwarcriminal Follow

Sorry I didn't realize you were THIS SLOW

💿 fuckdream123 Follow

can you just give us the coords

🟩 evilwarcriminal Follow

Then it wouldn't be dramatic

💿 fuckdream123 Follow

it's not dramatic when you're having a whole ass conversation about it either

💿 fuckdream123 Follow

fuck i shouldn't have posted that. who am i gonna talk to now i'm fucking lonely i have no one

🐝 what-if-bees-had-nukes Follow

hi

💿 fuckdream123 Follow

no one at all

21 notes

🥇 dreamsno1traitor Follow

EVERYONE SHOULD BE AT THE PORTAL!

If you don't see one of your mutuals here please tag them, it's gonna ruin the moment if someone shows up late

🥚 baddestboi-withahalo Follow

@evilwarcriminal

🔥 murdered-yo-fave-pet Follow

DELETE THIS

134 notes

💿 fuckdream123 Follow

#rigging is allowed

16 notes

🐝 what-if-bees-had-nukes Follow

he has an elevator, we're doomed.

🟩 evilwarcriminal Follow

Can you get off your phone. I'm trying to monologue

4 notes

🔥 murdered-yo-fave-pet Follow

New ask game cause I'm sick of waiting, tell me what you think dream is doing rn and I'll tell you how much death I think he deserves

9 notes

🟩 evilwarcriminal Follow

I'm kinda busy rn but can someone remind me later to post my villain monologue? It's only a first draft but I had to spend all my time setting up my lair. And also blowing up that country a few weeks ago

5 notes

🐈 antthecatmaid Follow

I stg punz is being so sus. what's he even waiting for. he better be paying by the hour

11 notes

🐝 what-if-bees-had-nukes Follow

listen I think I'm gonna die dream is about to take my phone the coords are

2 notes

🔥 murdered-yo-fave-pet Follow

Fuck this I'm going through @dreamsno1traitor

🥇 dreamsno1traitor Follow

WAIT I NEED TO GO FIRST STICK TO THE SCRIPT

13 notes

💿 fuckdream123 Follow

HOOOLY SHIT BITCH BOY LOOK AT THIS BITCH BOY BITCH DROP YOUR ITEMS IN THE HOLE ✨BITCH✨

#cw nudity #again #can people please wear clothes around me thanks

2,577 notes

🟩 evilwarcriminal Follow

/ tw prison

/ tw loss of canon lives

/ tw near death experience

/ tw getting defeated by your archnemesis

.

.

.

I won't be able to post for a while.

78 notes

🦆 stabbyduck69 Follow

ooooohhh look at me i'm skeppy! in the skeppy cage!! can't believe that fucker made this wtf is this place

🦆 stabbyduck69 Follow

okay i'm done now bad where did you go @baddestboi-withahalo i need to get out again @baddestboi-withahalo @baddestboi-withahalo @baddestboi-withahalo

💎 goodestboi-withahalo Follow

Thank you for accepting this job opportunity

18 notes

🟩 evilwarcriminal Follow

Guys get out of my inbox. Your hate anons aren't even effective if I don't have a phone in prison

6 notes

🧨 deadpresident2 Follow

Hey I'm back from the dead

💿 fuckdream123 Follow

REALLY????

🧨 deadpresident2 Follow

Sorry forgot the /j

8 notes

🥇 dreamsno1traitor Follow

Good job today guys. Yeah. Woo. I'm very happy.

#forgive me if I sound too excited

🐝 what-if-bees-had-nukes Follow

.

#I need to be vague about this cause he follows me on here #but I think my best friend almost just traded my life for two pieces of plastic #it was a pretty stressful situation though #ig I can't complain too much #am I weird for thinking that's not normal for a friendship? #sorry #I'm probably being unreasonable #they were some really nice pieces of plastic #you can lmk what you think in dms if you want #just please don't send me asks about this situation #I really don't want him to see #neg #discourse

0 notes

🦆 stabbyduck69 Follow

it's great that we got dream but we need to go after @.bloodforthebloodgod next

🐷 bloodforthebloodgod Follow

what's happening what

🦆 stabbyduck69 Follow

go away i thought i blocked you

💿 fuckdream123 Follow

FUCKKJL YOU TECHNOO

🐝 what-if-bees-had-nukes Follow

technoblade is cringe

🐷 bloodforthebloodgod Follow

you literally tagged me

🦆 stabbyduck69 Follow

yeah cause i needed my followers to know where to send the death threats

28 notes

🔱 warden-of-the-vault Follow

Pandora's Vault is now open to visitors!

Just be aware that the entry process is a lengthy one with several waivers to sign. Plus there are a couple of annoying manual searches along the way. The prisoner is also highly dangerous, he will get inside your head and control your thoughts, transforming you into a servant to his every whim, destroying your very soul from within. I'd recommend not visiting at all actually. You can if you want but I wouldn't. If I were you. That's just me though.

#just me and him

103 notes

(Here's another dsmp dash simulator post I made!)

#long post #dreblr #dream smp #dsmp #dashboard simulator #lore thoughts #dsmp dashboard simulators

[lomlhwa]

the silent sea (p.sh)

pairing: siren!seonghwa x marine biologist!reader

preview: strange things have started happening around your boat. you've been out at sea alone for a few weeks, studying whales. but recently, things on your boat have started disappearing and animals have started dying. you can't shake the feeling that you're being watched by someone. or something.

tags/warnings: fem reader, monster cock seonghwa, scales everywhere (i mean everywhere), biting (he has sharp teeth and they do pierce your skin), belly bulge kink, degrading, sadomasochism, he eats a chunk of your leg (it's not fatal), unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, impregnation

trigger warnings: blood, cannibalism(?), a whole lot of dead animals, it's pretty much not consented cause um siren song

wc: 2.1k

song recs for this fic: bye bye bye by wei, tank by nmixx

a/n: when i posted my yeosang siren fic forever ago, someone asked for a less violent version with seonghwa. so here it is. still slightly violent but you don't die this time <3 (please note that i made up some things about sirens to make the story better. there's a lot of variation in the story of sirens so please don't take my word for anything.)

you wake up to the waves crashing on the side of your boat just as you had for the past two weeks. when you got your marine biology degree, you didn’t realize how lonely you’d get at sea. you go to grab your binoculars and look out into the open sea, only to find that they’re missing. you search for a few minutes before deciding to just use your backup pair.

you hold the binoculars to your eyes and peer out into the never ending water. you see a few fish and the large shadow of one of the whales you’ve been following. it’s a beautiful female blue whale. tracking her size and interactions with other blue whales has been your task for the past few weeks. 

you walk to the other side of the boat to see if you can spot your male blue whale. when you look through your binoculars, you see something floating in the water. you squint, trying to make out what it is. you’re horrified to find that the water around it is red and it’s clearly a dead animal. 

you put on your full diving suit and get into the water, worried about what had happened. you tether yourself to your boat before swimming over. you come to find that it’s a dolphin. you roll it over to find strange bite marks. they’re much too small to fit any of its natural predators. the bites look more like the bite size of a human. you run your finger over one of them, finding that a couple of the teeth sink deeper than others, indicating sharper and longer teeth.

you leave the dolphin where it is, knowing that there’s other wildlife that will use it for nutrition. you climb back into your boat and detach from the rope you’d used to not float too far. you grab your journal to note down your findings. 

the rest of your day is pretty typical. you spot your male blue whale later on in the day, monitoring his interactions with your female. nothing else seemed out of place but the incident with the dolphin never left your mind. what had killed it?

the next morning, you wake up, prepared for more research. when you walk to the side of the boat, you scream. 4 more dolphins have been killed overnight. the closest one smacks against your boat with every crash of waves. you use the net from your boat to catch it and bring it on board so you can examine it.

you find that this dolphin has the same bite marks as the one from yesterday. you assume the other 3 are in the same condition. horrified, you try to figure out what could be doing this. it can’t be a shark, their bites are much bigger than this one. it can’t be any of the fish because their bites are too small.

bewildered, you put the dead dolphin back in the water, leaving it for food as you had done with the previous one. you look out into the vast waters, wishing you could spot something else out of the ordinary that might explain all of this. 

while you’re standing on the right side of the boat, you get a sudden chill that feels like you have eyes on you. you feel like you’re being watched with malintent. you turn around abruptly, only to find that there’s nothing there. you walk over to that side and lean over to see if there’s something hiding. nothing. unnerved, you go to note down the sudden death of these dolphins.

tonight, you decide not to sleep. you need to find out what is causing these animal deaths. what sort of monster is killing full grown adult dolphins with a bite so small? you keep a small flashlight on you and wander around the open space of your boat. you keep the light off so you don’t scare whatever is lurking in the sea. you’ll only turn it on if you hear something. 

for a few dark hours, you hear nothing but the usual sounds of the ocean. crashing waves, whale songs and the wind. but then, you hear the flap of what sounds like a fin. you think for a moment that it might just be a fish, but the contact it makes with the water sounds too big to be a fish but too small to be a whale. 

you rush to click on your flashlight and manage to catch a glimpse of an unusual tail-looking fin. it’s bright orange and highly bioluminescent. it doesn’t look like it belongs to any of the known animals of this ecosystem; at least not to the ones you know of. it appears a couple more times before disappearing. you can see it glowing under the water for a few meters before disappearing into the night completely. 

the next morning, you hope and pray that no more animals have died since you went to bed. you stayed up as late as you could but you did need to sleep. unfortunately, your worst nightmare has appeared. one of your whales is dead. one of your huge blue whales has fallen victim to this unknown creature. this feels like it’s getting revenge on you for spotting it.

you scream and collapse to the floor, staring at your whale floating on the surface of the water. the water surrounding it is dark red. you can see that he’s missing chunks of blubber from his back and sides. “leave my animals alone!” you yell out into the vast sea, wishing that whatever was doing this would hear you. 

you feel that same feeling of being watched again. the thing is listening to you. you can just feel it. “stop killing the animals, they never did anything to you! if you want my attention, just show yourself!” you yell again. 

you hear the water splash before hearing and feeling something crash onto the floor of the boat. fear shoots up your spine, every part of you urging you not to turn around. are you really about to face the thing that’s been tormenting you and the ocean?  yeah, you are.

you turn around and you’re faced with a beautiful man standing across the deck from you. his arms are crossed and his dark eyes pierce yours. you know that he was the one causing the feeling of being watched but there’s no way he could kill a whale. matter of fact, there’s no way he could be all the way out here without a ship.

“you’re really fucking annoying. all that screaming these past couple mornings has been piercing my ear drums,” he finally speaks. he tilts his head and smacks the side of it, forcing water out of his ears. 

“are you what’s been eating the dolphins? and my whale?” you ask, getting up off the ground. you gesture to your very dead whale behind you. the man nods, shrugging. “i’m not really a fan of the taste of whale but i knew it would set you off, so i killed it,” he picks at his teeth as if he has food stuck in there. “your scream made it worth it.”

“what kind of sadistic fuck are you?” you stare at him, completely horrified at what he just said to you. he laughs at you. finding joy in your displeasure. “what, sea creatures can’t have a little fun anymore?” he walks closer to you, waving his hands in the air as if he’s offended. 

“you don’t look like a sea creature,” you make a confused face at him. he doesn’t have gills or fins or anything that would really scream ‘sea creature.’ he rolls his eyes, rolling up his sleeves. he reveals bright orange scales that go all the way up his arms. they seem to match the color of the strange tail you saw last night. he grins with terrifyingly sharp teething, seemingly sensing that you’re putting the pieces together. 

“what… what are you?” you say, subconsciously taking a step back to go back to a safer distance. “well, let’s list my features and see if you can figure it out with that stupid brain of yours,” he bares his teeth at you. “scales, mermaid-like tail and sharp teeth. take a guess little miss marine biologist.” 

that’s impossible. what he’s describing is fictional. merely folklore. “siren,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper. he clasps his hands together in excitement. “ding ding ding! look at your feeble brain go,” his smile has sinister undertones and a new rush of fear surges through you. 

“now, i’m here for one thing and one thing only,” he plops down onto the ground, crossing his legs. “see, sirens can only reproduce with a human, not other sirens. and you, being out here all alone, are the perfect candidate,” your face contorts into minor disgust. “no,” you retort.

“i think you’re misunderstanding. i’m not asking,” he says before he shakes his head at you. he opens his mouth and a beautiful song fills your ears. it is haunting and echo-y in your head. you feel yourself being drawn to him instantly. you’re unable to move at your own free will.

your legs carry you to him on their own accord. despite his mouth closing, the song continues to possess you. you halt in front of him, your body completely limp. you’re only being held up by the powers of his siren song. 

he removes your clothes with an inhuman ferocity. your body is laid down on the ground, completely stripped. he hovers above you having removed his own clothes as well. you come to find that the orange scales cover his whole body. you strain your eyes to look further down his body and find your eyes meeting what was hiding under his pants. it’s basically the size of your forearm. you can already tell it’s gonna hurt. 

he spreads your legs and gets between them, lining his length up with your hole. you want to fight and close your legs, but you’re completely immobilized. he shoves his whole member into you at full force. it hurts so much you see stars. the stretch is enough to make tears sting your eyes. 

“shhh, good whores can take cock with no warm up,” he caresses your face with a gentleness you had yet to see from him. “you’re gonna be my good cum dump and do what i make you.” he lets you adjust for a few moments before pulling all the way out and slamming back in. screams beg to leave your throat but you’re unable to release them.

he pounds into you with animalistic speed. his only focus is on breeding you. that’s the only reason he’s been tormenting you. he’s using your body for continuing his own bloodline. 

out of nowhere he pulls out of you, his high clearly creeping up on him. something in his demeanor changes as he leans down to one of your legs. without warning, he bites a chunk out of your thigh, chewing and swallowing it in front of you. 

“need more stamina to fill you up like the good whore you are,” he says as he wipes your blood off his lips. he shoves back into you before leaning down and digging his teeth into your shoulder.  he doesn’t rip any skin off but he leaves a few deep bites.

his hips stutter and his sharp nails dig into your hips. he pumps you full of his seed. it’s so much that it streams out of you as he continues to thrust into you. “gotta make sure you’re gonna get pregnant. otherwise i’ll have to follow you home for more than claiming my child,” he whispers in your ear. 

he pulls out of you, cum spilling out from inside you and pooling under you. he puts his clothes back on and sighs, staring at you. “your pregnancy will be fast with a siren baby. maybe, 3 weeks? don’t go back to shore until after you give birth or i’ll gut you like i gutted that whale.” with that, he jumps back into the sea. 

you lay there in shock of what just happened. you finally regain control of your limbs and you stand up. you grab tissues to clean yourself up. you put your clothes back on and sit on your bed, wondering how the hell you just lived through that. 

before you know it, 3 weeks has passed and you give birth to a beautiful baby boy. he takes after his father with his orange scales. as promised, the siren returns to claim the child. “perfect,” he says, taking the child from you and heading for the water.

“wait!” you yell. he turns around, looking at you puzzled. “what’s your name? that’s the least you could tell me after i just had your kid.” he smiles at you and jumps into the water. you rush to the side of the boat and he pokes his head above the water.

“seonghwa.”

© lomlhwa 2023

#lomlhwa #ateez #atz #seonghwa #park seonghwa #ateez smut #atz smut #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa smut

[gimmeurtmi]

backstage — lee know

pairing: lee minho x fem!reader

tags: established relationship, dom/sub dynamic, mc!lee know, fluff, smut!!!🔞

warnings: swearing, dom!minho, boyfriend!minho, minho shows off reader (in a non-sexual way), dirty talk, thigh riding, unprotected sex, finger sucking, exhibitionism as a fantasy and is talked about a lot, use of "good girl", "whore", "slut", some light degradation, praising, jewellery as consent signals, kink negotiations, lmk if i forgot any!

inspo: i saw too many gifset of lee know on music core. plus @lino-nyangi's posts about exhibitionist!minho

notes: i got carried away. again. let's just from now on always assume i'm gonna get carried away when it comes to minho. thanks. also i wrote this on my laptop so it's actually written normally lmao. this won't be consistent i'm sorry.

{ wc: 8676 }

A few weeks ago Minho promised you he’d take you with him to record MusicCore. You were a fan of the show before Minho joined it, and ever since he secured a job as an MC you begged him week after week to let you come with him.

Today was finally the day the stars aligned, and your schedule allowed you to come with him. Minho was very clear that you could only come if you were there to support him from the morning until he was done, something about how it would be unfair of you to leave him alone in the middle. So when you had some time off, and Minho was preparing to record, he surprised you with a lanyard attached to a card that said Full Access: Guest of Lee Min Ho on it.

You were gonna frame it after today.

So when you got up in the morning, thirty minutes before your alarm, you made sure to spend some extra time styling your hair and perfecting your makeup. It wasn’t like you were going there to impress anyone—but stepping into the studio of MusicCore felt like a fancy event, and you needed to dress accordingly.

Minho grumbled from behind you as he woke up—he only got home at three in the morning after practicing for his stage all night—searching for you next to him.

“Jagiya,” he mumbled, eyes still shut, “where are you?”

“I’m here, my love,” you announced from your chair in front of the vanity.

“C’mhere,” he mumbled, plopping his head back into his three pillows. You quickly followed his orders, crawling back into the bed, making sure not to touch the white pillows before you had a chance to set your foundation.

“What time is it?”

“Eight thirty,” you checked your phone quickly.

“Why did you leave me?” He whined, wrapping his arms around you.

“I couldn’t keep sleeping knowing where we’re going,” you grinned. Minho smiled softly, his eyes still closed.

“You’re excited?” He asked, unwilling to open his eyes just yet, knowing he had ten more minutes to stay in bed still.

“I’m so so excited! It’s gonna be such a good show, show, show!” You recited, causing Minho to chuckle at you.

It was then he opened his eyes finally, rubbing them slightly before he took a moment to look at you.

“Holy shit,” he let out after a few rapid blinks.

“What?”

“You’re gorgeous,” his grip on you tightened, pulling you closer.

“You didn’t know that before?” You asked, feigning offence at his shocked face.

“Of course I knew that,” he nudged his head into your shoulder, “it’s just a bit overwhelming seeing it first thing in the morning.”

“Well, you’re gonna be seeing this gorgeous face all day,” you smirked.

“I’m so lucky,” he concluded before kissing your neck softly. “We’re gonna walk up to every crew member there and make sure they know you’re my girlfriend.”

“Oh, yeah? You wanna show me off today?” You smirked at him.

Innocently, Minho mumbled a small ‘yes’ your way, unaware of the thoughts in your brain. It was too early to bring in such inappropriate thoughts to the conversation, but maybe you couldn’t help but think about that little thing you and Minho agreed upon a few months ago.

Neither of you liked the idea of doing anything inappropriate in public—but sometimes, when Minho talked to you, he’d mention things like that. And sometimes, it got you so horny he could get away with saying a lot of things.

To make sure both of you were comfortable with these kinds of things, you agreed on wearing certain things to let him know how you were feeling. When you wanted him to go hard, it was the red ring he bought you. When you wanted him to only praise you, it was the butterfly earrings you found at the old market place on your third date. And when you wanted him to mention these kind of things, play along to the fantasy that you two were going to do things in front of others, you wore the gold necklace he got you with a small M dangling off it.

Minho also knew you were completely happy with him ignoring those signs as well—as you both needed to want it for it to be enjoyable—so you knew you could wear it today even if he didn’t want to indulge you.

It sat beautifully above your collarbones and honestly, it brought the whole outfit together nicely. You might have to ask Minho to change the sign to a different necklace, as the more you looked at it the more you wanted to wear it every single day.

Minho didn’t comment on it, you weren’t sure he even noticed it, as he stepped out of the shower and started getting ready for his day. The pair of you had a quick breakfast, Minho making sure to kiss your lips when you were done, and then call a car to get you to the studio.

You squealed excitedly at him as you saw the studio coming into view—your previous thoughts from the morning forgotten as they were replaced by butterflies instead.

Minho was a very talented MC, you always told him that, and the reality of getting to see him record was finally starting to set.

“Thank you so much,” you said as your boyfriend laced your fingers together, walking you towards the entrance to the studio.

“Why are you thanking me?” He shrugged at you before smiling at the receptionist and offering her a small bow. You followed suit, watching as Minho signed in on the sheet and made small talk with her.

“Are you her?” She asked timidly, watching as you signed your name on the guest sheet.

