#if I do this again I might see about a brush pack to make it go a bit faster 😆

[watchmegetobsessed]

MAD MAN

A/N: he looked like a snack, his ce vibes were too strong to hold them back

base of the idea was by @harrysblackcoat

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

SUMMARY: You came to the game to forget about the massive fight you had with Harry a few days ago, but your alone time is soon interrupted by the man you've been trying to avoid.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

You weren’t planning to come today. Well, you were, until about four days ago, but then the whole ordeal happened with Harry and suddenly you didn’t want to do anything else than stay at home, cry or either sleep until you forget about the shit you both said. 

It was nasty. You don’t even remember how it started, maybe it was because he got home too late, or was it because you couldn’t choose a restaurant again and it always drives him crazy.

You have no idea what started it, you only remember how bad it got. Screaming, shouting, saying the worst things you ever did and probably neither of you meant. But you said them and you can’t take them back. 

Maybe packing your stuff and leaving wasn’t your best idea, but you needed time and space. Harry has been blowing your phone up ever since, but you feel like you need just a little bit more time away from him to think about… well, the two of you. 

You’ve had the ticket for months and you didn’t have the heart to miss out on the game just because of what happened. So you pulled yourself out of your depression cave, aka your old apartment you still haven’t sold since moving in with Harry and came to the game. Now you’re sitting in your usual seat, waiting for it to start while trying your best to keep him out of your thoughts at least until the end. 

Looking across the stadium you see the VIP section and immediately, you fail at not thinking about him, because you think of how he is the kind of man that would be standing there, sipping on something fancy and expensive. 

Groaning you turn your attention to your drink, playing with the straw, but then you remember the time you explained to Harry why this is your favorite seat in the stadium.

“Okay, enlighten me, baby,” he smirked at you, pulling you to his lap after pushing himself away from his desk.

“It’s close to the exit, I can leave before the crowd gets moving, the toilet is 20 seconds away and the line is always short, because the one by the F stairs is more popular. And…” You peaked at him, checking if he was still listening and there he was, giving you his undivided attention with a cheesy smirk on his handsome face. “And the drinks are better in the buffet that’s behind.”

“Better?” he chuckled. “Baby, they are the same.”

“Nope,” you shook your head. “It’s less… watery.”

“Mm, if you say so,” he smirked and then kissed you, making you forget about what you were talking about just a moment ago.

You need to blink your tears away. You promised yourself you wouldn’t be crying during this game, that you wouldn’t think about how much you miss him and how even despite the fight you love him more than anyone. 

You dig into your bag for a tissue, right when someone tries to squeeze past you to their seat. The tall man inches into the row, his long coat brushing your knees while you’re still elbow deep in your bag and you faintly register that he sits beside you. 

“Here,” he deep voice speaks up beside you and you know who it is even before his hand moves into your view, holding out a tissue. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask, taking the tissue without looking at him. 

“Why do people come to football matches?” he asks back and you can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “I’m here because you wouldn’t answer the phone.”

“That might mean that I don’t want to talk to you,” you casually reply, staring ahead of you.

Harry exhales sharply beside you and his knee presses against yours, making you gasp.

“Y/N, I hope you didn’t think I would just let you slip out of my hands like that, right? We need to talk.”

“And you thought a football game would be the best place for that?” 

“This seems to be the only way to get you to talk to me, so yeah.”

“How did you even know I would be sitting here?”

“Because you told me this is your favorite seat.”

“I did not. I just told you I have one, I never told you it’s this one.”

You sit in silence for a bit, trying to figure out if maybe you did tell him the exact seat, but you get to the same point: you didn’t.

“I never told you, so how did you know?” you ask and finally look at him. His beauty strikes you, as always, the chiseled jawline, the slope of his nose, the curly lashes, he still takes your breath away. 

He runs his tongue across his lips and then looks at you.

“The drink,” he then finally says.

“What?”

“The drink. It really is better here.” You watch him and he continues. “I tried… I tried them all in the stadium and it really is less watery.”

He tried them all. He went around the stadium and tried them all to figure out where you’re sitting. 

“Now that you’re listening to me, can we talk?” he then asks with a soft smile. “Or it could be just me speaking, but I really want to tell you what I’ve been thinking about the past few days.”

“Okay,” you breathe out. “Talk then.”

His gaze lingers on your face, as if he is taking in every tiny detail before speaking up again.

“I fucked up, Y/N. I said all those terrible things in the heat of the moment and I regretted them right away. I didn’t mean any of them.”

“Not even when you said that all I do is get on your nerves?” you find yourself asking.

“You do get on my nerves, Y/N,” he says and you’re just about to open your mouth, but he is quick to continue. “You make me go crazy in the best way possible. With your silly dancing in the kitchen, the way you sing every song with the wrong lyrics and swear your version is the right. When you get mad at me for using words you don’t know the meaning of, or when you put me in my place when I’m being a total ass… you make me go crazy… for you.”

Your eyes are tearing up again and when his hand moves to your knee you lean closer to him, wanting more of his touch instantly. 

“I love you, Y/N. I never thought I could love someone this much, but you just always prove me wrong,” he chuckles softly and your hand finds his on your leg, your fingers locking together. “Please come back. I’m nothing without you. Come back and get on my nerves every day because I want to be a mad man, but only if it’s you who makes me crazy.”

Now you’re fighting the urge to cry like a baby. You love this man and you can’t imagine a day when you won’t. 

“I’m sorry too,” you whisper, tears rolling down your cheeks. He reaches up and wipes them with his thumb. “I didn’t mean it when I said you must be fucking all your assistants at work.”

“That hurt,” he smiles bitterly.

“I just… I still wonder why you chose me,” you admit with a shrug. 

“Because you’re the one for me,” he simply answers, as if it was the most obvious thing ever. You take a deep breath and exhale it shakily before leaning in and kissing him. The game starts right when your lips meet, but all the screaming and clapping tunes out as you’re back in the arms of the man you love. 

“Do you want to move to the VIP section?” you ask. 

“Nope,” he smirks down at you. “This really is the best seat.”

“See? I told you!” chuckling, you just pull him in for another kiss before making yourself comfortable with his arm around your shoulders.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

[tootiecakes234]

Warning: NSFW

Character aged up

You ask Katsuki if you can paint his PP🤭:

“No! Get the hell away from me!” And he starts walking away from you.

“But Katsuki! I’d make it so pretty. I already have a vision in mind. I want to paint it into a microphone! Maybe sing a song into it.” You say following behind him, positive you aren’t helping your situation.

“Y/N if you don’t get away from me right now, we are breaking up. I’m packing my shit and leaving and you’ll never see me ever again! I meant it.” And he plops down on the couch with an exaggerated groan. “You’ve lost your entire fucking mind, smooth brain.”

You know you’re gonna have to grovel for this one. You try to slide yourself onto his lap, but he pushes you off and you bounce a little on the couch cushions.

“No, you’re not kissing and snuggling your way into this. I’m not letting you practice your goddamn painting skills on my dick. Where do you even come up with this shit?” He says now looking at you with wide, concerned eyes.

“Well I was scrolling on TikTok-“

“And there it goes. I’m not even surprised.”

You lean over and run your hands over the his wide chest and buff arms.

“‘Suki when you think about, a microphone is only two colors. Black and grey. It would only take me like 5 minutes.” And then you start pressing kisses to his neck. “Pretty please. I’ll even hop in the shower with you after and help you clean up.” There’s a sultry lilt to your voice. This is something you pull out all the weapons in your arsenal for.

“Y/N i go along with a lot of your dumbass ideas, but I’m drawing the line. No paint on my d-dick. Fuck, cut it out.” You had slipped your hands down his stomach and right under the shorts he had on.

“But it’ll be easier to paint if its hard Kat, don’t ya think?” You whisper up against his ear. You run your thumb over the top and smear the precum over his slit.

“Ugghhh. I hate you, you know that.” He groans really low.

“Mmmmhhh. Pretty please,” you say and stroke down to the base of his cock and then back up. “With a cherry on top.”

“You have 10 f-fucking minutes! And that paint better be safe for skin or I swear to god!” He shouts at you.

You’re up and off the couch before he can even finish that sentence and within a minute you’re back with the paint you already had prepared and brushes.

You get down on your knees, in between his legs, and place your supplies on the ground next you. For him to be so against it, he’s already pulled off his shirt and underwear. He’s accepted his fate.

“Okay, if any of the brushes are uncomfortable or the paints don’t feel good, let me know k?” You say looking up at him.

This man has his arms crossed over his chest and he’s glaring daggers into you.

“What the hell ever woman. Hurry up, your time’s tickin.”

So you pick up a big fluffy brush and dip it into the black paint before you start working on the base of his dick.

As soon as the brush touches against his skin Katsuki screams bloody murder. Its scared the hell out of you and you’re surprised at yourself that you don’t drop the damn brush and get paint everywhere.

When you look up at him to ask him what’s wrong the bastard has a smirk on his goddamn face his shoulder are shaking because he’s holding in his laughter.

“You should’ve seen yourself. Your entire body took a screenshot. I thought you might go into shock.” Now he’s outwardly laughing loud as fuck.

He thinks he’s such a comedian. Well too bad for him because we’re a freakin party clown.

While he’s still laughing you bend down and take the head of his cock in your mouth and swirl your tongue all over it.

His laugh is cut short and you look up to see him squeezing his eyes shut. You pull your head back up and give him a sweet smile.

“So now, how about you cut out the jokes and let me focus on my masterpiece.” And you hear him grumble back some kind of rude response but you take that as an understanding.

You breathe and try to gain your composure before you start back on the task in front of you. You again start at the base of his cock and then do long stokes upwards until you get right below the shroomed tip.

You’re about halfway through when you notice his cock twitching and leaking pre all over.

Oh my gosh he likes this. Or it at least feels good because damn. When you look up at him there’s a blush covering his face and his lips are tight like he’s trying to hold in sounds that might escape. His eyes though are trained on the brush in your hand as you work.

You were about to speak when he cut you off, “Don’t. Just hurry up and finish”

“Yes sir” you say slyly as your start working on the other side.

“Ok. Base is done. Now the tip, I know how sensitive you are so I’ll try to be gentle.” And now you’re the one with a smirk on your face. “Look I can’t paint correctly if there’s precum constantly leaking up here.”

“The fuck do you want me to do. I’m not making it leak out on purpose.” He rolls his eyes at, throws his head back and uses his arm to cover his face. Hes not quick enough to cover the blush that’s dusting his cheeks.

It’s so funny that he still get embarrassed in front of you. You take your thumb and lightly run it over the top to pick up as much pre as possible then you pop it in your mouth. Then you get to work.

You dab lightly around it and make sure to avoid the opening. You hear Katsuki’s breath become more ragged.

“Ok, I’m all done. Take a look.” He removes his arms and leans his head back up. You see that his eyes are blown but you try to ignore it for now. “Do you see the vision?”

“This is so dumb.” Is the only answer you get from him.

Next thing you know you’ve wrapped your hand around it and you start singing. “ANNNNDDDDD IIIIIIIII—eeeee-IIIIII will always love Y-“

You’re cut off because he’s gotten up grabbing you with him and now you’re thrown over his shoulder.

“I’m done with this. Not about to watch you sing Karaoke into my penis. You promised me a shower.”he says as he starts striding toward the bathroom.

“But I wasn’t done! I wanted to take pictures and maybe rap a verse or two. Kats wait dammit.”

“No. I was nice. I let you play and have your fun. Now it’s my turn to play around and have some fun.” You can hear the smug grin on his face.

You take this opportunity and slap his naked ass hard asf. You were right outside the bathroom door and the jerk sets you on your feet so quickly you feel like you’re gonna fall.

“You’re gonna pay for that brat.”

And oh do you pay for it.😭

Katsuki Masterlist

Tags: @dreamcastgirl99 @i-literally-cant-with-this @xxvendettaxx @justbepeace @moonpieshawdy @theloveofnagiseishiroslife

*I have a tag list. Let me know if you wanna be added💕🤗

#tootietalks #imagine #bakugou x reader #mha fanfiction #bakugou drabble #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #drabble #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugo headcanons #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki smut #katsuki smut #katsuki bakugo smut #bnha katsuki #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugou #katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #bakugo

[anantaru]

— you ask him "can i sit on your lap?"

including heizou, lyney, wriothesley, alhaitham x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, established relationship, a tiny bit suggestive towards the end (wriothesley's part, basically the last paragraph hints at something suggestive)

— heizou

the door to heizou's office was closed behind you two, leaving the rest of the world outside as you laid on a couch while he was practically glued to his office-desk— his countenance focused, absorbed in the current case he was working on.

to some, it might appear as boring when you both spend time like that, but to you it was the exact opposite— not only were you able to work on your own stuff in his office, in fact, you're not getting distracted by anything there, but heizou will always spend the night at your place after he was done with work.

although sometimes, you catch yourself become bored once you've finished up everything you had to do yourself, and immediately decide to walk towards his desk, your eyes holding a secret glow only he was able to understand.

"how far are you?" you ask, "already cracked the case?" tilting your head to the sight before lazily leaning against his desk.

heizou smirks before brushing one hand through his tousled hair, "almost done, heh, i'm almost there,"

you know— you know, you shouldn't bother him while he was busy with solving this case, but watching him actually do it was very much attractive. it's constant in his behavior, your boyfriend was just effortlessly handsome when he skimmed over a case, never seeing the glass as half full— he see it brimming to the top, filled with all his brilliance. 

to add on to that, the both of you couldn't be apart from each other for a long time anyways, it was like watching two magnets, pushing and pulling until they finally clicked back into place.

"can i sit on your lap?" you say in a whispered utterance that was setting his heart ablaze, "i want to watch you solve it," and the way you spoke to him in that sound, heizou's facial features instantly turn softly into kindness, a carefree laugh attached to him.

"you don't have to ask, come here."

heizou instantly makes space for you before guiding you towards his lap, and an immediate rush of warm air rises when he wraps his arms around you, the tension roiling and manifesting into heart-shaped clouds.

now, as a result of being so close to your boyfriend, his slightly sweet fragrance overruns your senses when you rest your head against his shoulder, sighing out through your mouth.

"you wanna help me solve this case, hm?" the man snickers as his palm smoothes along your thigh, "i will do whatever you want if you solve it before me,"

"i can try," you claim confidently and shift on his lap.

a gleeful light falls into his deep, black pupils when you agree, his lips curved up into a smile, "but don't get mad if i beat you!"

— lyney

"see? that's how you hide a card and make it appear again,"

lyney moves his fingers around the pack of cards with such frightening precision that you could evidently witness with fierce clarity that, well, you cannot possibly memorize this magic trick with the confused blur in your eyes— despite the fact that he has shown you the exact same trick three times in a row now.

you sigh out in defeat, your eyes skimming over his hands as you're both sitting on the couch next to each other, "I still don't get it," your words were breathless but liquid with embarrassment, even though there was nothing to be embarrassed about— because you see, lyney would never reveal a trick to anybody, not even to his significant other.

after all, it's a magicians greatest strength to keep their cunning mischiefs hidden away.

in fact, he only offered to show you because he really liked that befuddled look on your face, he finds it so cute, pretty and sweet.

a somewhat devious, but calm smile hovers on his face as he watches you in awe, one hand now lingering on your arm, a silent plea for you to stay.

"hm, you know what? let me look at it from a different view," you grin before tenderly kissing his cheek, "it's difficult watching from the side like that, you know?" then place a small peck on his jaw before working yourself towards his soft lips at last.

"can i sit on your lap?" you say and lyney almost whines at your request, a pretty sparkle on your eyes worsening his condition, your voice barely above a whisper.

on a surface level, you were dating lyney for quite a while now and were utterly aware that he was probably trying to confuse you with his magic tricks, and although you do not welcome it, you also did not mind because letting him confuse you wasn't necessarily a bad thing— since lyney would always become so confident and loving, not to mention excited to show and tell you more about his passion.

he blushes a little, an emotion such as this one was probably one of the only ones a magician of his caliber was unable to disguise.

"of course," lyney takes a deep breath before straightening his posture out, parting his arms so you could easily settle on his lap.

once you're on his lap, he kisses your shoulder before resting his head in the nook of your neck, "i'll start over now, you ready?"

"i am!" you retort back, "i will get it this time," as a lazy smirk spreads across your face before you begin to melt into his embrace.

— wriothesley

for you to be able to see each other as often as possible, you tend to visit wriothesley at work every now and then— sometimes you feel quite lonely since your boyfriend was always occupied with his job, so when you open the door to his office at last, he holds a benevolent presence on his demeanor, mirth possessing his eyes at the pure look of you walking into the room.

and to make this situation even sweeter, wriothesley shows you a tight-lipped, tender smile on his attractive face, delving into the soothing energy you always brought forth in him.

time seemed to stand still as your eyes met, and wriothesley immediately rises from his seat, cheeks flushing brightly, "you're finally here," his voice jovial-alike, so jovial that it set your entire tone for the day, "i was waiting for you, love,"

his walk was quick as he could barely wait to hug you— in fact, you honestly applaud him for how impossibly fast he has reached you as two muscular arms wrap around your body in no time, a silent language of shared passion being spoken.

"i'm sorry that i have kept you waiting, i'm a bit late, aren't i?" with a meaningful smile, you cup his cheeks before stroking the skin with your thumb.

lost in your eyes, wriothesley watches you through a soft look of through his thick lashes, "—oh, yeah? you did? i couldn't tell."

"but now that you're mentioning it, hm, how brave of you to keep me waiting like that," wriothesley utters in a fooling timbre, "—knowing that I've missed you all day," he continues to tease you before guiding you towards his desk by your hand.

on a normal day, the duke would offer you to sit on his office chair just because he finds it cute and somewhat hilarious— in fact, your cuteness in general was off the charts, it practically had its own gravitational pull.

you do not sit down and instead wrap your arms around his neck, "looks like someone's not quite perfect after all," wriothesley jokes in a tone that was warm and inviting, eliciting an immediate laugh from you.

you pout at him, "hey! if that's the case i'm taking my apology back right now,"

half jokingly, you avert your gaze as to tease him for once, although his overconfidence was like a blazing torch, nothing was capable to rush through it.

wriothesley keeps a prolonged eye contact with you so he could intensify the triumph over this situation, watching how you're crumbling first and losing the game, a playful wink adding a touch of humor to his jest.

"ouch, my love, you heart my heart crack right now?" the duke knits his eyebrows together as he kisses your forehead, his voice light with a hint of playfulness.

you roll your eyes, "hmpf, that's what you get."

the air was charged with a gentle, bubbly energy as wriothesley slightly pushes his office chair towards your direction to make you sit down— he believed you must be tired from today, in fact, the night was slowly approaching and he could tell by how often you'd yawn out.

you look at the chair before searching for your boyfriends eyes again, "is it okay if i sit on your lap instead?" you ask shyly, "i want to watch you work," certainly, that look on your face told him all he needed to know,

"—and cuddle," especially with that twinkle in your eyes.

"you sure? i might be unable to sit still," he grins, leaning closer to your ear before pulling you on to his lap, "make sure to keep your eyes wide open for me, no sleeping," wriothesley kisses your cheek, his voice a soft murmur that boiled the blood in your veins.

"working with me can be quite the handful, you know," he claims confidently, yet you weren't new to your boyfriend's manner of speaking— because you see, in secret he was hinting at something way different than you simply sitting on his lap.

— alhaitham

eyes fluttering shut, you lean against alhaitham's shoulder while your knee would nudge against his own ever so often, swaying from left to right.

it's this particular hour of the day again, where your boyfriend would read to you in the park, it's a simple date yet the both of you preferred it above everything else— it's the vibrancy of various petals decorating the nature that was boldly unique to you, surrounding your bodies so delicately and pure that you couldn't help yourself but feel weary due to the dainty scenery.

for some reason, you cannot keep your eyes open this time but proceeded to give your utmost best to keep your fatigue hidden from the scribe's eyes— granting the fact that he had figured it out the second he saw you.

it was utterly unfair, that's what it was, because there was nothing you cherished more then spending time with your boyfriend like that, in midst the sounds of cooing pigeons in the garden as  sun washes the garden with a golden glow.

alhaitham liked it to, especially reading his favorite books to you was something he thought was beneficial to the both of you. most importantly, he noticed how he was igniting an inner smile in your soul, that kind that burns warm and long, he loves that smile, he couldn't possibly become satiated by it ever.

in a fleeting moment, he places his warm palm against your knee, "hey, you're falling asleep," he claims, a little stoic, "we should head home so you can rest,"

no, please no, you yell inwardly before rubbing your eyes— every ounce of your remaining strength was dedicated to maintaining your eyes open and stay within this scenery a little longer.

"it's okay, i am fine, i promise," you panic, then yawn, yikes, what a way for your body to go behind your back.

hand in hand with your weary state of mind, you move your body before standing up to reclaim your energy, "you can keep reading to me, please, it was getting interesting,"

you're attempting to salvage just an ounce of this date, your eyebrows knitting together in displeasure as you yawn out again.

"i love listening to you."

"there's no point in that if you're falling asleep,"

alhaitham takes your hand, delicately pulling your body towards his own as to inspect your fatigued expression, "we can postpone this, the book isn't running anywhere and neither am i," he smiles gently, silently running his thumb along your knuckles so you'd calm yourself down a little, his homely trace sending a shiver down your spine.

without dissembling anything, it wasn't the book you feared to miss out on— in fact, it was about alhaitham himself. as the scribe of the akademiya he had always been busy and it could become very difficult to plan dates in advance.

to note that even after he might finish up his duties for the day a little earlier, he preferred to stay within the warm confines of his home which you did not mind either.

"alhaitham?" you heave out, something unspoken yet profound being exchanged as your body tests the waters by moving forward, "can i sit on your lap? that way i will surely stay awake, i promise."

alhaitham cocks a curious brow at you, "oh, you will?" he inquires as you nod your head, "in that case, please be my guest,"

the scribe shuffles in his seat as he spreads his legs a little, waiting for you to sit on his lap as one of his hands guide you down while the other held on to the beige-colored book.

the scribe looks at you through thick eyelashes, his face wholly relaxed as you loop one arm around his shoulders to steady yourself, your  lips contorting into a deep, happy smile.

"are you comfortable enough?" he asks as you shift your weight from one leg to another, "very much, thank you."

alhaitham holds you by your waist, strong enough that you could leisurely lean back without fearing of actually dropping on the ground. after figuring out a comfortable setting for the both of you, he flips his book open with one hand as your body subconsciously heats up at his tender palm rubbing circles on your waist.

a cool breeze swirls around you both when he resumes to the book like nothing has changed at all, his choice in tone dignified and unwavering as he reads the first paragraph to you, smiling at your sweet face when he notices how you were drifting into a much deeper sleep.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #heizou x reader #wriothesley x reader #alhaitham x reader #lyney x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact drabbles #genshin drabbles #lyney x you #wriothesley x you #alhaitham x you #heizou x you #wriothesley fluff #alhaitham fluff #al haitham x reader #lyney fluff

[fauustic]

late night bubble bath

((oh yeah the brainrot has hit HARD!!! IM IN LOVE!!! please send me asks / requests about miguel o’hara i might just melt ...))

gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

comfort, fluff. a needy miguel who is just a big kitty.

warnings: mention of wounds, very little blood. taking care of him after a night of insomnia. use of spanish pet names, yet a translator helped me because my spanish isn’t the best. lmk if i missed anything!

word count: 3027

A sigh escapes your lips as you shakily grasp the cup of water along your bedside table. You weren't one to have intense insomnia, yet the anxiety bubbling within your gut served as a painful reminder that you haven't been blessed with a moment of shuteye.

Was it something you had forgotten? You ran through a mental checklist that consisted of taking after Miguel's late nights, and not a single chore was unfinished.

Leftovers for dinner could be found neatly packed away in the place he always checks in the fridge, so there was no need for your love returning from work hungry and tired. Today's laundry was already fluffed and ironed, which will make it easier to begin the upcoming morning. Miguel mentioned off-handedly to you how an important board meeting at his lab had been stressing him out, so you couldn't help but surprise him when he got back home even if it was just prepared outfits.

You leaned back against your pillow before rolling towards Miguel's side of your queen sized bed. You felt so jumpy, your hands itching to do anything. Nights like these you craved Miguel's presence tenfold, as he would be snuggled right in your arms, smoothing the stress out from the tips of your fingers through a careful massage. You could remember the sleepy rambles he'd murmur into the air over the ambience of the television, "Pasar tiempo contigo, brillante. Encantador. Mi pequeño amor. Could bask in your presence always, mi conejito." Miguel would whisper into your ears with a cute sleepiness, peppering your jaw with his lips. It's almost as if he was right beside you, brushing his thumb against your skin as he held your hands.

Thinking so fondly of your boyfriend's habits soothed the anxiety of your insomnia as you tried to remind yourself that he always stays safe and remembers you love him. Once coming home for the first time from work, he can't help but smother you in kisses and silly pet names, showering you in soft reminders of how much love and affection he has for you. And then the second time of the night, he'd do the same thing under different circumstances. It had happened the night before, and it'll happen again. 

Miguel, soft groans escaping his bruised lips, would come through the balcony of your shared apartment that stored your little collection of flowers and greenery, slip through the door you always made sure to crack, and wake you up in the dead of the night to be bandaged and treated by your caring touch with hushed pleas. Whispering sweet things, neediness in every touch. "I missed you, cariño. Been waiting to see your pretty face all day, can I kiss you? P-please, let me kiss you." 

And so you did, resting your fingers on his shoulders and slowly trailing up until they cupped his bloodied face by the jaw. Then, you'd painstakingly kiss him until his blood would mix with spit, his fangs desperately wanting to sink into your tongue. 

Getting so caught up in your little dream, the blaring of a shrill beeping car down below your apartment startled you. Interrupting the glass upon your lips, it spilled onto your nightgown with a gasp.

"Fuck.." you mumbled to yourself, missing your boyfriend more than ever. Changing in a rush, you pulled over one of his flimsy lounge shirts over your head to bask in his smell as a reminder of his presence.

Nueva York was a city that didn't sleep, as the chatter of passersby rang through busy traffic. Bars down below thrived under the limelight, people not in their right mind hid in the shadows of skyscrapers. 

You wondered what Miguel could be doing right now. Scouting the vibrant lights as his claws dug into the beam of a building? Knocking someone senseless under the conditions of justice? Saving a civilian as they fall from great heights? 

Wondering made you sick, the anxiety bubbling in your stomach as if you were the one downing margaritas and cocktails in a scummy bar down below. You needed to distract yourself. So you did anything an adult on a late night would do.

So when you finally came to your senses, you slapped a flour dusted hand over your mouth and groaned.

Apron tied to your waist, hair in a loose bun– nothing too serious, in fact you appreciated how this style still kept your androgynous but still staying practical. Wisps of hair straying from the hold would cloud your vision every now and then, which you'd have to blow out of the way subconsciously while preparing the whipped frosting. The TV, distantly able to still be heard from the living room, echoed quietly through the apartment with an ambience that lulled you to a calm. It was the news, you couldn't help yourself due to late night paranoia, but your hands were busy and your attention was snatched away from your beloved creation.

You've truly outdone yourself this time, you decide as you watch the oven in front of you with an exhausted gaze and a yawn. The kitchen was messy with egg residue and splashes of water and vinegar oil, the clock on the microwave read "2:49" in the morning. It was a kind of chaos you normally wouldn't find yourself to, as Miguel loved a schedule, a routine. It wasn't as if he didn't want you to have your fun, far from that, he simply just loved doing whatever was eventful with you. And you couldn't help but find baking amusing as you observed the small cakes in the shaped pans inflate as time went on.

You found yourself in the middle of your small apartment kitchen floor, sleepily peering into the oven until that sleepiness shifted into fully dozing off. It couldn't be helped, crashing so hard after pulling off a mission to pump out more than a dozen cupcakes, half chocolate batter and the rest strawberry flavoring. Thankfully, you were able to stay awake long enough to take the cakes out to cool, but as soon as the oven made the beep to turn off– the couch was the closest thing to fall into a needed rest.

It's hard to know how long you had exactly fallen asleep for, yet the frantic arms encompassing your form must have been any kind of indicator. It was a startle to wake from, as your mouth couldn't keep quiet before your brain began working. 

"Eeugh! I- God Miguel, you scared me so badly–" You heaved into his shoulder as he practically slumped on top of you, whispering his usual panicky tangents he'd spew after returning from his late nights. 

"Lo siento, lo siento mucho." Miguel buried his face into your neck, nose pushing against your pulse. "Would never purposely scare you, mi lucero del alba. But not seeing you in bed, that made me feel… not like myself." Miguel confessed with a shaky breath and a pause, breathing in the floury smell and just you, swearing a purr erupted from his throat. "Would have fallen on the floor of our apartment if you weren't here, in my arms.  "Te necesito más que al propio aire, baby."

A subtle smile peeked through his tone despite the desperation, the longing in his touch. His forearms pushed against your back ever so slightly, reminding himself that you're here. That you're safe. His hands met your sides, thumbs circling in a soothing motion. You knew it calmed him down to trace shapes within your skin, but you wouldn't be lying if you said you loved the burn of his touch when he isn't even truly doing anything on purpose. It was as if the warmth of his finger tips ignited into flames, searing his touch into you. You'll never be able to forget each circle, heart, or even a very rare star traced into your skin, accompanying every freckle or birthmark you have. Every part of you is adored, loved, cherished. 

"I'm going to be here, waiting for you. No matter where you are or where I have to be."

"I hope so." Miguel hummed, "If anything happens to you," His claws found themselves underneath his shirt that you wore to bed that night, trailing your sides like handing a delicate doll. "Tengo miedo de lo que pueda hacerles. For you I'd do anything." 

His body didn't feel suffocating to be lying beneath, as he cradled the both of you to be meeting halfway. It was heartwarming, being clung to like a teddy bear by a man who's trying to hold up an entire city with his own two hands.

You realized his suit was only partially off, head uncovered as well as part of his chest– the suit clung to his waist like a lifeline. Needing to see his soft little smile that he held so selfishly against your neck, you led his face to be held over yours. A soft whine escaped his lips, missing the warmth your neck provided, but a quick hush quieted himself easily.

"Don't act like a sad puppy, my love." You whispered into his lips, breath fanning an old cut just underneath. Inspecting the damage, Miguel's eyes fluttered shut as you smoothed over the stress lines between his eyebrows. Not too rough today, expect a few cuts and bruises. So in your terms and conditions, today may even be considered a great day. "Aww, look at you. You did so well today, didn't you?" Awarding him with a kiss, Miguel melted into you like a weighted blanket.

Both hands cupping his jaw, you held him there for a long while, relishing in the moments of peace and quiet with him. Peppering quick, feathery kisses over his lips and gliding over cheekbones and freckles upon the nose, kissing the stress line you smoothed out, before doing the routine all over again. You strayed, always did– couldn't resist his alluring features and soft pleas to continue kissing him. 