You looked at Minho in question, unable to ignore the way his ears turned pink.

“The girlfriend,” she added, pointing at your interlocked hands.

“Oh, yeah,” you smiled, “I’m Y/N.”

The pair of you bowed at each other before she spoke up again, “Lee Know doesn’t stop talking about you. Every week he tells me something else sweet about you.”

“Does he?” You exclaimed, your eyebrows raising as Minho simply refused to look at your questioning gaze.

“You are very pretty,” she complimented. “I hope you two stay very happy.”

“Thank you,” you smiled widely at her. “Have a lovely day.”

“I’m never telling you anything again,” Minho joked at her, before he dragged the pair of you away and deeper into the studio.

“Min?” You questioned once you were alone, “since when do you talk about me?”

“What do you mean?” He said, adjusting his hair slightly to make sure his now red ears weren’t on display.

“No one has ever said something like that to me at JYP,” you point out. It wasn’t that Minho wasn’t affectionate towards you, you were showered with it, but never in front of people. You’ve met a lot of his colleagues and even stayed with him for a week during their world tour, and no one has ever reacted that way towards you before.

“She’s just very nice, is all,” he dismissed.

You nodded, dismissing it as well. You knew your boyfriend very well, and he was a private kind of person. You couldn’t imagine him walking up to reception in the morning and telling her all about you—it just didn’t seem like Minho. He was only that way with a select few people, so you assumed perhaps this colleague of his fell under that category, too.

It was probably nothing.

Minho explained what each room was as you walked past it, that one was Minju’s dressing room and that one was the wardrobe department and that one was the backup dancers room and that was a guest room. Then, after climbing a few stairs, you reached it.

The door had ‘Lee Know’ written across it with a blue star.

“And this is mine,” he smiled, opening the door before gesturing for you to go in first.

As you walked in, your hand fell from his as both your hands came up to hide your gasp.

“What is that?” You asked, referring to the huge vase full of flowers.

“I don’t know,” Minho said, walking up to it. “I didn’t put it here.”

You walked over to it, found a little card hanging off the yellow roses and opened it.

“Dear Y/N,” you read out loud, giving Minho a look. His eyebrows frowned heavily, and you knew that if he wrote it he would’ve just smirked instead. You kept reading. “We are so excited to meet you. We hope you enjoy your first day here. Kindly, Jinho and Mihi.”

“Oh my god,” Minho groaned, sitting down on the couch with a huff.

“Who are they?”

“The makeup artists,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “They stole my moment!”

“What moment?”

“Look behind the flowers,” he was whining, clearly unimpressed by the amount of attention you were getting. How did the makeup artists even know you were coming—and why were they excited to meet you?

You walked behind the flowers, far too big to see anything hidden behind them, and found a box there. You opened it to see inside a bag of your favourite snacks, a polariod camera, and Leebit. A small card sat next to it.

“Dear Y/N,” you read, chuckling out loud. “Thank you for coming today and I hope it’s as beautiful as you imagined it would be. Please cheer loudly for me when you see me on stage and take lots of pictures to remember it! I finally got you the Leebit you wanted, so you’ll blend in nicely with the rest of the Stays. I love you. Min.”

Minho’s face was in his hands, his ears still incredibly red.

“Baby,” you sighed, picking up the bunny plushie and holding him close to your chest. “This is so incredibly sweet.”

“You were supposed to see it later when I was busy and be moved by how amazing your boyfriend is,” he sighed.

“I am moved,” you made sure to tell him, making your way over to where he was sitting.

“The flowers are so much nicer though,” he complained, letting out a loud whine at the end of his sentence.

“The flowers are very nice, but only my amazing and considerate boyfriend could give me something like this.”

You leaned over to kiss his cheek, ignoring the urge to tease him about how warm his face was. “And I finally have my Leebit!”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, playing with the bunny’s tail, “I had to beg the merch team for it. They’re in very high demand.”

“I can imagine,” you chuckled. “Come on,” you urged him to stand up in front of the mirror with you, “we need to debut the polariod camera!”

You quickly unpacked the camera and pointed it at the reflection, telling your boyfriend to come over and join you.

Minho rolled his eyes at you but wasted no time in wrapping an arm around your waist and inching his head closer to you. With a cute smile on both your faces you snapped the picture, a happy dance following your movements as you waited for the photo to print.

“Thank you for this,” you said softly at him, “and thank you for bringing me and everything.”

“Anything for you,” he said sincerely, leaning down and kissing your lips softly. “Would you have enjoyed it more if the flowers were from me?”

You laughed at him, shaking your head as you waited for the picture to develop.

“You know I like your thoughtful gifts more than flowers. Flowers are nice, but you always think hard about what you buy me,” you smiled at him, kissing his cheek softly.

Minho nodded at that, pleased enough with your answer, before he walked over to his table and looked over the script sat there.

“I need to go over this,” he said, guesting at the pages in his hand. Minho warned you before you came that shooting involved a lot of work and he won’t have too much time to spend with you—but you were content with that. You had your phone with you and a book, you could entertain yourself without his help.

“Okay. Can I go find the makeup artists and thank them?”

“Sure,” Minho smiled, “call me if you get lost.”

You nodded at him, kissed his lips one last time, and grabbed your new camera and your plushie with you—ready to explore the halls where they filmed one of your favourite shows.

You remembered enough about Minho’s little tour to navigate without too much nervousness, quickly finding the door that said ‘makeup’ on it.

It was open, the sound of people talking coming from inside and you knocked lightly on the door.

“Hello,” you said politely, bowing to the strangers. “I’m looking for Jinho and Mihi.”

“Yes?” one of the women said, looking at you up and down. After a few moments her eyes settled on your face, taking in your hightlights and lipstick. “Your makeup is fantastic!”

“Thank you,” you smiled, knowing there was no bigger compliment than a professional admiring your work. “I just wanted to say thank you for the flowers and welcoming me today.”

Once you said those words, the woman looked at the bunny in your hand, and you could almost see the penny dropping in her mind.

“You’re Y/N!” You nodded. “Oh!”

The pair of them hugged you, smiling widely as they each introduced themselves to you.

“We’ve heard so much about you!” They chuckled, “every time Lee Know sits in that chair he does not stop talking about you. He’s either talking about that or we’re exchanging recipes.”

You laughed, imaging your boyfriend trying to explain his latest food experiement to the women in front of you.

However, you couldn’t just breeze past the fact he was sharing things with them, too. You knew his makeup artist in JYP was very close to him, too, as it was more than awkward to just sit in front of someone for twenty minutes without saying a thing—but she never said anything like that to you. Your nail tech knew all about Minho, but you were known for sharing things with people with ease. Minho was not.

“May I ask,” you dared, “what kind of things does he say?”

“Oh, nothing bad of course,” they thought to reassure you, “Lee Know is very protective of you it seems. He cares about you a lot.”

You smiled, “yeah, I care about him, too.”

The pair awwed in unison. “They’re too sweet!”

“It’s just… Minho doesn’t really talk about these things with a lot of people.”

They laughed at you, their eyebrows knitted together. “What do you mean?”

“Lee Know always brainstorms date ideas with us, and tells us about how well you’re doing at work! Congratulations on that promotion last month!”

You thanked them, a blush warm on your cheeks. “Really?”

“Oh, dear, I hope you don’t mind that he told us?” Jinho said, looking at her friend with slight concern on her forehead.

“Oh, no! Of course not!” You reassured. “It’s not that. It’s just, surprising, is all.”

They nodded at you. “He’s probably just more comfortable sharing romantic stories with us.”

They did have a point. You were sure it was much easier sharing stories with the makeup artists than with his crew members.

You thanked them one more time before suggesting to take a picture with them—using the camera your boyfriend bought you, and excused yourself.

You walked down the hallway trying to see if there was anything else to explore. You knew the canteen was on the opposite side of Minho’s room, so you slowly made your way there—making sure to take in as many details as possible.

You watched many behind the scenes features about the show and walking down the hallway you saw in them was like something out of a movie—stepping into a place you felt you already knew by heart. It was just the start of the day, there was so much more excitement to feel, but already you were overwhelmed by it.

You thought maybe grabbing a snack and a drink would make you feel better.

Once you arrived at the canteen you saw a few people sat around with coffees, some were reading over scripts, some were listening to music.

You ordered an iced drink and a pastry, paying for your order and smiling polietly and the man who worked at the canteen. His smile was very bright.

Everyone was so friendly, you noted, and even texted your friend as such when they asked how it was going so far.

Everyone in your circle knew how excited you were for today—so they all checked in to see you were still alive and didn’t die from happiness overload.

You sat down at the end of a very big table, not many other seats available, and started scrolling down your social media to occupy yourself.

“Can we sit here?” Someone asked.

You looked up to see a group of four boys with their meals. There wasn’t anywhere else for them to sit, and either way you didn’t mind. You nodded at them with a small smile.

Becoming very aware of the looks they were giving your bunny, you grabbed him and concealed him in your lap instead. You knew you looked like a fangirl carrying him around—and you didn’t mind in the slightest—but you didn’t want these strangers to ask you questions. You didn’t know who they were, and they clearly recognised what the plushie was meant to represent, and you could already see the horror scenario of you getting kicked out of the studio for being mistaken as a fan that sneaked their way in. You subconsciously checked your pass was still in your pocket.

The boys were, however, too immersed in their own conversation to even look your way.

That was until one of the boys got up and asked the group if they wanted anything, and then, he asked you the same thing.

“Oh, thank you. I’m fine,” you smiled, pointing at your still mostly full drink. He nodded.

“I think Tae-hyung was trying to flirt with you,” his friend helpfully supplied.

You chuckled at the angry look on his friend’s face before he walked away to get everyone’s orders.

“That’s no way to flirt with someone,” you joked back, trying to lighten up the awkwardness you were feeling. “That’s just being friendly.”

“And how do you flirt with someone?” The boy challenged with a smirk.

You laughed at him—he was doing good—but you couldn’t let him get his hopes up.

“I’d show you, but I’m taken,” your hand went down to your lap where Leebit was sitting safely, and you held onto him tightly.

At that the fourth boy, Tae, came back with the drinks, joining the conversation.

“Hear that, hyung? She’s taken,” one of the boys announced. He sighed dramatically, shaking his head at the news.

You chuckled at his dramatic reaction, enjoying the new relaxed atmosphere around the table.

Then the boys introduced themselves, informing you they danced on the show weekly.

“I’m actually a massive fan of the show, I thought I recognised your faces,” you said with a smile, knowing you saw the oldest boy in the group before.

“Really? Who’s your favourite MC then?” One of the boys teased, nudging his head in the direction of your lap—where they all knew the bunny was hiding.

“Is it obvious?” You joked, showing them your plushie, and then tapping your phone where a picture of Minho sat proudly. It was one of him on the show, holding his microphone with his name covered in glitter adoring it.

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but he’s also taken,” one of the dancers said. “And he’s whipped.”

“What?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“We probably shouldn’t say this, but every time we’re practising with him he has to stop around the same time to send his girlfriend a text. And he’ll talk about her a lot, too. So even if you were to ditch your partner for Lee Know—he would never leave his girlfriend.”

“I’ve never seen anyone that in love before,” one of them added, “she’s all he talks about.”

Your stomach crunched at their words. Who was this person everyone was talking about and since when did your boyfriend share so much about your relationship?

“What, uh, what does he say about her?”

“Are you one of the jealous fans?” The dancer made sure to ask. You quickly shook your head, making sure to let them know you were happy for him, and just curious to know more.

“Well, he talks a lot about what they do together. And how he wants to adopt a cat with her because she’ll be great at raising them.”

“Oh my god,” Tae chuckled, “remember when we were practising for his first stage and every time he got tired he looked at her picture?”

They laughed.

“He kept saying she’s better than caffeine.”

You slowly pressed a hand to your cheek trying to check just how warm your skin was. It was on fire. Your stomach was, too.

“That’s sweet,” you concluded, “I’m glad my idol is so happy.”

You knew you had to play the part now, as it would be far too awkward to let them know who you were now. So you just smiled instead.

“Well, I hope you get to enjoy the show today,” they said after you all finished your food. “We need to get going before we miss our schedule.”

“Of course,” you nodded, “good luck!”

So, the receptionist and the makeup artists were one thing. The dancers were a totally different thing. Since when was Minho like this? You thought you knew your boyfriend well, you thought he was only open about these things with his members and with his family, you didn’t think he just told everyone about you.

The staff at JYP definitely didn’t see you like any of the people around here did—and you couldn’t help but wonder why they knew so much about you.

You didn’t mind, of course, Minho was free to share what he wanted with who he wanted, but this was unexpected. You weren’t quite sure how to react to it all.

You pushed those thoughts to the side, instead asking your boyfriend if he wanted anything to eat and when he said no you made your way back to his dressing room.

You waited patiently as Minho read over his script a few more times, practising out loud in front of the mirror to monitor his facial expressions and his tone of voice.

Soon, a PA walked in and talked Minho over his schedule. First, he needed to go get his outfit on.

You followed him around, his hand never leaving yours, and sat quietly by him as they made sure the outfit sat comfortably around his body.

“You look really good,” you mumbled at him as the pair of you made your way to the makeup room.

He kissed the back of your hand in response.

Jinho and Mihi smiled at you as they saw your hands locked together, inviting Minho to sit down in one of the chairs.

The four of you talked about your day, how you were finding it around the studio, and if you met any interesting people yet.

“Oh, I met one of my favourite dancers on the show! I didn’t know his name until now but I recognised him as the dancer I focus on most of the time,” you answered politely.

Minho looked at you so fast you were worried his neck might snap.

“Your favourite what?” He gasped at you.

“His name is Tae, he said,” you answered.

“Tae?!” Minho nearly yelled. His face was forced back into its previous position by Jinho as she tried setting his foundation.

He didn’t seem as angry with a powder brush tapping around his face. But you knew you made the wrong move when he gave you the same look he did to his members when they made a mistake in the choreography. Only this time his jealous scowl was attached to it, too.

“Obviously, you’re my favourite dancer. But on the show you don’t dance a lot so he’s my favourite.”

Minho scoffed at that, causing both the artists to laugh at the interaction before they changed the subject to your work instead. You told them a bit about it, enjoying how attentive they were to your words and experiences.

When Minju entered the room to get herself ready, she gasped as she saw you.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” She bowed, and you followed her as you gave you that same sentiment back. The pair of you chatted away easily, excitement bubbling inside your stomach as you managed to speak so freely in front of her. You were a big fan of hers as well, having been part of the show for a while, and Minho even agreed to take a picture of the two of you together before Mihi insisted she needed to start working on the MC soon.

It was time for Minho to walk towards the soundstage, now that he was fully ready, and the pair of you made your way down there—hand never leaving his.

“You know, Tae also tried to flirt with me,” you decided to say, just to see your boyfriend’s reaction.

“Did he?” He let out, clenching his jaw visibly.

“Yeah, but then instead he told me all about how I’m like your caffeine.”

At that, Minho’s face changed from jealousy to pure embarrassment, and he was lucky it was then you reached the sound stage.

You forgot completely what you two were talking about as you saw the stage spread before you—you even jumped up and down twice.

“Min, this is so cool!” You exclaimed, “this is so fucking cool!”

Minho smiled at that, his eyes crinkling at your reaction. “Was it worth the wait?”

“This is so cool!” Is all you could say.

Minho wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pointing at different cameras and monitors and explaining what they were used for and when. You nodded at his words, listening carefully to everything he was saying.

Then it was time for him to start rehearsing, so you blew a kiss his way (as to not mess up his makeup) and clapped your hands in excitement. You had your camera at the ready too, snapping a few pictures of the set as you waited by the screens.

Jinho, who was monitoring the makeup on the screen, stood by you—helping you feel more at ease as the crew around the set watched as the three MCs rehearsed their lines.

After they rehearsed, and the dancers filmed one of their stages, it was time for a short break before the live stages were set to start. Minho got his makeup looked over before the pair of you were sent on your way back to his room.

You held onto his arm, your hand circling around his bicep as your other interlocked with his fingers. You kissed his shoulder lightly as you made your way down the hallway.

You passed the deep pink wall—the background of many pictures of your favourite idols—and so you stopped in your tracks.

“Min,” you started, but you didn’t even need to explain what you wanted before Minho grabbed the camera from your hand and gestured for you to stand against the pink backdrop.

After grabbing the small picture that printed out, Minho took out his phone and stood beside you—taking a selfie or four with you against the wall.

“Happy?” He asked as he handed you the now developed polariod. You nodded your head excitedly.

Minho chuckled at you, bringing a hand around your shoulder as he guided the pair of you back on your way towards his room.

Once you climbed up the stairs you reached your destination, sitting down on the couch by your boyfriend.

“So what’s happening now?” You asked, crossing your legs underneath your body.

“We have a few hours until we start. I usually just relax a bit before the crowd gets here and we do everything again but live.”

You nodded. “This is so cool.”

“You have mentioned,” Minho chuckled at you. He brought his hand to your hair, tucking a bit of it behind your ear.

“Can I ask you something?” Minho hummed in affirmation. “How come you share so much with the people who work here?”

“I don’t tell them anything private,” he promised you, “it’s just.. more relaxed around here. It’s hard talking about you with anyone who works at the company.”

“I don’t mind either way,” you assured him, “I just wasn’t expecting everybody to know me and tell me how much you love me.”

“Who told you that?” He questioned, his eyes averting to the plushie between your legs, avoiding your eyes again.

“Min, I think at this point I kinda know all that already,” you chuckled, amused by the way he was perfectly comfortable telling you he loved you, but suddnely now he was embaressed.

“I can be different here, I think,” he mused, “here I can be fun Lee Know who’s not cold and hard and if I said some of these things about you in the company they’ll think I’m being weird and--”

“—you’re not cold, Min,” you stopped him. He nodded. “But it’s nice being here,” you agreed, “everyone’s treating me like I’m famous or something.”

Minho grinned at you.

“So you’re enjoying yourself?”

“Yes,” you nodded, your smile reaching your eyes. “Thank you again.”

“What’s been your favourite part so far?” He asked, reaching for your hand and rubbing his thumb over the back of it.

“Well, I found the wall,” you said, reaching in to your pocket and grabbing all the polariods you took during the day, showing them off one by one to your boyfriend. “And I took pictures of the big stage! And I met Minju,” you smiled at the photo, “and of course my favourite part,” you found the picture you took of the monitor when it was focused on your boyfriend, “watching MC Lee Know in action.”

Minho laughed at that. You rarely called him by his stage name, and watching you get so excited about his side gig warmed his heart in ways he couldn’t quite explain.

He leaned forward, capturing your lips in a small kiss.

You ignored it all day—the thoughts probing inside your brain—but now that you were alone and kissing him, you couldn’t quite suppress it anymore.

The way he looked on stage, so happy and oh so stunning. His stage presence was always strong, always impossible to ignore, but on the stage you loved so much it was overwhelming you. The way he told just about everyone here how much he cared about you. The way he looked so confident in everything he did today. Even, the jealousy in his eyes when you dared call someone else your favourite dancer.

You were craving him.

So before Minho pulled away, you snaked your hands around his neck and pulled him closer. He moved his lips against yours softly, so softly you felt a lightness at the back of your eyes—as if the kiss was so strong it was dulling your other senses.

“Baby,” you whispered against his lips, tugging lightly on his hair.

“Yeah?” He asked, trying to pull away from your lips. In response, you climbed onto his lap and grabbed his jaw—pulling him even closer.

Minho responded instantly, sliding his tongue against your lips. You opened your mouth, your tongue finding his with familiar ease.

You could taste the makeup on his face, and you knew he could taste yours—but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was the feeling of his thighs underneath you, his hands around your hips, his lips on yours.

When you brought your hand to his chest, fingers reaching into his shirt, he finally pulled away.

His lips were swollen, he had lipstick around his cupid’s bow, and his eyes were glazed. It made you groan.

“What’s gotten into you?” He asked in a whisper.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, “you said we have some time to relax.”

You lean in closer, kissing underneath his jaw.

“Yeah, but we’re not alone,” he reminded you.

“We’re in your dressing room,” you countered, “we can lock the door.”

“Y/N, don’t forget yourself,” he warned you, “anyone can walk in here and need something.”

“They’ll knock,” you tried, rolling your hips against him. You could feel he was hard underneath you, you knew he wanted this, but Minho was very specific that when you two were outside of the house he wouldn’t do anything beyond kissing you. Even making out in a locked dressing room seemed like something very daring between the pair of you.

“What’s gotten into you?” He asked again with a chuckle.

“Seeing you on stage, Min,” you explained simply, bringing your hand down to the space where your bodies rested against each other.

“Calm down,” he said, grabbing your wrists and pulling your hands away, “you’ve seen me performing so many times before.”

“This is different,” you explained, rolling your hips again. Minho grunted at the contact, his grip on your wrist tightening.

“Regardless of that,” he started, tugging you away from him by your wrists when you tried to kiss him again, “we’re in public.”

“You could fuck me in front of that mirror though,” you said simply, looking at your reflection for a moment. Minho followed your line of sight, grinning at you through the mirror.

“Who are you and what have you done with my shy little girlfriend?” He asked, bringing his hand to your chin, forcing you to face him again.

He looked at your face, his eyes darkening slightly as he rubbed the lipstick stains away from your skin. His finger traced your jaw, your heart beat quickening at his actions, before his finger trailed down to your neck, your collarbone, and then rested on the M sat against your skin.

“Oh,” he let out in realisation. “When did you put this on?”

“In the morning,” you explained, swallowing slightly when you saw his expression change completely. “After you said you were gonna show me off to everyone.”

Minho cocked his head to the side, an impossibly attractive smirk on his still swollen lips.

“And then you saw I wasn’t kidding…” he filled in the blanks, his eyes still glued to the jewellery. “And now you’re horny.”

“I’m not the only one,” you argued, rolling your hips again. Minho grabbed you, stopping your movements completely.

“Yeah, but the difference is I have some self control,” he raised his eyebrows.

“Please, Min, you said yourself we have a few hours,” you whined lightly. “I’ll lock the door.”

“But if my baby’s in such a mood, surely I should open the door and ask everyone to come look at you.”

“Min,” you whined, trying to move in his grip. It was bad enough he wasn’t going to give you anything—it was straight up cruel for him to wind you up as well.

“Everyone’s heard a lot about you,” he kissed your jaw, “maybe today we should show them the parts I didn’t tell them?”

You groaned as he planted more kisses around your neck.

“Like how much of a slut my girl is,” he squeezed your hips.

“No,” you said, shaking your head, “not a slut.”

Minho looked up at you. You usually liked that name, telling him yourself it turned you on, so his eyebrows lifted up as he questioned you.

“Then what are you?” He asked softly.

“Your whore,” you corrected him, swallowing as you spoke.

You would’ve been embarrassed by the shock on Minho’s face—but it melted into a smirk just as quickly as he gasped.

“I see,” he nodded, his hands travelling down to your ass, “so you’re really in a mood.”

“Yes,” you confirmed.

“You can’t wait to get home?”

“No, I want you now,” you groaned. Minho grabbed your ass, hard, causing you to pulse around nothing.

“Get up,” he said, pushing you off his lap. You tried your best to hide your disappointment but stood up anyway. Before you could apologise for taking it too far—Minho walked to the door and locked it.

When he turned around you had to bite the smile on your face.

He walked over to you, kissing your forehead softly before he turned you around and wrapped his hands around your stomach. He walked the pair of you over to the mirror, kissing down your neck as he positioned you right in front of it.

“Like this? You want me to fuck you like this?” He asked, rubbing his crotch against your ass.

“Yeah,” you sighed, still in disbelief that Minho actually gave in to your request. He was a private person, but you guessed today you learned to see a different side of Minho from the moment you entered the studio.

“You’re gonna look at yourself while I push my dick inside you?”

“Yes,” you moaned, feeling him against your ass.

Minho started sucking on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him with the hand still around your stomach. His other hand travelled up and down your sides—ghosting over your chest but never quite touching you there.

“And if I wanna take you like this?” He asked, spinning you around to face him. He pushed his crotch against yours, his erection teasing you against your jeans.

“Take me however you want, Min,” you moaned, rubbing yourself against him.

“You’re so fucking horny,” he chuckled dryly, wrapping his finger around the thin gold chain. “What got you this horny?”

“You,” you whispered.

“Don’t think I heard you,” Minho challenged. The rooms were all quite close together, and you knew if you said anything too loudly the people in the next room would hear you.

Minho was daring you.

“You got me this horny,” you said louder, swallowing loudly as warmth crept up your neck.

“You can’t do this,” he taunted, “you’re thinking with your pussy but we both know if I told you to moan loudly for me you wouldn’t. So why are you asking me to fuck you?”

“I’ll be quiet--”

“—but if I tell you to do something you need to do it,” Minho reminded you, “and do you really think you can take my punishment when you don’t moan loud enough for me?”

“I’ll do whatever you ask,” you nodded, jumping onto the counter you were pressed against and opening your legs wide.

Minho’s hand instantly grabbed your thighs and kneeded at your skin.

“That’s not my girl talking,” he said, kissing your cheek, “that’s your wet pussy talking for you.”

“Please,” you groaned, rolling your hips against the counter to feel something.

Minho looked down at your crotch, chuckling when he saw just how desperate you were in front of him.

“Or maybe you don’t even need me?” He questioned, grabbing the top of your thighs and rolling you against the counter again. “Is this enough for you?”

“No,” you begged, “I need more.”

“I’m not going to do anything,” he informed you, “we’re still in a very busy building and you can’t possibly be quiet.”

“You just asked me to be loud,” you groaned.

“I know,” Minho said, kissing you softly, “just wanted to see how far you’re willing to go for your boyfriend’s dick.”

At that, Minho walked away from you and picked up his script. He sat himself down on the couch, reading over his lines one more time in prepration.

“Minho,” you tried, but he simply shook his head at you.

“Not happening,” he dismissed.

“Minho,” you tried again, desperate for his attention. He kept his eyes solely on the pages in front of him.

“Calm down,” he advised.

“I’ll be quiet,” you tried.

“You know I’m gonna take that as a challenge,” he chuckled, “you being quiet means I’m not doing well.”

“Then I’ll be loud,” you offered.

At that, Minho looked up from his script over at you, his eyes dark as he leaned his head back. He looked at you for a few moments.

“What’s this about?” He questioned.

“I’m horny,” you said simply, shrugging your shoulders as you fiddled with your necklace.

“What’s it really about?” He offered you a second chance.

You jumped off the counter, walking over to him. You grabbed the script out of his hands, placed it on the couch beside him and climbed into his lap. You could tell Minho was holding himself back from placing his hands on you—instead they sat by his side.

“I’m proud of you, and you look stunning today, and I want everyone who already knows so much about me to hear how pretty I can moan for you.”

Minho licked his lips.

“I love being the person who gets fucked by Lee Know,” you added with a smirk, running your hands up and down his chest, until your reached his crotch.

Minho brought his hands to your hips, moving you against his thighs in an agonisingly slow rhythm.

“Maybe we should wait,” he offered, a raise in his brows, “we can go to the stage and I can fuck you in front of the cameras?”

“Fuck,” you let out, pushing against his thighs harder as you jolted from the friction.

“Is that what you want?”

You nodded quickly.

Minho grabbed your phone from beside him, checking the time. He smiled slightly at the new picture you set on your lockscreen—of him during his first time on the show.

He leaned up, grabbing your cheek as he brought your lips together.

“Tell me, whore,” he pulled away slightly, dragging you along his thigh faster, “when all those cameras are on you—are you gonna beg for my fingers or my cock?”

“Your cock,” you moaned, grabbing onto his shoulders.

“So everyone can see how you fall apart when my dick splits you in half?”

“Yes, Min, fuck,” you said, a rush running up and down your spine.

He leaned in, kissing you messily as you focused on riding against his thigh steadily.

“You better not make a fucking sound,” he warned against your lips, bringing a hand to his pants as he unbuttoned them. He pushed them down slightly, only enough to grab his dick out. He then unbuttoned your jeans, letting you manoeuvre for long enough to pull them down your legs.

“If I hear any sound outside we’re stopping,” he said firmly. You nodded.

Minho leaned up to kiss you softly, rubbing your shoulder. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

“Are you?”

“I’ll give you anything you want,” he smiled softly, “you just never wanted this before.”

“We’re alone, Min,” you assured him. “And I’ll tell you if I want to stop.”

He nodded before the pair of resumed your previous position, Minho nodding at you as you started sinking down on his dick.

“Fuck,” he let out, gasping softly as his head fell against the back of the couch. “Move when you’re ready.”

You nodded, moving up and down slowly as the pair of you groaned softly. Minho wrapped his arms around you, his fingers grazing against your bare thighs in comfort.

“Take your time,” he said sweetly. He kissed your cheek before he whispered down your ear, “the longer you take, the more likely someone is to come in here.”

You clenched around him.

“Maybe Tae will come to get me,” he kept going, smiling at the reaction he was getting—the wetness around his dick warm and so comforting, “he usually needs help with his dancing.”

“Really?” You chuckled, squeezing his shoulders as you upped your pace.

“Yeah, because I’m a better dancer than him,” Minho made sure to say, sighing as you clenched around him again.

“You think you fuck better than him, too?” You dared.

At that, Minho thrust up into you—causing you to swallow a moan before it escaped you.

“The only reason I’d let him watch you get fucked is so he can learn how to do it. And when I’m done with you he can try to make you cum,” he said through his teeth.

“Don’t think anyone can make me cum the way you do,” you said in between breaths.

“Right answer, whore,” he said, groaning as you clenched around him harder than before. “Fuck, stop that or I’ll be the one who’s too loud.”

At that you laughed, leaning up on your knees until only his tip was inside you—and then you sat all the way down, his dick reaching into the deeper parts of you.

Minho’s eyes fluttered shut as you repeated that action again and again and again, rendering Minho unable to move or even open his eyes.

“Where’d you go?” You asked, tapping his chin.

He grabbed your thighs, urging you to do it again.

“I’m trying to focus,” he let out, “you feel really fucking good.”

“I look good, too,” you smirked, “you’re missing out.”

Minho opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as he took in your features. You weren’t wrong. You looked amazing on top of him, controlling the pace, getting exactly what you wanted from him like you always did.

“It would be much better in front of the cameras,” he let out softly, “so they could capture how fucking beautiful you are riding my cock.”

You groaned.

“Quiet,” he warned you, burying his hand in your hair.

He pulled your face closer to his, kissing you messily, all tongue and gasps and teeth.

“Even if someone did knock right now I couldn’t stop,” you said quickly, “your dick is too fucking good.”

“It’s always yours,” he groaned, pushing you all the way down until he bottomed out. You rolled your hips, the pair of you gasping as he nudged your senstive spot again and again.

“I should take a picture of your pussy like this,” Minho said, tracing his hand around your clit teasingly. “So so full.”

You handed him the polariod camera instantly before you leaned back, bumping your hips up and down his dick.

Minho took the camera from you, unsure of what you wanted him to do with it. Nudes were not your thing, and although you were wearing that necklace today he didn’t think that meant he could just take a picture of you. Those were just words. But then, you did just hand it to him.

Before he could think about it too much you started moaning, finding the perfect angle as you sped up. Minho leaned forward, bringing a hand around your mouth to muffle your sounds.

“I said quiet, whore,” he said, kissing your neck as he felt your moans vibrating against his hand.

“Min,” you said, muffled, causing him to move his hand away.

“Yeah, baby?” He asked softly, grabbing your hand instead.

You leaned forward, hiding your head in his neck as you spoke. “Don’t like it when you cover my mouth.”

Minho nodded, squeezing your hand in agreement. “Can I put my fingers in your mouth instead then?”

You smiled at him, lifting your head from his neck and sticking your tongue out to him.

“Good girl,” he chuckled, bringing his index finger to your tongue. “And you’ve been so good today telling me exactly what you need.”

You started clenching at his praise, humming against his finger as he started meeting your thrusts from below. “You’ve been so so good with your words. And using our signals. I’m so proud of you, baby.”

You nodded, silently speeding up even more as you focused on sucking his fingers.

“Your pussy is so good, I’m gonna cum soon,” he warned with a grunt. At that he slid his fingers out of your mouth, moving them to your clit as he started rubbing it in fast circles.

You focused as much as you could on being quiet—letting your head fall on Minho’s shoulders as you felt him twitching inside you.

“Gonna cum,” you warned in a hushed whisper.

It was only a few moments later that your orgasm crashed into you—your mouth a perfect circle as you rode out your high in silence. As your walls clenched around him repeatedly, Minho came right after you, whimpering in between soft sighs.

You caught your breathes together, staying close as Minho planted small kisses on your shoulder. When you were ready to move, Minho rolled his pants further down his legs to avoid any mess on his outfit, and helped you stand up slowly.

You were lucky there was a shower in his room—and cleaned yourself off quickly. Once you were both dressed again, you sat down next to your boyfriend with a smile.

“Feel better now?” He asked with a smile, kissing your cheek.

Both of your faces were ruined, and you knew Minho would have to sit down to get his makeup redone. You had no idea how you’d get yours fixed without making it very very obvious why it got ruined in the first place.

Luckily, you remembered you packed some of your makeup with you this morning, and took it out in an attempt to fix both your faces.

Minho’s wasn’t too smudged, except for the colour around his mouth, but you managed to put enough translucent powder around it to make it presentable. The makeup artists could fix it for him.

Your mascara was gathered underneath your eyes, and Minho took a wipe from your makeup bag and cleaned it off softly.

“Thank you,” you said to him, taking a look at yourself in the mirror after he was done.

He nodded at you.

“You’re very quiet,” you observed, noticing the way Minho didn’t ask questions or say much like he usually did after sex.

Minho reached for your hand, locking your fingers together again. “Did you really want me to take a picture of you or was that just talk like most of it was?”

You pursed your lips together. “I’m—I’m not actually sure,” you admitted.

“I don’t want to take pictures of you,” Minho confessed. “I don’t want it getting into the wrong hand or for you to regret me having something like that.”

“That’s okay,” you agreed, nodding with a smile.

“I want to do everything you ask me to, but I couldn’t bring myself to take the picture and I’m sorry if that disappointed you or anything--”

“—Min, it didn’t. It was in the heat of the moment. Besides, your reason for not doing it is just to protect me, so it’s definitely okay.”

Minho nodded at that.

“And please never feel like you have to give me something just because I asked. You always say you can’t enjoy it if I’m not happy and that goes both ways,” you assured him.

Minho leaned forward to kiss you softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Lee Know,” you smirked.

He chuckled at you before burying his head in your hair as he hugged you tightly.

At that a thirty minute warning came on around the speakers, alerting everyone in the building to the time.

It was then time for Minho to go back to the makeup chair for any touch ups (which he definitely needed) and warm up his voice before the live stage started. You followed him around, clutching Leebit tightly as you smiled proudly at your boyfriend.

You cheered loudly like he asked you too—and at some point, you caught his eyes on you as the pair of you smiled at each other.

The crowd didn’t know you were his girlfriend, it was private, and the pair of you smiled at each other as you held onto that secret tightly.

#skz x reader #skz x y/n #skz x yn #stray kids fics #stray kids x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know x reader #lee know smut #lee know #lee minho smut #lee minho x y/n #lee minho x reader #minho x y/n #minho x reader #minho smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #all.works

[yuyu1024]