Miguel isn't always so docile. Some nights he'd storm into your bedroom in a trance of pent-up frustration and stress with bruising kisses and bites that took home amongst hidden skin. But most nights, he could be handled like putty. It was an adorable sight to see, as his fangs peeked through his plush lips from the tension going slack in his jaw.

Your lips finally met his for the first time that night, yet it wasn't heated or filled with ulterior motives. Miguel's mouth met yours, and he lazily tasted every inch of your mouth, grazing his fangs against your tongue by accident. He needed to know every inch of you, and remind himself a hundred times over.

"Miggy.." you mumbled between his kisses, and happiness dripped from your voice as he barely let out a "mm?" Separating for just a moment, he decided to simply nuzzle your hand as a substitute.

"Let me run you a bath."

This sparked his attention, a quirk of the eyebrow and a stare of disbelief. "Eh?" Miguel chuckled stiffly, his nuzzles coming to an abrupt end. "¿Qué piensas de mí, un niño pequeño? I'm no toddler." By his response, he hasn't heard such things in ages. But as you slipped away from underneath his grasp, you padded towards your shared bathroom without a word. He was the one to bicker, but once the plan was in motion Miguel couldn't help but abide with a light begrudge in his step.

"The little cakes can wait, honey. Don't try to use those as an argument to get out of this." Your words would come out as a scold to anyone else, but as you turned to start the water it was clear you simply just cared. Too much for your own good. "Let me just do this for you, I missed you today." You admitted. 

"It's too late for this still, cariño." He groaned with a tint of guilt as you started helping him undress. "I'll just shower, go on. Vete a dormir." Yet he did not swat away your advancements to prepare a towel, nor even the drop of bubble bath mix in the water. Miguel looked at you like a deer in headlights, mouth agape as you did so.

"I added the bubble bath formula only because you told me to sleep." You said deadpan, grabbing the suit that's fallen to the floor to hang it on the rack. Miguel's expressions contorted to annoyed, then shocked, to just downright amused of your antics that always had him guessing. He cackled as you kept yourself busy, until you finally signaled to get in.

It was as if you tried to get a cat in the water, as he stared at the mountain of bubbles that rivalled the skies. "I'm not getting in. I can't lose the rest of my dignity." This time, his tone was solid– nothing sounded as if it could get through to him. But you could read your boyfriend like a book, solve him like a puzzle in a matter of seconds. 

"Miggy, my love. My other half. My everything." You cooed, dropping to your knees to poke at the bubbles. "You don't get in this forsaken bathtub with just the right warmth and the bubbles I made with my own blood, sweat and tears, you will sleep on the couch until I give you explicit permission to lay with me." His scarlet eyes glowed with genuine fear in his eyes. "And then, you will just lie with me. You would not be able to hold my hands or waist or twirl your finger around my hair– you will be in timeout. No bed, no holding–"

A splash interrupted your words, wetting your legs as his size struggled to stay in the tub. His arm hung out of the side as his feet kicked up on the tile walls, and he looked as flustered as ever. "No me lo puedo creer." Miguel blew at the bubbles that settled on his face. "I'm no dog who needs a bath, cariño." 

Shaking your head at his rare childish antics, you leaned over the tub to kiss the bubbles upon his nose. It was a sweet, domestic little moment between the two of you.

Small little scars littered his form as you glided a soft wash cloth over the grime of the city that washed off onto him. When the fabric slid over a sensitive muscle or wound, he'd hiss a curse and a "be gentle with me, love." You only responded with a lick into his mouth, which earned you a bite to your lips. "I'm not trying to hurt you, just wanna take care of you, my angel." You whispered into the bubbles, shuffling your knees the closest you can to the tub without falling into it– and massaged the tension in his shoulders.

This elicited a groan to rip through the bathroom walls, a low rumble that he couldn't contain to himself following. Miguel was like a domesticated tiger, all bark and bite yet the rare moments of silly tenderness peeking through his rough exterior. "Ah, that feels–" Miguel hisses again in pleasure, his brain short circuiting under your graze. ".. increíble. Tú eres mi medicina." 

His forearm hanging off the side of the tub twisted to bring his grasp to your face, locking the both of you into a heated kiss, one that stored the unspoken words of lonely nights as Miguel's shifts grew longer and more tiresome. "Missed you, baby. I need you, need you always with me. Wouldn't know what to do without you, I'd go crazy." He rambled as one of your soap filled hands snaked into his hair, to lather his curls and simultaneously scratch where he loves. 

It was an endearing sight whenever Miguel openly expressed his adoration of you, both his thoughts and worries.

"I love you more, Miguel." You giggled as his nose scrunched together at the abrupt sensation of water cascading over his head, the bubbles falling from the softness of his hair and down the ridges of his jaw and nose.

Silence comfortably enveloped the two of you as you rinsed him off, scattering kisses on his skin whenever he mumbled declarations of affection.

As you wrapped his curls in a soft, small towel, his sleepy grumble of a question caught your attention. "What about your little sweets, mi amor? Do you need me to help you finish them?"

Laughing, you shook your head only to shush him softly. "No, no baby. Let's just do it together tomorrow once you get some rest." Leading him to stand, you began draining the tub. 

Miguel didn't argue with the idea of that, purring softly as he imagined the two of you frosting little delicacies– something incredibly cozy and lovely. He loved that about you, the way you reminded him about his own humanity, the little hanging reminder that he needs his own time to help to heal and thrive. 

"All done, baby." You slid your arms around his waist, resting your head against his chest with a sigh. The towel hung around his waist was as soft as the fleece of a sheep, lulling you into the serene sleepiness your body craved to have. "How was your bubble bath?" The words tumbled from your lips as Miguel led the both of you to your shared bed, tucking you into the bundle of blankets scattering about. 

Before long, he slid into the opposite side with his own sigh of relief. Your hands grabbed at his now clothed chest, peeking at his exhausted, but content expression staring right back at your own. "Perfect, mi conejito." Miguel whispered with honesty, bringing you closer than ever as his breath fanned the crook of your neck.

Sleep began to take you as the strong scent of bubblegum flooded your senses, the slightly damp curls of Miguel tickling your neck and cheek. He intertwined his soul with yours, purring with a calm he could only achieve with you.

"Cupcakes tomorrow?" You murmured into his shoulder, soft and sleepy.

"Cupcakes tomorrow, cariño." A kiss to your neck. "Dulces sueños, goodnight."

#miguel o'hara #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara comfort #miguel o'hara fluff #x gender neutral reader #x fluff #x comfort #comfort #fluff

[distantdarlings]

TAUNTING // e. berkshire

RATING: R / 3.5K WORDS

Lorenzo Berkshire x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this and this* After hearing some rumors traveling about that Enzo Berkshire might have a thing for you, you decide to make him as jealous as you can.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! PIV, Oral sex (m!receiving), Dom!Enzo, Sub!Reader, slight degradation, praise, (1) slap, language, brief mention of alcohol, brief mention of drugs, brief mention of masturbation Fem Reader Insert, not fully read (if I left anything out, please lmk!!!)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Who Do You Want? - Ex Habit

You were being mean. You knew you were. But you couldn’t help it.

Every tick of his jaw, every twitch of his eyes, every snarl of his lips…it was intoxicating. You couldn’t believe you’d never noticed it before.

Enzo…his jealousy, his desire to touch you, to feel you, to be yours… His lust radiated off of him like heat waves, blistering your skin like radiation.

The sweat beading over your lips and across your forehead slid over the sides of your face, slicing down your flesh like knives. The hands on your waist tightened against your bones, clutching their fingers possessively into your body.

Despite the beat of the music threatening to vibrate your heart out of your chest, you could see his envy so clearly.

Through the haze and the sweat and the bodies, you could see his eyes harden and his knuckles bleed white. You just hoped that the little game you were playing with him wouldn’t lead to Theo getting hurt.

Precious Theo… Though the two of you had broken up over six months ago, it had been mutual and you both craved each other from time-to-time. You’d only slept together once since you’d broken up but you were getting antsy.

It had started with Pansy Parkinson telling you that she’d heard a rumor being spread around. A particularly dirty rumor that threatened to ruin a gorgeous boy’s social ego. You thought back to what she’d said.

“A couple girls from Ravenclaw that sit behind us in Potions swear Enzo gets a hard-on every time you slip your robe off.” Pansy giggled and slapped a hand over her lips to cover up any raucous laughter that threatened to slip out.

“Pansy! That’s such a lie!” you’d shrieked, giggling along with her. “Lorenzo Berkshire does not like me, let alone get a hard-on every time I take my robe off.” I’d whispered that last part, not wanting any walkers-by to hear your dirty conversation.

“It’s at least worth a check, just to see if it’s true.”

And that evening, during the last class of the day, you’d let your robe slide down your arms and land against the back of your chair. You’d turned back to glance at Enzo and, sure enough, his eyes were already on yours. When you made contact with him, he quickly glanced away and dropped his hand into his lap. You refrained from an evil smirk.

And now, here you were, dancing against Theo, your ex, trying your hardest to elicit a response from the boy eyeing you from across the room.

It was an end of semester party, just before the big exams and the end of the school year. You didn’t want to wait to see him again. Between exams and packing, you wouldn’t get another chance to do anything with him for a couple months.

You turned back toward Theo, letting your hair slide over your shoulder and brush across the back of your neck.

“Teddy, baby, will you do me a favor?” You pulled yourself close against him, whispering into his ear. The music and the amount of firewhisky in his system probably had half of your words drowned out.

“Of course,” he slurred. “What is it, darling?” Everytime he was drunk, his accent popped out tenfold. There was a time when he was absolutely irresistible to you, but now, you had your sights set on another.

“I’ll explain later, but—” you paused, hands on Theo’s face, his hands on your waist, and glanced back at Enzo to make sure he was watching— “I need you to kiss me hard.”

He pulled away and looked at you with a bit of shock. “Is this for me or someone else?”

“Someone else…is that okay?”

“I suppose,” he joked, rolling his eyes. “I’ll probably get someone else tonight anyway.”

“Ew, you whore.” The two of you laughed.

“You’re one to fucking talk, bella,” he teased, scraping his teeth gently against your jaw. You giggled and slapped him away quickly before refocusing.

Theo locked in and tangled a tight grip in your hair, yanking your face towards his. His lips found yours in a rough heat, claiming what used to be his. His lips tasted like firewhisky and his hands were dominating. It was almost enough to make you forget about poor little Enzo waiting across the hall for you like a kicked puppy.

You slowly pulled away from Theo, whispered a small thanks, and turned back to Enzo. Or, rather, the lack thereof. The space that was once occupied by the brooding boy was completely empty. Fuck. Maybe you’d gone too far.

You pushed your hair out of your face and moved away from the lanky boy you’d just been grinding on for the last half-hour. He’d busy himself elsewhere.

Swallowing thickly, you pushed through the bustling crowd, weaving in and around hot, sweating bodies reenacting what Theo and you had been doing, and what you and Enzo should be doing.

Once you came to a clearing where only a few stragglers stood around, and the dim light from the hallway torches contrasted against the cool-toned strobes above, you found him.

The hazy clouds of herbal smoke clouded your vision and senses; the second-hand inhales nearly made you light-headed.

Enzo stood with his back toward you, broad shoulder leaned against the doorframe, head tilted toward the sky, fingers clutching a messily-rolled joint.

His dark hair was shoved away from his face with a light gel that allowed his natural curl to peak out just a bit. Two silvery studs decorated his ears and matched the chain around his neck, that framed the slit of bare chest that was revealed by the black button-up he wore only half-buttoned. You nearly dragged him to your dorm right then and there.

You stalked over to him, moving briskly past your intoxicated peers, ignoring any call that came from any of them.

“Hey, En—”

Your voice was cut off by one of the random people standing behind you.

“Enzo! Where were you at practice tonight, man?”

One of his fellow Quidditch team members jogged up to him from behind you. Enzo turned to see who had called his name and, whilst finding his friend’s attention, he caught yours as well. You smiled just a bit, watching him closely.

As his friend ranted about what a great practice Enzo had missed, you watched as your dark-haired target of the night barely paid any mind to the boy in front of him, and looked you up and down slowly. You felt as if he was devouring every inch of your body with his eyes.

You smirked at his reaction to seeing you, but he didn’t return the smile. His jaw clenched tightly and he seemed almost angry. You wondered if you had pushed him too far.

“Yeah, yeah, man, I’ll talk to you later,” Enzo finally interrupted the boy and gave him a dismissive pat on the shoulder. Understanding that Enzo was done with the conversation, the boy broke away and wandered back into the bouncing crowd.

When the boy was gone, he took a long drag from the joint, and turned away from you. He was mad.

You rolled your eyes at how your plan seemed to have backfired and closed the distance between the two of you.

With a slow start, you slid around to the front of him, catching his eyes seductively. He stared at you but said nothing.

“En, I was wondering if I could speak with you?”

He took another long drag, tilted his chiseled jaw upwards, and blew the smoke toward the sky.

“I’m surprised you still have a voice, considering you just had Theo’s entire tongue shoved down your throat.” You blushed, embarrassed, and glanced towards the floor. You placed your hands innocently behind your back and glanced up at him.

“I was trying to make you jealous,” you whispered.

“What was that?” he dropped his head toward yours to try and meet your eyes. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you. Speak up.” He was demanding and stern but it only intrigued you more.

“I said I was trying to make you jealous.” You finally looked at him. He took another drag and glanced around, once behind him, then once farther into the party, before turning back around. He placed his hand onto the wall above your head, caging you completely against his broad body.

“Can I?” you asked, glancing down. Your eyes refused to leave his.

With his free hand, he gently but firmly pressed your chin between his thumb and forefinger. He tilted your head up and placed the joint between your lips, his smoky fingers brushing across them in the process. He watched as you took a deep inhale and your eyes fluttered as the drug filled your system. You knew you would feel it soon enough.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his voice low and dark. “Good girl.”

Even after you exhaled, he refused to remove his hand from your face as he took another inhale, dropped the joint to the stone ground, and stamped it out with his shoe.

“So, you were trying to make me jealous by rubbing your ass all over your ex and kissing him in front of him?” he asked.

You nodded. “Did it work?”

The peace in his eyes drained, leaving deep, angry voids. “Yes.”

His fingers drifted from your chin down to your throat where they wrapped stiffly around you. The light pressure he applied made it feel as though the drug was seeping into your system faster.

He pressed his face between your head and shoulder, lips brushing up against your skin.

“Every day in class you’d let that fucking robe slide down your body, you’d let your hair fall across your back, and you’d glance back at me with that fucking look on your face. Were you trying to get a rise out of me? Is this what you wanted?” he growled.

His hands were rough on you and his words were mean but he pressed a gentle kiss on your neck to soften the whole situation.

“Mmhmm,” you sighed to the air, your eyes fluttering closed once more.

“And then in there, with Theo?” he growled. “What's your game?”

When you didn’t answer, he wrapped his fingers tightly into your hair and held your head against the wall behind you, keeping you tightly in place. His eyes found yours once more, then your lips.

“Answer me,” he demanded.

“You, En…” you gasped. “I want you to fall in love with me so I thought I’d make you jealous.”

“Why did you think that would work?” he whispered, his voice menacing and cruel. “I don’t want to fall in love with you now, sweet girl…now I want Theo to watch me fuck you.”

His words made your knees buckle pathetically. Surely he didn’t mean what he said, but the thought of Enzo touching himself at night to voyeuristic fantasies of you and him made you want him even more. You nodded your head.

“Yeah? You want that, baby?” he cooed against your skin, eliciting chills across your chest and shoulders. His free hand trailed a gentle fingertip down your throat, then your collarbone, then between the split of fabric that pressed your cleavage together. The touch of his warm, rough fingers against your breasts made your breath stutter in your throat.

“Well, that’s too fucking bad.”

He pulled away suddenly, grabbed your hand, and roughly pulled you into the direction of the dungeon’s lavatories. You weren’t sure what he had in mind with the two of you going in there, but you were sure it couldn’t be anything good. Though at this point, your desire outweighed any threat of punishment from any form of authority. All you wanted was him.

He slammed the male lavatory door open and shoved you through, his movements rough and dominant. You stumbled over the threshold, the tiles slipping beneath your shoes.

In an attempt to catch your balance, you placed yourself against one of the small porcelain sinks lined against the western wall. Taking advantage of your current position, Enzo placed a wandless locking charm on the door and crossed over to you in milliseconds.

His head dropped below yours as his arms wrapped around the swell of your ass. He propped you up onto the sink behind you, careful to block the faucet from poking into your back.

With little regard for the increasing issue between your legs, he placed rough hands around your waist and ground your hips into his, allowing you to feel every inch of the issue he was also having.

You stifled a moan, your lips parting just a bit. He smirked meanly, his dazzlingly sharp teeth showcasing themselves between the slivers of moonlight sliding through the windows above.

“En, please…” you begged, your arms wrapping around his neck, trying to urge his lips towards yours.

“Ah, you can dole out the teasing, but you can’t take it, right?” he smirked. “Can you take it, baby?”

At his words, a single hand slid down briefly and skirted over the core of your body through the material of your dress. You gasped at the sensation.

“Please, baby, I’ll do anything!” you shined, pathetically reaching your hips back towards his.

“You’ll do anything?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow. You nodded quickly.

“Okay, baby,” he said, yanking you off the edge of the sink. Your feet hit the floor with a jolt that shot up your entire body.

“On your knees.” His voice was demanding and his eyes were cold. The lust that blossomed beneath his waist did little to melt the ice pooled in his pupils. You swallowed thickly, briefly wondering what you’d gotten yourself into. Whatever it was, you liked it.

You promptly obeyed and dropped to your knees, the thin flesh there bruising quickly. He wrapped your hair into a makeshift ponytail and tilted your head up to make eye contact.

“Suck.”

A shiver ran through your body as you quickly got to work sliding the button of his pants apart, and ripping the zipper down to the ground. Despite the layer of his briefs still between him and your mouth, you marveled at how big he was. You were slightly concerned you weren’t going to be able to fit him anywhere after having not been with anyone since Theo.

Nevertheless, you dropped his pants and briefs to the floor, his belt clinking on the way down. He was enormous and you refused to back down from any challenge handed to you. With a deep, shuddering breath, you wrapped your hands around the base of him and replaced the negative space with your mouth.

At the sensation of your tongue laying across him, the grip in your hair tightened significantly and Enzo groaned roughly. His free hand grasped the edge of the sink where you once sat in an effort to keep his stuttering knees afloat. The effect you appeared to be having on him made you all the more desperate for him.

“Good job, baby,” he groaned, “that’s so good.”

His words made the wetness pool between your legs more and more by the minute. If you didn’t have him within the next few minutes, you were going to have to give yourself something.

You pushed your head back against the hand holding you in place. He released his hold on your hair and looked down at you, a single bead of sweat dripping down the side of his jaw.

“What is it?” he panted.

“I want you,” you whined.

“No, I think you got enough from Theo.” His eyes were serious and biting. Blood drained from your face at the thought of not getting to feel him.

“No, please,” you begged, placing your hands against the edge of his stomach. “Please give me something…anything. I need you so bad.”

He seemed to be contemplating your words for a moment before he clicked his tongue and pulled you up by your hair. The slight burn on your scalp pulled a whimper from your lips as he directed your body right into the space he had just been occupying.

You were pressed back against the sink with his hips pressed into the back of you. A shudder passed across your lips as he turned your head to the mirror before you and demanded a single word: “Watch.”

Your lips parted in a gasp of disbelief as he flipped your dress over your back and roughly yanked your bottoms down around your ankles.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispered, his fingers ghosting over every part of where you needed him most. Your eyes fell shut as you reveled in the feeling of him touching you.

“Eyes open,” he asserted, bumping you into the sink a bit with his hips. You could feel the hot length of him against you.

When he decided he was ready to start with you, he placed hot fingers over your waist and guided you back and onto him.

At the stretch of him inside you, breath escaped you. Your heart pounded up and out of your chest, through your throat, and out onto the mirror before you. You felt as though you might collapse if it weren’t for the boy behind you holding you up.

You watched as his eyes fluttered shut behind you and a silent moan pierced his face. The expression of his pleasure, the size of him, and the fact you hadn’t been touched in months was almost enough to push you right over the edge.

His pace was set rather quickly. It was brutal and demanding, just like his personality. Your fingers wrapped tightly around the porcelain sink, begging for purchase on anything.

You watched him beat into you from behind, lathering in the feeling of him taking full and utter control of you. He was mean now, and he knew it as well.

A melody of moans and gasps escaped you as he hit everything he was supposed to with raging ferocity. His jaw clenched and his eyes opened a bit wider.

“Can Nott do this? Huh? He ever fuck you like this, baby?” he growled, fingernails clutching into your soft flesh. You whined at the feeling.

At the lack of your ability to reply, he grunted in frustration and laid a sharp slap to your ass. You gasped at the biting sensation and felt your pleasure begin to push itself over the edge.

“Answer me.”

“No! Nobody but you, baby. Nobody makes me feel this good.” You choked on your words, sweat dribbling across your throat.

The tail of your dress was clutched in his free hand and he used it as a kind of leverage to slam himself into you at record pace. You wouldn’t last for much longer if he continued his brutalization of your body. You felt delicate and helpless in his arms.

His form of fucking was so much different than Theo’s. Where Theo was long and thin and softer and let you take control from time-to-time, Enzo was thick and rough and kept you pinned down. Merlin, help.

As you quickly approached your end, your eyes rolled far back into your skull, demanding release from the inside-out. Your body couldn’t withstand anymore of Enzo’s cruelty—you were going to shamelessly finish against him, of which you breathlessly warned him.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered. “Come for me.”

He leaned against you, forcing himself into you even deeper, and pressed his lips against the shell of your ear.

“Say my name—not his… mine.”

“Enzo, baby…,” you whispered, his words against your skin dropping chills down your spine.

“Say it again,” he groaned, his pace becoming more desperate and his voice more strained.

“Enzo…”

“Again,” he moaned, his fingers tightening against you.

“I’m fucking close, Enzo,” you whined. His speed quickened.

“Oh, I’ve touched myself to the thought of you saying that to me, baby,” he groaned, breath fanning against your cheek.

At his sinful words, you could feel your body be shoved over the edge.

You came with a breathless scream, the sensation hitting you harder than Enzo’s hips pounding against you.

Seconds after you’d rode out the edge of your finish, Enzo released a high-pitched moan against your ear—one so beautifully contrasting to his deep, demanding voice from earlier.

When the two of you had finally finished and come back to your senses, breaths heaving and lips swollen, you laughed hysterically.

Despite the weight of the situation only moments before, the two of you could feel the glee just from being able to finally touch the other.

The pent-up desire Enzo harbored for you and the newfound lust planted in your heart had created a heat-fueled rush that caught you both off guard. But neither of you could lie, it was far better than anything you’d felt in a while. No offense, Theo.

Tag List: @lilymurphy03 , @mypolicemanharryyy , @clairesjointshurt , @bunbunbl0gs , @acornacreacure, @niktwazny303 , @thestarlithideout , @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw , @yhiiil, @ravenclawprincess33, @xxrougefangxx , @thatblackthorn, @robinyx , @starsval , @jolly4holly , @blvebanisters , @chgrch

#fanfiction #creative writing #fanfic #writing #reader insert #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #oneshot #slytherin #harry potter smut #enzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo Berkshire smut #Enzo Berkshire smut #request #slytherin boys #fem reader #enzo berkshire x reader

[neverinadream]

Let Them Hear You, Princess

Summary: Seeing your ex-boyfriend leaves you itching to do something that could potentially get you and Nico kicked out of the bar.

Pairing: Nico Hischer x Fem!Reader

Requested: Nope

Song Inspo: When You Need A Man - The Driver Era

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, smut, nsfw, fwb!nico, mentions of an ex-boyfriend, dom!nico x sub!reader, hints of a brat!reader but not really, bathroom sex, pet names (baby, princess, good girl...), praise, some hair pulling, handjob, oral (male & female receiving), fingering, nico gets a little possessive, not edited

Notes: uh...hi! once again, i am writing for someone new. to my existing followers who don't follow the nhl you don't have to read this, it's okay to skip this one. some parts of this is a little off with the phrasing, at least to me they are, so just try to ignore it, and yes, the ending might feel a little rushed or unfinished but i was losing focus so...yeah, enjoy whores 🫶🏻 feedback is always appreciated

"And I'm finally back," Nico slides the drink across the table, the red and white striped straw taking centre stage in the glass, "only took me nineteen hours." He rakes his fingers through his hair as he slides into the booth, tucking a few strands behind his ear. "Next time," he hooks his arm around your shoulders, "you can go up to the bar."

You scoop up your glass, your lipstick-stained lips wrapping innocently around the straw, but the act momentarily draws in his gaze, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

"And what makes you think I'll get served any quicker than you?" You take a quick sip, the taste of vodka mixed into the fruity concoction burning the back of your throat. "The place is packed."

You look out to the rest of the bar, your usual spot for a night out overcrowded with others who were looking to knock back a few drinks. No one could move without accidentally tripping over someone's foot, or bumping elbows with another. At a pool table, you spot his teammate gaining the attention of a small brunette.

"Timo has a better chance of getting her number than I do getting served at that bar."

The corners of his mouth pull up into a grin. "I don't know," he sets his drink down, condensation already forming on the outside of the bottle, "I think you'd get served pretty quickly."

You pull the straw to the corner of your mouth, matching his grin. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he shuffles closer, the rough texture of his denim jeans brushing against your bare leg. He dips his eyes, watching you adjust your skirt, a small comment about wishing you had worn something else filling his ears. "There's nothing wrong with what you're wearing," he reassures you, liking the way the dress hugged your body, "it would definitely catch the eye of a bartender." He tilts his head, letting his gaze wash over your body, absently licking his lips. "Perhaps even get you served quicker at a crowded bar," he trails off.

You rolled your eyes and take another sip, hoping the coldness of your drink might cool the heat that rocketed up your neck as you swallowed it down. "You're not even-" You fall silent, your skin growing cold when your eyes land on someone you had hoped not to see tonight.

Nico chuckles, going for his beer. "Not what, cutie?"

"Connor's here," you whisper, caging your drink closer to your chest.

He sighs. "I know." Your eyes snap to him. "I saw him when I was at the bar, okay," he explains, pulling his arm from around you, dropping his hand to give your knee a soft squeeze, "he tried to talk to me, so I told him to fuck off."

"Nico-"

"The guy's a dick, Y/N," he cuts you off, bringing his hand higher up your leg. Your gaze is dragged down to the hand that burned your thigh, the roughness of his calloused hands leaving behind a dull ache. "And it's not like we were ever buddies when you were together." Your eyes snap back up when he takes his hand away. "Come on," he suggests, nodding over to a few of his teammates, "let's go have some fun."

Your eyes drop to your lap. "I don't know," you mumble, shrugging. Seeing Conor had left you with a sour taste and a desire to hide. "I think I wanna go home."

Nico slides the bottle over the edge, swallowing the sigh that wants to escape. "Look at me," he cups your face, tilting your head back, smiling when your eyes finally reach him, whispering, "Hi." You try to match his smile but it's weak. "Don't let him ruin your night, okay?"

"That's easy for you to say," you chew your bottom lip.

"Maybe," he brings his thumb against your bottom lip, gently prying it from between your teeth, "but you're my friend and I like you better when you're smiling."

You perk your eyebrows. "I thought you liked me better when I'm on my knees?"

"That too," he agrees, a chuckle ripping through his chest.

Sitting back, he reaches for his beer, catching the attention of your ex as he tips his head back and takes a long sip. Connor's eyes flickered back and forth between you and Nico, a scowl pinching at the corners of his mouth when Nico wrapped his arm over your shoulders. He quirks his eyebrow, his own lips curling into a smirk, like he was silently saying you lost.

"You know what," Nico swings his head in your direction, "let's get out of here."

"You sure?"

Nico nods. "Timo looks like he'll be leaving soon," he takes another sip, "and I'm sure the others won't mind us leaving early."

He slides out the booth, grabbing his jacket off the seat, but you stay seated. He glances back over his shoulder, turning quickly on his heels when you hadn't followed him. "I thought you wanted to stay and have some fun?" You ask, crossing your arms over your chest, the action subtly spilling the tops of your boobs over your dress.

He lifts his foot up onto the booth step, his hand reaching out to rest on the seat. "And I thought you wanted to leave?" He fires back, matching your tone. He looks into your eyes like he was trying to bore his way into your brain. To find the thing that had made you change your mind. "You know, since Connor is here?"

"And then I'll get home and just feel stupid for letting him get to me," you tell him, reaching for your glass, draining the rest of your drink at an impressive speed. Setting the glass down, your eyes flick to the bar where Connor crowded the end with his usual group of slimy friends. One look at him had you remembering the cold way he had broken things off with you. It made you angry. Angry enough to do something worthy of getting you and Nico potentially kicked out of the bar. "I want to piss him off."

Nico doesn't stop the smile that stretches across his face. "That's my girl," he cheers, putting his jacket back on the seats, like he was staking a claim on the booth. He wasn't going to miss a chance to help you. "What you got in mind?"

You shuffle out of the booth, Nico moving back to leave you enough space to step out. "Come here." You beckon him closer with your finger, excitement thrilling your body as he steps towards you, his large hands moulding to the shape of your hips. He lowers his mouth but you place your finger against his lips, barring him from the pleasure of kissing you. "I want you to fuck me, Nico," you whisper, sliding your hand down his broad chest, stopping just above the waistband of his jeans, "I want him to hear me scream your name as you make me come."

A lump the size of New Jersey lodges itself inside his throat, but he swallows it down, grinning as you hook your finger under his chin and pull him in for a kiss. He groans, tasting the fruitiness of the cocktail you had been drinking, fisting his fingers into your hair and pulling your head back to deepen the kiss. He sucks on your tongue, his cock growing hard from your taste, and he nips at your bottom lip as he pulls away.

"Does he look pissed?" He asks into your ear, lining your jaw with quick kisses.

"Like he could throw a chair," you reply, biting your bottom lip and whimpering as Nico sucks on your neck.

"Good," he pulls back to look at you, "now let's go really piss him off."

Nico pulls you quickly into the bathroom, his hand blindly searching behind him until he hears something click.

"The door-"

"Already locked," Nico cuts you off, wrapping his arms firmly around your waist, and burying his face into your neck. The smell of your perfume was intoxicating, leaving his cock at half-mast and twitching in his jeans. "I don't want anyone disturbing us," he adds, kissing and nipping at your skin, making his way up the column of your throat. You feel his smug grin pressing into the side of your neck. "I bet he's just counting down the minutes until we come back."

His calloused thumb presses against your mouth and he watches it open with little resistance, doing nothing to stop the memories of you taking his cock, your lips stretched around his girth, from flashing behind his eyes.

You flick your tongue over the pad of his thumb, grinning when he responds with a low groan. "Whatcha thinking about?" You giggle, looking up to meet his eyes.

"You," he simply answers, "on your knees."

You wiggle out of his arms, sinking to your knees before him. "Like this?" You encourage his fantasy, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling the zipper down. He nods, tucking his hair back and rutting his hips as you pull his jeans down just low enough to untuck him. "So fucking pretty," you whimper, wrapping your hand around the base and flicking your tongue over the crown of his cock.

He snorts. "Did you just call it pretty?"

"You call my pussy pretty, don't you?" You ask, spitting onto his head and pumping it up and down in languid strokes.

"Because it is, princess."

"Exactly!"

"Oh, fuck-!" You lower your mouth onto him, Nico tipping his head back as your warmth surrounds his tip. His precum sits on your tongue, a moan rattling along his shaft, and pulsating his balls. "Yeah, that's it." He feels your tongue run along the underside, licking along the sensitive strip, and swirl around his tip. "Don't be a tease-," he props his hand on the back of your head and nudges his hips forward, encouraging you to take more, "-and pretend like you can't take any more."

"Perhaps I need a little assistance," you goad, pulling off him with a pop and breaking a string of spit with your tongue. His cock slides in and out of your closed fist lubricated, albeit messily, with your spit. "Fuck my throat, baby," you whisper, before lazily kissing his tip.

"Up," he gives the one-worded demand, ignoring your protest as he hoists you to your feet.

You watch with disappointment hanging in your eyes as he tucks himself away, your feet stumbling back until you feel the counter pressed against you. "No fair," you mumble, grabbing a handful of his shirt, tugging him forwards, "I was having fun."

"You were being a brat," he disagrees, curling his hand around your neck and licking at the seem of your mouth, before crashing his lips against it. You willingly part your lips and let his tongue in, swallowing up his groans as you rub him through his jeans. "Stop it," he grumbles against you, grabbing your wrist and pinning it at your side.

You trail your mouth lazily down his neck, dragging your teeth over his Adam's apple. "Let me have my fun," you beg, sucking hard on the bottom of his neck.

"Oh, you'll have your fun, princess."

He lifts you onto the counter, the top cold against you, making you shiver. He bunches the end of your dress around your waist and pulls your panties to the side, chuckling like he knew you'd be soaked from sucking his cock. Another shiver licks up your spine as he runs his fingers gingerly against you, rubbing your clit in slow circles.

Taking two fingers, he pops them into his mouth and groans, tasting you as he sucks them clean.

"You'll have your fun coming for me," he insists, hooking his fingers under your panties, tearing them down as he sinks to his knees. He tucks them into his pocket and looks up at you with a grin. "And I want you to be loud," he lifts one leg over his shoulder, grazing his mouth along the inner of your thigh, "I want to make sure that pathetic excuse for an ex hears you."

A noise somewhere between a moan and a strangled gargling sound rockets up your throat as Nico latches his mouth around your pussy. Your fingers, itching to grab onto anything, fist their way into his hair, the soft strands slipping through them like strands of fine silk, and tug at them every time he does something you like. You moan his name loud and proudly, the excitement and the rush of your ex hearing you floods you with more arousal.

He switches between long, languid flicks of his tongue, the kind that teases out your desperate whimpers for more, licking you from bottom to top and sucking on your clit until you nearly squirm off the counter. "God-!" You tip your head back and tug on his hair. "I don't think I'll ever get used to this."

He grunts in agreement, licking his lips as pulls away, liking the way the taste of you coats every inch of his mouth. His hand slides up your thigh and teases your clit with his thumb. "He never treated you like this, did he?" He spreads you apart with his fingers, drool pooling in his mouth from how pretty you looked. "Couldn't fuck you the way a princess deserves to be fucked." He dips his head and flicks his tongue back and forth over your clit. "That's okay," he mumbles against you, "you've got me now."

You whimper, feeling the tip of his finger nudge against you. "Please," you nod, moaning and biting your lip, feeling your pussy clench around nothing when you look down to see him already staring up at you. He retracts his finger, earning himself a unhappy scowl. "Nico-"

"Louder," he cuts in, silencing your protest, "make sure he hears you." He rises to his feet, wiping his mouth and chin with his hand, before pressing it against the mirror, forcing you to lean back as he towers over you. "Let 'em all hear you," he corrects himself, possessiveness lacing his tone, "make sure every fucker who has looked at you tonight hears you beg for it." It was Nico's idea for you both to have a casual arrangement - someone to have a bit of fun with without the commitment that came with a relationship - but he sure hated the way this dress made people stare at you. You were his, not theirs. He was the one making you come most nights, not them. "Let 'em all know who you belong to."

"Nico-"

"Louder!"

You guide his hand between your thighs, bringing his fingers against your cunt, teasing your hole that was desperate for any attention. "Please," you whimper, bucking your hips, trying to push onto his fingers. He grunts but doesn't oblige. "Nico!" You whine, dragging his name out. It only earns you another chuckle. "Stop teasing me!"

He crashes his mouth down against yours, swallowing your moans as he finally pushes his finger inside. "Nice and warm for me," he mumbles, his tongue splitting your mouth open, tangling with your own. Little whimpers fill the bathroom as you taste yourself, the corners of his lips twitching upwards into half-smile. "Taste good, don't you, baby?"

You nod, raking your fingers through his hair and dragging his mouth back down for a second taste.

He withdraws his finger and adds a second, feeling you stretch to fit the girth of both. "So fucking tight," he breathes against you, pinching your bottom lip between his teeth.

"I guess you're just gonna have to stretch me out," you reply, sneaking your hand down the front of his jeans.

"Who knew a pretty mouth could say such filthy things?"

"It's all your doing," you giggle, kissing the underside of his stubbled jaw, "I was all sweet and innocent until you came along." He moans as you grab and untuck his cock, dipping to kiss down your neck to hide the pink flush of his cheeks. It sits thick and heavy inside your palm, the tip red and sensitive, dripping more pre-cum. You squeeze the head, feeling his hips rut up to find more friction, and run your thumb gingerly through the pearly beads. "You corrupted me."

"Corrupted?" He brings his thumb down against your clit, brushing it in circles, working it in tandem with his fingers. "No, baby," he tuts, resting his mouth against the shell of your ear. His breath on your skin makes you shiver, your cunt clenching hard around his fingers. "I cured your blindness, allowed you to see just how good sex could truly be."

You snort. "I never said the sex with him was bad." It was.

"You didn't need to," Nico says, withdrawing his fingers and sucking them clean. Just as you were about to whine, he dips, sinking onto one knee, and latches his mouth around your clit, sucking the nub between his lips. "God, I'll never get over how good you taste," he moans around you. Hooking his hands under your bum, he presses you firmly against his mouth, drilling his tongue deep inside. "That's it," he mumbles as you loudly for him, "atta girl! Let 'em hear you."

Reaching for him, you hold onto the back of his head, your fingers curling through his hair, keeping you upright as you rock your hips. "Jesus, Nico!" You moan his name, falling into the same rhythm as his tongue laps against your cunt. His nose bumps against your clit and your body jerks. "Fuck-!" You breathe out, the knot in your stomach tightening - you were so close to coming. "Don't stop!"

"Gonna come for me?" He peeks up at you, grinning into you as you dig your nails into his head, holding him still as you buck your hips wildly against him. "Yeah?" He chuckles, the vibrations rushing through you. "You are? Come on, princess, use your words."

"Yes, Nico!" Your face flushes with a searing heat as you cry out. "Fuck-! I'm coming!"

A light laugh emits from the back of his throat, drowned out by your loud cries. "That's it, buck into my face," he drags his tongue over your cunt, "give it to me - all of it; make a fucking mess." He pushes his tongue deeper inside, feeling a rush of warmth gush over him, and circles his arm around your thigh to brush his thumb over your clit. "That's it," he encourages, rubbing your clit in fast circles, trying to hold you in place as you thrash about, "good girl, so fucking good for me!"

Your body withers and shakes, hips trying to jerk away from his mouth as he brings you down from your high.

"I definitely think he heard you," Nico says, withdrawing himself from between your thighs, his mouth wet and his hair a complete mess. He rakes his hand over his hair, quickly fixing it. "I hope he did," he murmurs, hooking his fingers under your chin and drawing you close. The kiss is short and he pulls away licking his lips. "Come on, let's get out of here," he mumbles, fixing his jeans and helping you back onto your feet, "I'm not finished with you yet."

NHL Taglist: @thoseboysinblue @chilwellspulisic @lovelynikol16 @love4lando

#nico hischier #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier smut #nico hischier one shot #nico hischier x reader #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl x reader

[spookyserenades]

Trouvaille - Chapter Fifteen (M)

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count; 21.3k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

HI HI HI! Thank you all for your patience for this update while I was recovering from my cold! I'm excited to share this chapter, it's jam-packed with emotion, some uncomfortable confrontation, fluff, and of course, some more depraved smut LOL. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you again for everyone wishing me a speedy recovery and your unwavering support. (also pls excuse any typos fdskafdjf) Love from Dana 💜

As an additional warning/reminder, for the smut: the scene is explicit, and is only intended to be read by those over the age of 18. Please practice safe sex, and readers please have discretion!

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

“I know you’re mad at me, but you know why I had to break that up, right?” Yoongi watched Y/N though slitted eyes as she poured a rather large glass of white wine for herself, scoffing. 

Ignoring him, she took a swig of the chilled wine and turned on her heels, returning to the stove to stir the onion she was in the middle of sauteing. Even she could feel her irritation and anger coming off of herself in vicious waves, perhaps stirring the thyme into her mixture of onion, celery, and carrot with too much aggression. 

“Y/N, come on. The silent treatment is really childish,” Yoongi’s deep voice had an edge of grit to it, Y/N snorting humorlessly. 

The sounds of the leopard hybrid storming over to her side filled her ringing ears, and when he gently grasped her wrist to pry the wooden spoon from her grip, she spun around to face him, gritting her teeth when he turned off the stove. 

“Childish? That’s rich,” Y/N eyed the way Yoongi’s spotted tail was flicking back and forth in agitation, hating having to argue with him at all. “You can’t just prevent me from talking to the others, Yoongi.”

A muscle pulsing in his jaw, Yoongi took a deep breath while pushing his hair out of his face, taking a better hold of Y/N’s hand and squeezing it once. 

“I get why that’s how you probably see it, but that’s not what that was,” Yoongi replied evenly, appearing to exercise his unending patience. 

“Okay, then explain! You know I’ve been trying to talk to Tae for days! Now he’ll probably never want to open up again,” Y/N had hysteria welling up in her, unable to decide if she was jealous of the way Yoongi always seemed to be so calm and collected. 

“Yes, I know, sweetheart,” Yoongi’s jaw tensed again, thumb brushing over her wrist bone. “But not like that. He’s never been that drunk, at least since we’ve known him. I was trying to prevent him from doing something he might regret once sobering up.”

Y/N blinked, reading the sincerity on his face, her shoulders relaxing down a couple of inches. 

“You know, the kid’s kind of grown on me in the last few months. I know that he’d be humiliated if things escalated further, that’s why I intervened. Besides, I didn’t want him to put you in a tight spot. I’m aware of how much you care about him,” Yoongi continued, the pinch between his brows loosening up when Y/N seemed to cool off. 

“Sorry…” Y/N murmured, suddenly embarrassed that she was so quick to lose her temper on Yoongi. 

“Nothing to apologize for. Just don’t clam up on me like that, and we’ll be good,” Yoongi softened, lifting her hand to his mouth to place a kiss on the back of it. “Let him sober up, sleep it off. Talk to him in the morning.”

Cheeks burning, she nodded, Yoongi letting go of her and swiping her wine glass, taking a sip with a purr. He took up the task of stirring the base ingredients of the tortellini soup Y/N was making for dinner, Y/N sighing and leaning up to stamp a kiss on his jaw, his still-damp hair tickling the tip of her nose. 

“You’re right. I wouldn’t have wanted things to escalate like that… thank you, my angel,” Y/N hummed, reaching up to give one of his ears a scratch, his posture stiffening then dissolving into shivers as her fingers stroked through the short fur. 

“You’re gonna take advantage of that weakness all the time from now on, aren’t you,” Yoongi’s voice was feathery, Y/N chuckling and mercifully releasing his ear. “Chop up that fennel, we’ll add it to the soup to bulk it up.”

Stealing her wineglass back, Y/N did just that, glad that her and Yoongi didn’t have to have an explosive argument over jealousy. However, as her knife sliced down into the bulb of fennel, her thoughts turned to Taehyung– reeking of booze, cornering her to a wall, unfamiliar flames in his eyes. She knew that the next morning, Taehyung would probably be avoidant and perhaps even embarrassed, and pinning him down to talk to him would be no easy feat. She had no doubt that the Kodiak hybrid wouldn’t be present for dinner, which heightened her concern– all that booze and no food didn’t add up to a hangover-less morning. 

“I’ll bring him up some of this later, in a thermos. Don’t worry,” Yoongi once again read her mind, Y/N using the flat of her knife to slide the sliced fennel into the Dutch oven the leopard hybrid was standing over. “He’s definitely passed out, at the moment.”

Nodding, she gave Yoongi a pat on the back, getting to work on prepping some of the other ingredients for dinner. The silence was amicable, comfortable, so the sound of the slider door scraping open had her squeaking in surprise, nearly dropping the loaf of garlic bread she was putting into the oven. 

“If you don’t get out of my face, fox, I’m going to take my Zippo to your running sneakers,” Jeongguk’s gruff voice bounced off the walls of the kitchen, brushing snowflakes off of the shoulders of his leather jacket. 

“What? I just asked if you had feeling in your antlers,” Hoseok defended himself, a thin sheen of sweat coating his skin as he returned from his evening run. “You don’t have to be so accusatory all the time.”

Y/N stifled a laugh, looking over her shoulder to take a better glance at the spectacle, Jeongguk scoffing sharply as he hung his jacket on the coat rack by the door. Apparently, it had begun to snow outside, both his and Hoseok’s hair dusted with powdery clumps of it. 

“And you don’t have to be such a nosy, irritating son of a bitch all the time, but sometimes we’re just created a certain way,” Jeongguk replied, Hoseok frowning as he caught a bottle of water Yoongi was tossing his way. 

“Forget it, I’ll just Google it later,” Hoseok muttered, collapsing heavily into the breakfast nook, his ears drooping. “Cold as shit outside, by the way. Y/N, you’re sure we can’t move to Florida?”

“What’s with you and Florida, Foxy? Got a secret past there or something?” Yoongi inquired, wiping his hands on a dishtowel after bringing the soup to a simmer. 

“Not particularly. It’s just warm and pretty there all the time. Didn’t you mention February can be even colder than January up here, Y/N?” Hoseok expertly dodged Yoongi’s line of questioning, redirecting his attention to Y/N. 

“Sometimes. Judging by all the snow we’ve been getting lately, it’s looking that way,” Y/N admitted, still put off by the idea of living through Floridian summers. “I guess I’ll have to look into booking a trip to Disney a bit more seriously.”

“Ugh,” Jeongguk was disgusted, usually the one to turn his nose up at a Disney movie Seokjin or Hoseok would put on during movie night. “At least they sling excessive booze there, so I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, we can drink around the world in EPCOT,” Y/N put a finger to her lips, trying to calculate how much park tickets, souvenirs, a villa, and transport would run her– she shuddered at the figure she came up with roughly. To boot, the three hybrids in the room stared at her blankly, like she started spontaneously speaking French. “It’s a park in the resort. You know what, I’ll tell you all about it if I can scrape up the funds for a trip in the fall or whatever.”

The slider was pulled open again, this time bringing Jimin and Namjoon in from the cold, Jimin with only sock-clad feet, his muddied boots stowed beneath a covered section of the patio to prevent tracking mess into the house. Namjoon had a stack of thick books tucked under one of his arms, his denim-sherpa jacket damp with snow, nodding once at Y/N before heading off in the direction of his bedroom, likely to deposit the materials. Ever since she gave the wolf hybrid the information about their upcoming consultation, he had been burning the midnight oil tearing through all of the books he had in order to prepare himself. 

“Hey, Jimin, how are the babies?” Y/N inquired about the animals, tuning out Jeongguk and Hoseok still bickering about his antlers, and whether or not they had feeling in them– secretly, Y/N was curious, too. “Oh shit– are you bleeding?”

Y/N dropped the knife she was using to shave parmesan slices for the soup with alarm, eyes bugging out of her head noticing the blood on his wrist. She flew over to him at lightning speed, hands outstretched to examine the damage. Jimin exhaled slowly, handing over his forearm, Y/N’s face settling into a deep frown. 

“I’m alright, now, Y/N. It was just Bandit up to his old tricks when I went to give the chickens their supper,” Jimin’s voice had amusement coloring it, a half-smile on his face when Y/N dragged him to the island to dab a paper towel over the minor wound. 

“That cocksucking rooster. We should just sell it,” Hoseok squawked from his spot on the breakfast bar, looking up from the noisy Tik Tok he was playing aloud. “I think it’s evil.”

Jimin rolled his eyes at the comment, one of his sandy ears twitching, before he placed his hand over Y/N’s tenderly. 

“It’s just a nip. I’ll go disinfect it and come right back,” Jimin assured her, Y/N’s stubbornness coming to a head. 

“Let me help,” Y/N tailed the coyote hybrid, reminded of the time he tended to her injury, and wanting to give a little bit back. “Bandit… appropriately named. Or perhaps Lucifer would have suited him better.”

Jimin snorted, letting Y/N grab a hold of the thick corduroy button-down he had over his tee shirt, dragging her down the hall and into his bedroom. The room, as always, had a sereneness to it. Dark blue colors, neat and tidy, and smelling like calming lavender and the crisp outdoors. 

“Okay, sit,” Y/N took control, pushing Jimin onto his bed by his biceps, his tail slightly thumping against his mattress as determination set the shape of her mouth. Making haste for his bathroom, she was easily able to locate his basic first-aid kit, one she had in every en-suite in the house under the sink, dragging it out to the awaiting coyote hybrid. 

Sitting beside him, Y/N held out her palm expectantly, Jimin placing his forearm into her grasp with a gentle sigh of resignation. Wincing at the torn skin, Y/N quickly loaded up a cotton square with alcohol, dabbing at the site gingerly. Jimin, to his credit, didn’t wince or flinch away, simply studying her actions with his lip tucked between his teeth. 

“Sorry, it probably stings,” Y/N mumbled, reaching for the soothing ointment in the kit blindly, applying it on the bite. 

“‘S alright,” Jimin shook his head, his hand curling into a fist before his digits relaxed, Y/N wondering if it was an attempt to get past the pain. “It’ll probably be healed up by the morning.”

Humming, Y/N smoothed a Hello Kitty bandaid over his skin, recalling how quickly hybrids recovered from injury. 

“I’m sure something like that happened from time to time when you worked on the ranch,” Y/N mused, reluctant to let go of the coyote hybrid just yet. 

“Yeah, perks of the job,” Jimin chuckled, making no move to peel himself away from her as well, Y/N feeling the brush of his tail against her lower back. “Thank you for patching me up. Beats my buddies telling me to rub dirt in it or threatening to kiss it better.”

Blinking at that tidbit of information, Y/N watched Jimin’s eyes go far away, a tiny smile on his full lips. Without thinking, and while he was distracted, Y/N ducked, pressing her puckered lips to the pink bandage. All she heard was a sharp, quiet, gasped intake of breath, Jimin’s strong forearm going limp in her palm as soon as she kissed him. 

“A kiss is better than dirt, no?” Y/N straightened back up, finally letting his arm go and pushing that pesky strand of honey hair over his forehead back to join the rest of his slicked-back locks. 

Jimin was stunned, effectively pulled out of his reminiscing, his butterscotch eyes wide as he stared down at her. In the distance, she heard Hoseok hollering about dinner being ready, Jimin’s downturned ears twitching, Y/N leaping from her spot and motioning for Jimin to follow. She was halfway through the door when Jimin replied, though she didn’t end up catching what he said. 

“Much better.”

The next morning, a Sunday, would have typically been lazy and domestic. Usually, her and her hybrids went about their own business; watching movies, playing board games, and attending to their hobbies. However, that particular Sunday morning, Y/N had left Jimin in charge of making sure no one got into petty arguments, and was carefully ascending the stairs with a plate of hot, greasy breakfast food. 

Much like Yoongi had predicted, Taehyung had not joined the rest of them for dinner, which nobody else saw as odd. Taehyung was still rather introverted and not so keen on befriending anyone besides Yoongi, and the others were of course happy to ignore him. The Kodiak hybrid hadn’t hauled himself downstairs for the Sunday morning fry up, and Y/N figured it was as good of a time as any to get their uncomfortable conversation out of the way. 

Reaching his bedroom door, Y/N balanced the plate of food on her forearm, a large glass of water in her grip, and used her free hand to knock on his door as quietly as she could. She heard a gruff groan in response, Y/N rolling her eyes and making her way inside the room, shutting the door behind her. 

The room was dark, all of the drapes pulled shut a little haphazardly, and Taehyung was slumped on his bed, his arm dangling over the side of the mattress and one of his cheeks squished on a pillow. His wild curly hair was matted and sticking up in several directions, and as Y/N held back a giggle when he moaned again, his eyebrows knit together and his nostrils flared. 

“Morning,” Y/N whispered, placing the plate of food on his dresser, putting a lid over the fried eggs, mountain of toast, and breakfast sausages so they wouldn’t get cold. Though she uttered the greeting only above a breath, Taehyung groaned, pretty much planked on his front on top of his quilt. “Oh, honey…”

Fishing around in her pocket, she pulled out a packet of Advil tablets, crouching down in front of him and offering both the medication and the chilled glass of water, one of his carmine eyes cracking open slightly. 

After a beat, Y/N watched the hybrid sluggishly turn onto his side, propped up on an elbow, his lips chapped as they parted slightly. Moving at glacial speed, Taehyung refused to meet Y/N’s eyes as he accepted both the pills and the glass, eagerly taking the medication and sucking down half the glass of water. 

“Bit too much to drink last night, huh?” Y/N began, planting her ass on the ground and wrapping her arms around her knees. Taehyung’s throat bobbed as he swallowed the Advil capsules, Y/N following the movement with rapt interest. “I brought you some breakfast. It’ll soak up some of that gin. You should take it easy today, Tae, I can bring up my laptop and you can do a little photo editing in bed or something.”

Taehyung sat up more fully, although the movement was clunky and lacked the typical brawn and speed that he usually operated at. Clutching his forehead, one of Taehyung’s sharpened incisors bit down on his lower lip so harshly he drew a bead of blood to the surface of the flesh. Sighing, Y/N got to her knees, reaching up and back for the plate of food, placing it on his bed in front of him. The Kodiak hybrid’s complexion turned a touch green, a large hand slapping across his mouth and nose, and Y/N swore she heard a guttural gag from the back of his throat. She’d been there.  

“I know the smell is probably making you nauseous, but you’ll feel better if you eat. I promise,” Y/N encouraged, Taehyung’s round ears pressed flat against his skull, an animalistic grumble vibrating his chest. “I… wanna talk to you, Tae.”

Appearing to catch him off guard as he poked at one of the fried eggs with his fork, Taehyung blinked at her, his expression blank. Y/N suspected, judging by the vacant expression, that he might have blacked out the previous night and couldn’t remember anything that happened; including but not limited to him pushing her against a wall and letting Yoongi spoon-feed him tortellini soup (or so her leopard hybrid had revealed to her over her morning coffee). 

“Do you remember anything about last night?” 

“No… No, I don’t,” Taehyung set his fork down promptly, unease turning down the corners of his mouth. “Did I do something wrong?”

Y/N shook her head immediately, though she knew that Yoongi– and the others, if they knew, would beg to differ. Unfortunately, the silent denial did nothing to make Taehyung’s alarm go away. 

“You definitely drank way over your limit, but you didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing I’ve ever done that drunk, anyways,” Y/N picked at the fringe on his rug, mind going to the memory of drunkenly pushing Yoongi against a wall and demanding his phone number. “Actually, I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while. I haven’t managed to corner you until now.”

“What did I do?” Taehyung ignored her latter statement, stiffening when Y/N leaned forward, plucking up a piece of toast and raising it to his lips with a cocked eyebrow. If he didn’t get any food into his system, he’d feel like garbage the rest of the day, hybrid healing skills or not. 

“You seemed angry with me. I came home, you were listening to some jazz on Youtube in the parlor, and you had finished about half a bottle of gin. With no chasers,” Y/N only began speaking when Taehyung reluctantly took a bite of the toast, chewing robotically and staring at his hands tangled in his lap. “I think you were trying to tell me something, but Yoongi interrupted before you could say anything… and then you ran up here.”

Taehyung was quiet, his dark eyebrows pulled together as Y/N fed him toast, apparently lost in thought. While disheveled and still dressed in his cargo pants and hoodie from yesterday, Taehyung was nothing short of effortlessly handsome, even if Y/N could smell gin on his breath. 

“Angry with you?” Taehyung mumbled, tongue flicking out to catch some jam on the corner of his mouth. “I don’t remember. I’m sorry…”

“It’s alright, Tae. Keep eating,” Y/N encouraged, placing the fork back into his hand. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of this anecdote, but people often say that drunk words are sober thoughts. If there’s something on your mind, I want you to be able to talk to me about it. I care about you a lot, and miss having you around all the time. I don’t like… the distance.”

Y/N surprised herself by being so honest, stopping just short of spilling her guts and revealing her feelings for her elusive Kodiak hybrid. As she spoke, Taehyung made it about halfway through an egg before he pushed the plate away on top of his quilt, a frown on his face but the guarded look in his eyes softening exponentially. Looking down at her through his eyelashes, Taehyung heaved a great sigh, head tipping backwards and collapsing on his pillow. 

“I’ve been acting immaturely, huh?” Taehyung breathed, his forearm draped over his eyes as he chuckled humorlessly, seemingly talking to himself more than anything else. “There’s no use in avoiding you, anyways. Stubborn and persistent.”

“So, you were purposefully avoiding me. Wanna tell me why? Does it have to do with… Yoongi and I?” Y/N probed, nearly whispering the last question. The corner of Taehyung’s mouth quirked up into a sardonic smirk. “Okay, I’m guessing that’s what it is.”

“I just,” Taehyung peeled his arm off of his face, sitting up and joining Y/N on the floor, pushing curls out of his eyes with annoyance. “Like Jimin. Wish you just told me.”

Y/N swallowed, looking down at her lap, shame filling her. Taehyung returned to his breakfast, munching on another piece of toast, leaning against his bed. She could hear him taking sniffs of the air delicately, probably smelling the emotions coming off of her, and Y/N couldn’t help but notice how he sat several inches away, rather than pressed up against her like normal. 

“I’m sorry,” Y/N’s voice was scratchy, picking at the rug once more. “You’re right, I should have told you.”

“That night, when I told you about how I ended up here, you said you trusted me. I trust you,” Taehyung admitted, Y/N slouching so low in response, she felt like she was curling in on herself. “I meant what I said, and I know you did too. But I couldn’t understand why you felt like you needed to hide your feelings for Yoongi from me.”

Not wanting to cry in front of the hybrid, pride somehow welling up in her and mingling with her shame, she willed her lip to stop wobbling, peeking at Taehyung out of the corner of her eye. While difficult to hear, Y/N could tell it took a great deal of courage for Taehyung to confess that to her. 

“I didn’t know how to bring it up to any of you. I felt like everyone was finally getting comfortable here, and I was worried about disturbing the peace. Of course, I managed to do that anyways,” Y/N stared out of one of Taehyung’s windows, keeping her vision on the horizon so tears wouldn’t spill down her cheeks. “I trust you, of course. It wasn’t about me not trusting you, but trying to protect everyone’s… peace, I suppose. Comfort.”

“You can’t protect us from everything, Y/N,” Taehyung told her softly, Y/N all too aware of that truth. “There are going to be times where shit gets rough or uncomfortable, but we’ve all been through tough situations before. We can handle the truth, even if you think we can’t.”

Y/N was stunned by Taehyung’s sage advice, even if he was scolding her slightly. Nodding, she swallowed thickly, Taehyung reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder heavily. The contact had her spine going rigid, as Taehyung hadn’t so much as glanced at her recently, let alone give her a friendly touch. 

“Is he… treating you well?” Taehyung’s low voice was barely audible, even right in her ear. The question made her cheeks burn, heart racing. Whatever she was expecting him to say next, it wasn’t that. 

“Um, yes, of course,” Y/N mumbled awkwardly, twiddling her thumbs. “He loves me, too.”

“I know,” Taehyung removed his hand from her shoulder, getting to his feet and beginning to rummage through his dresser. “He’s loved you from the start.”

Gawking at Taehyung, looking at him from head to toe while his back was turned, Y/N was at a loss for words. Taehyung spun on his heels, offering a broad palm to help her up, a change of clothes tucked under his other arm. With a shaky grip, she took it, trying to catch eye contact, but the Kodiak hybrid avoided it. 

“Tae…” Y/N began, feeling like the conversation wasn’t quite over, and she refused to let go of his hand even when he tried to pull away. “We–”

“Thank you for breakfast, you were right, it made me feel better. I’m going to shower, though,” Taehyung cut her off, squeezing her hand tightly before releasing it. “I’ll come down after… I’ll quit hiding, so stop worrying about me, please.”

“Oh, Tae–!” Y/N wasn’t fast enough, Taehyung’s hybrid strength and speed apparently returning to him, and he disappeared into his bathroom with a click of a lock, leaving her reeling in his bedroom, her palm tingling from his touch still. 

Absently, she collected Taehyung’s half-eaten breakfast, and when she heard the shower turn on, it prompted her to leave the room, wondering if anything was accomplished by that conversation, if he truly would stop avoiding her, and how he knew about Yoongi’s feelings for so long. Humming sadly, she set her destination to the kitchen, thoughts still occupied with the flash of hurt in Taehyung’s eyes. 

“Are you sure you know how to drive this thing, wolf?” Jeongguk shouted from the booth in the back of the old van, Y/N cringing in the passenger seat beside Namjoon, who had very sharply turned onto a side street. “Judas priest, try not to hit the curb.”

“Be quiet,” Namjoon barked back, pushing the pair of glasses he was wearing up his nose bridge. Y/N had gotten him blue light glasses so he wouldn’t burn his retinas while he was crouched over her laptop researching for hours on end. “You can’t even drive in general, so can it.”