Cherry lips

Pairings: San x Y/N

Genre/tags: idol dating, au, establish relationship

Warning: 🔞 a little smut, cursing, sensual touching, making out, pet name, fluff too

~~~~[lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 1.3k

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

Note: just random drabble again. I made these a few days ago or probably a week ago.. but just posted now coz i forgot..? 😂

Also side note.....Adulting life is hard 🥲 hehe

Struggggling hahah anyways Have a nice day and night to everyone.

Brb.

***

San messaged you, saying he's not feeling well today. So after finishing your work, you hurriedly commuted to get to his dorm so you could check on him and see if he needs anything.

"Huh? Y/N, what are you doing here on a friday?" Seonghwa asks, surprised to see you standing at their front door.

"How's Sannie?" You ask

"Ahhh...." he chuckles. "He's in his room... acting like a baby." He moves yo the side, gesturing you to come in. "He already ate. Mingi cooked him a soup dish to make him feel a bit better."

"Does he have a fever?"

Seonghwa shakes his head, "He's a lot much better now. He has been deligent taking his medicines, drinking water and eating well."

You sigh a big relief. "Thank goodness..."

"He just finished showering and going back to bed to watch a movie... he is basically okay now actually.. so I'm not sure why he asked you to come?" Seonghwa says scratching his head.

"What else? San probably wants some cuddles from Y/N...and get babied even more." Mingi says as he comes out of his room. "He even asked for a hug from me yesterday when I gave him his food..." he chuckles remembering how San acts.

"Probably..." you agree.

"If you two get hungry... There is food in the fridge. I cooked something for lunch earlier... just heat it up." Mingi says as he ties his shoes. "Imma go to the studio... so..."

"Be safe... you and manager." Seonghwa says

"Bye!" You wave to Mingi.

And as soon as Mingi is out

"I'll be in my room and watch a kdrama... I'll put my speaker on... and if I do get out I'll put my headset."

You title your head to the side. "Why? What for?"

Laughing softly, "We all know how San is... when he asks for you..."

You suddenly felt your cheeks heat up from what Seonghwa just said. "Oh dear!" You cover your face.

"Don't worry... We don't judge... it's part of human nature and..."

"Does that mean... you guys could hear... oh dear!" You panic

"Yah... don't worry about it... we don't really hear it all out..  probably just once time... and we learned from it."

"Oh God!" Your cheeks and ears are totally red now.

Seonghwa pats you at the back. "Sorry... I should've not said anything..."

Shyly looking at Seonghwa. "No it's fine... if ever... hmmm... we.... well... I'll try to tell him to be more quiet... and.. me too..."

"Cute." Seonghwa pinches your cheek.

Caressing your cheek after Hwa pinches you. "I'll go and check on Sannie..." you say

"Okay... I'll go and make myself busy now." He scoffs before turning his back.

You waited for Seonghwa to totally shut his door before you march towards the opposite direction, where San's room is.

"San?" You call as you knock lightly.

No answer. It's quiet.

"Sannie...?" You twist the doorknob and slowly push it open. "Sannie??" You whisper while your head is slightly tilted to take a peek if he's there. "Hmm... maybe he's asleep..."

You slide one foot first and then the rest follows. You are very cautious, trying your very best to not make any loud noise that could wake your boyfriend.

Scanning the whole room, you see that the room looks okay, nothing to clean so far. The TV is on but with a very low volumn that you barely hear it.

'He must've forgot to turn it off or probably fell asleep without him noticing' you say to yourself as you carefully walk further more in and look for the remote to turn it off.

"What are you doing?"

You screach a bit loud the second you hear someone talk just as you turned off the TV, making the room completely dark.

"I've missed you."

It's San.

"Fuck! You scared me!" You're heart is beating out of your chest.

"I can feel it..." he sounds amused by you getting scared. "You're heart is beating so fast..." he have you in his embrace from your back. "Sorry if I scared you... I was just waiting for you to get close..." he sniffs you by the neck. "I didn't thought that you'll turn off the TV..."

"Well... me too...I didn't noticed that your mini light weren't open... now it's completely dark."

"Just turn on the TV again so we can see..." he snuggles onto you more while he wrap his arm around your torse. "You're wearing a blouse?" He asks as he let his hands feel your top.

"I came straight from work..." you say. "I was so worried about you when I read your message..."

"Sorry if I got you worried..." his slides two of his fingers between the gap of your buttoned up blouse. "Mingi and Seonghwa took care of me well... but the reason why I did texted you still is  because.. I miss you..." his fingers gently touches your breast. "I miss you so bad." He breathes in your scent from your nape

"I miss you too..." you take his other free hand and kisses his knuckle. "You're schedule have been hectic and I got bit busy too..."

"I'm free tomorrow and on sunday..." he hums, brushing his lips all over your exposed neck. "Stay with me..." he breathe the words as he turns your head towards him so he could kiss you. "Your lipgloss... taste like cherry..." you could hear him smile as he pulls away from the kiss

"Sannie... I need light... I want to see you..."

"You do?" He suddenly lets you go

"Hey!" You try to catch on and grab him as he moves away but you lost balance and fell off the bed. "Aw!!" Your knee hit the frame of the bed.

"Baby!" San panics and hurriesly switches on the soft light from the side of his bed.

You are wearing a black skirt with a slit on the side. And the expose knee hit the edge of the bed real hard.

"Does it hurt?"

"Yeah..." you are holding on to your knee. "It will be fine... though I'm sure I'll get a bruise..."

"Baby... I'm sorry." San grabs your face and kisses you on the lips and then on both cheeks.

"Hey... I hurt my knee...not my lips..." you chuckle.

A smile spreads across his lips and his cute dimple showing. "Please... stay..." Then he goes to kiss you again making you smile.

"Okay... But..." you raise your index finger and taps the tip of his nose. "No sex..."

"What? Why???" He pouts

"Well... unless we're not alone." You sit down and suddenly remember how embarassed you felt earlier. "Just... I don't want them to hear us..."

"But they already did..."

"You know?!?"

"Baby, how can they not? We are loud... what do you expect?"

"Fuck!" You fall down on his bed, face down. "No! I didn't want them to hear." You mumble over his duvet.

"Baby..."

You suddenly got up. "No... control yourself okay? No sex... until we are completely alone."

"You're saying that but your face shows you are not happy with what you're trying to implement." San burts to a laugh looking at your troubled expression

"Fuck! I miss you too and of course... I nee-- no... I wan--- no..." you are trying to breathe in and breathe out. "No... I'm here to cuddle and take care of you. We can play games and watch movies... to divert ourselve."

"Whatever you say, baby." San leans in and kisses you on the lips again. "I'll do whatever you say..." he hums those words like he's testing if you will break seconds into your pep talk.

"Don't lure me, Sannie. You already opened my blouse... yes... but no..." you smile into the kiss...

"I can try again later." He then pinches your cheek as he pulls away from the kiss. "I love you."

#yuyu1024 #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #atz x reader #ateez smut #ateez x female reader #kpop fanfic #san x you #san imagines #choi san #san x reader #ateez san #ateez fluff #san smut #san fluff #kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop x y/n #kpop x reader

[we-out-here-simping]

Wasting Time.

(s.h. x gn!reader)

summary: given everything happening in Hawkins, Steve ends up pushing you away too far.

word count: 6k+

warnings/tags: no pronouns used (gender neutral reader); no y/n used; sad; i dont plan on writing a part two to this; s4 stuff; insecure reader; death; loss; injuries; mention of steve's parents; ollie is the real mvp in this tbh; unresolved? yay;

a/n: based off of Lizzy McAlpine’s song, “..what are we?” This was meant to be below 2k. I fought it to keep it below 2k. I lost, immensely and pathetically so. but that's okay.

as for my other stuff, I truly don't know when I'll post it. I've got pretty important things I have going on in life and i really need to do well in a life altering test next year so everything else is on the back burner rn. sorry to those who are really looking forward the next parts but don't u worry I will post them ;)

my masterlist

You shouldn't be at the store alone. 

Considering the recent murders in Hawkins. You really, truly shouldn't be alone. 

It isn't like you wanted to be. But the owner of the store you worked at did not necessarily give two shits about you. Refusing to pay you if you didn't show up for a few days. So, it isn't like you had much of a choice.

You sat on the rickety old swivel chair, that your asshole boss wouldn't change. The news was playing non-stop in the background– never in your entire life have you had the news channel on for so long.

The new chief of police was being interviewed by the reporters, telling the viewers to stay calm and assuring that they had it all under control. It didn't help to ease your mind. 

You were not calm. Not one bit.

With each movement you made, the rusty metal of the chair groaned underneath you. 

You were thinking of calling him again.

You rotated a little. The chair screeched again. 

Why hadn't he even bothered to call you back yet?

Your leg bounced. The metal creaked.

Frustrated, you abandon the stupid chair with a pathetic scoff. Opting to just sit on the counter, facing away from the door. You gripped the edge of the surface, teeth gnawing at your lips as you looked at his jacket draped atop the chair you were occupying just seconds ago. His jacket.

What if he didn't want you to call him? Your grip tightened. 

You haven't heard from your boyfriend since thursday. 

You both had planned to go out on friday— the boy hadn't exactly told you where he had planned for you two to go. He had instead told you to, “Wear something cute like you always do. Bring Ollie with you if y’wanna and I'll pick you up from yours at 5?”

You had bought a new outfit, a couple weeks prior. you had put all your last month's salary into it. Your favourite colour.

You did your hair, a little bit of your face as well. Looking in the mirror, you had looked….. nice.

Something about that realisation had conjured up a lump in your throat. It was rare that you considered yourself good looking. Which is probably why you barely ever dressed up. But at that moment, as you looked in the mirror, a smile grew on your face, one that couldn't be contained. 

You couldn't wait for Steve to see you. 

You were ready before the clock even hit 4:35.

You waited. No sign of him. 

When the clock hit 5:15, you went out onto your driveway, your dog, Ollie following behind you. You waited, pacing the concrete.

6:05, you were sitting on the stairs infront of the door, your dog's head on your lap. You waited.

6:45, your shoulders were slumped, your own head rested on your knees. Ollie napping beside you. You waited.

7:27, it was dark, Ollie whined to go back in. your eyes stung a little. But you scratched him behind his ears and decided to wait out just a little more. 

When the clock hit 8:00, you finally got up, dusting the dirt and dust off your brand new clothes. Blinking back the salty tears, you quietly went back to your room after giving your dog his food and water. You changed into your ugly PJs, not bothering with anything else, as you buried yourself in your blankets. 

Soon, you heard scratching on your bedroom door, your dog waiting to be let in. 

You smiled with a sniffle, letting him jump onto the mattress with you despite your mom’s strict rule to not let the dog onto beds, sofas or carpets. the dog whined a little before laying next to you. 

Ollie loved Steve. They had not exactly started on the right foot when Ollie almost bit the boy when you had tried sneaking him in one night. But after some time, they both warmed up to each other– to the point where it became common for Ollie to tag along with you and Steve on dates. 

“I'm sorry bud”, you stroked the fur on his head, "i know how much you like hanging out with him." He whined again, warm tongue licking your fingers. 

You knew he didn't really understand, a dog couldn't understand insecurities and the utter disdain of being stood up by someone you loved. Yet here he was, sharing your sorrows and wordlessly warming up your blues. Not there because he empathised with you or pitied you but there because he loved you.

The next morning when you woke up, you went immediately to your bathroom, to try and clean the mess that you hadn't the previous night. 

Your eyes were red and puffy. You did look like someone who cried themself to sleep. You tried to scrub it all off, not even bothering with being gentle with your poor skin.

You didn't feel pretty when you looked in the mirror now. You felt pathetic. 

“Honey!” your mom shouted from the kitchen, downstairs.

“Yeah, coming”, you shouted back as loudly as you could– which wasn't very loud at all.

As you climbed down, you were met with Ollie, tail wagging, nails clicking against the floor. 

“Would just not take the breakfast from me”, your brother commented, handing you the dog bowl that was filled with Ollie’s food, “What a dramatic son of a bitch.... literally”

The dramatic son of a bitch in question, looked up at the two of you with big round eyes, tongue out, drool spilling out on the floor. You held up a finger, the dog immediately sat down– wagging tail sweeping the floor behind him. You finally put the bowl down and told the dog to dig in.

“Did you make him sleep in the bed again?” your mother spoke from behind her magazine.

“Why would I do that?” you lied as you refilled his water bowl.

“Because when I came to call you for dinner last night, he was sleeping on your bed, with you.”

“Oh”, a sheepish expression over your face, “I'll clean the bedsheets, okay?” 

“and why did you skip dinner–”

Your mother thankfully got interrupted by the loud sound of the front door opening, followed by quick footsteps. “Did you check the news?”, your dad panted, he moved towards the tv in the living room, not bothering to take off his running shoes. 

“No, dad. It's only you who is boring enough to watch the news”, your brother’s joke landed flat.

“What happened?”, your mother asked, brows furrowed. 

“A Hawkins student was found dead.”

The bell above the door rang, you turned to look at the customer and you felt as if your heart had hit a rib.

There was Steve Harrington, bursting in through the doors, wearing clothes you'd never seen him in before.

He wasn't alone. The boy was accompanied by Dustin Henderson, Max Mayfield, Lucas and Erica Sinclair, Robin Buckley, and Nancy Wheeler. Most of them looked to be covered in dust, grime and worse.

They, without looking in your direction, broke into groups of two, one led by the older girls and the other by Steve, moving frantically through the aisles to get what they needed. It must have been an emergency. Considering all the recent happenings, it might be. 

After a few minutes, the group led by Nancy and Robin stood infront of the counter and you started billing everything. A couple minutes later, the group led by Steve joined them as well. It is when they are pouring the stuff onto the counter when Steve finally notices that it's you. 

His movements stuttered a little as if he'd just remembered that you worked here and he opened his mouth to say something but closed it before anything could come out.

The silence was awkward and deafening– the others definitely noticed. The only sound that came was the beeps of the scanner. You wondered if Steve had told them about the both of you. 

When you moved to put everything in a bag, Steve stepped a little closer to help with putting all the stuff into the grocery bags, it is then that you noticed the boy's skin.

The skin which you knew to be soft to the touch was covered in dirt. Slashes and cuts wound around his neck, a piece of dirty cloth peeking from under the hem of his camo shirt. Blood. 

You didn't realise you were frozen stuck until you heard him clearing his throat. 

You realised that that the boy had already paid the total, the crumbled up cash placed on the counter. The rustling of the grocery bags alerted you that were moving to leave.

“S– Steve?” your voice came out an unsure whisper.

They all stopped. He looked over his shoulder, then back to his friends, “You guys go on”, he said to them, handing the two bags he was holding to Lucas and Dustin, “ I'll be out in a minute” They silently nodded before leaving to get into a van.

You spoke up when the bell above the door rang on the door closing, “Wh– what is happening?” 

He stood across from you, on the other side of the counter, not making any efforts to come closer as he normally would– maybe hoping that you wouldn't see the wounds that you had already seen. “Nothing”, he cleared his hoarse throat,  “I'm– I'm sorry for friday–”

Sorry? Is that all you get?

“You're covered in blood and dirt”, you pointed out.

“Trust me it just looks worse than it actually is”, he let out a dry chuckle.

“Whose van is that?” your vision flickered to the winnebago parked infront of the store.

“A friend’s.”

“Which one?”

“Munson.”

“Munson? Like Eddie munson? Have you heard the news?--”

“Yeah I have”, his words came out quick, “and it isn't him.”

“How are you so sure?” your eyebrows drew together.

“I just.. “, he paused, “I just am.”

“And how did you get those? '', you said, nodding to his wounded neck. You wanted to touch him, to hold him, but there was still a counter between the two of you, and closing that distance felt.. wrong like you weren't supposed to do it.

“I got in a fight.”

“With what, a barbed wire?” it came out snappier than you had intended. You really tried to not hold his face in your palm.

“No”, his tone grew more frustrated with every question you asked.

“Then who?”

“No, why do you–”

“Cuz I'm– I'm worried about you Steve.” you interrupted to continue your rambling, “You could get like– tetanus or shit–”

“Hey, hey”, for a second you thought he was going to hold your face like you wanted to do to him, instead he placed his palm on your shoulder, “I’m fine, okay? I don't want you to be worried about me.”

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” you whispered. “I just want you to tell me what's happening.” his hands fell back to his sides. “Just let me in”

“Nothings–”

“No! Something is happening”, you interjected, angry, worried, “Okay? I know. I know you don't always tell me everything. And that's fine, y'know– I thought you’d tell me when you felt like telling me but don't–” you take a quick breath, slowing down your quick words,  “Don't– do you not trust me enough to tell me?”

“I do. But there isn't anything to tell you”, he tried his best to shrug while trying not to pull on the scabbing of his bloody torso– he held back a wince, “Nothings happening.”

There’s a beat.

You can tell he’s lying.

“Why didn't you show up on friday then?” you barely give him a couple seconds to answer before continuing, “God, when I heard someone had died that night, I– “ you stopped before he could hear the quiver of your voice, you gulped. “I called you fifteen times”

“I was at work”

“I went there the next morning to check– it was only Keith there. Told me you'd left already." He opened his mouth before closing it up again.

“Why are you lying to me?”

“And what is Nancy doing with you–” you hated that you were jealous, you never wanted to be that person. Hell, you and Nancy were almost friends in high school. But you couldn't lie and say that it didn't hurt to see them together right after he had bailed on you.

“Well if you noticed, it isn't just me and her, y’know. No need to be jealous–”

“Yeah, I will be jealous, okay? I will be jealous if you start hanging out with your ex and start ditching our dates–”

“I didn't ditch you–”

“I waited for three hours steve. You didn't even call me after or give me heads up. And you already know about everything that's happening in town, so I'm sorry I was worried shitless and you didn't even pick up my calls. And now you're with all these people– which is fine– they’re your friends but your ex is a part of these people. And you're bleeding and definitely wounded, and you won't tell me anything.”

“I will tell you okay, I just–”

“So, not now?”

“I'm running a little late–”

“To what?”

“I'll tell you later okay?”

“When?”

“Just later! Okay? I need to go and you're wasting my–”he stopped himself, seemingly having dug himself a hole. He quickly tried to correct himself, “I need to–”

Your heart had surely stopped, “What did you just say? I'm wasting your time?” tears pricked your eyes, “Is that what this is? A waste of time? Is that what the last eight months have been for you?”

“You know I didn't mean it like that”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I didn't– I ….”, he trailed off. The horn beeped and you heard a muffled shout for Steve's name in Dustin's voice.

You sniffled, “are you gonna get those taken care of at the hospital?” you referred to his wounds, your voice was suddenly so much quieter. 

“....yeah”, he said after a moment– lying.

You nodded. “You still need to clean it up and”, you picked up rubbing alcohol, a painkiller bottle from the shelf behind you and some bandages, “bandage it.. ‘til you go to the hospital.” you tossed them over to him. 

The horn of the winnebago blared. Steve looked back at the door, he reached for his wallet but you stopped him, “you don't need to. It's fine.” Steve heard you sniffle again. 

“Baby–”

“For the record… it wasn't a waste of time for me", your voice cracked, “But I'm really sorry if I wasted your time.”

He stepped closer, shaking his head a little but you weren't looking up, eyes trained on the grain of the wooden counter, trying your darndest to not let the tears fall.

“You should go now.”

“honey–” the horn blared.

“Just go, Steve.”

You only dared to look up when you heard the bell above the door ring. Your vision was blurry as you watched the vehicle drive away. 

Honestly, you get it. you understand. 

You understand if the guy you loved wasn't willing to let you in. And despite how much it hurt, you couldn't keep him to yourself. You weren''t sure what this entire thing meant. Did you just indirectly say that it was over? Did you want it to be over? Were you willing to let it be over? To let him go? 

“C’mon”, he stood at your door with expectant eyes. 

You scoffed before looking back at the clock— your parents werent coming home until another half an hour, “alright fine”, you gave in.

After you put your shoes on, you reached for the door handle to shut the door behind you but there was Ollie standing right on the threshold, tail wagging. The dog gave a soft ruff, looking up at you with expectant eyes. 

“Please don't bring him along too.”

You smirked, “Ollie you wanna come for a walk?”, the boy beside you groaned playfully.

The dog barked happily before spinning around in circles. His nails clicked against the floor as he sprinted to where his leash and jacket were kept. “Alright, bud”, you moved to put Ollie's jacket on him and hooked the leash onto his collar.

The dog walked infront of the two of you. The sun had set and the three of you were walking under the warm yellow pavement lit up by the streetlights. Ollie would stop every now and then to sniff at a bush, tree trunk or lamp post. 

“When will he stop third wheeling us?” Steve finally spoke up beside you.

“Never.”

“This was supposed to be a romantic walk in the snow and now he’s pooping and pissing all over the winter wonderland– wont be a white christmas anymore”

“Oh, shut up. You love him, I know it”

“Yeah, whatever”, he shook his head with a smile.

“By the way, to what do I owe the pleasure of a romantic walk?”

“Wha– ? babe, You say as if I'm not romantic”

“No, you are. But I thought you were going to that christmas party with your parents.”

“Yeah that was until my dad started being an asshole after too much egg nog. So, I booked it”, he shrugged nonchalantly.

“Oh, I’m sorry Steve”

“Eh, it's okay– Jesus Christ, Ollie, how much territory are you gonna mark, boy?’

“Steve..”, your fingers reached for his palm. You both stopped, he looked down at where your hands were intertwined before giving it a squeeze.

“I'm okay. Okay?”

You look at him for a bit. Despite wanting to, you dont push further. You squeezed his hand back, “okay.” his shoulders relaxed. 

You started walking again, pulling yourself further into the boy's side, resting your cheek on his shoulder. It dawned on you then that you had forgotten to wear any jacket or sweater and now you were freezing.

“I’m cold”, you whined through your smushed cheek, the boy chuckled.

“Of course you are. You don't wear one, but make sure the dog’s wearing a jacket– great priorities babe”

“Well, I have you, don't I?” you said, giving him your biggest puppy eyes and the most over-exaggerated frown.