Giggling into her palm, Y/N admired her wolf hybrid while he glanced at the GPS on his phone. His silver hair was parted and swept back neatly, and was wearing Y/N’s favorite sweater he owned, a cream cable-knit scoop neck. She tried her best to not ogle him too much, but the sight of his strong, tanned hands wrapped around the steering wheel and perched on the gear shift had her slightly squirming in her seat. 

“Are we almost there?” Jeongguk, in fact, did not shut up, the sound of his thumb flicking a lighter making Namjoon’s bitten ear twitch. 

“Excited, sweets?” Y/N tossed over her shoulder, adjusting the hem of her plaid skirt, Jeongguk snorting, though Y/N caught him twirling a pen between his fingers and tapping his foot eagerly. Jeongguk had also gone out of his way to look nice that afternoon, opting for a loose charcoal button-down and normal dress pants rather than his usual casual gothic attire. 

“Please,” Jeongguk muttered, his voice muffled by the cigarette pursed between his lips. Y/N felt her mouth water, the elk hybrid’s hair beginning to grow in a way that made him look like a 50’s style greaser, complete with the shiny gel. “The possibility of interacting with paranoid humans all afternoon isn’t exactly enthralling.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N focused back on the road in front of her, not taking Jeongguk seriously at all. Jeongguk talked a big game, and certainly appeared intimidating with his glare, tattoos, and piercings, but deep down he was just as passionate about his interest in the paranormal as Namjoon was. 

“You guys will get your first paycheck by the end of the week, isn’t that awesome? I mean, if we can wrap up the investigation and cleansing by then,” Y/N changed the subject, rolling her window down (manually, with a crank) to filter out Jeongguk’s cigarette smoke, Namjoon grumbling about the frigid temperature. 

“Are you sure it’s legal for us to get paid?” Jeongguk asked incredulously. 

“Uh, good question,” Y/N admitted, watching Namjoon’s hands tense around the steering wheel. “One for Ben.”

“Says we’ll be there in three minutes,” Namjoon pointed to the GPS, Y/N leaning forward in her seat to get a good look at the suburban street they were driving down. 

It was just an average looking neighborhood in Newton, about twenty minutes from their own home, the houses sleepy Victorians and sidewalks studded with ancient trees. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, even when Namjoon parked his van outside of a little blue house shrouded by great oak trees. 

“Is this it?” Y/N leaned across her armrest to check out the front of the building, squeaking out an apology when Namjoon jerked in his seat from the proximity, her cheek smacking into his chest. “Shit, sorry Joonie.”

“No, it’s the post office. Why else would he park here?” Jeongguk flicked the back of her head, Y/N flinching when one of his icy silver rings made her scalp smart. “Let’s go, we’re late.”

Muttering, Y/N massaged the back of her head, hearing the elk hybrid rummage around behind her for his bag, Namjoon unfastening his seatbelt with an apologetic grimace. Ever since she had scolded the wolf hybrid for speeding, he began going under the speed limits. The man was never really one for gray areas, moving from one extreme to another. 

Pulling her coat closer around her body, Y/N jumped out of the old van, clutching her notebook to her chest and expelling a deep breath. While Namjoon locked up, she tucked the dangling wires to his Walkman deeper into his bookbag, snorting softly at the excited twitch to his tail. 

Once in front of the door to the home, Y/N rang the doorbell, feeling the delicious heat of her two hybrids behind her like a solid wall. She hadn’t been that excited for an event in a while, even though it involved the unknown and people in trouble– the chance to spend one-on-one time with Namjoon and Jeongguk had her bouncing on her toes while she waited for the door to open. 

Moments later, the heavy door creaked open, a thin, short woman appearing in the darkened threshold, a screen storm door separating her from the three lingering on her porch. The woman took in the sight in front of her with darting eyes, which had purplish circles beneath them, her hair a bit unkempt and hands shaking as she placed one of them on the handle to the storm door. 

“Are you… Y/N?” The woman asked, her voice small, scratchy, and weary. 

“Yes, are you Ms. Sanders? I work for Judy, I’m taking over her home consultations. She sent me all of the information you gave her about the situation in your home,” Y/N hoped that the woman would invite them in soon, the wind was biting and she could sense Jeongguk’s impatience without having to look at him. 

“Please, come in,” Ms. Sanders– Erika, Y/N remembered her first name from the packet– pushed the remaining barrier between the outside and the apparently haunted house aside, Y/N promptly stepped into the house once the woman moved. “Also, please excuse the mess. I haven’t had much time to, um, clean up, lately.”

Namjoon shut the door behind him once everyone was inside, Y/N sneaking a peek at him sniffing the air with a thoughtful expression, Jeongguk looking awkward and unconfident, for once. Contrary to what Erika said about the state of her home, things seemed tidy, eerily so, and in the small den that they were led to, nothing seemed out of place, just lonely. 

“I’d like to introduce you to my two hybrids, they’re here to help, as well. This is Namjoon, he’s very knowledgeable about all things paranormal, actually, all things in general,” Y/N gestured to her wolf hybrid, who exuded the confidence that Jeongguk seemed to be lacking. “And this is Jeongguk. He’s worked with a paranormal investigative group and has years of experience. Both of them successfully helped me rid my own home of an entity.”

“Y-yes, Judy mentioned that she’d be sending a team here for me,” Erika eyed the two hybrids standing behind Y/N like bodyguards, Y/N comforted by both of their contrasting scents in an unfamiliar place; floral honey and leathery smoke. “Make yourself comfortable. Can I get anyone anything to drink?” 

Y/N shook her head, the two hybrids following suit, sitting on her either side on the lumpy sofa in the living room. Y/N had to admit, there was a hair-raising, peculiar feel to the energy in the home, one that set her teeth on edge. Definitely different from the way it felt in her own house, Y/N could tell Jeongguk could sense it too, his dark eyes narrowed as he scanned the room. 

“So, Ms. Sanders–”

“Please, just Erika is fine,” she sat on the sofa across from Y/N and her two hybrids, her frame sagging tiredly. The woman watched Namjoon methodically place his Walkman onto the coffee table, feeding a blank tape into the device. “Should I get the kids?”

“Actually, we were thinking that getting your explanation of what’s been going on first would be best. That way we can compare each family member’s experience to one another,” Y/N held her hands up, Erika halting her movements to rise from her seat, definitely a little bit jittery. 

“Would it be okay to tape the interviews so I can review them later?” Namjoon addressed the young mother suddenly, his fingertip hovering over the record button and ears forward and alert. 

“I’d let you film and broadcast on national television if it gave you an edge over whatever has been tormenting my family,” Erika insisted, Namjoon raising a brow but pressing down on the record button anyways, angling the device closer to the woman so the microphone would better pick up her voice. “So, where should I start?”

“How about when you first noticed things were becoming out of the ordinary. Nothing is too insignificant, so speak freely,” Y/N encouraged, Jeongguk leaning backwards on the couch beside her, ankle over knee, his journal opened up to a fresh page. 

“Well, we moved here a little over a year ago. From Colorado. I separated from my husband and the kids and I needed somewhere safe to stay, far away… he’s an alcoholic, you see. My family is from Massachusetts, so I wanted to be near my folks god forbid my ex ever tried to come and find us…” Erika’s eyes became glazed over, Y/N trying not to react to her hybrids shifting and coiling in alert when a thump-thump-thump came from a wall behind the young mother, who apparently didn’t notice or was all too used to the sound. “Everything was normal, at first. The first six months here were perfect, idyllic, even.”

“When did that start to change?” Jeongguk spoke up for the first time, the tip of his pen tapping his lower lip. Erika glanced at Jeongguk, pulled from her reverie, and her expression became sharpened as if icy water was dumped over her head. 

“It happened gradually. My son, Thomas, is non-verbal, but he started having nightmares eight months ago. He’d come into my room and climb into my bed, shaking. While he’s non-verbal, he’s always been quite independent and brave, so this struck me as odd– especially when the nightmares became a nightly thing. Unfortunately, I don’t know what his nightmares are about, because he’s refused to even write anything down about them, but I know they terrify him. That was the first instance of strange events, and he still has them almost every night.”

Y/N nodded, the sounds of Jeongguk hastily scribbling his notes down on the linen page of his notebook, and the crackling of the Walkman, filling the sad silence of the home. Y/N was reminded of her own nightmares that came with the haunting she experienced; the creature that chased her in her sleep, and the fear that crept down the notches of her spine had Namjoon scooching an inch closer to her subconsciously. 

“After that, my Jules… She's always been a sort of flower child. But ever so slowly, that bubbliness has gone away, she’s been more introverted, edgy. I thought maybe it was just because she’s entering her teenage years, but she’s made some new friends at school. Ones that I’m not sure have the best influence on her.”

“How do you mean?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, wondering if there was some kind of entity Namjoon had learned about that was summoned when one makes shitty friends. 

“They’re older than her, and whenever she hangs out with that group of kids, she’s out all hours of the night, ignoring her curfew,��� Erika sighed, tearing her eyes from Jeongguk and shaking her head. “I’m not usually like this, I mean, my brother was goth growing up, so I’m more than used to the culture. But these kids are bad news, I know it. They’re less about music, politics, and fashion and more about teenage riot. Property destruction, drinking on the train tracks. Jules was never like that, so her sudden change in personality concerned me.”

“So, your daughter made a couple of friends who turned out to be punks, and her whole personality changed?” Jeongguk confirmed, though his usual condescending tone was absent. In fact, Y/N was very impressed by how much the elk hybrid reined in his attitude. 

“I know what that sounds like, like I simply don’t care for her friends. But the more she hangs out with them, the darker her personality becomes,” Erika’s voice went rather quiet, now refusing to look towards Jeongguk at all. 

“Sometimes, what ends up happening in a haunting involving children, particularly young teens, their moods are influenced heavily by whatever has attached itself to the teen’s home or even the teen themselves. There’s a chance that your daughter acting out, especially in a way that you disapprove of to provoke a reaction, is not due to her new friends, but instead, it’s something above her control entirely.”

Namjoon’s insight had Y/N blinking in surprise. Instantly, she felt a little sheepish about that shock, as she knew he had been doing extra research for the past several days– not to mention his lifetime of knowledge he was already sitting on– but it was impressive to hear him relay information like that. Y/N recalled how Seokjin had mentioned Namjoon was different in group settings outside of the home, more vocal. Perhaps that’s what her wolf hybrid was like at the book club, take-charge and confident. Y/N thought that Jeongguk would be more like that, but she was equally surprised by the elk hybrid’s quiet observations. 

“So, you think the… ghost, or whatever, is what’s causing Jules to behave so differently?” Erika chewed on her lip, the thump-thump-thump sound returning, this time overhead, Y/N trying her best not to react. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jeongguk jot something down urgently. “I mean, she won’t even talk to me. I don’t even know if she’d be willing to talk to you.” 

With that, Jeongguk sat forward, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and rolling the fabric up over his forearms. Raising an eyebrow at him, Jeongguk’s eyes flickered playfully in her direction, sticking his pen behind his ear. 

“Is there any chance Julie’s friends look like me?” Jeongguk drawled, again, without any judgment, miraculously. Erika appeared embarrassed, nodding slightly.

“I–I mean, without antlers, of course b-but I didn’t mean to insinuate–”

“It’s alright, Ms. Sanders,” Jeongguk held up his tattooed hand indifferently, rising to his feet. “Julie might be more willing to open up to someone who shares a similar… aesthetic. The wolf, here, is too granola-crunchy, and Y/N certainly has more questions for you.”

Namjoon growled lightly beside Y/N, staring at the elk hybrid resentfully. To her wolf hybrid’s dismay, she was once again agreeing with Jeongguk. 

“You think she’d be…? I mean, if you can get anything from her, please, try. I just want to know if she’s, um, as scared as we are. Her brother and I. If she’s seen things like us,” Erika, too, stood, her movements wobbly and frail. “I can show you to her room, ask if she’s up to meeting you. She knows that I’m having this consultation, anyways.”

“Ms. Sanders, Y/N and I are going to take a quick walk around the property while you and Jeongguk speak with Julie. When you return, I’d like to ask you about specific instances of activity,” Namjoon hooked a large hand around Y/N’s elbow, manhandling her to a stance, pausing the tape recording. Without even glancing his way, Jeongguk caught the Walkman Namjoon sent hurtling towards his head, the two of them having an unspoken plan already, apparently. 

The young mother nodded, ushering Jeongguk up the narrow staircase to the second level of the home, Y/N spluttering as Namjoon dragged her outside, his grip strong as always, but tender and steadying. Heart racing, she grit her teeth at the nasty wind chill that greeted them once they were on the lawn, and naturally, Y/N clung as close as she could to Namjoon’s side without him growing uncomfortable. 

“Why are we–?” Y/N began, Namjoon leading her to his van, letting go of her elbow once he yanked open the passenger seat, rummaging through his disorganized glovebox. “Joon.”

“Hold on, Y/N,” Namjoon mumbled, barely noticing that she was stuck to his back like a jetpack to shield from the bitter cold, teeth beginning to chatter. “I have an idea.”

Finally, he turned, his burnt honey eyes the only whisper of warmth amongst the gray of the sky, holding an array of objects in his arms; what appeared to be two, long, L-shaped pipes, a spool of red fabric ribbon, and a couple of packets, by the looks of it. 

“Whatcha got there?” Y/N snorted, loving how much Namjoon was getting into the whole situation. 

“Here,” Namjoon ignored her question, shifting everything but the little packets into one arm, taking one of her wrists, and aggressively shaking the pouches with a concentrated expression. 

In the palm of her gloved hand, Namjoon placed a hand warmer in the center of it, promptly manipulating her wrist into the pocket of her coat, and repeating the same process with the other hand. Stunned, she stared at her wolf hybrid and registered the out-of-character action like she was a third party looking on, and Y/N wondered if the pink hue of his human ears blossomed because of the wind or bashfulness. 

“Have you ever heard of dowsing rods, or people using them during paranormal investigations?” Namjoon asked after clearing his throat, turning again to lock up his van and break eye contact. 

“Um, vaguely. I might have seen them use them on Ghost Adventures,” Y/N managed to choke back, the hand warmers keeping her fingertips toasty in her pockets. “Is that what those poles are?”

“Yeah. I figured we could just take a quick walk around the house with these, and we can mark areas that show any sort of reaction with the ribbon tied around a tree. While I handle the rods, you can try and read the energy beside me,” Namjoon motioned for her to follow him back up the driveway, thoughtfully reading her skeptical reaction. “I know you’ve been working on your energy readings lately, Y/N. You can do it, I believe in you.”

It was Y/N’s turn to be bashful upon hearing those words from her wolf hybrid. Namjoon’s approval was something that was hard-won, so the encouragement and praise had her floating straight up into the clouds. With those words, she thought she could probably scale a mountain if he was by her side. 

Without hesitation, she trailed after Namjoon, curiously watching him shift the metal rods in his hands, and when they reached the side of the house where a large window looked into the living room, the wolf hybrid paused. Shivering, Y/N felt unease well up in her gut, the sensation of one thousand ancient eyes on her causing her skin to crawl. There was definitely something there, lingering around that window, perhaps in the brush, and judging by the movements of the rods in Namjoon’s hands and the frown on his face, he was coming to the same conclusion. 

Saying nothing, Y/N simply sticking close to Namjoon as they made a slow circle around the yard, she concentrated on opening herself up to the energies of the backyard as much as she could, without risking attachment or harm. Namjoon was right, her practice was paying off, because she was starting to get a better sense of the types of entities that were lingering in the yard alone. 

“Okay, get anything?” Namjoon asked, once they had landed back to the side of the building they first began canvassing, using his sharp teeth to tear a strip of red ribbon from the spool he was holding. “This window here seems to be the hotspot, but the house feels like it’s almost shrouded in something…”

“I think we’re dealing with more than one entity here,” Y/N admitted quietly, while Namjoon tied a knot around a little sapling under the window. “I felt a few different energies. Only one, in this particular spot, made me uncomfortable. Like I’m being watched. The others felt more organic, human.”

“And that’s just out here,” Namjoon added, but it sounded like he was talking mostly to himself. “Come on, let’s head back in. Jeongguk is done talking to the girl already.”

Absently, Namjoon reached backwards, one of his hands still adjusting the ribbon on the sapling, his fingers wiggling as he searched for Y/N’s grip. Mouth dropping open, she automatically slid her gloved hand into his, listening to his chest rumble as the residual heat from the hand warmers melted into his chilled skin. Never one to deny Namjoon his rare moments of actively seeking out any sort of affection, Y/N soaked in the moment as best she could. 

“You still have that list of questions to ask?” Namjoon held her hand tightly as she walked up the ice-slick concrete steps into the house, so she wouldn’t slip. 

“Uh-huh. We’ll probably be able to wrap up the consultation afterwards, schedule the investigation. With the energy I’ve felt so far, I think it’s best we get in here as soon as we can to clear it out.”

Back inside, Namjoon let her go, and the first thing Y/N registered was the teenage girl that was now sitting in the living room, beside Jeongguk, her hands tangled in her lap. Exchanging a sideways glance with Namjoon, she hurried into the room, taking a seat next to Erika and her son, Thomas, who had also chosen to join the consultation. Y/N noticed that the young boy was holding onto a plastic toy robot tightly, like someone was going to take it away from him. 

“Tommy, this is Y/N, she’s going to help us,” Erika smoothed a hand down her son’s back, the kid blinking at Y/N in acknowledgement, similar dark circles under his eyes that mirrored his mother’s. Her heart broke, in consequence. “That’s the wolf hybrid I was telling you about, too, honey. Namjoon is his name. Tommy loves wolves.”

Tommy, indeed, was staring at Namjoon with stars in his eyes, squirming in his seat, Erika affording all of them a tender smile for the first time Y/N and her two hybrids had stepped foot into the home. Namjoon, embarrassed, sat on Jeongguk’s free side, offering Tommy a little wave, one of his sharp incisors biting down on his plush lower lip. 

“Alright, kiddo, she’s probably got a few questions for you. She’s cool,” Jeongguk set Namjoon’s Walkman back onto the coffee table, Y/N’s eyebrows shooting into her hairline as the elk hybrid used the nickname he usually saved for her on the teenager that only seemed to be at ease because of the burly hybrid beside her. 

Getting a good look at Julie, Y/N felt herself take a step backwards in time, the girl looking quite a bit like she did as a teenager; dark eyeliner, graphic band tee, chipped nail polish and holes in the knees of her skinny jeans. Julie regarded Y/N carefully, only after shooting a doubtful look at Jeongguk, then a resentful one at her mother, the girl’s dark eyes narrowing a tad. 

“She’s how you described her,” was all Julie said, the corner of her mouth curling up in amusement as Y/N tried not to clench her fists– leave it to Jeongguk to offer up a sarcastic caricature. 

“Hey, Julie, nice to meet you,” Y/N ignored Jeongguk’s smug, shit-eating grin, clearly pleased with himself that he was able to get Julie to be comfortable around them. “I do have a few more questions before we go ahead and plan the investigation. Which, when the three of us do conduct the investigation, you and your family will be safe and sound staying at a nearby hotel.”

“You’re not planning on instigating angry spirits, like those quacks on TV, are you?” Julie crossed her arms across her chest with a scowl, several brightly colored rubber bracelets around her wrists. Namjoon was busying himself with straightening out spare blank tapes on the table– he was always a little bit awkward around children. 

“No way. That’s all Hollywood, anyways,” Y/N resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at Jeongguk, who was biting down on his fist to prevent laughing, which Y/N found both unprofessional and annoying as a gnat in her ear. “We just want to help get rid of whatever is bothering you. I’m sure Jeongguk told you a little bit about what was hanging around our house a few months ago… we were able to banish it permanently. I, and I’m positive my teammates as well, have no interest in provoking spirits for any kind of viral recognition.”

Y/N tasted the word “teammates” on her tongue like a saccharine hard candy, after all, it was the first time she was using it in reference to the sort of operation she had created with Namjoon and Jeongguk. Neither of them seemed to notice the significance, but both of them sobered with her words, nodding in agreement. Jokes aside, the situation was serious, and helping the family was top priority– thirst for knowledge and experience aside. Julie seemed to relax in response to Y/N’s promise, and without further ado, Y/N waited for Namjoon to start up the tape again, and she launched into her list of questions. 

“Has the spirit ever shown itself physically to any of you?”

On the way back home from the Sanders’ residence, Y/N felt her frame sagging into the worn leather seat beside Namjoon, the tense of the house energy dissolving the further Namjoon drove from the address. She was ready for a hot bath and some mindless television, having more than enough of the paranormal for one day. A bit loopy, Y/N focused on the air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror, the shape of it a cartoon flying saucer. 

“So the mother has seen a shadow in the hall at night, usually when she gets off from work. Then we had the kid point at the window, which Y/N mentioned feeling like an entity watches the family from there–”

“Jeongguk, you can take notes silently,” Namjoon sighed, probably sensing how exhausted Y/N was, even over the folk tape he was playing quietly and Y/N’s attempts to stay awake by pinching her thigh periodically. 

“Fuck off,” Jeongguk muttered, but lapsed into silence anyways. Y/N stole a look at him over her shoulder, and he was lazily propped up on his side in the booth, a pen cap sticking out of his mouth while he scanned his notes. 

Namjoon had cleaned up the van in preparation for their journey to the Sanders’, stacking his books neatly and moving most of them up to the loft where the mattress was, considering it was not being used. He even brought in a few blankets and pillows to make things a little more comfortable, one of the throws currently over her lap. Y/N, as well, added her own touch to the van– upon the wolf hybrid’s insistence– and taped little battery-operated fairy lights around the ceiling of the vehicle. In the short few days the three of them made the van ready for longer trips, Y/N had grown quite fond of spending time in there, and her and Hoseok had coined it the “mystery van”. 

“Joonie?” Y/N spoke suddenly, her voice definitely weary but catching the wolf hybrid’s attention nonetheless, his ears perking up cutely even with his eyes still trained on the road. 

“Mmm?” Namjoon pushed his glasses up his nose again, turning down the radio.

“How did you get this van?” Y/N dared to ask. She hadn’t done much prying into Namjoon’s past, heeding the advice in her wolf hybrid guidebook to let him present information when he’s ready, but since he had softened up so much, she figured asking wouldn’t do too much harm. 

“It was given to me,” Namjoon replied cryptically, though Y/N was pleased enough that he actually answered her to not pout about how little that was revealed. “Shortly before you adopted me. In Wyoming.”

“Did you teach yourself how to drive?” Y/N figured she might as well go along with it if Namjoon was okay with that line of questioning, and didn’t seem peeved she was being curious. 

“No, someone taught me,” Namjoon’s lips were twisted up in amusement, casting a brief look in her direction. “Some things can’t be learned from books.”

“Ah, I see,” Y/N didn’t want to push her luck, wiggling further into her seat to get comfortable. She had about one thousand follow-up questions, but she had all the time in the world to get answers from Namjoon. 

“I lived alone most of my life, in the woods, abandoned cabins. I never liked to stay in one place, mostly because I avoided running into humans… I came across this van deep in Yellowstone park one night in the spring a few years back, the awning was out, and an old woman was sitting in a lawn chair in front of a campfire. I’m not sure how she managed to spot me, but she did,” Namjoon shocked Y/N by actually launching into a story, her mouth agape and even Jeongguk’s furious notetaking had ceased. “I hadn’t had a real meal in… well, ever. She offered me some dinner. At that point in my life, I didn’t trust humans as far as I could throw them. But I could smell her sincerity.”

Y/N had no idea what to say in response. An innocent question turned into a whole lot of background on her wolf hybrid, and she didn’t know whether to begin recording him or stay statue-still. 

“Her name was Joan. Most of the stuff in here is hers, she had quite an interest in UFOs and ‘mythical’ creatures. Over the next few weeks, I’d check in on her… she was quite old, and by herself, and I suppose having access to real food was tempting to me as well. I’d listen to her prattle on about things she’s seen in the woods, I’d share things that I had experienced in the wilderness over the years,” Namjoon continued, turning the windshield wipers on when a flurry of snow began to fall. “After a few weeks, I trusted her enough to take her up on the driving lessons, joining her on her trips to town for provisions. I didn’t live with her, but I’d spend time there every few days.”

“Did you steal an old lady’s camper van?” Jeongguk exclaimed from the backseat, a throaty growl coming from Namjoon in consequence. 

“No, you asshole. There were a couple of weeks where I’d go to the van, but she wasn’t there. It was confusing, like she had just vanished, but I wasn’t so attached to her that I was overly concerned. While she was old, she was still a decent hiker. I guessed she had just taken a tent and gone for a little trip,” Namjoon turned off the highway, taking the ramp that would bring them back into their town. 

“I was wrong. The last time I went to check on her, the van door was open, but there was someone else inside. Thinking it was an intruder, I took a look inside, but I recognized the younger woman from pictures Joan had, it was her daughter. Her daughter told me that Joan had checked herself into the hospital following up on her heart condition, but it was too late. She died within three days of being in the hospital, heart failure,” Namjoon frowned, ears flattening to his skull. “The daughter said Joan mentioned me. Wanted me to have the van. The daughter had no use for it, anyways… She was just collecting some photos. She said I could have it, gave me the keys, and I never saw her again. It was convenient, so I just started living in here.”

Ears ringing, Y/N couldn’t believe how much she had gotten from Namjoon with just a few questions, and she felt somewhat guilty that she hadn’t tried to get closer to him in that way, blindly following advice from a stupid guidebook. That aside, her heart swelled a few sizes; if Namjoon felt comfortable enough to share all of that with her and Jeongguk, he had really come a long way since his initial adoption. 

“I’m sorry about Joan,” was the first thing Y/N could think of as any sort of coherent reply, putting her hand over Namjoon’s that was resting on the gear shift and squeezing. “She must have liked you quite a bit to leave you this van.”

“I suppose,” Namjoon agreed, letting Y/N keep her hand on top of his, navigating his way through the town square. “She probably just preferred someone keeping all of her stuff safe after she died.”

“What made you want to come all the way to New England?” Jeongguk’s voice was suddenly right beside Y/N’s ear, making her flinch and push his shoulder. He was squatting between her and Namjoon, staring out the windshield with boredom, and a piece of gelled hair sticking to his forehead. The elk hybrid ignored Y/N’s pleas to sit down for safety, much to her chagrin. 

“History,” Namjoon shrugged, shutting off the GPS once the familiar streets of their suburb were in view. “I wanted to see what a city was like. New York City seemed too big, and Boston is certainly historical. Plus, I had never seen the ocean before.”

“Weren’t you originally from Los Angeles, Jeongguk?” Y/N changed the subject, emotions welling up in her. As time went on, it was clearer and clearer to her that she and her seven hybrids, by some cosmic intervention, were destined to be together, considering they had come from all over the country at the same time. 

“Yeah. Shithole,” Jeongguk rolled his eyes, using a wrist to smack a fresh pack of cigarettes against. Before she could ask him what he meant, Namjoon pulled into the driveway, the sky turning lavender as the sun disappeared over the bare willow trees. “I’m starving. Want a drink.”

Jeongguk straightened up, snatched his notebook from the booth he left it on, and with a flick of his lighter, was jumping out of the van and into the snow. 

“Guess he had enough of us,” Namjoon remarked, unfastening his seatbelt and stretching his arms upwards, his shoulders popping with the movement. Snorting, Y/N shook out her stiff legs, folding the blanket over her lap and gathering her tote bag. 

“He’s bratty when he’s hungry,” Y/N smirked, waiting for the wolf hybrid to lock up the van before heading to the house. “Maybe I should order pizza tonight, unless Yoongi made something already.”

Namjoon sniffed the air, shaking his head.

“No, nothing’s cooking. Just the fire in the living room is going,” Namjoon matched his stride with Y/N, his tapes and Walkman tucked under his arm. “Order pizza, I can tell you’re tired. The energy work must have taken a bit out of you.”

Preening under Namjoon’s observation, she stared at the snow-dusted grass, feeling closer to him than ever. 

“Yeah, I think I’m going to take a bath before dinner. Put some cleansing herbs and salt in the water just to make sure nothing from the Sanders’ house is clinging to me,” Y/N watched Namjoon unlock the front door with the house key he kept in his pocket, her own hands reaching up to dust snow collecting on his shoulders. 

“Good idea,” Namjoon let Y/N into the house first, Y/N sighing at the cozy heat and ambient lighting. “Thanks, by the way.”

“Huh?” Y/N spun on her heel, gawking at the wolf hybrid, who was blushing. 

“For including us in these investigations,” Namjoon said simply, a faint dimple appearing on his cheek. 

“Oh,” Y/N blinked, pausing in front of Namjoon’s bedroom door. “I don’t think I would, or could do it without you two.”

Namjoon’s ears were a vibrant shade of red by now, and with that final comment, he ducked his head, mumbling something about reviewing the tapes before dinner. She let him disappear into his bedroom, and in a sort of daze, Y/N found her way to her own room, opening up her notes app to find the pizza order document with a grin. 

February had finally rolled around, and as Hoseok and Y/N both dreaded, it was colder than January. At the very least, the sun was staying up later and later, to her relief, but there had never been so much snow in recent years. She was up to her ears in shoveling the walkways, scraping ice off of the cars, and making sure there was plenty of salt and gravel on the well-walked areas of her yard. That particular afternoon, the first Tuesday of the month, Alice happened to have a day off from the newspaper, and offered to swing by for a bit to catch up. 

“Where is everyone?” Alice accepted a hot chocolate from Y/N, sitting in the breakfast nook, glancing at the noticeably hybrid-free kitchen. 

“Taehyung officially got his driver’s license recently, he took himself, Yoongi and Hoseok up to the rec center to sign up for the spring activities. Jimin’s out with the horses, Jeongguk and Namjoon I think are in the van researching some equipment we need to order for the investigation in a couple of weeks,” Y/N slid into the booth beside her friend, blowing the steam from her own hot chocolate. “Seokjin got roped into joining Hoseok. He pretty much got dragged out of here.”

“So what you’re saying is, no one will hear us if we talk shit?” Alice grinned, Y/N already knowing what direction the conversation was going to take before Alice said another word. “Spill. You have a glow, so things must have worked out with Yoongi.”

“Between him and I? Yeah,” Y/N grew a bit shy, even if Alice knew pretty much everything about her already. Except for the fact that she had fallen for all of the hybrids, not just Yoongi, and that fact was something she was ready to share with her best friend once and for all. “Some of the others? Not so much.”

“Oh no. Tell me,” Alice scooched closer to Y/N, her arm slung around her shoulders comfortingly. 

“Basically, the rest of them caught Yoongi and I in the kitchen in a… compromising position, and that’s how they found out about us,” Y/N grimaced, Alice gasping. 

“No way. You weren’t fucking in here–”

“Christ almighty Jesus! No,” Y/N squawked, blood pooling in her cheeks. “We were just kissing. I’m not that much of an adrenaline junkie!”

“Okay, I was gonna say, Y/N. Way to go,” Alice snorted, taking a merry sip of her hot chocolate. “So I’m guessing a handful of them weren’t stoked about walking in on that.”

“Actually, the ones I thought were going to be weird about it were totally fine,” Y/N chewed her lip thoughtfully, aware that Alice wasn’t too familiar with the nuances of each hybrid’s personality. “Jimin and Taehyung were really disappointed that I felt I couldn’t confide in them. Jimin has forgiven me, but Taehyung still seems a little off, even if he insists he’s cool with it. He asked me recently if Yoongi was ‘treating me well’.”

“Damn. He sounds jealous,” Alice leaned back with a wag of her eyebrows. “What I know about hybrids, especially the types you’ve adopted, they can get hella territorial. Maybe it's his instincts screaming at him to protect you.”

“Could be,” Y/N muttered, her cheeks getting even hotter at the thought. “Then there’s Seokjin. He hasn’t addressed it at all, it’s like he’s pretending it’s not even happening. He used to be the clingiest, but now it’s rare he’ll initiate any kind of physical contact at all.”

“Again, babe. Sounds like jealousy. I remember Seokjin, he stuck to you like a starfish and looked at you like you hung the moon. He’s probably in denial,” Alice frowned, watching Y/N’s expression become stormy. “What’s wrong? You have that look on your face like you’ve left something out.”

“Alice, it’s not just Yoongi I’ve fallen in love with,” Y/N rubbed her temples, deciding to just bite the bullet already. “It’s all of them.”

There was a beat of solemn silence, and Y/N could almost smell the wheels in her best friend’s head turning. Alice tightened her hold around Y/N’s shoulders, the smell of her caramel perfume wrapping her up in a deeper hug. 

“I had a feeling,” Alice admitted quietly, squeezing Y/N once again. “That’s why you feel guilty that those three are keeping their distance.”

“Mm-hmm,” Y/N felt the hot chocolate go sour in her stomach, though she should have known that Alice had caught on by now. Y/N wasn’t exactly subtle with her heart-eyes around the boys, even with others present. “I talked to Ben about it. I know it’s high school for me to say, but I’m so uncomfortable with the idea of confessing to any of them myself. The possibility of rejection is scary, of course, but seeing how much the boat was rocked when they found out about Yoongi and I…”

“I don’t have to tell you this, babe, but this isn’t something you can run from forever. I think all you can do is take it one step at a time… if you were to sit everyone down at once and admit your feelings to the six of them in one breath, I have a suspicion not a lot of them will take that confession seriously,” Alice mused slowly, Y/N already holding the same opinion. The last thing she wanted was to lump every confession into one sort of sit-down conference, for some reason, the potential scenario came off as cheap and rushed, to her. 

“I just. I don’t even know who to start with. Maybe one of the boys that aren’t avoiding me like the plague,” Y/N said miserably. 

“You know, there’s a chance one of them may come to you,” Alice encouraged, wanting to cheer up her friend. “You never know. Yoongi felt the same, maybe a few of the others have feelings for you, too.”

Perking up a little bit, Y/N let herself believe that for a few moments, imagining how nice it would be to be past all of the drama and confrontation, and simply living in love and harmony with all of her boys– like a storybook. Unfortunately, Y/N existed in reality and not between the pages of a children’s book, and she shook away the vision dancing around in her head quickly. 

“I suppose we’ll see… Yoongi and I are still navigating how we act around the others, anyways. It’s a little tricky,” Y/N changed the subject slightly, knowing that Alice would be interested in some of the spicier things that had been going on in her life, rather than the tangled and complicated. 

“I’m sure. If my man was half as sexy as your Yoongi, you’d need a crowbar to pry me off of him at any given moment,” Alice deadpanned, Y/N choking on a sip of her drink, Alice’s throaty laugh filling the empty kitchen. “How does that work, by the way? I mean, with hybrid hearing… have you guys even…?”

“Uh… yeah, we have,” Y/N shrunk down in her seat, embarrassed. “The music room is soundproof.”

“Y/N, you naughty girl! Wait, so like. Is that going to become like the Red Room like in 50 Shades? Like, you’re only going to fuck in there?” Alice, true to herself, brought some humor into the situation, Y/N giggling despite herself. 

“I mean, no, I don’t think so,” Y/N managed through laughter, relieved to have some time with her friend and talk about such things. “As hot as it was… I mean we’re probably going to end up sleeping together in a bed at some point. I think it’s futile to pretend we’re not going to be intimate, the others aren’t stupid. I suppose I’ll just have to keep my sound level in check.”

“Okay, so clearly he doesn’t suck in bed, if that’s your response,” Alice teased, poking Y/N in the cheek. “Lucky lady. You do deserve it though, after all those years of The Great Dry Spell.”

“He’s perfect,” was all Y/N responded with, trying not to let her eyes glaze over with the memories of their tryst in the music room. “God. I’m sweating. Let’s talk about something else before I start chewing on the table.”

“I have an idea,” Alice straightened up after several moments of the girls laughing at Y/N’s fluster, taking up one of Y/N’s hands with mischief in her eyes. “Before you shoot it down, think about A) how fun it would be, and B), the potential amazing rewards.”

Making a motion for her to spit it out, Y/N braced herself for something ridiculous. 

“You’d do this in small doses, of course– the fact that some of them seem to be jealous is evident. Why not tease them a little? Give Yoongi a kiss here and there in front of them, bat your eyelashes… I’m not saying be a menace with the PDA, but I think well timed PDA might coax one of them into slipping. I know you, if you had more of an idea that one of them had romantic feelings for you, you’d feel better about confessing. Just a thought.”

Y/N mulled that over while draining the rest of her mug, furrowing her eyebrows. That was the exact kind of scheme her, Alice, and Laura would pull when they were teenagers with their high school crushes, and usually, it worked like a charm. Now, however, Y/N felt a little funny about it. 

“I don’t know… wouldn’t that be manipulative? Wouldn’t I be using Yoongi?”

“Y/N. Do you seriously think your leopard male hybrid who is in love with you would be upset that you kiss him in front of others? Hello? They’re all about possession. You’re not manipulating, either. Just think of it as a gentle kick in the ass for the others to sort out how they feel,” Alice rolled her eyes, Y/N regretfully realizing her friend was right. 

“I’ll think about it. If it blows up in my face, though–”

“If it blows up in your face, I’ll take responsibility. It won’t though,” Alice collected the empty mugs, standing from the breakfast nook. “Alright, babe. We need to catch up on some Below Deck, and I want some dirty details about your man.”

Snorting, Y/N nodded, ready to have a couple of hours to gossip and watch trash reality with a girlfriend. She felt lighter, truly, that she told Alice how she felt about all of the hybrids, and was grateful that Alice not only offered her advice from a different point of view, but made her smile, too. As Alice dragged her to the parlor, Y/N wondered who she was in her past life to not only deserve her boys, but her friends, as well. 

“Come on, Y/N, try it!” Hoseok attempted to grab Y/N by the ankle, his russet tail wagging happily as he teasingly pressed the ‘on’ button to his Hypervolt. “You’re being a wuss.”

“Hoseok. I have tried it. Last time you pressed that against the back of my neck without me knowing, I thought I was having a stroke,” Y/N was able to wrestle her ankle free from her fox hybrid’s grip, her ass sore from sitting on the rough surface of the rec center’s indoor track. “I’m not the one about to run a mile. Focus on your own calves.”

“Oh, please, just a couple of seconds,” Hoseok was too quick for her to evade his grabby hands for long, his strong, nimble hands clasping around her ankle again with a cheeky grin. 

“Ho-seok,” Y/N groaned as soon as the vibrating tool dug into the meat of her calf, and regretfully, she was eating her words– after a few days of being on her feet at work, the sensation was delicious. “F-focus, honey. It’s the first meet of the season.”

“Yeah, so? You’re the only one who came. Even Jinnie abandoned me, reading his stupid books,” Hoseok ignored her plea to focus on his warm-up stretches, moving the Hypervolt further up her calf, Y/N praying she wouldn’t melt into a puddle of moans and groans at the sensation. 

“They’re r-reading a Murakami book this w-week. Hoseok, stop!” Y/N weakly pushed his hands away, pouting at him. “It’s like almost 1,000 pages. He wasn’t doing it to spite you.”

“He could have read it here!” Hoseok countered, though obediently put his Hypervolt back into his gym bag and began to stretch out his quads in front of her. “Whatever. I’m only doing one event tonight, we'll be outta here in like an hour or so.”

“What do you want for dinner? We’ll pick up something on the way home,” Y/N pulled Hoseok’s number from his gym bag, shifting forward on her knees so she could pin it to his jersey tank. 

“Chinese. I want a bucket of fried rice,” Hoseok replied without hesitation, Y/N making sure his mahogany waves were suitably held back by the sweatband around his forehead. 

“That can be arranged,” Y/N agreed, squeaking in surprise when one of the announcers reminded the mile runners that they had ten minutes before they had to be at the starting line, Hoseok perking up. “Couple of questions for you?”

“Darling?” Hoseok cocked his head, nose twitching in her direction. 

“Your birthday is this month. What would you like to do, my social butterfly? Wanna throw a party, or go somewhere specific? A club, a bar?” 

Any trace of sly humor disappeared from Hoseok’s face in a flash, astonishment replacing it, before he ever-so-elegantly recovered, a neutral expression taking over. 

“That’s a lot to think about. It’s still a little ways away, can I think about it?” Hoseok responded carefully, his hands coming up to rub his lean biceps. 

“Think about it as long as you need. Unless you actually want to go to a club, I’ll have to book that ASAP,” Y/N leaned back on her palms, praying that his event would go by quickly so her ass wouldn’t be scraped up any further by sitting on the rough concrete. “Gift ideas, too. You like clothes, but you have a bunch of those already… we could go to a sports game? Or we could go to a music festival, I know you’ve been interested in that. There’s one next month here in Boston, I heard The Foo Fighters are headlining one of the days.”

“Y/N, that’s a lot to give a guy to think about before he has to perform athletically,” Hoseok whined, but Y/N could see embarrassment plain as day in his mocha eyes. “I’ll let you know, alright? Whatever you do for my birthday will be more than enough, though, without a doubt.”

Mouth open to reply, Y/N was cut off by a whistle blowing, Hoseok nimbly hopping to his feet, his cheeky, gorgeous grin back in place. He looked like a young god in his uniform, full of life and vigor, one that governed over the sun and daylight. Before she could speak, Hoseok used his hybrid swiftness to bend forward, pressing a light kiss to Y/N’s forehead at lightning speed. 

“Wish me luck, my darling! Order some egg rolls for Jinnie while you’re at it, too, alright?” Hoseok winked, whistled his trademark, and jogged off towards the starting line, leaving Y/N wooden and staring after him. 

Of course, Hoseok ended up winning– he had a streak, at that point, and was considered the star of the team, especially for his particular event. It was a shame, truly, that the rest of her hybrids didn’t want to be there to support the fox hybrid– but Y/N supposed with the near-weekly meets, it interfered with their own interests and hobbies. Besides, Y/N never missed a track meet, a basketball game, or a photography expo. Hell, if there were oral reports during her mother’s book club, she’d be there an hour in advance to hear whatever Seokjin and Namjoon had to say about a book she had never read. 

The next day, Wednesday, Y/N was beat from work, after Judy had her totally rearrange the store’s inventory for the spring. There was enough leftover Chinese food for her and the hybrids to pick at for dinner over a marathon of Curb Your Enthusiasm, and by the time she dragged herself to bed, her eyes were nearly crossed. The only thing that prevented her from drooling into her pillow immediately was the sound of her phone chiming on her nightstand, Y/N grumbling and blindly reaching for it, tapping on the text notification. 

Yoongi 👼🏻: can’t sleep : (

Y/N: sorry, angel 😭 something wrong? Need some tea?

Yoongi 👼🏻: no, just u

Yoongi 👼🏻: come up, stay with me?

Suddenly wide awake, Y/N sat up in bed like she was electrocuted, her heart hammering in her chest. Bunching her quilt up in her fists, she was torn– there was nothing she wanted more than to sleep with Yoongi, but she dreaded the thought of sneaking out of his room in the morning and stumbling into Seokjin, Taehyung, or Jeongguk on the second floor. 

“Fuck it. We’re going with Alice’s plan,” Y/N muttered to herself, and as if on autopilot, she made her way to the second floor miraculously without turning on any lights. 

Yoongi’s door was ajar, and it appeared that he was the only one still awake, lamplight only coming from his room, fortunately. Promptly, she slipped inside, chest rumbling in satisfaction when Yoongi’s scent filled her senses powerfully. 

“That was fast for a little human,” Yoongi emerged from his bathroom, Y/N trying not to drool out of the side of her mouth with his bare chest on display. His sweats were slung low on his narrow hips, spotted tail curled around one of his legs, and Y/N suddenly felt exposed in her own tank-and-shorts pajama set. 

“Do you want me to stay or not,” Y/N hissed, hands on her hips. Yoongi rolled his eyes, tongue poking into his cheek. The leopard hybrid shuffled over to his bed, dramatically collapsing onto it, his arms behind his head with a smirk. “Are you trying to smize your way out of a smartass remark?”

Y/N swallowed, her throat completely parched, dragging her eyes over his strong arms; the veins mapping his forearms, the pink tint to his bent elbows, the dark hair of his armpits. Briefly, Y/N internally cursed Yoongi for making her so whipped for him, she was attracted to armpits. 

“Is it working? Smells like it is,” Yoongi lifted a brow, tongue swiping over his lower lip and a free hand reaching up to fiddle with the silver chain around his neck. “Come here.”

“Yoongi. We’re just sleeping. You have a game tomorrow,” Y/N warned, though she lowered her knees to his mattress, crawling up the length of if so she could lay beside him. “Don’t seduce me.”

“Speak for yourself,” Yoongi accused, his eyes darkening as he watched her climb to his side. “Miss you.”

Y/N hummed, rolling onto her side, sticking her face into Yoongi’s neck, breathing in his cologne. Automatically, Yoongi began to purr, using one of his hands to grasp onto Y/N’s thigh, hooking it over his body. Her skin tingled where he touched her, especially when he began to trace shapes over her thigh, just below the hem of her shorts. 

“Miss you too,” Y/N mumbled into his neck, planting a gentle kiss on the tender skin, Yoongi shivering beneath her. Already, her eyes felt heavy, tangled up with her lover, his soothing purrs like a sweet lullaby. “Turn off the light. Early morning.”

Grunting, Yoongi yanked on the chain to his lamp, plunging the room into darkness, Y/N sighing happily when he pulled his quilt up over the two of them. Y/N rested her palm over Yoongi’s heart, the steady beats of it beneath her touch comforting. 

“Love you, baby,” Y/N whispered into the darkness, Yoongi’s tail wrapping around her waist, and she could tell he was already slipping into unconsciousness by the way he murmured the same sentiment back, slurred and heavy. 

The next morning, Y/N pretty much had to push Yoongi off of her, his body on top of hers, cheek squished against her chest, his twitching ears tickling under her chin. He groaned and complained when she rubbed his back to wake him, and Y/N fought the urge to simply fall back asleep with him on top of her. 

“Come on, you big kitty, gotta have some breakfast before the game,” Y/N wheezed as she managed to roll him onto his side, his long hair sticking up in the back. His eyes were still shut as he stumbled out of bed, making Y/N snort into her palm. Usually, Yoongi was one of the first hybrids up in the morning, but Y/N had never seen him before his first cup of coffee. “I’ll make something for you while you get ready.”

Yoongi frowned, not wanting to part with her yet, but she left his room with a grin as he shrugged on his jersey with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. No one else appeared to be up yet, all of the bedroom doors on the second floor still shut, so Y/N was able to tip-toe down the creaky staircase without a confrontation. 

After a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, Y/N was writing a brief note to tell the others where her and Yoongi were that morning, they were off to the rec center, Y/N letting Yoongi drive there. The weather was cold and damp, but at least there wasn’t any snow coming down from the sky on their drive in, but Y/N barely felt the chill with Yoongi’s hand on her knee while he drove. 

It wasn’t her first time in the rec center’s indoor gym, the floors buffed to a blinding shine and wooden bleachers surrounding the court, but because it was a new season, she felt like it was a different place. Once Y/N tied up Yoongi’s hair and pressed a kiss to his cheek, he was off to warm up with his teammates, and Y/N found a spot on the bleachers to watch the game. One eye on her leopard hybrid, she fumbled for her phone, which was buzzing away in her pocket. It was a notification of a reminder– in three days time, Valentine’s day, was the cooking class with Seokjin. Smiling a bit wistfully, she screenshotted the reminder, sending it to Seokjin over text. 

Y/N: excited for our class!! 

Seokjinnie 🌸: me too ≽^•⩊•^≼

Y/N: cute emoji omg! Is that supposed to be u? 

Seokjinnie 🌸: ᡣ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶𐭩 ♡

Y/N flinched when Yoongi’s coach blew her whistle aggressively, promptly setting down her phone and getting ready to watch Yoongi play. He dropped into total concentration, listening to his coach with his lip tucked between his teeth, before getting into position and watching the coaches to a coin flip. She was getting lost in checking him out when she was rudely interrupted by someone saying his name– several feet from beside her. 

“Number 54? Yeah, his name is Yoongi,” a high-pitched, girlish voice declared to her friend, and Y/N knew that she was gawking at them, but she wanted to know how she knew her leopard hybrid’s name. “Isn’t he hot?”

Y/N grit her teeth, realizing the two girls were actually hybrids, dressed in tennis skirts and both with canine sets of ears. Y/N recognized the uniforms they were wearing, belonging to the rec center’s tennis team, which means it was likely that they had seen Yoongi around before. Instantly, jealousy bloomed in her gut, and she had to tear her eyes from the two of them, fidgeting in her seat. She was pretty sure neither of the girls had noticed her staring at them, but she didn’t want to get caught, so she chose to discreetly eavesdrop instead. 

“He’s super hot. Like a rockstar or something,” the second girl, the one with darker hair, agreed. “I heard he’s like the best player on the team.”

“For sure, that’s what Trixie said. She used to watch the basketball team practices last season just to see him play.”

Now, Y/N was absolutely positive she was filling the gym with the acrid scent of jealousy, but if the girls noticed, neither of them even looked in her direction. Y/N wasn’t stupid or blind, she knew how gorgeous and talented Yoongi was, but it was never fun to hear others fawn over one’s boyfriend. Gripping the bleachers tightly, Y/N tuned the hybrid girls out, focusing on Yoongi, who had already stolen possession of the ball. 

Luckily, the game became a nail-biter, enough to distract her from the girls beside her. Y/N’s throat was hoarse from hollering Yoongi’s name, and she managed to get a pretty decent video of him scoring– by the end of the game, Y/N could barely speak, but Yoongi’s team had won. Before she could launch herself onto the court to give him a hug, he was pulled away by his teammates, who were thumping him on his back and pushing him towards the locker room. This made Y/N pout, but she knew that Yoongi would want to take a shower before they hit the road, so she busied herself on the phone, ignoring the giggles of the two hybrids beside her.

Hoseok 🦊: heads up, darling

Hoseok 🦊: we’re all heading out, taking the car. Errands to run!

Y/N: errands???

Hoseok 🦊: ye, ghostbusters need some equipment. Jinnie wanted to make something for dinner so gotta go to the store. The bear needs to pick up his photos while we’re there, and we’re dragging Jimin along so he can spend time with beings that AREN’T horses

Y/N: okay, thanks for letting me know foxy

Y/N: have fun, be safe, and think about plans for your birthday, pls! 

Hoseok 🦊: i’ll make a list :3 

“Ready to go?” Yoongi approached her, his hair damp and his gym bag slung over his shoulder, his footsteps echoing in the near-empty room. When he was in front of her, a smirk on his face, the two girl hybrids stopped whispering, and Y/N knew that they were checking him out, and she didn’t like that one bit. 

Pocketing her phone, she recalled her earlier jealousy, and apparently catching him off-guard, Y/N launched forward, jumping up into his arms with an oof coming from the back of his throat. Wrapping her legs around his waist, Y/N held him tightly, hiding her face in his neck. 

“Whoa, I didn’t win the NBA finals,” Yoongi chuckled, using one arm around her lower back to keep her supported, his chest vibrating with purrs. “Sweetheart–”

She cut him off, cupping his face urgently, descending her lips on his in a powerful kiss. He made a feline noise of surprise, his mouth parting, and Y/N took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, trying to inject every ounce of passion she had into it. After a split second, Yoongi recovered, kissing her back, his arm tightening its hold on her. Not wanting to draw it out too much, her jealousy melting into sheepishness, she broke away with one last peck to his lower lip, Yoongi’s eyes full of surprise and delight. 

“What was that for?” Yoongi asked, breathlessly, Y/N giggling like a schoolgirl as he lowered her back to the ground. 

“What? I can’t kiss my man?” Y/N replied, parroting his sarcastic remark he had once made in front of Taehyung. Yoongi blinked, stunned out of a response, Y/N tucking a lock of hair behind his ear before tangling one of her hands with his. “Let’s go home, angel.”

Y/N didn’t even look at the two girls that were gaping at the pair of them, but she knew that they were so caught off guard, they forgot to “congratulate number 54 when he comes out of the locker room”. Smugly, she left the gym with Yoongi on her arm, and she realized once they got to the car: Yoongi didn’t even notice those two girls, his attention had been on her completely. 

“Where’s the other car?” Yoongi frowned, pulling into the driveway carefully, never once letting go of Y/N’s hand. 

“Hoseok took it out with everyone to run some errands. On the bright side, I don’t think either of us will have to cook dinner, Seokjin wants to make something tonight,” Y/N hopped out of the car, suddenly struck by the fact that the two of them were alone, which had her pulse speeding up. 

“Ah. Giving us space,” Yoongi read her mind, chuckling. She stuck her tongue out at him while his back was turned, dragging his gym bag out of the backseat, and ditched him in the driveway to unlock the front door. 

Y/N headed straight for the kitchen for a glass of water, lamenting the fact that it was still too early for a glass of wine. Bouncing around in her skull were not only images of Yoongi jogging up and down the court, commanding the respect and admiration of his teammates, but the sounds of the two hybrid girls gushing over him. Embarrassingly, Y/N felt her jealousy return, hardly noticing Yoongi in the foyer as she stomped up the stairs, scooping up his gym bag as she went. She thought perhaps doing something as mundane and mind-numbing as a load of laundry would help her get a grip. 

Grumbling, she tossed Yoongi’s sweaty uniform into the wash along with Hoseok’s, adding a few more articles of the boy’s clothes from the mountain of dirty laundry in the corner of the little room. Eyes glazed over as she tossed laundry beads into the machine, she stared at the little chart taped to the wall, the one that she and Seokjin had created so laundry duty was tackled by a different housemate every day. 

“What’s the matter?” Yoongi startled her in the doorway to the laundry room, making her whack a knee against the dryer with a cry. 

“Nothing,” Y/N composed an innocent expression on her face, folding a pair of Jimin’s jeans and stacking them on the shelf. 

“Y/N,” Yoongi’s voice had a warning tone to it, Y/N cursing the hybrid ability to sniff out deceit. “You were fine just a second ago.”

“Why don’t you just take a whiff and guess,” Y/N grouched, Yoongi’s hazel eyes flashing. Without another word, Yoongi was pulling Y/N out of the laundry room with a tsk and a finger hooked in the pocket of her leggings. 

“Fine,” Yoongi growled, pushing her against the wall in the hallway, pressing a knee between her legs and keeping her pinned with a hand flat on her hip. His face was in the crook of her neck, Y/N growing stiff as she felt his eyelashes brush her skin. “Ticked off. Insecure.”

Heart falling to her ass, Y/N squirmed against the wall, trying to get away from the leopard hybrid, humiliated beyond belief. Served her right for challenging a predatory male hybrid, in hindsight. 

“Oh. Jealous,” Yoongi froze, drawing away from her throat, staring Y/N dead in the eye. “Why are you jealous, baby?”

Swallowing, Y/N shook her head, desperate to deny the accusation, but it was too late. She couldn’t weasel her way out of that situation, not with him pinning her down. Heart pounding in her chest, she shook her head. 

“It’s nothing, Yoongi. Just forget it, I’m being stupid,” Y/N attempted to diffuse the situation, furious with herself that she had potentially spoiled the rare alone time that the two of them had. 

“Is this about those girls sitting next to you at the game?” Yoongi asked incredulously, Y/N’s eyes widening a fraction. “Uh-huh. That’s a yes.”

“It’s dumb, but I can’t help it,” Y/N broke down with a whine, already feeling pitiful enough. “They were talking about how hot you are and how you’re the best player… ugh, it just triggered me I guess, you’re mine and I–”

Her words were stuffed back down her throat, because Yoongi’s mouth was on hers, hot and desperate, the force of the kiss causing her head to bump into the wall behind her. The hand that was on her hip moved, a forefinger and thumb pinching her chin to keep her in place, Yoongi already licking into her mouth with borderline abandon. Wide eyes slipping shut, Y/N released a ragged moan, her hands scrabbling to get a grip on his hoodie. Cocking his head, Yoongi bit down harshly on her lower lip, pressing his hips into Y/N’s before breaking away, his chest heaving. 

“How could you think,” Yoongi began, interrupting himself by giving her another swift kiss, his eyes lidded. “That I’d even look at anyone but you?”

Y/N couldn’t respond; she was too distracted by Yoongi’s hand under her shirt, tracking a path up her abdomen, and his plush lips suckling the skin under her jaw. Gasping, she let go of his hoodie, hands pressing to the wall behind her, heat flooding through her system. 

“If anyone should be jealous, it’s the other poor fucks who live with us,” Yoongi added roughly, bending to get a hold of her thighs, hoisting Y/N up into his arms, using his sharp incisors to nip at her collarbone. “They haven’t heard the noises you can make, haven’t tasted you…”

Y/N felt her head spinning as Yoongi carried her down the hallway, fisting a chunk of his long, inky hair tightly, the sound of Yoongi kicking his bedroom door open making her go limp in his arms. 

Y/N yelped when Yoongi let her go, all but tossing her onto his bed, standing before her like a predator stalking its prey. In a wild turn of events, they both became possessed by lust, Y/N already feeling her core throb against the material of her underwear. Yoongi had a filthy mouth, she was already aware of that, but when he used it against her– she swore nothing was sexier. 

“Don’t you know how I feel about you?” Yoongi rid himself of his hoodie, tossing it carelessly to the floor, swinging a knee over the mattress to cage Y/N beneath him. Y/N could only stare up at her beautiful leopard hybrid, his ears twitching with agitation, his silver chain dangling in front of her face. “Hmm? Love?”

“Y-yoongi,” Y/N breathed, overwhelmed. She reached up for him, hooking her hands around his neck, reveling in the quiet groan he made when she brought him down for a kiss, this one sweeter, more full of meaning, than the desperate lip-lock in the hallway. 

“There’s my girl,” Yoongi murmured between kisses, probably smelling the love and affection she had for him rolling off of her in waves. Seizing the moment while he was lax above her, Y/N’s hands shot out, landing on his chest, sending the leopard hybrid sideways and onto his back, Y/N straddling his lap with a doped-up grin. “Fuck.”

Snickering, Y/N squirmed on his lap, watching his eyes roll back into his skull, his hands still on her outer thighs. Y/N couldn’t believe that she was as turned on as she was, trailing her fingertips over the smooth skin of Yoongi’s flushed chest, and further, she felt satisfaction fill her with the hardness she felt beneath her hips. Yoongi’s breath caught as one of her thumbs brushed over a nipple, his pupils dilating with pure want. Unable to help herself, she ducked down, mouthing at his chest, and experimentally, she grazed her lips over his nipple, Yoongi’s hips bucking up into hers with the action. 

“Baby,” Yoongi’s voice came out strained, his hands squeezing her thighs painfully, one of them moving to tug on the back of her shirt, Y/N busy kissing a trail down his sternum. 

“Yoongi,” Y/N returned, tracing the lines of his toned obliques, teeth scraping against his left pec. 

Getting the hint once Yoongi yanked at her shirt once more, his other hand bruising the skin of her thigh, Y/N sat up, crossing her arms and pulling the material off of her torso, tossing it aside. She wasn’t exactly expecting to be in that position with Yoongi that afternoon, so regretfully, she was wearing a simple black bra, but Yoongi appreciated it with widened eyes nonetheless. 

“Kiss me,” Yoongi requested, breathlessly, his hands trailing from her thighs to her bare waist, eyes nearly emerald with how much they had darkened. Not daring to disobey, Y/N fell forward, whimpering at the sensation of their torsos pressed together, cupping his jaw and giving him the kiss he asked for. 

Not knowing where Yoongi ended and she began, she felt their legs tangling, Yoongi’s rough, jean-clad hips scraping against the soft material of her leggings, which were truthfully starting to become a little damp. Yoongi kissed the breath from her lungs, his tongue sensually rolling against hers, his purring chest pressed right up against hers.

“God, I–” Yoongi ground out, his form tensing beneath her when Y/N traced her tongue up the side of his neck, the taste of his sweat sweet on her tongue. “Fuck. Fuckin’ love you.”

“Love you more,” Y/N countered, directly in his ear, nipping at the shell of it, shuddering when his hands slid up her back, fingertips wiggling beneath the strap of her bra. With that statement, Yoongi grunted sharply, and before Y/N’s brain could process it, the world turned upside-down, the wind knocked from her lungs as she found herself underneath Yoongi again. 

“None of that,” Yoongi smirked at her bewilderment, using a large hand to press over her mouth, his free hand ghosting over the center of her chest. A primal sort of glint took over his feline eyes, Y/N automatically opening her mouth to respond. Unfortunately, Yoongi was a step ahead of her. “Uh-uh.”

Y/N’s lips were pried open, two of Yoongi’s long, slender fingers pressing against her tongue. Two could play at that game, Y/N thought, her tongue swirling around the digits, hollowing out her cheeks. Frowning, Yoongi watched her expression grow coy, her legs wrapping around his waist. 

“Smart mouth, should keep it filled,” Yoongi muttered acidically, pressing the pads of his fingertips more harshly into Y/N’s tongue, a tiny gagging sound coming from the back of her throat, making the tips of her ears burn. “Let’s get this off, huh, sweetheart?”

Unable to respond with his fingers stuffed in her mouth, Y/N watched helplessly as Yoongi slid a hand behind her back, unclasping her bra and pulling it off with a dark chuckle. One day, Y/N would learn not to provoke a hybrid, but honestly, the consequences didn’t seem to be so bad. 

Finally pulling his saliva-slickened fingers from her mouth, Yoongi helped Y/N out of her bra, absently pushing the garment to the side so he could get a good look at her chest, a hand resting over her throat, feeling her pulse flutter erratically. Desperately, she was trying to pull him back down to her mouth with tugs to his belt loops, but Yoongi ignored her silent plea, both hands cupping her chest. Y/N arched into his touch with a soft cry, bringing his face down to kiss between her breasts, and in retaliation for earlier, used the rough pads of his thumbs to outline circles over her nipples. 