“Yeah, “ he sighs, handing you the leash he was holding, “you do.” He took off his jacket he was wearing over his his fuzzy sweater and helped you put it on. “Better?” he gestured towards the leash to take it back.

You returned it and nodded with a proud grin, “you've fallen under my trap”

“Yeah? what trap?” he muses while smoothing down the crinkles in his thick sweater.

“This…..”, you smirked, “is mine now”, you declared, pulling the material tighter around you. 

“Oh, no! The jacket stealing trap! What will I ever do?” he brought his to both his cheeks, shaking his head in pretence worry. You laughed.

“Y’know…”, he started– the corners of his mouth curling up, “I would give you all my jackets if you…… Kiss me?”

“Oh, yeah? That depends…”, you crossed your arms,  “How many jackets do you have?”

“Oh, so many– like a million” he shrugged. Both your steps slowed down to a halt. “Billions….. gazillions”

“Wow, babe, that's a lot of kisses”, you moved in a little closer to him.

The leash in Steve's hand tugs accompanied by Ollie whining, the dog came closer to the two of you who were leaning into each other. The dog started pulling on Steve's jeans.

“Hey! Dickhead, I'm having a moment here”

“Hey! don't call him a dickhead”, you admonished.

“Well, he’s acting like a dickhead.”

You glared at him. 

“What? We were about to have a lovely romantic kiss before he so gracefully interrupted”

“Why do you have a rivalry with my dog?”

“He’s my arch nemesis”, he said with narrowed eyes directed towards the puppy.

You playfully rolled your eyes before taking the leash from Steve's hand and walking ahead. You laughed as you said, “Oh, please, you're just jealous because I love him more”

“I’m not jeal– what did you just say?”

“Wh– what?” you stopped in your track before turning around, brows furrowed.

“Oh, you just said something”

“What did I–”

“You said you love him more than you love me. That implies you love me.” he explained, walking closer to you. “You said you love me”, he stated with a shy smile as he stood directly infront of you.

“.. did I?” heat crept up your cheeks.

“Yeap, it was loud and clear. Even Ollie heard it. Right bud?” the dog barked in response as if actually had a clue of what was going on in the conversation.

“Oh, so now youre both working together? You know what? yeah, well, so what? I said it. I love you. You got a problem with that?”

“No… I'm pretty okay with it actually”

“Just okay?”

“More than okay. Perfect. Infact, I love you too.”

A shy smile grew on your features, same on his. The two of you leaned in but stopped mid-way when Ollie ruffed. You groaned, pulling away before saying with a stern voice, “Ollie, sit.”

“Little shit, only listens to you”, the boy infront of you mutters as the dog settled down and sat down. You glared at Steve. “Sorry”, he apologized, his head hanging low.

“Now, where were we?” you pull him in by grabbing a fistful of his fuzzy sweater, your lips slotting against one another. An arm wrapped around your waist, the other helped tilt your head. You too held his face back, the other hand snaking down to his waist where the fingers hooked through the belt loops.

You pulled away when his movements started to become a little faster and his hand started moving lower, “Okay, okay. I…  its getting late– my parents are gonna be here soon”, you heaved.

“We were only getting to the good part”  he whined through laboured breaths.

“Kissing me wasnt the good part?”

His eyes widened, “I– I mean”, he scoffed when he noticed the sly smirk on your face, “Stop messing with me.”

You tugged lightly on the leash to get Ollies attention who had started to dig a hole in the snow, “c'mon Ollie.”  the dog’s tail wagged before he shook the snow off of him. The dog took the lead as the two of you ambled behind him.

Most of the walk back was holding hands silently, looking around at the christmas lights everyone in the neighbourhood had put up. When you were almost two houses away from yours, you spoke up, “you know. You could… stay the night?”

Steve looked at the pavement as the two of you walked, you looked at him with expectant eyes. He sighed before finally answering,“You know what? Sure.”

“But you would have to sneak out through the window later”

“Window? With these joints? I'm old.” he frowned.

“Oh, my poor, poor twenty year old boy”, you frowned back with a mock pitying look as you unlocked the main door and removed Ollie’s leash and jacket. 

You and Steve wasted no time after that, running up the stairs to your room. As soon as the door was closed behind you, Steve was on you, plump and slightly cold lips moving fast against yours. 

“Well, you're eager aren't you?”

“What? No…” he smiled against your skin, a giggle erupted from your throat as the sensation tickled you.

You were about to go back to attaching your lips to his when you heard a woof followed by the wood of the door scratching. The both of you sighed, foreheads touching.

“That little shit”, Steve huffed, “what an attention whore.”

You laughed through uneven breathing before moving off the door and then letting the dog in.

You heard the door downstairs opening and closing followed by your mother’s voice telling you she was home. You quickly went downstairs telling Steve and Ollie to stay quiet.

The boy took a seat at the edge of the mattress, the dog came to stand infront of him for a bit– tail wagging. The dog hopped on his back legs, front paws scratching at Steve's jeans. Steve reached down to scratch him behind the ears, “y’know Oliver. You're real cute and all. But you're one big cock block”

You really shouldn't have been alone. 

It all happened so fast. One moment you were wallowing in your own self pity, the next moment, the lights were flickering and soon the ground started rumbling beneath you. 

Now, as you were hiding underneath the counter of the store you worked at, the walls shook and ground rumbled. All you could think of was your family, dog and Steve Harrington. 

Of course, the world decides to end today of all days.

There was so much smoke. All you could see was black, maybe your eyes were closed, maybe there was a blackout. But something was on fire– there was so much smoke. Your eyes were watering and your throat burned, coughs uncontrollably tearing from your throat. You felt light headed, soot stuck to your sweaty skin. 

You really wanted to go home right about now.

Some rest sounded nice. Maybe some sleep.

You felt yourself succumbing to sleep, eyes drooping on their own accord. Breath slowing down. The corners of your vision went black.

It quieted down for a second. It wasn't too much for a second. 

Sleep sounded like the perfect thing. 

“Help!” a small terrified voice broke through the silence.

“Help!” it came again from somewhere outside the store. You somehow managed to will your muscles to move. You peeked from under the table and through your watery eyes you saw a boy who looked to be younger than you, flailing his arms in the air, limping. 

Your body worked on its own accord. Muscles and bones working on autopilot. You crawled from under the counter, grabbed your water bottle and Steve's jacket. Your movements were jerky as you spilled the water onto the fabric, wetting it before putting it over your nose and mouth– a makeshift mask. 

You ran. You left your safety bubble and ran. You ran despite the ash in your lungs, despite the shake of your fingers, lightheadedness, and the lactic acid settling in your tired muscles. In your disorientation and franticness, the stupid rusty chair hit your back, the heavy metal smacked hard against your skin but you still ran. You stumbled to open the door, shouted for him to run and pulled him in. You put your bootleg mask to the boy’s mouth.

The rumbling of the earth had quieted down a little; enough to allow you to help him walk over to the desk– your safe bubble. 

You were just about to reach it when another wave hit, the ground shook and both of you lost your footing. The boy huddled to you, you moved to cover him to the best of your ability. The aisle next to you groaned and when you managed to look, it was swaying. 

You tried to get away. 

“Move!” you shouted, your voice barely audible over the rumble. The boy shook under you. In a last ditch effort, you pushed him away. 

You tried to get away, trying to crawl away yourself, but the heavy metal shelves hit your spine. Your head smacked against the tiles. 

You heard shouting, you weren't sure if it was the boy or you. Your ears were ringing. your limbs felt like jelly buried under the rubble. And you really didn't feel like you could get up. You couldn't really see anymore, the darkness from the corner of your vision had finally spread.

It hurt. It hurt so much that you weren't sure where it hurt or if it was still hurting. You tasted metal, felt a trickle run down the nape of your neck. You felt a little cold. The boys voice came in and out, none of the words truly registering in your brain.

God, you really missed your bed. 

You missed ollie. You wished you could pet him again, give him his favourite treat, help him sneak into a bed again.

You missed your parents and your brother. What wouldn’t you do to have one more dinner together.

You missed steve. How you wished you could go back to that winter evening when you fell asleep in his warm arms. When you’d held his hand. You really wanted to hold his hand, hold him close, kiss him.

You felt fingers wrap around your wrist. “I'm gonna try to pull you out”, you barely heard the young boy say through a lumpy throat, you felt a tug on your arm. Pain shot through you. He pulled again, You didn't move. A scream of pain ripped from your chest.

“No!” you screamed, words coming out all slurred up. “No, stop! Just hide under the table and call the ambulance when it's over!” you still couldn't see.

“But–”

“It's okay! You’ll be okay, Ju-- just go!”

“I'm not– your– you're bleeding”, he gripped your shaking palm, “J– Just stay awake!”

“No, Go!” you tried your best to shout but it came out as only a whimper.

The warmth left your palm, you sighed in relief. You really didn't want a kid to see you dying. 

A few seconds later, you felt a pressure on the side of your head, a hit of a familiar scent hit you– Steve's cologne. Steve?

“Steve..?”

The box in your hand was as heavy as lead as the lady led you through the Hawkins high gym which had now been turned into a makeshift infirmary for the people who had been affected by the earthquake. 

You didn't remember much from the night of the earthquake, you remember falling and hitting your head, the pain and someone holding your hand. Your delirious brain in its haze had convinced you that it was Steve's warm hand. That he had come back and held you while the ground shook. The carbon monoxide poisoning had truly got to you.

Much to your delusional brain’s dismay, It was when you woke up a day later; your parents told you it had been infact a boy a few years younger than you. You later found out that the young boy– Andy, although overall fine, had broken his leg. He and his family packed everything up and moved out of town a week later.

Your muscles were still sore. The stitches and the bandaging over the big gash on your back was tight around your ribs. You had also acquired a wound on the side of your head and though you had bled, you were lucky enough to not bleed to your death or die of a haemorrhage. The paramedics had to shave off a part of the back of your hair to be able to apply the gauze properly. And you were a little embarrassed about it– you guessed you'd have to shave it all off now. You weren't sure how long you'd be willing to wear your brother old, musky baseball hat– you also weren't sure if it was a good idea to put that abomination anywhere near a wound.

"seems like you have clothes and blankets; that one", she pointed to a table with heaps of clothes piled on top of it. They looked to be freshly donated as they were in the middle of being neatly folded by--

"Steve, take these as well, will ya'?" the women beside you said.

He looked up, stilling for a second, “Hey.”

"oh, you seem to know each other. swell!" she clapped her palms before leaving the two of you alone.

“Hey… I uh– I came to donate these”, you put the cardboard box on the table infront of him, “Its uh– its mostly blankets”

“Oh, okay.”

“I– I have a couple more boxes in the car.”

“Okay.”

The walk to your car was a silent one, a little awkward. Surely, your last interaction playing in his head as well. As you weaved through the people, you noticed Dustin Henderson, limping as he gave water to some of the patients. And you had already noticed the scars on steves neck. You really wanted to ask what happened.

“Is everyone in your family okay?” he spoke up shyly, clearly trying to ease the tension even a bit.

“...yeah,”

My brother can't hear out of his left ear anymore.

“Yeah, everyone…”

My dog died. 

“Everyones fine.”

“Are you fine?”

You nodded quickly.

You really didn't want to tell him about the giant bruise spread across your back and torso. You didn't want to tell him about the gash on your back or the bandages hiding under your baseball cap. You certainly did not want to tell him about how you were stuck in that rubble for hours with a kid holding your hand, while you had thought that it had been him in your half-conscious state.

“What about you?” you echoed, “Your– your neck?”

“Yeah, yeah– uh.. I’ll be fine.”

Your chest tightened, you swallowed. How did small talk become so hard? 

The two of you approached your car, you popped open the trunk, and there were three more well-taped boxes waiting. 

You picked one up. “Here, let me–” he picked up the other two. Both of your tried your best not to wince at the strain. “Wow this is a lot”, a half-minded comment as he slammed the trunk.

“Yeah, um– I mean, these people need it more. Plus, it would just be easier to give it away, anyway since we--”, you cut yourself off, trying to pretend you hadn't said anything.

“What?”

You look away silently, blinking, “um– how are you holding up?”

“Yeah, you have already asked me– I'm– I'm sorry… are you– what do you—” he stopped. You looked anywhere but him. It clicked. 

“You…. you're… moving, aren't you?” he murmured slowly and as if saying it too loudly would make it real. You nodded. 

“Why?”

“Why? Steve– look around. Everyone is moving. People are dying left and right. People going missing, never being found again?And now what, Murders?! My parents are convinced that it is the end of the world.”

“But it isn't– It was just an earthquake”

“An earthquake does not give you wounds around your neck Steve. Ever since the Byers kid disappeared, my dad has been planning to move… and then that night I– I almost ....”, you trailed off, not wanting to tell him more especially after you had just lied to him that you were fine. “I barely made it.”

“What?”

You took a shaky breath in, Steve's chest tightened. “I should–”

“When are you leaving?”

“.. today. Right now. This was the last thing I had to do.”

After that he quietly walked the rest of the way, helping you put the boxes where they needed to be put. As he did it all, his eyebrows were pulled together, the crease between them deep-- what was he thinking? you wondered.

Once everything was done, he finally spoke up, “Can I walk you back? To your car? For one last time, please?” the desperation in his tone was so clear and it made you want to cry.

You opened the door, Steve's jacket draped over the passenger seat. The piece of clothing that probably saved you. The thick material had stopped you from bleeding to your demise. You really had to thoroughly wash it to get rid of the stain. But you couldn't justify throwing it away.

It no longer had the bloody stain, or the smell of smoke in it. However it also didn't smell like Steve anymore. 

“Here–”, you leaned into the car to pull it out, fighting back the tears and the waver in your voice,  “your jacket… don't worry I cleaned it up”, you held it up between the two of you.

Steve, pushed the material back in your direction, “Keep it. It's yours, remember? It's yours.”

"Considering everything….” you gulped, “I hope I'm not asking for too much", you took a deep breath before finally whispering, "can I hug you… please?"

It was a tight one. It was a desperate one. You hated that you smelled like antibacterial ointment and sweat. You buried your face deeper into his shirt– he smelled like medical gauze, and medicinal cream accompanied with a faint yet familiar scent of his hair products, his cologne and that distinct scent of Steve.

You pulled away, words sticky in your throat, “Take care. Don't die. I'm…..”, you swallowed, “I'm gonna miss you."

You didn't wait for a response, you quickly sat in your car and drove away, not even stealing a look from the rear-view mirror. You only let the tears fall when you had turned the corner to your home.

It isn't like you had a choice of whether or not you were staying. But You hate that he didn't stop you. You hate that he didn’t call your name, to see your face one last time. You hate you still had his jacket in your hands, you hate how tightly you were gripping it.. You hate that there were tears in your eyes. You hate that there was a sob in your ribs. You hate that you said that you were going to miss him. You hate you imagined a life with him, holding hands on romantic walks. 

You hate all that. But you don't hate him. God, it'd be so much easier if you hated him.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader angst #stranger things #steve harrington x reader fluff #stranger things 4 #steve harrington x gn!reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington angst

[williamswifey]

hiii i love all of your fics! could i request a bella ramsey x reader where the reader is part of a well known film like stranger things or a marvel movie and everytime bella and them are in an interview they gush about the reader’s character in the other film, which fans notice and think is adorable😭

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 - 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐘

pairing ; bella ramsey x fem!reader

summary ; bella thinks you’re a fantastic actor and rants about it 🤷‍♀️

content warnings ; none, intense fluff

a/n ; sorry for the filler posts lately, i’ve been lacking in the creativity department for actual plots, so plz send in asks to get my creative juices flowing

masterlist

stranger things season four recently came out, and being one of the main characters, you had been extremely busy with interviews and premieres.

it was all so exciting, you loved seeing fans reactions to the show. you loved being tagged in fan edits, and you loved replying to dm’s and tweets.

just when the buzz from the recent dropping of the season began to die down, you and bella had been invited for an interview by vogue, to give a tour of your shared apartment while answering questions.

you had gotten the email from your manager while you had been finishing up a load of laundry, and you we’re static. you and bella’s relationship had gone public about a year ago, even though the two of you had been dating for longer.

there wasn’t much content out from the two of you, aside from social media posts. now that you thought about it, you and bella had never actually been in an official interview together.

sure, the two of you had been interviewed during premieres together, and the paparazzi took photos of you two together all the time—you had never actually sat down with them for an interview.

you excitedly walked downstairs, seeing bella curled up on the couch with a book in their hand. their head peeled upwards when you came into their line of vision, a small smile tugging at their lips.

“hi, darling,” they said in a soft voice, patting the spot next to them.

you grinned and laid besides bella, your head resting on their lap. bella began to play with your hair, successfully beginning to lull you into a gentle sleep.

just before you allowed yourself to slip into unconsciousness, your brain reminded you of why you went to find bella in the first place.

you opened your eyes, and rolled over to face bella. you gently pried the book out of their hands, placing their bookmark you bought for them on the page they left off at.

you yawned before you began to talk, causing bella to chuckle at you, poking your cheek.

“i thought you were a sleepy girl,” they said, tilting their head to the side.

“i am,” you said, rubbing at your eyes, before sitting up straight, “but i had something to ask you first.”

“oh?” bella said, their interest suddenly peaking as they leaned forward slightly.

“nothing bad,” you assured, taking their hand as you fiddled with their rings, “but i got an email from my manager, asking about a vogue interview with us. we’d have to answer a few questions about each other while showing them our apartment. i think it’s an awesome idea, but if you don’t want to it’s totally fine and—”

bella noticed you beginning to ramble as they placed their free hand under your chin, your eyes meeting theirs.

“i’d love to.”

you smiled, and made a mental reminder to email your manager back. in the meantime, you resumed your previous spot on bella’s lap, feeling their gentle hands against your hair as you fell asleep.

***

two weeks and days worth of cleaning later, you and bella were sitting on your couch, waiting for the camera crew and interviewer to arrive to your apartment.

your apartment was in the heart of los angeles, so traffic was always pretty intense, especially in the late afternoon. you were attempting to mentally prepare yourself to answer questions while bella scrolled aimlessly on their phone.

eventually, you grew bored of staring into space and looked over bella’s shoulder to see whatever they were doing on their phone. you giggled when you saw bella staring at a photo of you from your most recent press event.

“…bella my love, what are you doing?”

bella grew startled as their phone nearly flew out of their hands, face pink. however, bella wasn’t embarrassed about the fact they were looking at photos of you—in fact, they were proud.

“just looking at photos of you, reminding myself how lucky i am.” bella replied, and your face now turned the shade of pink bella’s was moments ago.

bella was such a sap sometimes.

“you’re cute, you know that?” you said, pressing a few kisses to bella’s face.

you two began to play fight, and a few seconds later, bella had pinned you to the couch, and was kissing your neck playfully while you giggled.

your fun was cut short by the doorbell. you groaned, sliding out from underneath bella as you made your way to the door, quickly fixing your hair and lipgloss.

the interviewer arrived with a camera crew, and you and bella began the tour.

***

after a brief tour of your apartment, the camera crew and interviewer got settled on your couch as they began to prepare you both for the interview.

they promised nothing too invasive or intense—but you weren’t worried. your manager promised your assistant had reviewed and approved every question on the list.

bella seemed to be a bit more jittery, and the obnoxious interviewer clearly took advantage of that—as they decided they’d ask bella a few questions first.

“so, bella,” the interviewer began, turning her attention towards bella, “have you gotten the chance to see stranger things season four yet?”

bella shifted in their seat. you honestly had no idea if they watched it or not, and their reply was a complete surprise.

“i have!” bella replied enthusiastically, beginning to fiddle with their rings the way they did when excited, “y/n was absolutely fabulous, as always. and her character? my god. i’ve never rooted for a protagonist more. y/n’s acting is incredible. sometimes i’d be watching the show in our bedroom while y/n was in the living room reading…and i’d just be like—holy fuck. i live with this person.”

bella’s response to you and your character had you blushing manically. your cheeks were bright pink as you fought back a smile, intertwining your hand with bella’s.

their eyes met yours.

“do you really mean that, bels?” you asked softly, heart fluttering as bella nodded.

“more than anything. but i have to admit, your character is way cooler than you,” bella joked, ruining the moment as you gently shoved their shoulder and playfully stuck their tongue out at them.

bella giggled, the both of you completely forgetting that the interviewer was still there, and the camera was still recording.

the two of you were quick to pull it together again, professional as can be.

“but, yeah,” bella said after a moment, “i saw stranger things and it’s probably my favorite tv show at the moment—but i might also be biased.”

this made a chuckle slip past your lips.

you rested your head on bella’s shoulder as the interviewer glanced at the pair of you.

“now y/n,” the interviewer began, “now i guess it’s your turn. i assume you’ve seen the last of us, so what did you think of it?”

your grinned was so large you felt your cheeks widen. as you opened your mouth to speak, you knew your words would rival bella’s previous in an instant.

#bella ramsey #bella ramsey blurb #bella ramsey drabble #bella ramsey fic #bella ramsey imagine #bella ramsey x fem!reader #bella ramsey x reader #bella ramsey x y/n #bella ramsey fluff #bella ramsey x you #bella ramsey imagines #bella ramsey fanfic #ellie williams x reader

[canonicallyobserving911]

Buck & Eddie: Season 7 Ravi's back for a reason

The video includes some of the important things Ravi said and some of his interactions with Buck and Eddie from seasons 5 and 6. Please note: the sound has been removed from the last few seconds of the video because it includes music and if I would have left it in, Tumblr would have given me issues with adding it to the tags. I left it in so everyone could see Buck lay his head on Eddie's shoulder after he picked Ravi up 🙃🤪😉😜.

Last season I believed Ravi returned at a specific time for a specific reason and when he did, I completed a post about how Buck's NO LONGER the KID of the 118 because Ravi is the kid now (linked here). Reminder, Bobby hasn't called Buck kid since Buck's coma dream.

Yesterday, a BTS from Season 7 was posted that includes Eddie, Ravi and Buck and it was intriguing. The look on Ravi's face makes it seem like it's his first time seeing something and Buck looks like "F" not again" and Eddie looks like "Ok... that's interesting but we can handle it" but neither Buck nor Eddie look shocked at all. There's not enough included in the picture to go on but their facial expressions say a lot.

Today, another BTS was released that included the same three 118 members, Eddie, Buck and Ravi. Please look at the GIF below and notice the doors they exited from. Eddie got out of the captain's seat but please remember in 6x1, he said he appreciated it if Bobby didn't ask him to be interim captain. Has Eddie ever sat there? IIRC he hasn't, unless I missed it.

After I saw the video, I had several questions.

First, why wasn't Buck sitting in the captain's seat? He always sits there whenever he has the chance. But for some reason, this time he won't be.

Also, where is Hen and Chimney? It's possible they could be in the ambulance (if medical is needed) but if Bobby hasn't returned to work then that really doesn't explain why Hen's not sitting there instead of Eddie.

Where is the rest of the 118?

Are they the only three who will be needed for the call?

Ravi and Buck got out of the back but since Buck got out first, it's possible they were sitting where they sat in 5x18 and 6x16.

In 5x18, Ravi made the infamous "Isn't that what we all want in a partner..." declaration when Buck was still with TK but he knew (the audience knew too) that she wasn't who Ravi was referring to with regards to Buck. (Pssst... he was talking about EDDIE! 🤪😜🥰)

Later in the same episode, Buck defined what love means to him while him and Maddie were sitting on his balcony (related post linked here). Reminder, he said it AFTER Ravi asked the team, what they all wanted in a partner.

Enter season 6 and Ravi was absent and couldn't be found with a pair of binoculars because KR (the former showrunner???👀 hopefully she's no longer co-showrunner since TM the OG is back) wouldn't tell the audience where he was but she sure had time to film a FaceTime or whatever the "F" LD ended up talking to Bobby on in 6x1 regarding why she couldn't be interim captain.

I said this in a post earlier this week (linked here) that KR was telling half-truths and these BTS pics of Buck, Eddie and Ravi are kind of proving my point. In season 6 she didn't let Ravi come back until 6B because she was doing something with the characters. I answered an ask from my friend @mattsire a few weeks ago after one of the promos was released (linked here) and I said now that Buck and Eddie will be partners again, I wasn't sure what was going to happen in Season 7 (I'm still not sure and that's why I'm not speculating because I don't want to get blindsided again like I was with 6x18) but seeing Ravi again reminded me of my original theory. He's back for REASONS that have to do with Buck and Eddie.

Reminder, for the majority of Season 6, Eddie and Buck weren't working as partners. Buck mainly responded to calls with the team and Eddie spent most of his time being a medic. They were only partnered together for one call in 6x7 and it was the last Felisa emergency where she got buried in her car. Even though they were partners again in 6x13 for every call, it was strange since KR said they were trying new pairings for the season (I debunked her BS statement in a post I did earlier this week [linked here]. I believe the show was trying to see if the audience would notice and be vocal about Buck and Eddie not working or hanging out together and we were.) But reminder, they weren't working together while Ravi wasn't there. Even after he returned in 6x14, Ravi went into the dumpster fire with Eddie in 6x16 and Buck was kind of still working on his own.

In the latest TCA interview, TM said Ravi will return in Season 7 and since he's the OG showrunner and Buddie's his idea, I believe he has a reason for bringing Ravi back unlike KR who did it to appease the negative feedback she got for splitting Buck and Eddie up in the first place. Then she only included him in the finale so he could hand Buck some tools🙄.

In 6x14, Eddie hugged Ravi first but Buck literally hugged him and picked him up.

Also, later in the same scene, Buck laid his head on Eddie's shoulder.

The point of this post is to illustrate how Ravi returning could mean the original plan for season 6 is back in play. Therefore if the narrative that was set forth continues and it remains unchanged, everything that happened in 6x13 between Buck and Eddie and the Buckley-Diaz Family along with Eddie leaning more towards the medic or paramedic side of things and Buck remaining a firefighter then it's possible Ravi's back at the 118 so he can work with Buck. If so then maybe he's there so Buck and Eddie can continue working at the same firehouse after they become a CANON couple.

Please note, I believe Buck and Eddie were supposed to go CANON in season 5 but it got delayed and with everything that happened in season 6, it seemed like they were going to be in a relationship by the end of 6x18 but it got delayed once again. Will it be delayed in season 7 too? I don't know but I'm working on two posts about some things that were said during the TCA interview and I'm debating if I'll post them because I said I wasn't going to speculate but I'll make my decision after I finish the posts and decide then if I'll post them.

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #ravi panikkar #911 season 7 speculation #911 season 7 #911 season 6 speculation #911 on abc #911 abc #911 meta #911 spoilers #911 speculation #anti taylor kelly #anti marisol #anti natalia dollenmeyer #the buckley diaz family #buckley diaz family #christopher diaz #anti lucy donato

[saradika]

— somewhere only we know

[series masterlist]

din djarin x f!reader

rated e - 4.6k

Tags: spoilers for s3 finale, established relationship, mini fix-it, cottagecore vibes, multiple pov, possessive!din, found family, fluff, angst, cabin smut, references to masturbation and oral, manual restraints, PiV, creampie

A/N - after that finale, I had an urge to write a part iii to the mini neighbor!din series. 💖 Massive thank you to @rescuethewretched for some perfect inspiration with her post, along with being so kind as to beta this!

That seed of want had been planted on Sorgan. Cracking him open and nestling it deep inside.

But he had smothered it, pushing it down. Strapping the armor over the hole it had burrowed in.

Now, with time - it had found life.

After everything - a new life is built on Nevarro.

It takes some time to rebuild. But like before - when the land had just been desert and barren flats, strength had come with it. The sense of community.

Banding together to fit each brick back into place. Repairing what you could, salvaging what had crumbled under the blasts that had reigned down. Spreading that green again - letting it wind into gardens, throughout the streets again.

Karga has another gift for the man who had saved the town. The best bandaid he can offer, materials for a new home - some kilometers away from where the rubble of the old remained.

In that space deeded to the Mandalorians, nestled between the lava flats and Bulloch Canyon.

Days spent mapping the area, before Din picked a spot. Where a small, green-leafed tree already flourished. No longer near the hot springs - but there's a scattering of small ponds with chirping frogs.

Remote - the peek of Nevarro just visible when he turns towards the hills.

It feels safe. It's his.

You are there - helping him get settled in, planning out the garden - for a few weeks before he asks you to stay.

It’s no more than that one word.

Murmured out in the early morning, as you try to slip from his bed. A warm, bare hand wrapping around your wrist - pulling you back under for another few hours.

One night, turning into another.

Until one morning you realize it's been days since you've returned to the small apartment near the trade district, where you had been staying. While the place where you used to live was cleaned up, examined to see what if the structure could be salvaged.

That most of your stuff was already there.

Boxes brought over each time you go into town, things inside eventually finding their way throughout the cabin. Working together to fill the space with things that feel like him.

For the first time, being able to choose. A soft, hidden smile as he explores his preferences - finding an overstuffed chair in one of the shops. A groan as he sinks into it, gloves sliding over the armrests.

It sits in his small living room now. It gets used - in the evenings, in the early mornings.

Memories made, with each moment.

And something else begins to grow, during those hours spent together. Not just the reaching varos saplings, and the neat lines of behot - the seeds brought back by his clan. Gifted and carefully cultivated, with tender fingers.

Sprouting from the flats as time passes, and just as you learn about this new life - you learn more about him.

You find out what those words mean. Picking up the way in which he says them - fondly, whispered in quiet, intimate moments.

Only for you, when you walk through the city together.

Mesh'la. Beautiful. Cyar'ika. Sweetheart.

It sends your own heart tripping and tumbling, each and every time you hear them.

There was one you still didn't know. The one the Mandalorian called Paz had called you, when he found the two of you together.

A low chuckle, when he had visited a few weeks ago - when you quietly asked him what it had meant.

"Ask him yourself, ad'ika." He tells you, a broad hand thumping against your shoulder.

But, he does help you - in the end. Teaching you words that you've been practicing on your own. Still clumsy on your tongue, murmured when you're alone.

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.

You'll give them to Din, someday.

When it's perfect.

Because that's what he deserves.

———

It still feels strange, waking up in a space that isn’t moving. That dull ache in his neck and hips slowly fading - no longer sleeping in the pilots chair.

He never thought he’d miss the tiny bunk in the Crest so much, but that was before he had slept all night in a starfighter.

Now, he sleeps in a nest of pillows. Soft sheets and layers of folded blankets. A place that stays put, standing firm and steady.

Slowly filling with things he can call his.

That seed of want had been planted on Sorgan. Cracking him open and nestling it deep inside.

He had been a different man back then. Not ready. But he had still thought a little too long about the offer. Wondering, and wishing.

You and your boy could have a good life.

He could be a child for a while.

Wouldn't that be nice?

It had been.

But he had smothered it, pushing it down. Strapping the armor over the hole it had burrowed in.

Now, with time - it had found life. Much like the grass that has started to push from the flats, growing thick and lush. Slowly spreading, until there’s a blanket to sit on.

To enjoy.

To calm his own. To fill with things with meaning, instead of pure function. Having to pair his belongings down to just the essentials - things that were easy to carry.

He’s found things from his old life, bringing them here. A crate, pulled from storage. A box, there - still sitting unopened.

Finding moments to unpack, in-between time spent under the sun. Making lists of things they still need, things to pick up from the marketplace.

It's in one of those small crates that Grogu finds it. An older memory - something the Child had taken with him on his training. Had kept close to his heart, while they were apart.

Clutched in his tiny fist, held out for his father. A little point with the tip of a claw, through the open door.

Where you bend over the neat rows of flowers, blooming in the sun. Clipping a few to bring in, like you did in the mornings.

Din hadn’t been sure, at first. Had wanted to fill the plots of tilled land with something practical. Grains, maybe. Tall stalks of golden-eared corn.

“We’re the only ones out here.” You had laughed, “We’re not exactly short on space, Din.”

You hadn’t seen the soft curl of a smile as his head had ducked. Yielding.

Later - alone - he had admired the plucked bouquet on the small table they shared. Taking the briefest moment to lift his helmet. Inhaling the layers - fruity and light, filling the space with more colors than he had seen in a long time.

Grogu waves the piece again, tugging him back from the memory.

"You think so?" Din asks, taking it from him.

It fits between his orange-tipped fingers. Thinking he understands his son’s meaning. That maybe, it’s been something he’s been thinking about, too.

He'll find a new cord, something more suitable.

Saving it - until he is ready.

———

It seems to suit him. Having someone to look after. That acceptance of their enduring bond - something that had always been there, that he had just hesitated with putting a name to.

How Grogu seems to be more capable than ever, but how there's still those muscles that bunch in Din's back, as he prepares to reach out, to offer a helping hand.

Openly worrying, like a father.

Maybe it's that acknowledgment that knocks something loose. Allowing him to finally welcome the things he truly wants, instead of rejecting or running from them.

Putting down roots somewhere, after years of calling hyperspace his home.

Maybe even to lean into them. Moments and things that he's never had before. No longer leaving for a bounty all alone.

No - now he has someone waving him off, a kiss pressed against the curve of his helmet. He has a "come back safe" and a "thinking of you" to hold close to his chest while they're gone.

A voice at the other end of the comm, when he calls.

Someone waiting for him to get back, happy and smiling.

He has you.

The recklessness fades. That foolhardy rushing in for a bounty, depending on past experiences and instinct to carry him through to the other side.

He tells himself it's because of the kid, when he slows down. When he is more careful of his choices when Captain Teva comms.

But maybe, he does it for himself, too.

For the first time in his life.

Bringing him back here, every time. Grogu tucked and sleeping against his chest as he arrives home after dark. The stars above shining down on the little cabin.

The starfighter touching down on the landing pad, moved some ways off from the house. Far enough that it doesn't rattle the tidy kitchen when he takes off, far enough that it doesn't wake you with an early departure.

Stepping down onto familiar soil as he climbs from the cockpit. So certain that you'd be in bed, already dreaming.

But there's a light on, he can see it from here. A golden beacon, calling to him to the place he now calls home.

Unconsciously, his steps quicken. Bringing him closer, until he can see your silhouette through the opened window.

On another night, he might scold - unable to the help the worry. Telling you to keep that window closed. To keep yourself safe.

But tonight, all he can focus on is you. Seeing now the clothes you wear, as you read - waiting up for him.

Knowing when it's dark and his nose is burying in your neck, that it will be your sweet scent perfuming the clothes that he can tell you're borrowing.

Mixing, melding together.

Layered, in a way that is impossible to untangle.

———

There’s the soft swish of the front door opening, but you wait patiently. Listening to the long-memorized path, a he moves throughout the small cabin.

Storing his rifle by the front door. The shuffle as he removes his boots, another hiss as the small side room is opened. His son tucked carefully and lovingly into the tiny bed.

The slow cadence of his steps, as he is slowly brought back to you.

Already smiling, when he fills the doorway.

He always seemed to do that. Encompass this small space you share. His armor making him thick and broad, and you can never help the little leap your heart does - rising up to your throat - when he leans over to to grab something.

Caging you in against the counter - whether on accident or purpose, you’re not sure. You think on purpose, judging by the short buzz of breath, when your eyes so unconsciously tip up to find his. Hidden away, behind the visor.

Always leading to something else. There’s lots of places you’ve found out here - places that aren’t so easily stumbled upon.

You’re already pushing up to go to him, your body melding against his. A long-held sigh releasing from his lungs, and his shoulders relax.

As you lead him to the bed - as he lets your hands brace on his chest, until his shoulders are pressing against the mattress.

Until you’re climbing on, after.

This is what you think about, when he’s gone.

The familiarity of your fingers, as they pluck at hidden buckles. The careful way you remove each piece - setting the shining armor in the woven basket at the end of the bed.

It’s second nature now, and the way you move so easily thrills you. Knowing that you know him in a way that no one else has.

Knowing that he can say the same, about you.

Each piece has its own place, as his hands rest on your thighs. Gloves removed the second he was inside, fingers tracing paths on equally bare skin.

Until it’s just his helmet that remains, the softest glint of the stars off the shining visor as his head tilts upward.

“Do you want me to close the blinds?” You murmur.

It’s dark. More than enough for some, but you’ve come know him. Respecting his beliefs, and are already rising to cut the light from above off completely.

His hands tighten on your thighs - voice buzzing low though the vocoder.

“No.”

A pause, as his hands swoop. Finding yours and squeezing. Guiding them to his helmet.

“Not tonight.”

It makes your stomach flip, the words already on the tip of your tongue, “Are you sure? I can-”

You can close your eyes, like before. Could wear a blindfold - anything that makes him comfortable.

But instead, his fingers are mapping yours. A soft hiss as you both lift the helmet - before you’re leaning over him, resting it carefully in its place on the table next to the bed.

Then, he’s pulling you down. A rough groan in his throat as your lips meet his, as you smile. Unable to help the giddy grin, the fingers that brush through soft curls.

Reacquainting your mouth with his, making up for the week that has passed. Soft and chaste - growing deeper when his hand spans the back of your neck.

The other pressing between your shoulder blades, until your body melts against his again.

Still broad-shouldered, without the armor. Still filling a good part of the bed - a fixture in this cabin.

Your fingers make quick work of the flightsuit, even as your mouth slots with his.

More zippers and snaps that you know well. Rough canvas giving way to warm skin, his hands joining yours as he pulls his arms from the sleeves.

Rolling off him, just for a moment. While he shucks the lower half from him - before he’s pulling you back on top.

Nestling himself between your thighs. Hard and thick, the evidence of how much he missed you. Mutual huffs of breath as your hips rock - only the cloth of your underwear separates you.

His hands wander then - fingers brushing from shoulder, to neck. Sweeping and dipping across your front, down between your breasts. Imagining something only he can see.

As he wonders if it’s time.

The thoughts unraveling as his fingers drop instead, to pluck at the ties of the tunic you wear.

Loosening them, so he can lean upward. His turn now, to strip the layers from you. Fingertips pushing the fabric from your shoulder, before it’s tugged over your head.

The moon and stars spilling streaks against skin, as you peel off the last piece. Until you’re bared fully, feeling the weight of his gaze dragging over you.

Fingers still twisted in the fabric, before it’s dropped off the edge of the bed. Tracing over your curves after, feeling where the goosebumps rise. The taut peaks of your breasts, under his thumbs.

You sigh, breathed out into the night. Missing him, wanting him, aching for him.

This slowness is another thing you’ve discovered. A countdown of time no longer lingering about his head. A ever-growing list of things he had to do on those short visits, trying to fit as much time with you in-between as he could.

Pounding into you, the breath pushed from your lungs. Leaving you gasping as his helmet presses against your forehead. Gone - the next morning.

No, now - he takes his time. Slow and steady and winding you up. Until the frenzied movement comes from pure need, chasing the release. So wrapped up you forget everything else except the pleasure.

You rise up on your knees to take him. Can feel the thudding between your thighs, the dampness that glistens on sensitive skin.

His hands tighten instead. Rocking you forward instead, until your slick cunt slides against his cock. A rumble you can feel, as your hands splay flat across his chest.

“Din.” You protest, trying to move again.

Those hands, still gripping on.

“What did you do while I was gone?”

If the helmet was on, you’d never hear the soft tremor. The rasp of his words, that edge that is so soften masked.

It has you blinking, pulling you out of the haze.

“I, uh-,” You lick your lips, distracted by his question. The way you can feel the twitch of his cock, when you grind yourself against him, “I worked.”

A tiny smile as you add, “And I missed you, of course.”

He hums at that, as your hips make another pass. As you make another attempt to rise, your hands pressing against his chest.

Din still holds you steady.

“Did you miss me at night?” He asks, a knowing tone to his words, “In our bed?”

You can feel your cheeks burn - as a sweet embarrassment, and then a heat, floods through you. Fingers curling into fists, pressing against his sternum.

Our bed.

If the question had been yours, you would have said his bed. But instead, he shares this space with his words, making it just as much yours.

“Yes.” You breathe, and he groans. Pushing up against you, grinding his cock against your slick center.

“Show me.”

There’s an expectancy to his request that has you squirming. The slightest hesitance, before your fingers slide down, across his chest, then stomach. Letting him feel their path, waiting until the last possible moment to lift them.

Brushing the tips against the head of his straining cock, as you find your neglected clit. Lightly dragging a fingers across the sensitive nub, finally getting a bit of that friction you’ve been aching for.

Your moan is a soft, drawn out “oh”. Laced with relief, as your fingers press and circle. The other hand still braced on him, as you shift into your own touch.

His own fingers flutter. Petting over your breasts and down your hips. A thumb brushing across your mound, the breadth of his hands framing where yours works.

The starlight shines more on you. He can see glimpses of your fingers, the part of your lips as you pant. His own fingers joining yours, following the tight patterns.

“What did you think about?” He rasps, as your eyes close.

Your chin tipping down, your breath now ragged. He always knows just how to touch you.

Knows your body as well as you know the straps of his beskar armor, and can take you apart just as easily.

“You.” You whimper, your free hand gripping at his hip, anchoring yourself, “How much I wanted you. How it’s never-“

A gasp, as the pleasure flickers through you like lightning. Starting in your core and radiating outwards.

“N-never as good. When you’re not here.”

His exhale is sharp, the grip on your waist loosening. As he guides your hips against his. Still sliding against him, smearing your arousal on his cock.

Not sure how much longer he can draw this out, not with you saying such pretty things.

Swallowing as your own question comes, almost surprising yourself with your boldness.

“Did you think of me? While you were gone?”

In the darkness you miss the quick, sharp pull of teeth and lips. The growling groan that catches in his throat, as his fingers still circle.

“Yes,” He rasps, “Always.”

The answer has you clenching around nothing. Needy and desperate to hear more.

Barely managing to ask, “What did you think about?”

His fingers leave you, and you mourn them. Gathering at your waist again - lifting you this time. Angling his cock so it kisses against your lips, nudges against your entrance.

“This,” He growls, as he tugs you down.

Your moan is loud as he fills you. That familiar and sweet stretch as you take him in a long, fluid thrust. A stiffness to your shoulders as you sit, your ass flush to his hips.

His cock shoved as deep as he can, stealing your breath and words. Breathing the air back in as you slowly begin to ride him. Shallow bounces as your knees dig into the bedspread.

It’s hazy, in the dark. Near featureless - but as you move, there’s the hint of something. The curve of his nose. The scruff of his jaw, dark and just starting to pepper grey.