“Hnngh,” Y/N winced, so sensitive his gentle touch was almost painful, Yoongi humming as he toyed with her chest, kneading the soft flesh in his hands, pinching one of her buds between his fingertips and pulling, rewarded by a heavy moan from Y/N. “Oh, b-babyy–”

Growing frustrated with the remaining barriers between himself and Y/N, Yoongi’s touch migrated to the waistband of Y/N’s leggings, using his strength to strip the article of clothing from her body, nearly passing out once he realized she wasn’t wearing panties beneath, her entire body bare beneath him. 

“What are you doing to me,” Yoongi groaned, his jeans starting to choke the life out of his cock, and not in a good way. “Shit…”

“Need… n-need you,” was all Y/N could hiccup, completely exposed for him, but not feeling a single semblance of embarrassment about that. Tail curling behind him in mesmerizing shapes, Y/N gripped at his solid biceps pleafully. 

“Needy thing,” Yoongi commented, sloppily kissing over the swell of her breast, enjoying the sounds of her helpless mewls. “God, I can smell you.”

Clumsily, Y/N tugged the zipper of Yoongi’s jeans down, yanking the fabric halfway down his legs, her breath coming out in pants as Yoongi laved his tongue over her nipple indulgently, hardly noticing she was trying to strip him. Gasping when he took the bud into his mouth, sucking and scraping his teeth over the sensitive flesh, Y/N felt her thighs get tacky with moisture, impossibly turned on and wanting. 

“Please, Yoongi, please. Fuck me,” Y/N wasn’t above begging at that point, far past the point of no return, Yoongi distractedly shucking off his jeans and slotting himself between Y/N’s parted legs. The weight of his hips against her bare core had her clenching around nothing, and she arched upwards to seek out the hardness in his boxers eagerly for any kind of friction.

Yoongi simply hummed at her request, releasing her nipple with a lewd pop, one of his hands tracing over her hip bone before he mercifully ghosted his digits over her dewy sex, a low hiss coming from the back of his throat when he realized how wet she was.

“Always so fuckin’ wet,” Yoongi teased, batting her hand away when she reached for his wrist, a drenched forefinger swiping through her folds. “All for me?”

“Uh-huh,” Y/N canted her hips upwards, chasing his touch, whining thinly when he just missed grazing her clit. “Please. Want you, want you inside of m-me.”

“Wanna taste you first,” Yoongi smirked devilishly, Y/N beginning to protest, just wanting to feel him, but he moved too quickly, and all Y/N could do was sink her hands into his long tresses, his face now eye-level with her cunt. “All of this, and I’ve hardly done anything.”

Too caught up at staring at his fucked-out expression, Y/N didn’t have time to feel embarrassed, Yoongi using his strong grip to maneuver her legs over his shoulders, making himself comfortable between her legs. Whether or not he noticed that her thighs were coated in her slick was beyond Y/N, and due to the position he had manhandled her into, she couldn’t close her legs to hide the evidence of her overwhelming arousal. 

Transfixed, Yoongi’s touch returned to her pussy, biting his lip when more wetness leaked out of her when his thumb brushed over her clit. She was so sensitive, responsive, tiny cries of pure want filling his ears, and it drove him absolutely crazy, paired with the scent of her lust. Wasting no more time, he locked eyes, her pupils blown out, eyebrows pinched, and kissed right above the hood of her clit, chuckling when her hips jerked in consequence. With a deft lick, Yoongi dragged his tongue through her folds, feeling Y/N’s legs shaking over his shoulders, a wail leaving her throat. 

Y/N couldn’t help her spine from contorting off the mattress, yanking on Yoongi’s hair sharply, a muffled grunt coming from his lips as he wrapped them around her clit, humming lightly and making Y/N see stars. It was almost too much to bear, Yoongi’s sinful tongue dipping into her entrance, his forearm keeping her hips pinned down. Alarmingly, Y/N felt herself already hurtling towards her release, Yoongi’s mouth on her paired with the unbroken eye contact had her stomach tightening quickly. 

“Yoongi,” Y/N whined, pressing herself into his face desperately, cheeks on fire when he raised an eyebrow, using the flat of his tongue to collect all of the wetness that had gathered between her legs, the erotic visual making her eyes roll shut. “Ah!” 

Yoongi paused, assessing the mess he made of her, using a free hand to stroke through her folds, Y/N begging for more, for anything, and Yoongi didn’t want to tease her too much, so with one last breathy please, Yoongi sunk a finger into her cunt. Cursing at the tightness, he curled his finger, attempting to open her up a little bit, a second digit joining the first, Y/N writhing in his grip. 

“Squeezin’ me, baby, are you gonna cum already?” Yoongi taunted, feeling her clamp down onto his fingers even tighter, her lip bitten raw as she cried out his name. “That’s it, honey.”

“Yoongi, want you,” Y/N managed to gasp, gripping the wrist that was between her legs, halting his movements. “Please, now, want you.”

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you?” Yoongi asked softly, pulling his fingers from her cunt, sliding the coated digits into his mouth, his free hand moving to the hemline of his boxers, Y/N’s eyes immediately dropping to the bulge beneath the fabric, her mouth watering. “Turn over.”

Blinking, Y/N shakily scooched up the bed, rolling onto her front, hearing Yoongi shuffle forward on his knees, his boxers tossed on the floor, Y/N turning her head slightly to get a good look at him, his sharp teeth prodding at his fleshy lower lip. Sighing blissfully when his hands caressed her hips gently, she squealed when he dragged them up, using his other hand to reach for a pillow, placing it underneath her, arranging her limbs so she was resting comfortably. Cheeks burning, she felt the pillow beneath her hips and lower abdomen, her ass on display as she arched her spine, leaning on her forearms. 

“Look at you, waiting so patiently,” Yoongi’s touch returned, his palms landing heavily on her ass, making her shudder and keen, opening her mouth to tell him to hurry up. Before she could, however, Yoongi spoke again. “Ready, baby?”

“Please,” Y/N wiggled her hips, hoping to tempt him into picking up the pace, feeling sweat slip down her spine. She sounded wrecked, eager, and Yoongi groaned, holding the base of his cock in one hand, the other squeezing one of her cheeks. 

Shaky breath rounding out into a moan, she felt him press against her weeping sex, running the tip through her folds teasingly, his own breaths coming out in labored pants, slowly losing control as he ground against her. Gripping Yoongi’s sheets for dear life, she huffed in annoyance at his teasing, feeling wetness dribble down the inside of her thighs in anticipation. After what felt like minutes, Yoongi stopped messing around, lining himself up, using a palm splayed across Y/N’s lower back as leverage and finally pushed in, only an inch or two, Y/N instantly clenching down on him with a broken whimper. 

“Holy fuck,” Yoongi grunted, moving as slowly as he could, and when his pelvis was flush with her ass, he weakly collapsed on top of her, bracing a hand beside her head. Y/N felt her walls fluttering around his generous length and girth frantically, the position she was in making him feel like he was in her guts, and she was hardly aware of the pathetic sounds spilling from her mouth. “This pussy…” 

“F-full,” Y/N stuttered, Yoongi’s breath on the back of her neck as he let her get used to the feeling, grazing his teeth along the junction of her shoulder and throat. “Hnngh–”

“Yeah? Stuffed full of me?” Yoongi’s voice was dark, dulcet, and in her ear, and Yoongi was all Y/N could feel– pressed against her back, scent clinging to the sheets, cock buried in her pussy. “Fuck. Stop clenching.”

“C-can’t help it,” Y/N replied, Yoongi wrapping his hand around her waist, giving his hips an experimental roll, Y/N choking on an intake of air with the movement. “Oh, d-don’t stop–”

Moaning into her neck, Yoongi snapped his hips forward, setting a strong, almost punishing pace right away, unable to hold back, and wanting to fuck the jealousy out of her. Yoongi was always more fond of showing, rather than telling, anyways. 

“I’m yours,” Yoongi mumbled into the skin over her shoulder blade, sucking a bruise into the flesh, the sounds of flesh hitting flesh filling his bedroom, Y/N’s voice scratchy from the constant mewls leaving her mouth. “Got that?”

“Nn– ah! Oh,” Y/N felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, the support from the pillow beneath her adding even more pressure to the way he was pounding into her, even the fabric of the pillowcase adding friction against her clit in the most delicious way. “Mine!”

“That’s right,” Yoongi peeled himself from her back, adjusting his position so he could fuck into her with greater strength, gathering up the hair along the nape of her neck and wrapping it around his wrist. “All for you, baby. Say my name.”

“Yoongi, oh my g– fuck, gonna cum soon,” Y/N wailed, the way he was tugging her hair back making her scalp smart, but between the pain and the pleasure, Y/N was nearly careening off the edge of sanity. “Please.”

“Please, what?” Yoongi spat through his teeth, not letting up on the pace one bit, kneading the flesh of her asscheek. “You’ve already got my cock, you need more?” 

Contrary to his taunts, Yoongi gave her more, reaching underneath, using a forefinger to rub circles around her clit, Y/N’s vision going white as she came without warning, clamping down on Yoongi so hard he swore colorfully, hips stuttering against her ass as she writhed from beneath him. He let go of her hair, kissing down the length of her spine, helping her through her orgasm as best he could while keeping up the swift pace of his thrusts. 

“Can you take a bit more, love?” Yoongi soothed a hand down her back, her body shivering with the aftershocks of her orgasm, nodding dazedly as she pressed her ass backwards into Yoongi. “Come here, roll over. Wanna see your face.”

Y/N was boneless, but Yoongi helped her flip over, tossing the pillow to the side. She whined when his cock slipped from her, but Yoongi was quick to remedy that, pushing back in as soon as her limp arms looped around his neck. Groaning at the new angle, Yoongi kept his thrusts slow, punctuated by a light grind to the spongy tissue of her G-spot, Y/N dissolving into a complete mess. The mood turned sensual, Yoongi leaning down to press his lips to hers, and even if Y/N wasn’t a hybrid, she could sense his love for her by the way he held the side of her face tenderly. Tucking hair behind his ear, Y/N crossed her ankles behind his back, feeling the way his cock throbbed inside of her– he must have been getting close. 

“Come, Yoongi,” Y/N pressed her forehead to her lover’s, raking her nails down his chest lightly. “Wanna feel you come for me.”

“Y/N,” Yoongi gasped, Y/N feeling her gut tighten once again when he hit a sweet spot inside of her, and after two more strokes, she was coming again, gasping and moaning into the leopard hybrid’s mouth. “I–”

Without warning, Yoongi stilled, his mouth on her collarbone, teeth sinking into the flesh, heightening the bliss of her orgasm. She felt him spilling inside of her, sweet, filthy nothings falling from his lips as he came, tongue swiping over the bite he had given her absently. Hazy from the scenting, she let Yoongi roll the two of them onto their sides, his cock still nestled between her walls, the leopard hybrid cleaning up the wound on her neck in a way that was more primal, feline, than ever, his chest rumbling with loud purrs. 

Limbs like jelly, Y/N closed her eyes, melting into Yoongi’s sheets as his tongue dragged over her neck lazily, the post-fuck and post-scenting haze having her so lax, she hardly noticed the mixture of their releases rolling down her thighs. She didn’t have enough energy to say anything, simply clinging to him like a baby kangaroo, fingers gliding along his sweat-dampened back. 

“Still jealous?” Yoongi broke the content silence, tracing shapes along her ribcage lovingly, his purrs unbroken and strong. 

“No,” Y/N replied meekly, hiding her face in his collarbones, suddenly embarrassed she entertained any feelings of envy at all. 

“I know, can’t smell it anymore,” Yoongi snickered, Y/N rolling her eyes at the fact that he was back to his sarcastic, deadpan self. “Guess I just had to fuck it out of you.”

“You’re so vulgar,” Y/N lightly shoved his chest away, wincing when she felt him pull out of her, and the sensation of his cum dribbling out of her. “I never would have thought.”

“Gotta keep you on your toes,” Yoongi retorted, kissing her forehead gently, his lips bent upwards in a tiny smile. “Wanna get cleaned up?”

“Mmm,” Y/N groaned noncommittally, knowing that walking would probably be an issue. “Not really.”

“I can carry you,” Yoongi’s laughter grew in volume, clearly enjoying that he had completely ruined her, squeezing the meat of her ass in one hand playfully. 

“Fine,” Y/N pouted, not ready to break free from their post-coital bliss, but knowing that it would probably be wise to bathe and attempt to look normal before the other hybrids came home. 

Yoongi carried her bridal-style into his bathroom, and Y/N leaned on his shoulder while the water heated up, enjoying his warmth and presence. Once in the shower, the leopard hybrid supported her, her back to his chest as the hot water beat down on their skin. Hooking his chin over her shoulder, his wet hair tickling her cheek, Y/N gripped the forearms he had wrapped around her middle, sighing. 

“I love you,” Yoongi said quietly, planting a kiss on the bite he had given her. 

Turning in his arms, Y/N chose to respond by leaning up, brushing her lips against his softly, hands winding around his neck as steam filled the shower. 

“Hope you didn’t fill up too much on the toffee,” Y/N unbuckled her seatbelt, making sure the parking ticket for the garage she parked in was stuffed in her wallet. 

“I didn’t! I skipped lunch, too,” Seokjin was hurrying out of the car, glancing around the parking garage curiously, correcting his stride to match Y/N’s, pulling his wool coat tightly around his body. 

“Aw, you didn’t have to do that. You must be starving,” Y/N pouted, her fingertips twitching to hold his hand. It was Valentine’s Day, and most of the day had passed by uneventfully, but that evening, she and Seokjin traveled into the city for the cooking lesson. 

“I just didn’t know how much we’d end up cooking, wanted to be prepared to stuff my face!” Seokjin joked, a merry smile on his face. After she had given him his Valentine that morning, it seemed that goofy, fond Seokjin was back, and he could finally smile at her with it actually reaching his eyes. Progress was progress, she supposed. 

“I think we’re making three courses,” Y/N grinned as Seokjin pulled the door to the mall for her. He looked gorgeous, as always, in black slacks and a powder blue button down, his wavy hair swept off his forehead. “Three courses, three different wine tastings. I’m excited!”

Seokjin’s sleek black tail flicked behind him, sticking close to Y/N’s side as they navigated through Copley Place, and when she felt him growing nervous with the amount of people clogging up the narrow aisles of Eataly, she hooked her hand around his elbow, pulling him into her side for comfort. 

Fortunately for Seokjin, the actual classroom where they were going to cook in was spacious, at the back of the market, and there were only a few other pairs of people taking the class with them. Seokjin appeared to be the only hybrid, however, and naturally every pair of eyes in the room was on him as he draped his coat on the rack by the door, his ears fluttering excitedly as he noticed the station that had a card with Y/N’s last name printed on it. 

The instructor appeared to be an older Italian man, one with a thick accent and golden skin, greeting everybody happily. To Y/N’s relief, the instructor didn’t greet Seokjin any differently than anyone else, simply handing the jaguar hybrid two red-and-white striped aprons for them to wear. 

“Today, we’ll be learning about the cuisine of Rome, and cooking some of my favorite dishes from all over Italy,” the man began once all of the students were in their aprons and standing eagerly behind their stations. Y/N noticed that most of the people in the class were older, perhaps married, couples, with one pair of college students in the back of the room. “We’ll be making a bruschetta, linguine alle vongole, and saltimbocca for our three courses, all paired with a lovely wine.”

Seokjin was nearly shaking with excitement beside her, checking out all of the dials on the stovetop, the raw ingredients in front of them, and the array of kitchen tools available for their use. He paid rapt attention to the man explaining the origins of the dishes they were going to prepare, his ears perked up. Once the little history lesson was over, the instructor walked them through the steps to make fresh pasta for the vongole, and she and Seokjin exchanged smug smirks– they both already knew how to make fresh pasta, and while some of the other couples were struggling to assemble the dough, her’s and Seokjin’s was plastic wrapped and chilling in the mini fridge already. Seokjin positively preened under the praise of the instructor, his neck turning red, and Y/N snorted and shook her head as she sliced through some tomatoes for the bruschetta topping. 

Meanwhile, Seokjin handled the veal steaks for the saltimbocca, using a mallet to pound the meat to a certain thinness, and the first round of wine came around, the glass they were to nurse while they cooked. Here and there, Seokjin would crack a joke or two, corny as ever, but they made her choke on her wine and laughter. 

“When asked about his cooking skills, the sage replied, ‘I’m herbally gifted’,” Seokjin held up a sage leaf he was using toothpicks to attaching to the veal steaks, waving it in front of Y/N’s face with a goofy grin. 

“Jin, stop, I’m gonna pee my pants,” Y/N whispered, cheeks sore from smiling so much. It had been a while since she spent such quality time with Seokjin, and she realized how much she missed him, with a painful twang of her heart. 

Seokjin’s grin only grew wider, hand reaching up to ruffle Y/N’s hair affectionately, one of the first times he actually touched her since finding out about her and Yoongi. Delighted, Y/N took a happy sip of wine, getting back to work on the sauce for the vongole. 

Once everything was cooked, chairs were brought out, along with the fruity pinot grigio to be paired with the bruschetta, all while the instructor answered questions about Italian cuisine, and told stories about his childhood in Rome.

“This is so good,” Seokjin sighed, munching on a piece of bruschetta, his orange eyes wide as he tasted all of the flavors. “We get the recipes after, right?”

“Yep! We can make this whole meal again for the others. I think Hoseok would really enjoy this, too,” Y/N clinked glasses with the older woman from the station behind her, Seokjin’s cheeks beginning to color with the alcohol, already. 

“This is so much fun, Y/N. We should do this again,” Seokjin suddenly became serious, glancing around the room, before his eyes softened and he made eye contact with her again. 

“Absolutely. I’ve missed spending time with you,” Y/N replied without hesitancy, Seokjin’s neck turning red again when she admitted that. 

Looking away, their interaction was interrupted by the instructor telling them to finish off the sauce for the vongole, and Seokjin drained his wine glass urgently before hopping to his feet to turn on the burner. 

After two more glasses of wine and two delicious entrees the two of them cooked, her and her jaguar hybrid were loopily weaving their way through the market with a packet of recipes, a bottle of wine Seokjin liked the most, and free Italian cookies in their arms. Seokjin, bolder now that he was tipsy, insisted on holding the bag with all of the items, and finally, he offered her a hand as they walked through the mall. 

“Want to go for a little walk before we head back to the car?” Y/N asked, threading her fingers through his, Seokjin staring down at her through his eyelashes with that thoughtful expression she had seen on his face only once or twice before. Truthfully, she both wanted to spend a bit more alone time with Seokjin, and she felt like some cool nighttime air would sober her up enough to drive home confidently. 

“Okay,” Seokjin squeezed her hand, following her down the escalator to the street outside of the mall, the sky already dark and the city lights keeping the streets illuminated. 

Not too many people were out, everyone seemed to be having their romantic Valentine’s Day dinners in the multiple restaurants studding the sidewalks, and it was much too cold for a leisurely stroll for most people. Tummy full, she stuck close to Seokjin, who radiated heat like a furnace, and Y/N was grateful for the slight buzz from the wine that was keeping her warm as well. The two of them lapsed into a comfortable silence, only broken once or twice when Seokjin would ask her about a restaurant they would stroll by. 

“Thank you for tonight,” Seokjin spoke out of the blue, letting Y/N hook her arm around his in an attempt to steal some of his body heat. 

“You don’t have to thank me, honey, it was for your birthday!” Y/N insisted, reaching up to flick the dangling earrings that were threaded through his left earlobe– another birthday present from her. “I should thank you for letting me use the other ticket. I learned so much, got to hang out with you for a while, ate yummy food…”

Y/N paused, feeling cold and wet hit her forehead, stopping in front of an old church, the lights from inside making the colored stained glass glow and cast pretty hues over the sidewalk. Looking up, she made a soft noise of exclamation, clumps of snow falling from the sky. Letting go of Seokjin temporarily, she did a twirl, head craned skyways, admiring the way the snowflakes floated gently through the air. She didn’t realize Seokjin was repeating her name until his hand was on her shoulder, his lip tucked between his teeth. 

“Ah, we can head back now. You’re probably freezing, huh?” Y/N held her hand out for him again, but this time, he didn’t take it. 

“Y/N, I have something I want to tell you, but I’m not sure how you’ll take it,” Seokjin looked from her flushed face to the windows of the church, shades of blue, green, and red highlighting his features. A ball forming in the pit of her stomach, she dropped her outstretched hand, nervous about the seriousness of his tone, his whole voice going down a pitch. 

“It’s okay, tell me,” Y/N, while nervous, was curious as well, freezing when Seokjin released a breathy exhale, gathering up her hands in one of his, the contact appearing to ease his nerves. 

“I– I know you, um. You’re with Yoongi, you love him,” Seokjin swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. Wine churning in her gut, she nodded, taken aback that that was the night he chose to first address the relationship. “And I’m happy for you, I am, Yoongi too. But…”

“It makes you uncomfortable?” Y/N murmured, heart beating painfully in her chest. Seokjin bit his lip again, shaking his head, but conflict flashed in his eyes. 

“No. I mean, somewhat, yes,” Seokjin sucked his teeth, tugging her closer into his proximity. 

“Is there a specific reason why, Seokjinnie?” Y/N would be heartbroken if Seokjin would push her away after such a wonderful night spent together, but she would deal with it if it came to that. 

“I’m,” Seokjin swallowed thickly again, before squaring his shoulders with his ears flat to his head, lowering his face closer to Y/N’s like he was about to tell her a secret. “Because I’m in love with you, too.”

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[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco / Chapter 10

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Relationship issues, anxiety, self loathing, crying. Angst. Brief mention of asshole ex. Eating related issues. Mention of prescription medication, mental illness and depressive/manic episodes. Pre established throuple. Darling is her/your own tag/warning. Excessive internal monologue. You held onto the hot pan too long, and now you’ve been burnt.

"Look at me." 

"I can't." You keep your eyes clenched tight, so tight it hurts, lungs burning inside your chest. 

"Yes you can, darling. Just open your eyes." Simon's voice is soft, an entreating melody, grit and gravel smoothed out with the gentleness of his words. You get lost in it, the soft murmuring, the easy request, and when you open your eyes, he's still right in front of you, thick palm on the back of your neck, Johnny by his side. "Good girl." 

"I'm sorry." You whisper, and Johnny's brows crease, his fingers brushing along your cheek. 

"Ye dinnae have anything to be sorry for, darling. Ye never do." 

"I didn't-" you gasp for a breath, and Johnny shifts, moving so that you're in front of him, sat between his legs, back against his chest. His hand holds yours, nestling above your breastbone. 

"Breathe with me. Ye can do it." 

"I didn't- I wanted to be better. Be different. I didn't want you to see." You try to explain, try to make sense of it for them. Simon's fingers intertwine with Johnny's, his other hand still firm on the back of your neck, your body cradled between them, in the space that once never existed, a space that now feels like it's been carved out just for you. Johnny pushes closer, holding you tight, and Simon leans forward, forehead touching yours, voice barely a murmur. 

"We've always seen you, darling." 

The floor is a fairly comfortable spot to lay.

It’s comfortable enough, you suppose, as you lay on your back with your eyes fixed on a spot along the ten-foot-high ceiling. Maybe you could paint the ceiling. With clouds. Or a night sky. That might be cool. 

Voices vibrate through the flat, locked door the only thing separating you from them, Johnny’s tone pitching with increasing anxiety, Simon’s cadence soothing, and calm.

He’s calling your name. Calling you darling. Calling you anything to try to get you to come to the door.

You’re overreacting. 

You’re a fool. 

You close your eyes. A night sky might be cool. You could do a lot with the stars, or maybe even the milky way. Get some greens and greys and cobalt in there. Make it look like a long exposure photo. And the moon, you could certainly paint the moon. You’d have to find a ladder tall enough though. And you’d probably need help. You haven’t painted from a ladder in years, not since you did that one mural for- 

“Darling.” It’s Simon. Again. And again, and again, again. Darling, darling, darling. “It’s getting late. Will you open the door?" You keep your eyes closed, but for a minute, your mind fractures, splitting in two, confusing emotions and thoughts bubbling up to the surface.

Don’t think about it. Don’t. 

“No.” You croak out in a whisper. It’s quiet, but he hears it. You know he does.

“Please. I need to know you’re alright, at least.”

You held onto the hot pan too long, and now you’ve been burnt. 

It’s late. The streets are probably mostly empty. You could run down them, if you wanted. You could take a train anywhere. You could take a plane, even, go on a vacation. Go somewhere nice. Go somewhere tropical, maybe get a cute rental, spend some time in the sun or by the oc- 

The thoughts are rapid fire. They spill over, trying to patch up the expanding wound in your heart. They grow and twist, convincing you it’s a good idea, the best idea, to just slip away for a little bit. To go somewhere you don't have feel this, where you don't have to know this as well as you do. 

Don’t think about it. Pack it up. Put it away. 

Johnny’s eyes haven’t left your face. His fingers stroke from the crown of your head and hairline to your temple, your cheek. He’s staring at you like you’re something precious, like you’re a piece of gold, something marvelous he’s never seen before.

“What is it?” You ask, half asleep, drowsy in the bed. You’re still wrapped in a post orgasm haze, cocooned in the soft and sweet of their attention, affection, and Johnny only smiles, leaning forward to press his lips to your forehead. 

“Ye’re so special to us. Ah love ye. Did ye know that?” You shrug, ducking your face away, pressing it into his shoulder to avoid his eyes. 

A wave of longing crashes over you. It swells in your heart until tears prick in your eyes, and you take a deep breath to steady yourself. 

It’s so much. So much more than you ever imagined. So much more than you ever thought you could have. 

“She doesn’t.” Simon says over your shoulder. His hand sits on your waist, the touch firm. Grounding. Like a tether to their world. Their love. You turn, nose pointing up towards the ceiling, looking at him through your peripheral, your fingers intertwined with Johnny’s, holding onto them both. Seeing them both. 

“Tell me again.” 

The TV in the living room is on.

You can hear it’s faint murmur, some movie playing on low volume, the guys undoubtedly sitting stiff on the couch, waiting for you to appear.

You stare at the dark, nearly blackened trees that you’ve painted onto canvas, long, broad brushstrokes taking up too much space, bark texturized to appear burnt, nearly dead, forest scourged by a disease or fire, you’re unsure.

“It starts to chafe us.” Us. Us, he said. Us. Him and Johnny. Right?

“It doesn’t seem fair.”

You’re unsure of everything right now. Unsure about how you should feel. Unsure about what’s happening inside your head.

“-sometimes I worry… about it being the right thing…” The more you think about it, the more you start to lose your grasp. Were those his exact words? Did he mean something else?

For the first time in a long time, you think about one of your ex's. You think about a person who made you feel so small, so much like a burden, a horrible, unwanted responsibility, all the time. You'll never have what regular people have, he said. No one will ever be able to put up with this fucking circus. No one will want this. 

Was he right? 

You should have gotten out. The sentiment replays over and over in between your ears, the awful, miserable doubt and fear and sadness picking away at you until you can feel yourself starting to compartmentalize it all, trying to sort it into neat little bins, trying to keep the weight that is sinking to the bottom of your soul from drowning you, trying to build a wall around your heart.

It’s not conscious. It’s like you’re not even in the driver’s seat anymore, not feeling the full effect of your emotions, not letting it in.

It’s how you felt, when you packed your bags the last time. How you felt when you checked into the hotel, like you were on autopilot. Buried beneath a mountain of feelings but enclosed in a glass cage, segregated from it all.

You should have gotten out. 

“I said I was listening.” 

“But I don’t want ye to listen. I want ye to talk, darling. I want ye to tell us how ye’re feeling. We can’t do this if ye’re not able to communicate.” Johnny’s voice is steady, but there’s a hint of anger behind it, a small flare just starting to light. It makes you angry, that he’s getting angry, and it churns in your stomach until you’re biting out a retort. 

“I communicate just fine!” 

“Do ye?” He snaps, exasperated, your head jolting backwards with wide eyes. “Because from where I’m standin’ it feels like ye’re trying to be stubborn on purpose. Like a child.” 

“A child? You’re calling ME a child?” The air in their apartment is suddenly paper thin, and you hold your breath as Johnny watches you with that same, unchanged, irritated expression. 

“Alright. This is over. We’re taking a break from this conversation.” Simon tells you both, fingers sliding over your shoulder, the touch meant to comfort, reassure, but you jerk away. 

You eye your purse, your keys on the counter. 

“I’m just gonna go home.” 

“No.” He rebukes, and Johnny pales. 

“No, darling. Ye just got here, and we missed ye so, so much. I’m sorry, I dinnae mean-” Johnny pleads, crestfallen, and it makes you feel worse. Like you’re failing him. Like you’re failing at this. Like you’re not good enough for it, for them. “Please?” He adds, and you wilt, silence falling over the three of you again, awkward and wrong. 

“It’s alright.” Simon says. “If you want to go. I’ll take you home.” 

“I can get home on my own.” You try not look at him, finding mundane details in the floor, the sink to stare at instead of their faces, resisting eye contact until Simon steps directly back into your line of sight. 

“I’ll take you.” He steps closer, and like there is a magnet pulling you into his orbit, you respond, tilting your face backwards, letting him see everything. The tears. The anger and sadness. The confusion. He’s intentional with his movements, letting you anticipate everything, the movement of his hand, the bend of his body as his lips come down to press against your forehead. “Tomorrow, alright?” He asks and tells with the words, seeking permission, giving command. Tomorrow, you’ll talk. Tomorrow, you’ll get it sorted. Tomorrow, you and Johnny will apologize. And you’ll try again. Like you always do. 

You nod, because the promise of tomorrow, the assurance that this hasn’t all come crashing down, is the only way any of you will be able to sleep tonight. 

“Tomorrow.”

They both straighten on the couch when the door clicks open.

“Hey.” Johnny says softly, hopefully, and Simon says nothing, just watches you like you’re a wounded animal that might try to flee at any moment. On edge. Vigilant.

Your mind turns, but nothing comes out of your mouth. No response. No acknowledgement. Just empty silence that feels like a thousand pounds, all laying on top of the three of you. Suffocating you. Killing you.

You beeline for the bedroom.

Running away. You’re running away. Are you really going to run away? 

The memory of the hotel haunts you, the awful, empty pit in your stomach that could have swallowed you whole, the dark curtains and dark room enveloping you in a never-ending spiral.

All you wanted was to be found. All you wanted was to be home, with them.

All you wanted was your home, the one you built, made, suffered for, with them. The one that you carved out inside your own bones to hold space for two others, not just one. The home that you completely changed your life for, the love that you believed would see you through it all. 

The love that was always them first. The love that you barged in on, knocked walls down, forced yourself inside of. The love that they held for one another, before they ever held it for you. 

Your head feels like it's underwater. 

Did you make a mistake? Should you have sent them away that time? Should you have fought yourself harder?

The bed calls to you. It begs you to lay down in it, to burrow yourself beneath it's soft sheets, curl up on top of it's ridiculous mattress. Get lost in it. Be found in it. Let your boys curl themselves around you in it, let them kiss you softly and make you promises about how much they love you, or how they understand the way you feel.

If you close your eyes, you can almost see the future. Minutes would pass before Johnny crept inside the door, scoping it out. Doing the recon. Looking for you. His heart would soar when he saw you in the bed, his fears allayed, and he'd hold you so tight you'd think you were suffocating. 

If you were lucky, Simon would come and turn your brain off. Johnny would pass you to him and he'd bring your deepest insecurities, your worries to light, dragging them out to be exorcised and vanquished, by the only men capable of doing so. 

Is that what you want? 

Should you have gotten out? 

“There she is.” Johnny coos above you, warm palm cradling your cheek. You blink, fog encasing your mind struggling to clear, and you push yourself up onto your elbows. 

“What-“

“Happened?” Simon finishes from where he kneels next to the couch, concerned eyes trained on yours, not missing a beat. 

You blink. What did happen? Did- 

“When was the last time ye ate something, darling?” Johnny asks, not unkindly, palm at your back to relieve the pressure from your elbows, moving you into a sitting position so he can take the spot on the couch behind you, effectively wrapping you up in his arms as Simon settles on the other side. 

Shame curdles your stomach, hot embarrassment flaring in your veins. You avoid peering over Simon’s shoulder at the disarray of your kitchen, wincing when you realize he’s sitting on a pile of your dirty clothes. 

“I had breakfast.” You whisper, but Simon shakes his head. 

“When?”

“Yesterday.” You try to adjust, to sit more upright, but the sudden movement has your head spinning, and your palm covers your eyes, little groan in your throat. 

“Easy.” Johnny soothes. Your water bottle is in his hand, and he unscrews the lid for you, lifting it to your lips. “Slow sips, darling. Not too much.” 

It’s easier this way, you realize. Easier to do what’s being asked of you, easier to listen than to think. After a few sips, Johnny pulls the bottle away, and wide fingers stroke your cheek. 

“This is what you were talking about. A few weeks ago.” Simon murmurs, concentrating all his focus, all his attention, on you, fingers still caressing your skin gently. Lovingly. 

“I didn’t mean for it to get so bad this time. I… usually have a better handle on myself.” You try to lie, but Simon cocks his head. 

“Do you?” His fingers hold up the scrap of paper, the one with your note to yourself scrawled across it. 

‘You HAVE to, or you’ll regret it.’ 

You bite your lip, but Simon’s thumb presses into it, rolling it out from beneath your teeth, as Johnny rubs your arm, lips soft against your temple. 

“I’m going to take you home. To ours.” Simon tells you slowly, each word deliberate “Johnny is going to clean up your apartment and pack you a few things for the rest of the week.” When you don’t answer, brain slow to catch up, Johnny murmurs in your hair. 

“You have to agree, darling.” Simon watches, silent for a moment before he answers the unspoken question, still cradling your face with one hand. 

“You can trust us.” 

“Where are ye going?” Johnny asks when you appear from the bedroom, hesitant steps keeping him far enough from your body, desperation written all over his face.

“Out.” Your answer is short, sufficient. It feels like it’s coming from another person. You still think you might be underwater.

“Out? No… we need to talk and-“

“I don’t want to talk. To either of you.”

“Darling. Stop.” Simon tries to cut you off, but you turn sharply, away from them both, backpack swinging on your back.

“Ye canae run away from this, from us.” Johnny pleads. “We need to talk about it. Communicate. Like we promised.”

“Like we promised?” You hiss, sizzle of anger breaking through the ice that’s frozen in your veins. “The promise that we made to always tell each other how we’re feeling, the one that he can’t honor?” You jerk your thumb towards Simon, who tries to take a step towards you, only for you to retreat. “Don’t corner me!” you snap, and against your attempt at control, your voice breaks, sob welling in your chest.

Don’t think about it. 

Don’t think about it. 

“It’s alright.” His hands are palms out, cautious. It’s supposed to make him look like he’s not a threat, make him seem harmless. But he’s not harmless. This gaping hole in your heart says so. “We don’t want you to leave.” He implores. “Please. I- let me explain.”

“There’s no need. Everything is pretty clear.”

“No, it’s not.” Johnny argues. “Just, let Simon at least tell-“

“Tell me what? Tell me how it’s not fair? Does it chafe you too, Johnny? You also thinking what’s the right thing? Because it’s an us thing, right? You and him. It’s an us and me. It’s the us that I suffer for.” Your voice crests, and Johnny flinches.

“I made a mistake.” Simon whispers. “Don’t let my stupidity make you question your place in this relationship. We love you, darling. I love you.” Tears burn at the back of your eyes, and you feel the horror of the truth, the confusion about your love for them, their love for you, searing together into a snarled mess.

“If I left you, the both of you, at the end of the day, you’d still have each other. You’d still be together, and I would have nothing!”

“That’s not true. We canae exist without ye.” Johnny sounds broken, hopeless, but you blow by it, dancing around Simon to pull your prescription bottles from the kitchen cabinet by the sink.

“If I died tomorrow-“

“Do not say that.” Simon cuts you off. “Don’t ever say that.” His knuckles are white at the edge of the countertop, expression stricken, and Johnny looks horrified. They both watch you like they’re afraid of what you might say next, what you might do, and nausea pools saliva on the back of your tongue.

Don’t think about it. 

You close your eyes, and search for that underwater feeling. That untouchable feeling, the boxes being packed away in your mind, and try to cling to it, try to shut up the incessant stream of doubt and loathing and everything going wrong inside your head.

They don’t need you. They have each other. 

You chafe them.

Don’t think about it.

“I need…” You trail off, trying to take a deep breath. Trying to organize your thoughts. Trying to hear yourself through the noise of everything else, through the searing pain that’s ripping through your heart.

“It’s alright, darling.” Simon murmurs, encouraging you. “Tell us what you need. Whatever it is.” Johnny’s face has shifted from despondent to hopeful, eyes wide and locked onto yours, while Simon waits, his normal steadfast and patient demeanor nowhere to be found, instead he’s more anxious, more nervous than you’ve ever seen.

You close your eyes again. Your voice shakes when you finally speak.

“I need a break.”

#dead disco #peaches writes #ghost x soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghost x reader x soap #female reader #john soap mactavish #simon riley #johnny mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghoap

[forever-rogue]

hi my lover,

i have a joel request🤭

something angsty and evil. like joel says the most awful thing to reader about her being delusional that he could ever love her or something. (cause they haven’t defined their relationship) and then reader writes a note and leaves in the middle of the night and ellie finds it and yells at joel. with a fluffy ending cause i like to cry then happy cry.

ok bye ily😏

AN | It hurts a little but there’s a fluffy ending! 🥰 

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 3.4k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Are you serious?” The expression on his face was enough to send chills down your spine. But these were all the wrong sorts of chills, “you’re not that dumb, are you?”

“I…” you’d never heard him speak like that before, especially not to you. Your lip trembled with effort as you tried not to cry, tears threatening to well up and roll down your cheeks, “I don’t….”

“What?” he mocked, arms crossing over his chest and a hard expression on his face, “can’t even put a sentence together?” 

You kept your sniffles down, but that didn’t keep from your voice trembling and sounding so small, “J-Joel, why are you doing this?”

“Let me make this clear,” he leaned in and gestured between the two of you, “we - you and I - are nothing. I don’t care about you, okay? I’m definitely not in love with you, little girl. So get that straight. You are nothing to me.”

You weren’t able to hold back your tears anymore, and felt them dip down your cheeks, warm and salty. You recoiled from him, almost as though he’d hit you. He might as well have. It would have hurt less than this. Brushing away your tears, starting to back away; this wasn’t your Joel, you didn’t know this Joel at all.

“I’m sorry,” you managed to squeak out before just turning on your heel and running away. You didn’t even know where you were heading to, you just knew that you had to get away from him. You couldn’t bear to look at him for a moment longer. 

Whatever had happened to Joel Miller was nothing you wanted a part of.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You spent the latter part of the day locked in your room and pacing around, nervous and worried that he might come back and find you for some reason. You know, kick while you’re already down. There had been so much malice in his words that they kept ringing in your head all day. You had no clue what had suddenly come over him to cause him to act this way. 

But perhaps, this had always been him and he was just now showing you his true colors. And yet…no. You knew deep down that this wasn’t him. But it still felt heartbreaking. You had no idea how you were supposed to face him again. You weren’t sure if you wanted to face him. 

Eventually, after a lot of contemplation and mulling over your options, you decided you knew what you were going to do. 

You hadn’t come to Jackson with much, and packing up your singular bag hadn’t taken a long time. It felt weird to see your entire life, what everything had amounted to, shoved into one bag. 

Despite your desire to just leave, you knew that you couldn’t entirely leave without saying anything. You scribbled down a quick note and left it on the kitchen table deciding that it would suffice. 

It was late, and Joel and Ellie were sleeping. At least they appeared to be; the house was dead silent and the lights in their bedrooms appeared to be off. You hesitated in front of Ellie’s door, thinking about seeing if she was up so you could give her a proper goodbye, but you couldn’t bring yourself to knock. The girl needed rest and you didn’t want to bother her with something that felt so trivial.

Instead you put your hand on her door before leaving in silence. You hoped that one day you would be able to see her again. 

After ensuring you had everything, you walked to the front door and stepped out into the quiet, still evening. On to the next, you figured, on to something that you knew would never match what you had with Joel and Ellie.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel could sense that something was off as soon as he woke up the next morning. Things felt different…heavy. He knew that he did not like it. 

When he walked into the kitchen, he found Ellie sitting at the table, the expression on her face a mixture of shock, sadness, and anger. Once she heard him, she looked up and glared daggers at him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she stood up from the table, the legs of the chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor. Joel’s eyebrows raised as he shrugged at her. He had no clue what was going on - okay…maybe had some clue. But still, he wasn’t expecting her to come up to him and slam a note against his chest, “how can you be so stupid! You ruined everything!”

“What are you talking about?” He looked at her with surprised eyes and shook his head. He took the note and unfolded it gingerly.

“Read the note,” she shoved him lightly, “and figure it out. Idiot.”

She pushed past him and ran up the stairs, slamming her shut so harshly that some of the frames on the wall rattled. He flinched at the sound but finished unfolding the note and quickly reading it. 

By the time he reached the end, he wasn't sure if was mad at you or angry with himself. The latter more than anything else. He knew what he did, what he had said wasn't right, but he - in his own weird, flawed way - thought that pushing you away was the best thing to do. He just never thought it would affect you this much. 

He accepted that you were going to be mad at him, he deserved it at the very least, but to have you this heartbroken was devastating. You really did love him. You'd told him as much but he'd never allowed him to believe it.

And now you were gone. Gone like a thief in the night. 

"Fuck," he held the note to his chest before sighing shakily, trying to control the trembling in his body, "fuck."

But he already knew what he had to do. 

He ran up the stairs and threw open Ellie's door without even bothering to knock. She looked at him in confusion but only raised her eyes. 

"I'm going," he was breathless and mentally mapping out everything he needed to pack before he left. Things be damned, he figured, as long as he had some sort of weapon it would be okay. He could handle hunger or cold, pretty much anything, except the idea of you being gone.

"What?" But she was already jumping off the bed and looking for her backpack.

"For her," he answered despite not having too, "you're not coming, Ellie. I don't need you to get hurt too. I can handle it. But I fucked up."

"Joel," he wouldn't have minded her going, but he also wanted to keep her safe. But she was like him, stubborn and iron willed.

"Ten minutes," he answered in reply, "don't want to lose more time."

You'd left in the night while he had been sleeping. And it was only about nine in the morning now, piecing it together Joel realized you couldn't have had more than about an eight hour head start. They could cover ground easily and catch up. Especially if you hadn't taken a horse which, if you were trying to be discreet you wouldn't have. 

"Let's go," Ellie swung her backpack over her shoulder and opened the door, "no time to waste."

He grabbed his own backpack and nodded gruffly. He might have royally fucked up, but he was going to do everything in his power to fix it. 

Even if you hated him forever, he wanted to make sure you were safe. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You should have thought this through a little more. But in the middle of the night and with a broken heart, people didn't generally make smart decisions. It was you, you were people.

And you were currently freezing and trying to stop yourself from shivering. You'd only grabbed your light winter jacket and it had started snowing. Of course it did.

You also hadn't bothered to take a horse, or food, or anything really. All you'd taken with you were a few weapons, a few snack bars and the clothes on your back. Yeah. You hadn't really thought any of this out. Smart was not something you'd use to describe yourself at that moment.

And you were growing tired. You'd been walking for hours and your feet were sore and you really just wanted a rest. You were fairly sure that nothing would happen to you on the path you were taking, but the risk wasn't worth it. You just had to push through and go a few more hours before you'd be near civilization - or rather civilization adjacent - again. Then you could rest.

But your body had other ideas, and after another hour or so, you couldn’t handle it anymore. You were getting a stitch in your side, and your legs felt like jelly; you had to rest for a little while if you were going to keep going. 

Luckily, there was a thicket of trees along your path that you could use for cover. You threw your bag down and flopped down with a heavy sigh. The ground was cold; it made you shiver. Your jeans weren’t enough to fight off the chill and you were shaking as you leaned against the tree to try and get some rest. Just an hour or two was all you would need before you could keep going. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

An hour turned out to be…longer. You weren’t even necessarily sure how long it was, because when you woke up, it was with a start and a scream. You felt a hand on your shoulder, shaking you gently. Your natural instinct was to fight off whoever it was and to defend yourself; Joel had taught you that much. 

“Stop,” you were blindly flailing around and trying to get yourself free but the voice sounded familiar, “stop. It’s me - it’s me!”

You stopped suddenly and looked up to see who was there; when you realized it was him, you panicked all over again. Shaking your head, you tried crawling away, wanting to get as much distance between yourselves as possible. You can’t believe that he had found you, but then again, you really shouldn’t have been surprised. You were just more surprised that he bothered to come and find you. Part of you had never expected to see him again. 

“No,” you looked at him with wide eyes and he hated the thought that he had done this to you. He was the reason that you had done this to yourself, “please, just leave me alone.”

“Baby-”

“Don’t you dare call me that,” alright, you’d quickly gone from worried and upset to mad. He really had the audacity to call you that? The man had some nerve, “just leave me alone.” 

“Listen,” he crouched down so he was eye level with you, “you shouldn’t be out here. You’re going to freeze.”

“I’m fine,” you lied, trying to hold back your shivers. You knew he was right, “just leave me alone.”

“Please, just-”

“No,” you hissed, “why are you even here? I thought you never wanted to see me again. You made that very clear.”

“Listen, I know I fucked up,” he pinched his brow and sighed heavily; he was only mad at himself, “but can you please just come with me right now? You need to get somewhere warm.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” almost as if your body wanted to betray you, a shiver ran down your spine and you trembled, “just go.”

“I’m not leaving without you,” he insisted, “you want to stay here? I’ll stay here too. But at least take my jacket-"

"Why are you here, Joel?" your eyes narrowed as you refused to take the jacket he was holding out to you, "why?"

"Can we do this later? Once we're back home," he really wasn't getting this. He was so smart most of the time but right now he was just…not quite comprehending.

"You don't get it," you shook your head incredulously, "there is no home. I'm not going back."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm leaving," you clambered back to your feet, shaky and painfully, "I'm not going back with you. Why would I? There's no place for me there."

"Oh?" He learned your stubbornness and tenacity but right now he wished you'd just listen to him. Not that he deserved that much, but fuck. He just wanted you home, "and just where are you gonna go, huh?"

"Riviera," you waved him off as you started back towards the street, "and if that doesn't work out then I'll figure it out."

"That's another six hours away on horse," he sighed as he followed after you, "you'll never make it on foot."

"Why do you suddenly care?" you threw out your arms. You could see the horses and Ellie a short distance back. Your heart ached when you realized how much you'd miss her. And him, "I am nothing to you. You made that abundantly clear."

"I wasn't…fuck, I lied," he finally admitted it, his eyes finding yours, "I didn't mean it any of it."

"Then you shouldn't have said it," you threw back at him, "why did you say it?"

When he didn't say anything in response, you rolled your eyes and turned around, keeping your gaze on the horizon. He was wrong; you'd make it just to prove him wrong.

"Come back for Ellie," oh. He knew how to get to you, "please. She needs you. If nothing else, do it for her."

You stiffened, sore and tired and hungry and already missing her. Maybe you could go back just for a little while just for her…

"Fine," your voice was small as you turned around and pushed past him, "for her."

He closed his eyes and let out a long, relieved sigh. As long as he knew you were safe, that was all that mattered.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been a few weeks since you'd come back. For Ellie. And nothing more. You hadn't said more than a few words to Joel, despite living in the same house. And despite his best efforts. He kept trying to talk to you but you weren't having it. You weren't ready yet, and to be honest, you weren't quite sure if you would ever be.

But there came a time when Joel couldn't take it anymore. If you were going to be mad and angry he wanted you to get it all out and be mad. He just couldn't handle the silence; it was brutal.

He caught you when you were in the kitchen and stood in the doorway, blocking your way out. You hadn't heard him at first but you could sense his presence, "hey."

You remained silent and kept drying the dishes. He came closer and his heart broke at how you recoiled from him, "don't." 

"Can you just - we need to talk," he sighed gruffly, leaning against the counter. You tossed the towel down and shrugged your shoulders, "five minutes. Please." 

"Why?" You asked, but when you didn't immediately run away he relaxed slightly, "I don't see what there could possibly be to talk about."

 "Don't do that," he insisted softly, "you know there is plenty to talk about."

"I don't have anything to say to you," you moved to the opposite counter and mirrored his position, "I didn't think you'd have anything to say either. You made that very clear."

"I'm sorry," despite wanting to look away, you caught his eye. You almost wanted to see the lie written all over his face; but you couldn't find it, "I…I fucked up."

“Yeah,” you nodded in agreement, sighing softly, “you did. You really hurt me, Joel. It didn’t have to go that far, you didn’t have to be so…cruel. I just don’t get how you didn’t know how much I cared for you. You had to know, right? If you didn’t want me or didn’t want things to get as far as they did, you should have said so.”

“I knew,” he agreed, “I always knew.”

“Then why didn’t you stop it?” you already felt tears welling up in your eyes. You looked away and blinked rapidly to try and prevent them from spilling over, “why didn’t you just say something?”

“I didn’t want to-”

“Why not?!” you groaned, “it could have been so much easier. We wouldn’t be here right now!”

“I didn’t say anything because I felt the same!” as soon as the words fell out of his mouth, it became dead silent in the house. You could have a pin drop. “I felt the same way.”

“Felt?’ you asked quietly, “or feel?”

He paused for a moment and you could see the little bit of pink rising up in his cheeks, “feel.” 

“Okay,” you nodded softly, staring at your feet, “so you felt and feel the same as I did. And then you told me you didn’t love me, that I was anything to you…we were nothing. That’s a pretty big disconnect.”

“I know this is going to sound stupid and maybe you won’t believe it, but it’s the truth,” you motioned for him to continue on, “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“By pushing me away?”

“By pushing you away,” he agreed, “I thought by doing that, I was doing you a favor. That way you wouldn’t feel stuck - with me. That way you had the chance to do what you wanted.”

“Stuck with you?” you echoed, your heart deflating slightly. You definitely would not have had this on your bingo card, “you think I felt like I was stuck with you?”

“Didn’t you?” He seemed more like a shy boy than a grown man at that moment. 

“No,” you shook your head fervently, “of course not. I never once had that thought even cross my mind. I didn’t feel stuck - I wanted to be with you, Joel.”

“Oh,” he opened and closed his mouth a few times, “oh?”

“Oh,” you snorted lightly in amusement, “I’m in love with you, in case that wasn’t clear. I never felt stuck or that I had to be with you. I wanted to be here.”

“I thought giving you a way out was the best thing,” he sighed softly, “I thought it would be easier if you hated me. That way you wouldn’t waste your time on me.”

“I never once wanted an out,” you promised, “I never wanted someone else. Never. It was always you, Joel.”

“And I fucked it up,” he concluded. You swallowed thickly; part of you wished you could be mad at him forever, the other part of you knew that was never possible. He pushed off the counter and nodded to himself, “well, that’s my five minutes. Thank you for um…for listening to me. Letting me explain.”

You watched him turn around - but you didn’t let him walk away. 

You reached for his, fingers wrapping around his wrist as you stopped him, “wait.”

He had a shocked expression on his face as he turned to look at you. Part of him was sure that he’d imagined the moment, “what’s wrong?”

“Do you love me?” your voice cracked as you tried not to cry already.

This time he didn’t hesitate for a moment, “yes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed again, “do you….you want me to leave?”

“No,” he promised, “I don’t.”

“Good because I don’t want to leave,” you couldn’t help the nervous laugh that bubbled up, “so I guess I’ll stay. Even though I’m still kind of mad at you.”

“I deserve that much,” he exhaled shakily, “that’s fair.”

“But I also love you so I want to stay.”

His face lit up and you remembered all the reasons you’d fallen in love with him in the first place, “I love you.”

“Promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Next time,” you whispered, “just talk to me, okay? We’ll figure things out, but we gotta do them together.”

“I promise,” and you knew he meant it, “I promise.”

“I promise too, Joel,” you squeezed his hand, “always.”

“Always.”

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou hbo

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Wrapping Paper - Mike Schmidt X Female Reader

Title: Wrapping Paper

Mike Schmidt X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Abby

WC: 2,449

Warnings: The incident at Freddy's mentioned, post FNAF movie, pining, Mike's nervous, sort of idiots in love, teasing, flirting?, ~hand holding~, mini angst, and fluff

It was Abby's birthday, and Mike still didn't have a present for her. For weeks he had been looking around craft stores when he could before heading to work or after - having found a well-paying job that he hadn't been fired from yet. But even after weeks of searching, he still had nothing to give her. Mike had probably been to the craft stores more than a dozen times at this point, checking the clearance items for anything that he thought Abby would like. But, the clearance section was a small rack at the back of the shop that had half-empty boxes of crayons from unruly children taking them in the store, scribbled on notebooks, and so on. This was all he was able to afford too, he'd go to great lengths for Abby, but it saddened him that he couldn't even afford brand-new supplies like the sixty-four pack of crayons or a nice big notebook for drawing. 

Tapping absentmindedly on the wheel of his car, Mike drove home yet again empty-handed. Pulling up to his house, Mike let out a sigh as he leaned back against the seat of his car, shutting his eyes briefly before raising his arm and reading his watch. Getting out of the car, he grabbed his backpack and headed inside. Dropping his back off into his room, Mike went to the kitchen to start making dinner before Abby came home from school. But just as he was putting the spaghetti noodles in the pot of water, there was a knock at the door. 

Shutting off the stove, Mike brushed his hands on his jeans before making his way to the front door. Opening the door, he was pleasantly surprised to see you standing before him. You had a smile on your face, and you were holding a large box wrapped in colorful paper.

"Hello, Mike," You greeted him, tilting your head to the side slightly as your grin became more of a nervous one, "I hope I'm not too early," Shuffling the present under your arm, you pulled out the folded invitation from the front pocket of your jeans. The plain piece of printer paper doodled with little pictures of what you had assumed were you, Mike, and Abby, along with the date and time of Abby’s little birthday celebration. "It says three, but I thought that maybe you might need help setting things up?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, sure," Mike stumbled out, moving to the side to let you in. Mike watched as you placed the present on the table, dropping your bag beside it. 

You had been Mike's neighbor for the past year, recently moving in only a couple of weeks after the incident over at Freddy's. He remembered the day he met you vividly, watching Abby ride her bike up and down the sidewalk as your car pulled into the previous vacant house beside his. Stepping out of your Jeep Grand Cherokee, he watched as you opened the back of the car to begin carrying boxes into your new home. Gaining the courage after watching you struggle to unlock the front door with two cardboard boxes in your arms, Mike rushed over. 

Fumbling with your keys as you tried to unlock the door, shuffling the boxes to rest on your arm and propped-up knee as strands of your hair fell in front of your face. The way you smiled at him, grateful as he took the two boxes out of your straining arms, helping you move the rest of your boxes and furniture in. Breathily, you thanked him, offering to bake him cookies or something for him and his sister, and from then on, you, Mike, and Abby would spend a lot of time together.

You'd come over for dinner sometimes, Abby adored you, always asking about you and drawing pictures of you with her and her brother. You do the very same, inviting the two to come over for lunch or dinner, or to play board games, or to watch movies. 

Mike couldn't help but be attracted to you, ever since he watched you pull into your driveway. He didn't say anything though, pushing those rapidly growing feelings to the back of his mind, in fear of ruining the amazing friendship that you and him shared. Sometimes Mike would have to stop himself from staring at you across the table during dinners. His heart would race when he saw you spending time with Abby - seeing both of your smiling faces always brought warmth to his chest, and his breath would hitch slightly at the sound of your laugh. But he deeply cared about the friendship between you two, and wouldn't ruin the good relationship by doing anything stupid. So he held his tongue. And for the most part, you did the same thing.

Turning around to face Mike, he swiftly snapped out of the daze he had been in, meeting your eyes as you smiled at him, "So, what can I help you with? Do you need help with decorations or maybe a cake?"

Scratching his cheek, Mike shrugged a shoulder, looking around the room, "Uh, I don't have any decorations. I was about to start making the spaghetti when you arrived." He spoke, watching as you simply nodded, making your way into his kitchen. "I- I totally forgot about the cake… I’ve been so busy…" He finished, a bit embarrassed at his realization.

Noticing the pot of lukewarm water and the opened box of spaghetti noodles, you hummed to yourself before looking through the cupboards. Mike followed, leaning against the entrance of the kitchen, watching as you pulled out a small bag of flour, sugar, and a small circular pan. "Well," You huffed, a bit out of breath as you pulled out a large plastic bowl from the lower cupboards. "At least you still have some of the ingredients from our last bake day." As you began to start making the homemade cake, you glanced over at Mike, whose gaze was staring down at the floor at his feet. "You alright, Mikey?" You asked, gaining his attention.

Looking up, he let out a deep sigh, shaking his head as he pushed off the wall, "I haven't been able to find Abby a present. I've been looking for weeks but I still can't find anything for her."

You paused, pouring some flour into the bowl, looking over at the man as he began to pace the room slightly, "You couldn't find anything?" You asked, raising your eyebrows as Mike nodded his head.

"Nothing! I checked two craft stores every day after work for like three weeks." He explained, rubbing his hand over his forehead, "But I can't seem to find anything that isn't damaged or just something I think she'll like." Stopping his pacing, Mike's shoulders dropped as he let out a sigh, "I really am trying my best, y'know. It's frustrating." He admitted, glancing over at you as you turned around to look at him.

"You are doing your best, Mike," You spoke softly, slowly stirring the flour and other dry ingredients together, "And you know that Abby knows that and that she loves you." Pausing you glanced at him with a small reassuring smile, "I don't think Abby will care if you gave her a present or not, just you spending time with her, celebrating her birthday, is enough for her."

Mike nodded and walked over to stand next to you, watching you as you began to crack the eggs into a separate bowl, "You're right..."

"As always," You sang, unable to stop the grin on your face. Mike looked down at you, softly smiling to himself as you began to hum some song you liked or probably had stuck in your head. Looking up at him, your grin softened as you noticed Mike already looking at you, making your cheeks burn as you quickly looked back down at the dismantled cake ingredients in front of you. "Want to help me maybe, Mr. Schmidt?" You asked, using the remaining courage you had left to give him one last glance.

Nodding, Mike smiled lightly and picked up a whisk, beginning to help you with the mixing. He felt his heart flutter, and his mind wondered, but it faded as he began to focus on the task at hand.

It didn't take long though before the cake was finished, baked, and topped with vanilla icing and colorful candles; unlit and ready for the birthday girl. You and Mike were finishing up the spaghetti, you were working on the sauce while Mike made the meatballs. You bit your lip as you chuckled, watching as Mike almost lost his grip on the spatula he was using to roll the cooking meatballs around in the pan. Looking over at you, Mike felt his stomach twist, seeing the amused smile on your face, "What?" He questioned, glancing from you to the pan and back.

Smiling to yourself, you shook your head, "Nothing. Just enjoying my time with you, is all," Pouring the pasta sauce into a pot and putting on the lid, you leaned against the countertop to look at Mike. 

Biting the skin on the inside of his cheek, Mike turned off the stove, meeting your gaze, "Look, Y/N..." He hesitated, swallowing hard as he looked away. He was quiet for a moment before sighing and taking a step closer to you. "Thank you... For coming here today." He mumbled, his voice soft and gentle. That's not what he was meaning to say, though he did really appreciate you helping him. 

"Mikey, you don't have to thank me," You reached over to place your hand on top of his, "I'd do anything for you and Abby." You replied quietly, giving his hands a soft squeeze.

Slowly, Mike flipped over his hand, now palm to palm, he intertwined his fingers with yours, bringing your hands to his lips so he could place a light kiss on top of yours before returning your hand to the counter as the front door opened and slammed shut. 

"Mike! I'm home!" Abby called out, dropping her backpack on the ground near the door, immediately spying the brightly-colored wrapped present on the table; a smile lit up on her face. Exiting the kitchen, a warm sensation flowed throughout Mike's body as you pulled your hand away from his, greeting the young girl whose smile widened at the sight of you, "Y/N!" She cheered, rushing into your arms.

Chuckling softly, you returned the hug, pulling away after a few seconds, "Hey, Abs," Pulling away from each other, crouched down as you held her by her upper arms, "Look at you... How old are you now? Twenty-Five?" You joked, making the girl laugh as she shook her head.

"No! I'm eleven!" She told you while laughing, making you nod your head and stand back up.

"Of course, how silly of me." Turning back around to Mike, you paused, seeing that he was still standing there, watching you interact with Abby; a fondness evident in his eyes. Looking back down at the girl, you smiled at her, "So, are you hungry? We made spaghetti." She nodded her head eagerly, sitting down at the table, her eyes staring at the present in the middle of the table; her eyes sparkling. You smiled, walking back into the kitchen where Mike was already plating Abby's food. Pulling out two extra plates, you began plating yours and Mike's, peeking over at Mike who seemed to be becoming more and more nervous as he spooned spaghetti on the plate. Bumping your hip with his, you caught his eye, "You'll be fine. I have a plan." You whispered with a small grin, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his stubbly cheek before bringing yours and Mike's plate to the table. Mike blinked, slowly walking over to the table, his cheeks tinged pink as he sat beside you.