Features you’ve tracing with your fingertips, in those evenings before. Pressing a kiss to against the curve of his cheek, instead of the sharp curve of beskar.

You don’t know that he does this, during the day. Far enough out that there’s rarely uninvited guests.

Rising early, as the rest of the cabin sleeps. Feeling the dew-sprinkled grass beneath bare toes, as the morning breeze rustles his hair.

A stolen moment, before the day begins.

Dreaming of sharing one with you, one day.

Until then, he settles for this. Your soft touches and patience and the silky darkness of the night curling around you both.

Enveloping you, with the roll of your hips - your hands braced on his chest. Pushing down with your hands now as you rise up, the soft heat that he sinks into when you drop back down.

Taking him to the hilt, again and again.

Slowly picking up speed, finding your rhythm as his fingers find the soft space between your thighs again.

Dragging you towards something that licks red-hot in your belly. Fueled by the teasing - the knowledge that your swiftly budding feelings might not be all so different that his.

It feels like too much. The flutter of your heart, you eyes close so you can hear the soft grit of his words.

“Feels so fucking good.”

“Stars, cyar’ika. Keep going, just like that.”

It has your warning sticking in your throat, as those two, broad fingers tease at you.

“Din-”

You like saying it, but not nearly as much as he loves hearing it.

“Din, I’m so close.”

“I know.” He husks, as his hips rock up to meet you. Feeling how you clench down around him, how your rhythm has slowed to a sloppy grind.

That press of his fingers winding you up and up and up. An invisible string tugging you toward him, until his mouth is pressing open-mouthed against your neck.

Whatever your response was disappears as you fall, and then shatter. The sound coming out as a sharp gasp instead, one that he can feel as his lips suck a mark against your skin.

Just a senseless rutting of your hips now, as you chase the sweet pulse between your thighs. The way he feels as you clench around him, as his fingers never seem to slow.

Robbing you of your strength, the pleasure that scatters throughout your limbs replaced with a warm, liquid lead. Weighing you down as your body sinks against his, your face curling against his neck.

Remembering how to breathe again, coaxed by a calloused hand that smooths down your back. The shift of his hips that remind you of where you are - your focus on what you want so much more clear, now.

You want to feel him. Want to make him feel just as good as you did right now.

He lets you ride him. Until your arms are trembling with the effort - still coming down from your high.

Pushing himself up until he’s sitting, his back pressed against the metal headboard. His hands moving to grip the underside of your thighs - tugging you up just the slightest bit, until he’s doing the work for you.

Thrusting up, dragging his cock against your walls. Pounding into you as his skin claps against your, each pushing a breath from his chest.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, fingers twisting in his hair. Fingers biting into your skin, enough to pinch. The cadence of his breathing growing rougher, shorter - until those hands are moving your your waist.

Pulling you down, holding you there, as he pushes deep one last time. His groan seeming loud in this small room, wordless as it echoes in your ears.

As his hips rut against yours - try to work himself even deeper as he spills into you. Palms press into your back, keeping you flush against him, as a nose nudges against your neck.

The warm exhale of his breath eventually slowing, a kiss placed against the spot where your heart thuds in your throat.

After, you curl up in his arms. A smile pressed into bare skin as the evening wind cools your sweat-dewed skin. Listening to the croak of frogs and the rustle of leaves as you wait for the thudding of your hearts to slow.

Your mind is already drifting to tomorrow. To all the things you want to do together, all the questions to want to ask about the latest bounty, even as your eyes grow heavy.

While his is placed more in the present.

Knowing that right now…

There’s no place he’d rather be.

———

The sun breaks on a gorgeous summer day.

It mirrors your mood, as your steps take you out of the small cabin. Through the garden you’ve built together.

It feels like such a luxury, to call this place your own. To have something that feels like it belongs to you, that you’re not just staying there - mingling with the ghosts and memories of before.

It fills a space inside you that’s been empty for some time. Pieces finally clicking into place, as you bask in that sense of belonging.

A small oasis in the rolling planes of desert and earth. Far enough away from town that sometimes, it truly feels like it’s just the three of you.

You had asked Din, one time. If he had minded the quiet, living in such solitude.

“Don’t you miss it?” You had asked, “How things were, before?”

He had been sitting next to you, then. In that little spot just outside the door, a leg kicked up against the a thick piece of railing.

Leaning back against the wall, arms shifting over his chest as he had answered without hesitating.

“No.” Din has rasped, “Not at all.”

The memory makes you smile.

The slightest ache to your knees when you bend down to pluck a ruby-red tomato from its vine.

The remnants of your thorough second welcoming home, while in the sonic that morning. The slightest wobble in your step, from when he had returned the favor, back in the bed.

A hand shielding your eyes when you hear the sets of footsteps behind you. The basket tucked under your arm as you crouch to greet Grogu as he coos, something small and brown clutched in his fist.

Held out, dropped into your cupped hands.

It wasn’t unusual that they brought something back. A small trinket when there was time. More seeds, for the garden.

But there was something about it that makes you slow down, as you reach inside. A fluttering in your stomach, an anticipation.

Something about Din’s posture at he waits, some steps away. Strung-tight - missing the cock of his hips, the bend of his knee.

It glints in the light, as you tip it into your palm. Polished to a pretty shine, though there are areas that are still darkened with age and time.

A necklace, the silver charm dangling at the end of a leather cord. A long skeleton face with curving horns, that looks familiar.

The low voice comes, breaking through your thoughts.

“We wanted you to have this.”

Din hovers near you, hands braced on his hips. Grogu peeks up with flickering ears and bright eyes.

“It’s beautiful.” You tell him truthfully, a thumb sweeping over the metal. A weight to it, a solidness filled with memories and meanings.

“It’s the symbol of the Mandalorians. A Mythosaur.” He explains - tone flat and patient from behind his helmet.

Masking the tones that would color them, if his helmet had been removed. Hiding the full meaning of his gift.

“If anyone comes by while we’re away, they won’t harm you. You’ll be protected.”

It warms you.

That he still worries, even after danger has passed.

Your head ducks as you slip the cord around your neck. Adjusting it carefully with slow fingers.

“Thank you.” You tell them both.

Brimming with something too tender to name, as the pendant rests against your chest.

It feels right, resting there. Against your skin. So close to the place that pounds so steadily for him.

It feels like a promise.

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum - I love you ("I will know you forever.") / mesh’la - beautiful / cyare & cyar’ika - sweetheart / ad’ika - little one

behot - a citrusy herb that is native to Mandalore

varos - a fruit native to Mandalore, known for its velvety aroma when ripe

Thank you so much for reading! So happy to write something sweet and hopeful for Din. 💖

#din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin smut #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin imagine #mandalorian spoilers #mando s3 spoilers

[luvhughes43]

because i liked a boy | jack hughes x reader

summary: reader gets hate comments from her ex-boyfriend's fans, saying she's a homewrecker and a slut, all because of the fact that she dated jack hughes.

lyrics: "now i'm a homewrecker, i'm a slut, i got death threats filling up semi trucks, tell me who i am, guess i don't have a choice, all because i liked a boy"

word count: 0.3k

note: something short! also i am not shading olivia i love her!

yourusername posted three months ago !

yourusername

liked by jackhughes, yourbff, and others

yourusername think i only want one number in my phone

Tagged: jackhughes

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jackfan01 HOMEWRECKER!!!

jackhughes ❤️❤️

jackfan02 two hearts only? oh he hates her😭😭

jackfan03 ur such a slut like… broke a whole relationship up and for what?

jackfan04 i think they were already broken up tho? 

yourbff cuties💓💓

Liked by yourusername

jackfan05 SLUT! you’re so disgusting.

your dms were filled to the brim with death threats, people calling you names such as a slut and a homewrecker. all because you dated jack hughes… it was ridiculous. by the time your pictures started circling around the internet, blown up on tiktok and strewn across twitter, you and jack had already called it quits. You were only together for a few months, and that was a while ago. 

you sat on your couch trying to understand his fans' messages. you went through jacks instagram, and found nothing. so you turned to twitter, where you found out that jack and his new girlfriend had just broken up… and people were blaming you for it. it literally made no sense. apparently she was posting things on her insta that made it look like he cheated on her with you? you didn’t even know what the truth was at this point. all you knew was that people were very angry at you about a situation you didn’t have any part in.

a few days went by and the rumours were still circling. people were going absolutely crazy in your dms, and you debated reaching out to jack so he could get his “fans” under control but you knew he wouldn’t. it wasn’t his fault either though! how was he supposed to get people to stop sending threats? asking for kindness never works.  so you vowed to not to post anything on social media for a few weeks, slowly watching the threats and name calling trickle down as the days went by.

finally after everything had settled, you decided to finally post something to break your silence. the whole thing was so ridiculous that you’d laugh if you weren’t a little concerned over some of the threats.

yourusername just posted !

yourusername

liked by yourbff, jackhughes and others

yourusername all because i liked a boy

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#sabrina masterlist #jack hughes fic #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb

[reidbae]

DAY 30: Scream — costumes w/dom!spencer reid & dom!aaron hotchner

KINKTOBER 2023: masterlist

PART 2

summary: After vaguely mentioning your attraction to the Scream character, Ghostface, your two boyfriends decide to dress as him for Halloween. And, needless to say, they aren't afraid to make you scream.

pairing: dom!spencer reid and dom!aaron hotchner x sub!fem!reader

warnings/mentions: use of pet names for reader (princess, honey, angel, baby, love, doll [sry i went crazy]), reader is fairly shy, spencer is more soft!dom and hotch is more rough/hard!dom, obv use of masks and veryyy heavily implied mask kink, loads of degradation and a lot of praise, hair pulling, blowjob, vaginal sex, unprotected piv sex (pls do not do this <3), choking, teasing, small implication of hotch being a little older than reader, lmk if i missed anything!

wc: 3.5k

a/n: this took me so long PLSSS and i'm not even that crazy about it, but i think i will be posting the second part of this for halloween tmr so i hope that will be better <3 i hope y'all enjoy and have a good halloween tmr/had a good halloweekend!

tags: @nalycandy @prettyboydrspencerreid @mega-kittyglitter-1 @mrs-ssa-hotch @boimlers-gonna-boim

You were walking through the doors of the the bullpen of the BAU, large bags of candy in your hand as you waved hello to various coworkers of yours.

The BAU, thanks to Derek Morgan, was having a Halloween party to celebrate the spooky holiday. Work had ended a few hours ago at this point, so everyone had finished most of their case files and papers of the like.

To your surprise, a lot of your coworkers were here, and a lot of them were dressed up. It was surprising to see, considering that it was a Tuesday, but it wasn’t an issue, really. As for yourself, you were dressed up as a princess this year.

Well, kind of.

You didn’t feel like going out to get a Halloween costume, so you decided to wear a dress and heels, some jewelry, and call it a day.

“Hey, Y/N. Cute fit,” Derek teased you the second you reached your desk, wrapping his arms around you in a friendly hug. You smiled, rolling your eyes at him.

You pulled back to look him up and down, observing his simple attire, that looked very similar to the henley and jeans combo that he wore on a daily basis. “Thanks, Derek. And what are you supposed to be?” you smiled..

“I’m me, obviously. Can’t get much better than that,” Derek chuckled, taking a sip from the glass that he was holding. You shook your head, giggling.

“Of course,” you said. “Um, where’s Hotch? A- And Spencer?” you then asked Derek, curious as to why you had yet to see the two of them.

It had been common knowledge among your team that you, Aaron, and Spencer all had something going on, but none of you had ever specified what that was.

It would be a simple answer, but you never felt the need to explain your business nonetheless. Aaron and Spencer were both your boyfriends, and while not romantically involved with each other, they were incredibly enamored with you.

So when you noticed neither of them were there, you felt not only concerned, but also suspicious.

“They just went up to Hotch’s office, I think,” Derek said, shrugging his shoulders.

You nodded, setting the bags of candy that you had down on your desk before saying, “Thanks, Derek.”

The blinds in Aaron’s office were shut as you approached it, causing you to raise even more of an eyebrow.

What the hell were the two of them up to?

Throughout the week hat Derek had been raving about this party, Aaron and Spencer had refused to tell you who they were dressing up as, or if they were even dressed up at all. You figured the two men would want to confide in you about their costume choices, but apparently, your help wasn't required.

Which only made you more sure that the two of them had something up their sleeve.

You knocked on the office door and put your ear to it, wondering if you could hear the two of them talking. You found that you could, but all of their dialogue was inaudible. Sighing, you decided to just open the door, let yourself in, and see what they were up to.

You turned the knob and pushed open the door. The view you were met with was one of Aaron and Spencer stood next to Aaron’s desk. Aaron had his arms crossed, and there looked to be a mask of some sort in his hand.

And from what you could see, Spencer was holding the very same mask.

The two men’s eyes met yours when you walked inside of the room, and their appearances sent a quick rush of butterflies to your abdomen.

Spencer was in a white button-up, black vest and tie, along with black slacks and belt. Aaron was wearing the same attire, except he was only wearing a collared shirt, slacks, and belt. While you were unable to tell who the two of them were supposed to be just yet, you grew nervous nonetheless.

They had to be doing this on purpose.

“Hey, princess,” Spencer smiled at you, taking a second to look you up and down and turn his body to face you. “You look amazing in that dress.”

You smiled shyly over at Spencer, a cheesy smile across your face. “Thank you. Um, so—What are you guys supposed to be? You—You never told me,” you didn't fail to remind them, crossing your arms.

“Oh, well…” Spencer 's voice trailed off, gazing over at Aaron and beckoning for him to say something.

Aaron cleared his throat and held up the mask he was holding so you could get a better view of what it was, smiling. “We’re not really resembling the original, but this is what we came up with.”

Aaron was showing you a mask that made your heart flutter; It was a Ghostface mask, the mask of a killer from a franchise of horror movies that you thoroughly enjoyed.

A killed that, despite your role as an FBI profiler, found very attractive.

You remembered vaguely saying a word or two about the masked man when the three of you sat down to watch Halloween movies a week or so ago. You made a brief, dismissible joke about the killer being attractive, and how you wouldn’t be afraid of getting injured if either Aaron or Spencer was wearing the mask.

Needless to say, though that wasn’t really true. Your pulse was going like crazy, and it was no doubt because of the nervousness that you were feeling.

You seemed to short circuit as you stood there, your eyes widening in response to the two men's choice of attire. Finally, when you didn’t speak up, Spencer smirked at you and asked, “Something wrong, love?”

You shook your head a little too quickly, looking down at the floor. “No, n- no!” you defended, giving a heavy sigh. “Nothing’s wrong. Um—You guys look—Really good," you barely managed to get out.

“Do you want to see them on?” Aaron asked as he smirked at you, holding his mask up as he spoke in reference to it.

If your pulse was high before, it was through the roof now.

“Um, su- sure?” you said a little anxiously, finding yourself annoyed at the fact that all words were failing you all because of a mask.

But, God, you couldn’t help it.

The two men gave each other a knowing smirk, one that you couldn't miss, before putting the masks on their faces and securing them in place. They both turned to look at you, waiting for some sort of answer from you.

But, unlike they were probably expecting, your response was physical, not verbal.

You were damn near weak in the knees at the view before you, your face, neck, and ears all growing warmer by the second. They could probably assume your look was one of unease, if it weren’t for the fact that they knew you, and they knew what you were feeling.

“Wow, you look—Good. Um, great, even,” you stuttered out, rubbing the back of your neck in a nervous manner. Before you could even think it through, your next words were gushing from your lips. “I’m going back to the party now,” you said in a muddled rush.

You were squealing as you walked out of the room, blushing as you replayed the scene of your two masked boyfriends in your head. You could hear Aaron and Spencer laughing as you left the room in a hurry.

You knew they liked to tease you, but, damn, really? You didn't think they would do this, of all the things.

They just didn’t have a care in the world about making you feel this way.

And if there was one thing you were sure of, it was that you’d be a mess by the end of this party.

—

You were sitting in an abandoned office in the BAU, doing your best to relax and calm yourself down with the way the last hour had just enfolded.

Your boyfriends were dicks. Assholes. Whatever you wanted to call them, that's just what they were,

They’d been walking around the place for the last hour like they owned it, knowing just what they were doing to you as they did.

You both hated and loved how grand of an effect such a simple action, such a simple costume could have on you, all because it was them who were doing it, and them who were wearing it.

You ran your hands through your hair as you stood in the room, trying to slow down the pace of your breath.

And trying to ignore the needy feeling between your legs.

Just then, as if on cue, a knock sounded at the door, causing you to jump out of your own head to pay attention to it.

And, of course, who could it be but the two men on your mind?

“Y/N, honey? Are you in here?” a calm male voice called out for you, opening the door to the office you were in.

Spencer, whose mask was perched above his head, walking in, Aaron behind him. Your eyes flickered between the two of them for a second, before you spoke.

“Hi,” you said shyly, crossing your arms the same exact way that you had earlier on in the evening. “What’s up?” you asked, attempting to make your voice sound as casual as possible

“You kind of ran off there, princess. We got worried,” said Spencer, a sly smile over his face as the two of them approached you. “Everything okay?” he asked, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

You looked down as he did so, feeling your cheeks flare up with heat. “No, yeah, I’m—Okay. You guys can go back to the party,” you muttered to them, avoiding their eyes.

From the corner of your eye, you could see your boyfriends throw that same knowing smirk at each other, the same look they'd given each other earlier, before Aaron spoke up. “Alright, stop with the shyness and spit it out, honey. What’s on your mind?”

You looked up at him, and then quickly looked away as you again saw his mask, which was in the same place as Spencer’s was. “Nothing. I told you guys, it’s nothing,” you said to them again, sighing.

Spencer walked up to you, his tall appearance causing a lump to form in your larynx. “Well, obviously, something's the matter, princess,” Spencer cooed, bringing his thumb to rest under your chin. Deciding to get to the root of the issue, Spencer asked, “Is it the masks, honey?”

That was when your nervous gaze finally met Spencer’s eyes, and you nodded, feeling like a little girl being forced to admit to misbehaving.

That’s sure as hell what it felt like.

Spencer smiled down at you, and looked back once at Aaron before asking, “You like them, huh?” his tone somehow caring yet coy all at once.

Again, you nodded.

“We figured you would,” smirked Aaron from behind Spencer, moving closer to you himself. “That was why we got them, really," Aaron shrugged.

“Yeah,” Spencer laughed in response, grinning at the two of you. Spencer’s eyes then softened as he looked down at you as he noiced the shyness of your demeanor. “We’re glad that worked.”

You gave a small, nervous giggle, too, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was going to happen now.

No doubt, whatever it was, it wouldn’t be able to leave this room.

“Well, uh, we’ll be happy to put them back on for you, princess,” Spencer smiled at you, smoothing his thumb over your cheek. “Is that something you’d like?”

Your words fell quickly from your lips as soon as the query was spoken. “Y- Yes, please,” you eagerly said to the two of them, suddenly finding a voice as soon as Spencer promised you that they’d put their masks back on.

You couldn’t dream of anything better.

“Mmhm. Just do us a favor, okay?” said Aaron lazily as he moved closer, running his fingers over your hips as Spencer backed up a little. Aaron then put his mask back on, looking down at you. "Don't scream."

Spencer followed through and put his mask back on as well, and your eyes widened at the view of your boyfriends, dressed as one of your all-time favorite horror roles. They were so, so close to you as they looked down at you.

It was a wonder you didn’t pass out on the spot.

Aaron backed you into the wall of the office as Spencer walked away to close and lock the door, leaning his arm on the wall next to you. Spencer joined the two of you seconds later, positioned next to Aaron.

You felt yourself grow weak in the knees as the two men hovered above you, closing your eyes as a fiery blush filled your cheeks. Aaron cupped your cheek, and if you could see his face, you’d be sure that he was smirking, gazing down at you as you shyly slid down the wall.

“Aw, what’s the matter, princess? What’re you so nervous for?” Aaron chuckled in a jeering tone, holding your face in a soothing manner as he smoothed his thumb under your cheek.

“Give her a break. She’s just shy,” said Spencer in response. Spencer reached his hands out to grip your hips, chuckling. “Aren’t you, honey?”

“You guys are such teases,” you murmured more to yourself than them, earning chuckles from both of them.

“We just love to play with you, honey. You’re so easy to mess with,” said Aaron, like that fact was common knowledge. “How do we look?”

You looked up at him, like that fact was common knowledge. But, “G- Good,” was the only word stuttered you could get out of your mouth without your tongue slurring the words.

“Glad you think so,” smiled Spencer, running his hands over your body.

"But we'd look better with you between us," said Aaron in a sly tone, pulling you closer, so that you were flush against his front.

You couldn’t get a word out as Aaron picked you up from the ground, walking you to the couch that was in the room. He put you down on it, and, just like he’d said, put you onto all fours, so that you were bent over for the two of them to see.

Spencer had his arms crossed as Aaron ran his hand over your back, looking down at you. “Oh, look at you, honey. Fucking adorable,” Aaron groaned. He turned back to look at Spencer. “What do you think, Reid? What should we do with her?”

Spencer chuckled behind his mask and sat down in front of you on the couch, cupping your cheek with his hand. “I think our princess here needs some attention of her own. Wouldn’t you agree, angel?” Spencer cooed.

You were eager to nod, feeling your pulse quicken at Spencer’s teasing. “Y- Yes, please,” you whimpered.

Aaron obliged, moving himself behind you and grabbing your hips to keep himself steady. You could hear his belt unbuckling from behind, followed by the sound of it clattering to the ground.

Aaron lifted your dress up, and didn’t misuse even a second as he yanked down your underwear. The older man thumbed your thighs, and then your clit, causing you to let out a low mewl.

“Fuck, doll, you’re dripping. Eager, aren’t we?” Aaron laughed at you, rubbing your clit more, just to get you going.

You let out small whines and whimpers as Aaron touched you, and from what you could see, Spencer was hardening in his slacks from the sound of your moans alone.

That only made you want the two of them more.

“There you go, honey. Let me hear those pretty moans of yours,” Aaron encouraged you, moving his thumb at a quicker pace over your clit.

Spencer, eager to be engaged in some way, began to tease your nipples through the fabric of your dress. Your bra wasn’t doing all that much to stop him from doing so, and, it was then and there that you knew you were done for.

You looked back to see Aaron pulling his boxers down, revealing his aching cock, that was just as hard as Spencer’s was. He let out a low grunt as he moved his hand up and down on himself for a few seconds, readying himself for you.

Meanwhile, Spencer’s attention was fully on you, and he chuckled as he cupped your cheek again. His other hand fumbled with his belt, and he tilted his head at you, his mask being what was gazing back at you.

“You don’t mind me using that pretty mouth of yours, do you, princess?” Spencer cooed to you. You quickly shook your head.

“That’s a good girl,” Spencer whispered back to you, smoothing his thumb under your cheek.

You moaned as Aaron then suddenly, very suddenly, pushed himself inside of you from behind, slowly inching his cock inside of your cunt. Your hand almost immediately went to cover your mouth while Spencer yanked down his pants.

“Ready, angel?” Spencer cooed like nothing else was happening, like you weren’t getting fucked goddamn senseless by Aaron, even if it'd only been a couple seconds of sex thus far. Nevertheless, you nodded, and did just what Spencer asked of you.

Spencer’s size concerned you only a bit as you went down on the brunette genius, bobbing your head up and down on his dick as Aaron pounded into you from behind, and maybe you’d gag, or choke, or cough.

But it didn’t matter, just as long as you got to have them.

“Fuck, doll—You feel so fucking good,” Aaron muttered to you from behind, fucking you at a pace that should be considered illegal for how quick it was.

And how good it felt.

“Such a good girl,” Spencer whispered to you, petting and pulling your hair as a means of pulling you down more onto his dick. “You’re taking us so well, angel,” he cooed.

“Mmhm,” Aaron hummed in response. He moves both of his hands from your hips to your ass and grabbed you by it, pulling you closer to him, and thus pushing himself further into you. You let out a loud mewl in response.

Aaron covered your mouth, letting out a chuckle from behind you. “Didn’t we tell you not to scream, honey?”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered with flushed cheeks, pulling back from Spencer for a moment to not only speak, but to also catch your breath. “I’m—Trying.”

“Try harder,” Aaron said roughly as you reattached your lips to Spencer’s cock. “We’re the only ones who get to hear how much of a whore you are," your boyfriend shamelessly degraded you.

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes as you whined for more pleasure, feeling overwhelmed by the two men in front of you.

Or, well, behind you.

“Fuck, just like that, love,” Spencer groaned, not paying too much attention to what Aaron was saying. “You’re doing so good for me. So, so good," Spencer praised.

You moved your head up to get a better view of Spencer as you sucked him off. He looked so hot like this, as he did each time that you blew him.

That mask only magnified that fact.

“You should see how much of a slut you look like, honey,” Aaron chuckled. He ran his fingers through your hair and grabbed a handful of it, pulling your head down and guiding you as you sucked Spencer’s dick. “Fucking whore.”

Your cheeks were warm with arousal as your brain did the best it could to keep up with Aaron’s degradation, mixed in with Spencer’s praise.

Your eyes were rolling back into your head as the scene unfolded before you: Aaron pounding into you from behind, you gagging around Spencer’s cock, and you knew it was going to send you to the edge so fucking quick.

And just when you believed it couldn’t get any better, you were quickly proven wrong.

Aaron, like he’d done so many times before when the two of you were having sex, used a hand to grab a hold of your neck, and squeezed down with force. You found yourself coughing at the sudden, but arousing action, causing both Aaron and Spencer to chuckle.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” Aaron chuckled, administering a small slap to your ass with his free hand. “You want it harder, doll?”

You did what you could to nod, and even pulled away from Spencer’s dick again just to get the words out. “Please, I—I want more, A- Aaron.”

“You’re going to have to beg me better than that,” Aaron said cruelly, beginning to slow his pace down as well. You whimpered in response, ready to give some bratty remark back to him.

But your body needed him too much.

“No, please—Please don’t stop. I’m—I’m begging you. Please,” you whined, feeling utterly helpless to him.

“Please, what, honey?” Aaron teased you anyways, as if this couldn’t get any worse for you, as if you weren't already in the most vulnerable place you could be, begging you for his mercy.

Like you’d said earlier: You were done for.

You let out a small groan at your boyfriend’s continued teasing, but were quick to concede, sighing. “Keep going, please. A- And, harder, rougher, fuck, please," you whined aimlessly, hardly sure of the words coming out of your mouth at this point.

Aaron, knowing that when you began to become incoherent, that you were close to the edge, smirked as he obliged your needs. He began to pound back into you again, and, out of habit, you began to suck Spencer’s dick once more.

Spencer was letting out groans of his own as you sucked him off, pushing your head down as much as be could without making you gag. “Fuck, baby, fuck, I’m so close. You’re doing so good,” Spencer whispered to you, running his fingers through your hair for the millionth time as he praised you again and again. “Good girl, just like that."

Spencer moved his hand over to your back, caressing you slowly for a few seconds before moving his hand down to your clit, just as Aaron had done before. Reflexively, you whined out in pleasure.

The mix of Aaron’s cock, Spencer’s fingers, and both of their moans, was building a pleasure inside of you that you didn’t think humanly possible until now. Spencer thumbed over your clit as quickly as he could, rubbing you in fast circles as the scene before you enfolded.

“You gonna cum for us, honey? Show us how much of a whore you are?” Aaron said in a malicious tone of voice, still squeezing down on your neck. Again, you did what you could to nod.

“That’s it, baby. Go ahead,” Aaron finally encouraged.

You didn’t need much more than that.

You were climaxing in seconds upon Aaron’s command, the room smelling of sex as the three of you filled it with your moans. You could taste Spencer’s seed as ropes of it made their way into your mouth, while relishing in the pleasure of Aaron filling you with his own release at the same time.

Aaron chuckled as he pulled out of you, getting up from where he was on the couch. You whined at the sudden exit, your thighs shaking as you moved your head off of Spencer’s tip and sat up on the couch. You then pouted when you saw Spencer getting up, too.

“Where are you guys going?” you asked with a sad face, already feeling incredibly bare without the two of them next to you. They had never been ones to have sex without aftercare, so the fact that they were getting up was worth raising an eyebrow over.

Spencer put his thumb under your chin and finally removed his mask, just to kiss the top of your head. “Giving you some time to come back down to earth, princess. You probably need it.”

“And we’re sure you’ll need us again before the party’s over. And after the party’s over,” Aaron chuckled, removing his mask as well.

You rolled your eyes at his teasing tone of voice, your cheeks warm from the unneeded jeering. All you could do was cross your arms in response.

Spencer smiled down at you. “Don’t worry, princess. There’ll be more fun later on, okay? Just as long as you’re good for us. Can you be good for us, angel?” Spencer asked you genuinely.

You looked up at Spencer in a pout, but, at some point, you sighed and nodded. “Yes.”

“There’s our girl,” Spencer cooed. Then,  Spencer turned to face Aaron, smirking at him. “Shall we?”

Aaron, mirroring Spencer’s expression, nodded, and the two of them walked out of the office, leaving you there to think about all that had just happened.

Your dress was ruffled, and your thighs were a messy, shaking mess in the aftermath of what had just occurred with your two boyfriends.

You wanted to hate them so bad for this. How were you supposed to go back to the party now?

It didn’t even matter. You heard what they said.

"After the party’s over…"

You couldn’t even conjure up the image of what was going to happen then.

All you knew was that it was going to be a hell of a Halloween.

—

reblogs are very much appreciated <3

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#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #hotch

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for "causing" someone's ED? (massive TW obviously)

so i (18x) have a pr0ana sideblog. i say this in the LOOSEST sense of the term; while i interact with pr0ana tags and content, i don't make any myself, and my "platform" is nonexistent. i primarily use the blog as a way to feel less alone since i can't talk about my ED in real life. it's a vent blog. i don't have the name of my sideblog anywhere on my main blog, and vice versa.

a few weeks ago, my good friend (18x) found this sideblog and decided not to tell me. over the next few weeks, we had several conversations about my ED and their dysmorphia (though according to them not a full-fledged ED), all started by them. at one point i promised them that i would try to get just a little better every day, and i do! i do try that constantly! but about ten minutes after saying that i posted something on my sideblog about how paranoid i was about calories or whatever, because yeah i'm trying to get better, but that doesn't mean i magically stop struggling. i also told them i was NOT on pr0ana tumblr or interacting with that sort of content, because i wasn't comfortable sharing that about myself. i didn't know my friend knew about the sideblog at this point.

they dmed me a while after this post to ask why i had lied to their face, or as they put it in a vaguepost on their blog, "made a promise and then turned around and immediately broken it." i got very very frustrated, since i think what i do on the internet is my business, as is my mental health. this definitely reflected in my tone, so i think i was definitely TA, at least initially.

during this conversation, though, they basically said that i needed to talk to them about my emotions and stop hiding them, and that i had to take the hand they were extending. here's where the main problem started. they then said that they considered contacting my mother or friends but decided in the long run it wouldn't be beneficial. my mother is emotionally abusive, which this friend knew, and would absolutely involuntarily hospitalize me if contacted about my ED.

i became extremely angry, both that my friend would have my mother's and friends' contact information in the first place (we met through tumblr and have only met in person ONCE -- i do not, clearly, have their parents' contact information or even their names, and this was not information i volunteered to them) and that they would use it as an ultimatum. at this point i became extremely furious and basically told them to leave me alone because no one who genuinely cared about me would do that, and i didn't understand why my mental illness was seen as something i HAD to overcome if i wanted to avoid getting literally hospitalized by my mother. at this point they told me that i was refusing to accept help and that i was "aestheticizing killing myself." they then blocked me. i was still fucking angry. i never blocked them from my main, but i did block all their accounts from my sideblog and change the url.

they later unblocked me and we tried to remain civil. we never stopped interacting with each other's posts or whatever. they initiated contact a few times, which i ignored. the first instance they initiated contact was sending me a poem they'd written about the situation, which made me feel like shit, and the second time was just saying "hey." i didn't respond either time because i didn't know how.

i saw a vaguepost that they made on their blog yesterday that basically said they were fucking angry that, after an entire lifetime of struggling to avoid developing an ED, the "person they used to be in love with" was the reason they were developing one. it was clearly about me and i felt a rush of shame so overwhelming that i didn't really know what to do with it. i dmed them to tell them that i loved them and i was sorry, that i didn't mean to hurt them, and that i didn't want things to end like they did. reading back over the message now, it feels very "woe is me" (i was crying while writing it), but basically it just involved me apologizing a million times.

i woke up this morning to their response, which was: "are you saying this because you miss me or because you don't have anyone else left? i don't want to be your last choice." i hadn't gone into the conversation with the intention of regaining their close friendship because, frankly, i don't want that. i hadn't gone into it with a goal in mind. a problem i've had with this friend in the past is that they seem to view a lot of interactions and relationships as almost transactional in a way that i don't (demonstrated by their insistence that i had to talk them about my mental health in the first place). i told them this, and told them i just wanted to apologize and that i loved them. they said that they were sorry, too, but that the timing made them "suspicious," i assume because they know i've been extremely depressed and lonely lately (i just moved to college without any of my best friends and have been making vent posts about it on my main personal blog).

i know it wasn't the intention, but it made me feel like they were using my mental illness against me yet AGAIN, and i stopped apologizing. as i'm typing this i'm trying to decide whether to block them. but i feel like shit about the whole thing, because i was responsible for the formation of their ED, and i feel like i should be able to handle whatever anger they have towards me for that without getting my feelings hurt and being petty. i don't know. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #eating disorder cw

[lostelfwriting]

Bury Me with a Rose, We Both Have Thorns (Prologue)

Rating: Explicit

AO3 Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Death & Dream, Dream & Hob, Dream/Hob Gadling

Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Death of the Endless, Hob Gadling, Jessamy, Matthew, Corinthian, Lucienne

Additional Tags: NO Major Character Death, Hanahaki Disease, Terminal Illnesses, Thoughts about death and dying, Decaying Health, Refusing Treatment, Strong Language, Unrequited Love, Enemies to ?, Past Minor Characters Death(s), Protective Death of the Endless, Doctor Human!Death of the Endless, Alternate Universe - Human, Tattoo Artist Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Flower Shop Owner Hob Gadling, Blood, Angst with a Happy Ending

Word count: 32k

I'm posting the whole work here on the 1st of March, but I strongly reccommend you read it on AO3, where I will be posting one chapter per day. Either way, click Read More or go to AO3 to read the Prologue!

Written for the event @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang. With beautiful art by @five-and-dimes!

It is a slow day at the studio, so while he is waiting for his next appointment, Dream is – like he does almost all of his free time – sketching new tattoo designs to add to his portfolio and listening to music loud enough to completely shut out his own thoughts. He is sketching a snake, having no doubt that it will catch someone’s eye. There is always someone who wants a tattoo of a snake. He pauses to look at his progress and ends up snorting in disbelief.

The drawing is truly a snake, but the reptile is weaving among the stems of flowers instead of a dead branch like Dream had intended. And they are ugly flowers at that. He is pretty sure that he gave a pot of those flowers to his secondary school teacher, who always called him Murphy, even though he hated that nickname. He can’t resist snapping a picture of the flowers with his phone and trying to look up what they are, but once he finds the name – cyclamen – he refuses to look up their meaning. It would surely be something stupid, like forbidden love, or maybe hopelessness.

Even the snake’s scales seem to actually be made of flower petals, and Dream rolls his eyes as he flips the page of his sketchbook. The downside to trying to tune his mind out is that he doesn’t notice when his subconsciousness begins to interfere with his process, and it has led to many flowery paintings in the past months. With a sigh, he starts copying the usable parts of the design onto another page until an insistent thought makes him pause mid-movement.

Just a few weeks ago, he would have been furious if this had happened. He used to tear those ruined sketches to pieces and then go outside into the late winter chill and glare at every passing person who dared to look his way. He wished they all felt as bad as he did, and most of all, his neighbour with his shop opposite Dream’s studio, with its bright, flowery logo.

Today’s drawing incident feels like just a small inconvenience. He feels zero anger, though he might still opt to destroy the sketch later, just for the miniscule satisfaction that the action will bring him. Or maybe he will keep it. Pin it to the wall next to his bed and look at it every night. He will look at the ugly flowers and realise with wry amusement and aching hollowness that he has finally accepted his fate.

He, Morpheus Endeles, is going to die.

He thinks about it and waits for anger or grief to appear, but they don’t. Good. He was getting sick of the self-pity. It has been months since he noticed the first symptom – the occasional cough – as something seemed to tickle his throat, easily blamed on a bit of dust. And then, a bit later, when he lay awake late at night and everything around him was quiet, he heard the soft rustle of leaves as he breathed. He didn’t need a doctor to tell him that he had the Hanahaki Disease. He tears the ruined sketch out and shreds it into tiny pieces, enjoying the bit of satisfaction that it brings him. Maybe he is still harbouring some badly suppressed anger. He doesn’t need a fortune teller to tell him that he has no chance of getting affection from the person he hopelessly loves. Because it is his neighbour, the owner of The White Rose, Robert Gadling, a straight man who rightfully dislikes Dream.

+*+*+*+*+

Cyclamen: resignation and good-bye

#my writing #bury me with a rose #centennial husbands big bang #dreamling #hanahaki disease #angst #happy ending

[moralesmilesanhour]

my neighbor's a punk

summary: you move into a new apartment with a noisy neighbor. inspired by this prompt list! wc: 922 A/N: just wrote this for some practice. I'm getting better at writing longer drabbles, I think! As always feel free to reblog and leave your reactions in the tags or comments. As of the date this is being posted, my requests are also open! (pls check my pinned beforehand)

You had never seen a garden so beautiful.

Vibrant blossoms of yellow and orange greeted you as you hauled two medium-sized boxes carrying the last of your things through the entrance of your new apartment. Their fragrance wafted through the humid summer air, delighting you and confirming that they were, in fact, real. But for the past couple of days that you had been in the process of moving in, you’d never once spotted a gardener or seen the sprinklers turn on. Curious.

The modest apartment had only a couch to occupy the living room, which was currently still dotted with cardboard boxes. A freshly-ironed shirt and work pants lay neatly folded on top of one. You stepped over a few to get to the kitchen, where various unopened appliances were strewn about the counter. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, you made a note to finally put everything away in the cupboards tomorrow evening after work.

No TV meant your only sources of entertainment for the time being were your phone and your laptop. It was now evening, and you were slouched on your sofa in the midst of a harrowing ‘Game of Thrones’ episode when a violent guitar riff ripped through the air and made you jump.

These thin-ass walls…

Whoever was playing (very well, you might add) seemed to be next door, so it didn’t take long to follow the sound to the correct number. You knocked impatiently and rang the doorbell too, for good measure. It took a minute for the music to come to a halt before the sound of heavy footsteps approached the door and you heard it unlock.

Once the door creaked open, you weren’t sure where to look first.

Your eyes darted back and forth between the array of piercings on your neighbor’s face and dangling from his ears, the wicks styled to shoot out from his head like an explosion, and his bright red plaid pants before landing on a pair of large eyes set deeply within a dark, angular face.

Judging by the way his pierced brow quirked up in amusement, you weren’t the first to give him a weird look, and wouldn’t be the last.

You remembered how to speak.

“Oh, um- hey,” you began, “I live next door, and I heard you playing–”

The young man’s face lights up and he interrupts, “Oh, d’you like it? It’s a song I’ve been workin’ on for the past few weeks. Finally got the bridge down.”

You blinked. 

“I mean…it’s not bad. It’s great, even, but–”

“Say, I haven’t seen you around before,” he pointed. “You new here?”

The man spoke with a strong Cockney accent, you noticed, with a tinge of something else that made a couple of vowels run together.

“...Yes, I moved in two days ago,” you sighed. “Now that that’s out of the way, I was about to ask if you could maybe play a lil’ quieter? You’re very loud.”

The realization seemed to dawn on him that you weren’t here to applaud his sick guitar riffs, and he winced. You almost felt bad for disappointing him, but you had a show to binge.

“Ah shit, my fault. Got too used to playing on full volume after the last neighbor moved out,” With a hand placed over his chest, he promised, “Won’t happen again.”

You nodded with a tight smile. 

“Thanks. Goodnight,” you said as you turned to leave.

The next few days were quieter, though you could still hear the neighbor’s guitar through the walls at a much more manageable volume. Sometimes you would hear the man humming to himself in his baritone voice. Eventually, you were so used to it that you found yourself falling asleep to the sound.

One Saturday morning, though, you awoke to the peculiar sound of silence. Normally by now you’d be hearing the first few chords of…whatever the guy was working on, then he’d reach the end by mid-afternoon. Part of you wanted to check up on him, but reason held you back; you’d only spoken to him once. Maybe he was just taking an off day.

Unable to return to sleep, you decided to shower and take a walk outside while the air was still comfortably cool.

As soon as the early morning sun hit your face, a familiar head of hair came into view.

There stood your neighbor–band t-shirt and all–in the garden in front of the apartment. Watering the flowers.

Mystery solved.

“So you’re the reason the plants haven’t died yet,” you laughed, causing his head to snap up.

He grinned, and lifted his watering can proudly. “Sure am. Bring some color into the place.”

“I thought it was awful quiet around here,” you remarked. You toyed with the hem of your t-shirt. “How’s the, uh…song going?”

Something between delight and surprise graced his features and made him look boyish. 

He smiled, revealing a crooked front tooth as he replied, “Almost done with it, actually.”

There was silence for a beat, and the both of you shifted awkwardly where you stood. 

Suddenly, a lightbulb went off. 

“Mind playing it for me when you’re done?”

The tall man seemed about ready to run laps around the block at the suggestion.

Quickly setting his watering can down, he replied, “Thought you’d never ask, mate!”

He jogged his way around the perimeter of the garden and over to you. “Can I get your name while we’re at it?”

“Y/N.” You stuck out your hand, and he shook it.

“Hobie.”

#hobie brown x black!reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown fic #hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown x gender neutral reader #atsv x reader #moralesanhour