Soon enough, the both of you were singing 'Happy Birthday' to Abby as Mike sat the cake down on the table in front of her. The candles, lit and aflame, flickered before being blown out, applause erupting from you and Mike as Abby made her wish after her birthday song. Chuckling softly to himself, Mike leaned forward on his forearms, "What did you wish for, Abs?"

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head, "I can't tell you, silly."

Shaking his head in amusement, "Alright then. Cake or presents?" He then asked as you readied the cake knife and three small plates for the cake. 

"Presents!" Abby declared, beaming as Mike let out a small huff, smiling as he turned to you; you could see the nervousness in his eyes as he looked over at you.

Picking up the present, Mike moved the cake out of the way as you placed the present in its place, "Here you go, Abs," You spoke, gesturing for her to go ahead and open her gift. Mike watched beside you as Abby ripped the colorful wrapping paper off the cardboard box, pulling off the tape with amazing speed. He felt tense, hoping that she wouldn't hate him for not getting her a gift. Before his mind could run off anymore, he felt your hand cover his and he lifted his gaze to meet yours. Smiling at him, you squeezed his hand which made Mike's breath hitch as he felt an odd feeling well up inside his chest. Taking a deep breath, he gave you a small smile before turning back to Abby who gasped in shock.

"Oh my gosh!" She exclaimed, peering inside the box at the many goodies that were found within, looking up at you, she gave you a huge smile, "Thank you, Y/N!"

Mirroring her smile, you waved a hand, "Don't forget your brother, he helped pick out a couple of the items," Mike turned to look at you in surprise, causing you to chuckle under your breath.

Abby got out of her seat, rushing around to hug her brother tightly, "Thank you, Mike!" She thanked him, grinning widely at him.

"Anything for you, Abs," He said, patting her on the back. He turned to you as Abby went back to sit back down, digging around in the box; pulling out craft supplies, stuffed animals, and candy. Mike couldn't help but look at you with an awestruck expression on his face; this girl was too good to be true. "Thank you, Y/N."

Resting your cheek in your hand, you gave him your stunning smile, "Don't mention it."

Shaking his head slightly, Mike looked back at Abby who was already drawing with her new multi-colored markers in her brand-new notebook. 

#cute #fluff #slight angst #x reader #x female reader #fanfiction #fanfic #x you #x y/n #fnaf #five nights at freddys #fnaf fandom #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy's movie #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x female reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x y/n #josh hutcherson #fnaf movie

[azrielbrainrot]

Maybe We Could Be The Start of Something

Band member!Azriel x College Student!Reader

Description: Your friends invite you to a bar and you could never imagine who you'd meet there.

Word Count: 3294

Warnings: none

Notes: I had this idea after seeing this art and couldn't stop thinking about it. I actually had a lot of ideas for little stories in this universe but it makes sense to start with how they met. Also I know that's a terrible band name but I never had to name a band before okay. I didn't proofread this because I think I'd delete the whole thing if I did, sorry. This is really self-indulgent but I hope you like it!

part of the band au

You could only blame yourself for agreeing to meet Viviane. Your skull felt like it was going to split open with this headache that has lasted all week. The only thing you wanted to do right now was try to sleep it off under your warm blankets, but instead you willingly came to a bar knowing it was just going to make it worse.

She's been telling you about this place and the bands that perform here occasionally for ages. Apparently it's a real hotspot for up and coming musicians ever since two bands made it big after starting out here. You've been turning her down for weeks so you had promised her that you'd finally come this friday, of course when you agreed you couldn't have known your week was going to be absolute shit. Though most of your days have been shit lately. That might be the actual reason Viv has been so insistent about you going out with her, she knew your mental health was ready to take a vacation and was just being a good friend.

This really hadn't been a good day to come though. Aside from your headache, your last class had also run late, making you lose your bus and barely have time to drop everything off at home and change to come meet your friends. As a little treat you also couldn't find your nice black skirt so you had to just wear jeans, you definitely needed the extra confidence the pretty skirt provided but the universe didn't seem to care about that.

The bar was already packed by the time you got there, you were almost being pushed around while you were searching for your friends. You look down at your phone to ask them where they are and see a text from Viv asking if you're still coming. Reading it makes you stop in your tracks. You can't really blame her for thinking you wouldn't show up since you've been declining every invitation lately, but seeing that she thought you wouldn't even give her a heads up hurt a little. You knew you had been distant lately but you were trying your best to deal with life and you never meant to do it at the expense of your friendships.

You're pushed out of your thoughts when someone taps your shoulder gently, making you look back at them. Turning your head you were faced with a muscular chest, slowly looking up a tattooed neck to meet beautiful hazel eyes staring back at yours.

“I'm sorry to bother you,” he says, breaking eye contact for a second before continuing, “but I think you dropped this.” He raises his hand so you can see him holding your keys. Your house keys, the ones you would undoubtedly only notice were missing when you went back home and tried to open the door. That would have been the cherry on the cake after this whole day. Maybe you should see a witch to make sure it's not actually a curse, no one should experience this much bad luck.

“Thank you so much,” you almost yell as you grab them from his hand in excitement. He just saved you from having no place to sleep tonight. You notice him tensing up when your fingers brush against his hand and realize you might have made him uncomfortable. “I'm sorry,” you take a tiny step back in the crowded bar, “I would have been locked out of my apartment if you hadn't seen that. Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” he said, giving you a nod and something close to a smile, before going on his way. You curse yourself again for acting so awkwardly. You hope you didn't make him feel uncomfortable, he was nice in picking up your keys and giving them back to you. He was also really cute which only made it more of a shame that you met like this. At least you didn't lose your keys, that would have seriously sucked.

Making your way to the table Viviane told you they would be at, you notice almost everyone is here. She was leaning against her boyfriend, Kallias, while they listened to whatever story Alba was telling them about. Ezio and Celia were both looking down at their phones and showing each other something while giggling like schoolgirls. As much as you love your friends, you don't know how much socializing you can handle today. You already fucked up what could have been a very simple interaction. Then again, with all of them here you know Viv won't try to ask you about Eleanor so at least you can keep avoiding hard topics. Viv greets you with a grin as soon as she sees you, everyone following right after.

“Hey, thought you weren't coming after all.” Yeah, you almost forgot about that. You smile anyway, knowing she didn't mean to remind you of how much of a bad friend you've been lately.

“Sorry, guys,” you sit down in the empty chair next to Alba before continuing, “Class ran late and then I lost my bus.”

“Oh. Bad luck.” You have no idea, Kallias. Conversation picked back up after that and you let them do most of the talking, taking a back seat and just watching them. You're glad that they either noticed you weren't in a talking mood or just didn't realize you were mostly quiet anyway.

You have no new stories to tell them since you've barely been functioning outside of school and talking about your feelings is definitely a resounding no, especially at a bar, so you just let them keep up with their conversations and just nod along every once in a while.

Eventually, the DJ introduces the band playing tonight. The Night Court. Judging by the screams and the way everyone moves closer to watch, they're very popular around here and you understand part of the reason for said popularity as soon as you see them step up on stage.

“Oh, they're really good!” Viviane's voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “The guitarist is Mor's cousin. You remember her, right?” You nod. Of course you do. The blonde with sparkly eyeshadow and red lips leaves a big impression, forgetting Morrigan is probably impossible.

You study the guitarist as he introduces himself and the band. He's extremely handsome, the type of handsome that would make you think he can't be human, like some kind of fairy or vampire. You can tell he's aware of this fact with every honey dipped word that comes out of his mouth, literally flirting with the whole crowd. Despite not having many physical similarities with Mor, that allure he exudes definitely matches with hers.

The drummer was already sitting in place, looking eager to play. It takes you a second to notice he was in fact already sitting down as he's probably one of the tallest men you've ever seen in real life. But, with the messy shoulder length hair and big boyish grin on his face, he doesn't look scary at all.

As your eyes travel to the bassist, half hidden in the shadows, you wonder why you didn't recognize him immediately. It was the same guy that helped you before. You had thought he was beautiful before but, considering the situation, you didn't have much time to linger on that fact. However now that he was standing on stage, you could fully appreciate it. He was tall - this much you knew since you were at head level with his chest - and by the way his arms strained against his black t-shirt as he picked up his bass, you could tell he was fit too. He was looking down at the bass in his hands, making the few lights that caught him cast an ethereal glow on his face and on his onyx hair. This man looks like he stepped right down heaven's gates.

They start playing what you think is an original song but can't be sure since you were too distracted checking their bassist out to hear what Mor's cousin had said. He does have a really good singing voice but as your mystery angel starts singing, you can't help but feel bewitched back to watching him.

You barely take your eyes off him during the whole performance but they're all undeniably good. It's easy to understand why this bar is so popular if this is the level of talent their bands have. You can definitely imagine them making it big. They all seem very comfortable and content on stage and the crowd can't get enough of them.

You're so distracted by them that you don't even notice your head pounding anymore, or how fast time flies because, before you know it, they're saying their goodbyes to the crowd and leaving the stage.

Conversation starts back up after that, everyone is gushing about how talented and hot they are and you find yourself easily agreeing with their sentiments. But, with no distraction and the dj back playing songs you've heard a thousand times and the pressure of keeping conversation going, your headache comes back. You wait out just a little longer until you think it's an acceptable time to leave without worrying everyone too much.

“I'm sorry guys but I think I'm going to head home.” You finish the last of your drink even though it's mostly melted ice by that point and start putting your jacket on.

“Already?” You're not surprised Alba is the first to speak up. You'll never understand how this girl has so much energy, you had the same morning class as her but she's still as energetic as she was at lunchtime.

“It's still kind of early,” Viviane looks up at you with her icy eyes and you can recognize the concern in them immediately.

“It was just a busy week,” you explain with a smile on your face, hoping no one reads too much into it even though you all know that's not all. “I think I need to go sleep it off.”

“Are you going by yourself though?” Out of everyone at the table, Enzo is the worst one at hiding his emotions. You can see as clear as day that he's worried about you.

“I'll get an uber. Don't worry.” You gesture to your phone hoping they'll drop it.

“I can wait with you outside.” Kallias offers immediately, ever the responsible one. You really wanted to stay alone right now though.

“You don't have to.” You put your bag over your shoulder to add some finality to your words. “It's cold and there's going to be enough cars out at this hour, I won't be waiting for long.” It looks like he's about to say more but Viv puts a hand over his arm subtly, making him shut up. The bass of the music keeps hammering at your head so you don't linger and just say your goodbyes, waving at everyone with what you hope is a seemingly content smile, before leaving.

As soon as you step outside the pressure you feel starts slowing down. The front of the bar is still full of people so you walk a bit more to the little parking lot on this street. The air is cold but it feels amazing after being in the stuffed bar and your thoughts don't seem so overbearing when you don't have to try to act happy with your friends.

You love them to death but everything about how tonight went just proves that they've been talking about you behind your back. You know this is just them being good friends. You've been acting so differently in these last few months that even one of your professors noticed so it's only natural that they also did, but knowing everyone can tell only makes it worse.

You didn't want to make anyone worry about you. Life has just been going for your throat lately, minor inconveniences keep popping up and piling on top of what was already a pretty shitty situation. But you know once the semester ends, you'll get the chance to finally breathe and solve some of the problems you've been ignoring. And then things will hopefully get better. It just really sucks that your friendships and even school life has been affected by this.

Sitting down on top of the small wall that wrapped around the parking lot, you look up at the sky, willing your mind to let you rest for a bit. Watching the stars twinkling and your breath turn into white clouds of smoke because of the cold. You should probably get that uber and go home before any of your friends find you here, but your body doesn't want to move for some reason.

You feel someone approach you and look back down to meet familiar hazel eyes. You both stare at each other for a second longer than what would be normal, not expecting to see each other again.

“We keep running into each other,” you can hear his voice better here. You didn't notice how deep it was in the crowded bar. His singing voice is also deep but a bit softer than this.

“Yeah.” You smile. Seeing him again after how he helped you and then watching him on stage is making you a little giddy despite your somber mood. He seems a bit less unsure after you respond as well.

“Are you here alone?” He asks as he stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“No, I'm just waiting for an uber.” You hope you're not making a bad impression again. He probably hadn't seen you with your friends before either.

“Alright,” he looks over to what you assume is his car and then back to you, “I can wait here with you.”

“You don't have to. It's cold,” you start but he shakes his head before you even finish speaking, “I actually haven't called it yet.” He gives you a look of amusement and it just makes you try to explain yourself faster. “I have a headache. The cold just felt calming. I'll get it now.” Opening the app, you start searching and, just like you expected, there's a car barely 10 minutes away from you. A wave of disappointment washes over you at the thought that you won't get to talk to him for longer but you push it aside quickly, you barely know him.

“A bar probably isn't the best place to be if you have a headache,” he tilts his head slightly in what you're almost sure is concern. He's a little hard to read.

“I know but I already had told my friends I was coming so…” You shrug and change the subject, trying to allow this moment to let you forget about your earlier thoughts. “Didn't turn out too bad. There was this really good band playing today.” You can see a flush take over his cheeks and the tips of his ears and you feel incredibly proud of yourself for being the reason behind it.

“I'm glad you liked it,” he says as he dips his head slightly in thanks. You feel like this might be the best compliment you could have given him.

“You were all really good. I even forgot about my headache while I was watching you play,” you try not to sound too excited and make it weird but you want him to know how good his band is, “Do you perform here a lot?”

“Yeah,” he leans sideways against the wall next to you, “At least twice a month.” You're starting to notice that, although his face doesn't show too much emotion, his eyes are a little more expressive. His band seems to be a topic he likes talking about. You can understand why.

“Isn't that a big deal? I heard this bar is really popular nowadays, there has to be a lot of bands trying to perform here.” The blush seems to be back but it could also be because of the cold you're subjecting him to.

“We always try to do our best but we've been playing here for a long time. That helps too.”

“You know that's not it,” you point to the entrance of the bar, where some people are smoking, “The bar was packed. I don't know if that's how it always is but I'm pretty sure it was mostly people wanting to watch you perform.”

“You've never been here before?” It looks like he's getting a bit embarrassed by the praise so you let him change the subject.

You shake your head. “Need to come more often though. When are you performing again?”

“We don't always have a schedule,” he looks down at your phone in your hands then back up at you, “But I can text you the details.”

“Oh.” He wants your number. The thought makes warmth rush to your cheeks. “Alright.” You unlock your phone and hand it to him. While he's typing his number, you can't help but notice the scars on his hand. They completely cover his hands, the skin completely marred. It looks as if they were burned. You look away from them, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by staring. He hands you your phone back and you see he saved his number under his name.

“Azriel,” you say the name out loud, tasting it in your mouth. He's watching you a little more intensely than before and you have to break eye contact to stop yourself from blushing. You quickly send him a text so he can save your number as well.

“I'll need yours too.” You give him your name and he repeats it, just as you had done. He makes it sound beautiful in his warm timbre and you can't help the flutter in your stomach. “I'll text you as soon as I find out when we're coming here next.”

“Okay.” You lock eyes and don't look away, just enjoying the moment, until you see a car pass by and realize it's yours.

You think you could have stayed there in the cold talking to him all night. You're not sure why but talking to him is effortless, it's like you've been friends for years. It just feels right and you find yourself wishing that he texts you soon with the concert information and anything else he comes up with. You wouldn't need much of an excuse to talk to him.

“That's my ride,” You say as you hop down from the wall. He looks at the car and when his eyes meet yours again you think you can see a hint of disappointment, hopefully at having to cut the moment short. “Thank you for waiting with me,” you smile at him again, “You didn't have to do that.”

“No problem.” He gives you a smile too, the biggest one you've seen on him. “I'll see you next time.”

“Of course.” You'd be an idiot to not want to see him again. You linger for as long as you can, suddenly not feeling like going home at all.

You wave at him again before getting in the car and something beats faster in your chest when he waves back and watches the car speed off down the street, it's almost like your heart is telling you to stay with him. You're not exactly sure what just happened but you hope you don't regret not staying with him for the rest of the night.

You keep thinking about him during the whole car ride and he's the last thing on your mind when you're laying down to sleep. And when he texts you the next day you know you'll have many more opportunities to spend the night talking to him.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #divider by saradika #band au

[onismdaydream]

no no i see the vision - nanami teaching yuji patience… discipline. yuuji who’s so eager and excited and nanami just reigns him in, its unspoken but nanami is in charge and when his voice cuts through the moans and whimpers as yuuji gets carried away…..

anon i am kissing u omg thank u...

this is so messy but my brain just kept going ! so um ramble under the cut :3

yeah exactly like. the first time yuji meets you, he absolutely falls in love. doesn't even realize it, he just becomes obsessed with you. you just look so cute and perfect.. soft little dog ears and that cute little tail that always wags so fast... you're so affectionate too, licking and kissing yuji as soon as nanami introduces him to you. because of course, if your owner trusts yuji, then he must be a good person.

i think nanami knows he has to go away for a longer mission, knows that he can't leave you alone for that long, so he asks yuji to do him a favor, to take care of his puppy. not only is yuji eager to please his mentor (i thought i told you not to call me that.), but hes always been curious to spend more time with you, so he easily agrees and finds himself packing his stuff to stay with you. (nanami is not letting his sweet puppy stay with yuji in his own apartment - he's seen how yuji lives)

and because you're so precious to nanami, he takes the time to show yuji how exactly to take care of you - what you are going to expect from the pink haired sorcerer. when you eat and what you like to eat, how to help you bathe and get dressed and how you like your hair brushed, anything to make sure your schedule doesn't get messed up. your owner might spoil you a bit, but can you blame him? (i think nanami just wants to take care of someone, so he does spoil and baby you a bit, but you don't complain one bit)

yuji listens intently to everything nanami says, wanting to earn your trust and prove himself to his mentor even more. he blushes when nanami mentions bathing, though the older man says that you should be able to do it on your own, sometimes you still ask for help - something your owner could never refuse.

the puppy-sitting for lack of a better word, goes relatively smoothly. yuji gives nanami updates for when he can check his phone and on the night before your owner comes home, you video call him. nanami's face instantly relaxes as you come on screen, grinning from ear to ear. you tell him how much you love yuji (not as much as you love nanami of course), hugging his arm and pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek, and you ask if yuji can visit more.

and nanami, never able to say no when you look at him with those big eyes and pouty lips, allows yuji to spend more time with you. it works out because nanami sometimes doesn't have the energy after long work days to give you the attention you deserve and ask for. so yuji steps in. yuji has a bit more free time and a lot more energy to play with you and take you out around the city.

but then, your heat hits you when nanami is at work. he asked yuji to check on you and tell you that he'll be home an hour or so late. yuji finds you in nanami's room, hips frantically humping his pillow as you whine and cry. he immediately calls nanami and tells him what he saw (apologizing because he feels guilty, especially because he might've stared longer than he should've..), but instead of getting berated like yuji believed he would, nanami asks him if he could comfort you in some way. just until nanami could get home and properly take care of you.

thats how you ended up grinding your drippy cunt on yuji's thigh, his cock straining against his shorts as he tries desperately to not lose control. nanami said he could do anything that you asked him to (within reason) but yuji still felt guilty, felt like he was taking advantage of you. you whine and pant, drool falling from your mouth as you get off for the nth time, though it's still not enough. you're about to try begging yuji to fuck you again when nanami comes home, your ears instantly perking up as you hear the lock jingle, though you don't run towards him like yuji expected. no, you keep grinding your hot core on him.

and nanami doesn't stop you either. he asks you how you feel, big hands gentle on your overheated face as you cry out for more, tears springing in your eyes. yuji feels entirely out of place, feels like he's intruding, but you bury your face in his neck and plead for him to help you. "p-please, need to be fucked, yuji, please."

you sound so pretty, how could either of them deny you? so nanami instructs yuji on exactly what you like, his fist around his thick cock as he watches the pink haired sorcerer slide himself into you, his eyes fluttering shut at the warmth surrounding his length. yuji wants to move fast, needs to move fast with the way you're squeezing him, but nanami's stern voice makes him savor it. telling him to go slower, to make sure that you really feel everything yuji's giving you. and yuji always listens to nanami (well, as much as he can..), so he does. he slows his hips, full and lazy thrusts that make each inch feel even longer, each drag against your spongy spot even more intense. nanami tells yuji to spit on his hand and rub your clit, so yuji spits and rubs, keen eyes watching your expressions to find the right movement.

the way your pussy tightens around him when you cum makes him grit his teeth, a hiss slipping through as he tries to not bust his load. but god, you feel so good. you look so pretty, too. it feels like an eternity before your walls relax, letting him slip out. he's done this before, always pulls out and strokes his cock to finish, it's what's expected of him. but nanami's voice stops him once again.

"did i tell you to stop?"

#.asks #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #kento nanami #yuji itadori #yuji itadori x you #yuji itadori x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #hybrid smut #perce.doc #.jjkai #.anon #💌 anon

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 23

part 1 | part 22 | ao3

cw: alcohol, recreational drinking

Steve fusses with his hair in the side mirror again, tugging awkwardly at his borrowed clothes. He feels stupid, standing here fidgeting in the parking lot like some kind of nervous freshman, but half of Hawkins seems to be here tonight and Robin’s got him dressed like a loser — worn green flannel and a ripped black tee with a faded picture of The Smiths. Jesus. “Did you really have to dress me like this?” 

“What? You look cute!” 

“I look like I raided Jonathan Byers’ closet.”

“No, you look like someone a certain neighbor is going to be drooling over all night.” Steve’s grateful for the dark then; for the blush it hides on his cheeks. “It’s not my fault you don't know how to make a deal; if you wanted to borrow a specific shirt, you should have said so before we shook on it.”

“Besides,” she ignores him when he rolls his eyes at her, “you wouldn’t even let me smudge eyeliner on your lower lash line like I wanted to, so I really don't feel like you’ve earned complaining privileges.” 

“I’ll complain if I fucking want to,” he grumbles under his breath. He runs a hand through his hair one more time, then forces himself to look away from the mirror. Rolls his shoulders back and down. “He’s not even here, anyway.”

“Ah-ha! So you did check.” She links their arms together, starts dragging Steve across the uneven gravel, her ankles wobbling in her low-heeled boots. “‘Just looking for a good parking spot,’ my ass. God, I’m always so right about everything. I'm, like, cosmically correct. I should really play the lottery next time I visit my grandparents..."

“Uh huh.” He’s not sure what luck and correctness have to do with each other, but sure.

She stumbles over a rock; pushes into his side, grinning, “I’m serious! I’ll play the lottery, and I’ll win big, and then you’ll see. Might even split my winnings with you if you’re nice to me.” 

“I’m literally so nice to you all the time, but okay. Can’t wait to take half your earnings when you get ten bucks off a scratcher.” 

“Hey, five bucks is five bucks! That’s like an hour and a half of our lives.”

Jesus Christ. “That’s just depressing.”

They walk arm and arm down the narrow footpath to the party — ferns brushing their calves, dry dirt beneath their shoes kicking up tiny clouds of dust — and as the path opens up Steve sees the place is packed. More packed than the overstuffed parking lot let on. There are people scattered over the picnic grounds in groups of fours and fives, a full dance floor under the main pavilion; a DJ set up at the front with food and drink stands to the side; a giant bowl of spiked punch; a tower of solo cups; a couple of coolers filled with beer.

In the surrounding grass he sees more tables, more people. A couple of guys he remembers from swim team rally around an arm wrestling match; another group plays beer pong on a brown fold-up table that they definitely stole from someone’s church. There's a circle of burnouts playing hacky sack behind a tree.

The bonfire burns brightly on the hillside in the distance, and beyond that he spots the faint glow of trail lights leading up to a bridge under the falls. 

Part of him wants to follow the trail. Shake Robin off, pretend like he’s going to take a leak. Find a nice rocky overhang to camp under for a while.

Listen to river sounds. Gentle slosh; cricket buzz.

Maybe he gets drunk up there alone. Maybe he just enjoys the solitude; lies on a rock on his belly by the icy river’s edge, swirls his hand in frigid water and doesn't dream of dark brown curls.

“Steve?” Robin nudges him. “You good?”

Another, much less annoying part of him reminds him that he’s Steve Goddamn Harrington. He knows how to have a good time at a party.

Who cares if he feels too old to be here, or if it’s weird to see so many faces that used to call him Captain or King? Who cares that he's one smudge of eyeliner away from looking like a full-blown new wave art freak?

He’s not about to slink off to do depressed weirdo wallflower shit when the DJ’s playing Wham!

“Yeah.” He squeezes her shoulder. “You want a drink?” 

“Yes, please.” 

—

The drinks are strong.

Steve’s pretty sure the punch bowl is a lot more hunch than punch, but there’s still no sign of Vickie, and Robin’s getting that sad little stress wrinkle between her brows about it, so Steve says bottoms up and starts chugging. 

They wince their way through two cups each. Robin plugs her nose on the second one like she’s about to do a high dive, and Steve laughs and takes her hand, leading her into the crowd just as Take on Me comes on. The lights all blur together as they shimmy and shake and twirl, moving like a couple of dorks, but Steve’s having a great time. Bobbing his head to the beat; a big, dumb grin on his face as he moves his hips. Robin shouts “Watch this!” over the music, and the next thing he knows they’re competing to see who can bust the worst dance move. 

He brings out all the big guns, the full-groan dad maneuvers.

The sprinkler, the lawn mower, the fucking disco finger. 

Robin answers with a sloppy attempt at the robot, so he makes up a new move he calls be kind, rewind, and she laughs like a horse and pretends to walk down a flight of stairs.

She’s crouched into a goofy lunge, two steps into the ascent back up, when the song fades out and a ballad takes over. The crowd presses in to slow dance; Robin steps on someone's toes.

“Hey, watch it!” the person hisses.

Robin startles hard; knocks herself off-balance when she tries to stand up straight, babbling, "Oh, my god, I'm so sorry! Are you- are you okay? I'm such a klutz, oh, my god, I'm—"

Steve snatches her up under the armpits; puts her back on her feet. Then he looks up and realizes who exactly she just stepped on. 

Well, shit.

—

part 24

tag list part 1 below the cut, let me know if you want me to add you tomorrow (21+ only, please confirm your age if you're asking to be tagged)

@a-little-unsteddie @ahsokatanoss @aliea82 @alyelf @anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @awolfstudio @bambibiest @bananahoneycomb @bookbinderbitch @bronwenmarie @cheonsazu @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @courtjestermunson @cuips-not-cute @dauntlessdiva @dawners @dontwasteyourchances @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @eriquin @estrellami-1 @fandomfix8 @gregre369 @griefabyss69 @grtwdsmwhr @hallucinatedjosten @hellion-child @hiimlevi @honoragreyskull @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @kas-eddie-munson @kingelyx @lifeisacrisis @littlebluejane @marvel-ous-m @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @milklechee @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @munsonslure @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @phoenixtheone @questionablequeeries @runninriot

#trailer park steve au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #st fic #robin buckley #jonathan byers #my writing #my fic

[bettysupremacy]

Your girl

Rockstar!Remus x reader

summary: Remus finds his girl in the backyard of a party, alone.

word count: 1.8k words

a/n I’m not satisfied with this but oh well!

The once bustling, loud, party now seems dimmer and less intense as he cautiously walks away into the silent of the night.  He can hear the wet asphalt crunch beneath his boots, the brushing of wind flowing past his ears. It’s quiet and calm the way it is after a rain, but something sticks in his tummy. A nerve, an upset, a fear, he might find his girl out here alone. 

“Sweetheart?” His voice is louder than he intends in the quiet of this fancy backyard, and it has his nose wrinkling. “Y/N, honey, are you out here?” And god, he prays she isn’t. Alone. Tipsy drunk. He walks on. 

The show before this had been loud and packed. A bustling crowd, bigger than they had anticipated. 

He can’t pretend he hadn’t been aching to see her in the crowd, that sweet longing she pulled from him so many times before, but she hadn’t wanted to accept the tickets initially. Guilt gnawed at her for not paying the 429 pounds other floor guests fought for. But, as Remus had said, special tickets for a special girl.

Here now, he feels the same ache he felt when he couldn’t find her in the crowd. Sick and pounding as he turns the twists and winds of a path through the tall gaudy flowers and statues. It’s a nightmare, really, but finding her on the floor, in her white sundress, unbothered by the way the wet floor stains into the pearly cloth, is even more so.

“What are you doing out here, honey?” 

The party grows louder and Remus prays they don’t bring it outside. It’s private out here and Remus likes that. Quiet of the eyes of fans he’s collected over his hard work and music, private of Sirius who dragged his friends to this after party, and James who’d surely tease. 

She turns, startled at the intrusion, her head spins. Was she supposed to be dizzy whilst sitting? “Doesn’t it just taste fresh out here?” 

He inhales deeply, playing along, though it really does taste fresher out here. “I guess it does.” He takes a moment. The air between them is quiet again. “You’ll stain your pretty dress.” 

She shrugs. He’ll just give her his jacket anyways. “Tired, my feet hurt, want another drink.”

He laughs. “In that order?”

“Tired, cause my feet hurt, ‘nother drink, cause it’ll fix it.” She fixes. He grunts as he sets himself in front of her. She can’t admit how happy this makes her. He takes her arms in his hands. “Liked your set.”

“Yeah?” He tilts his head. His thumbs press right below the crease of her elbows. It has her greedy, selfish for more. She wants more.

“Yeah. You looked hot onstage.”

He laughs a startled laugh, it’s slightly disheveled, but the fact that she made him smile is an accomplishment in itself she thinks. “Thank you.” She looks down at where his fingertips dance over her outstretched arms lightly. Up and down, he traces patterns into her skin.

“Feels good.” She mumbles. 

“I know. Lets get you inside, yeah?” He pauses his ministrations on her arm. “Lily was worried sick when she couldn’t find you.” 

Lily wasn’t the first to notice she’d been missing, but Remus can’t bare to tell her he’d been looking for her in a group of people practically begging to get a word in to him. 

She grabs his wrist, slightly pushing him to keep his gentle rubbing. “You weren’t?”

“Darling, you know I was the most worried.” It’s true.

“Wanna stay out here.” She breathes, almost ignoring his dangerously romantic profession. 

“Why?” 

“S’nice.” Not because this is the first time she’s been alone with him in weeks. Not because when she’s around him it gives her the biggest head rush she’s ever experienced. It mixes with the alcohol and she can’t tell which is which. Is it the tequila shots Mary coaxed her into doing, or is it the 6’3 bassist crouched in front of her like a giant trying to befriend human?

He sighs, shrugging off his jacket. “Can’t let my girl freeze to death.” 

And the thing about it is, it’s so simple to say what you want when you’re not thinking about it. Right? Cause if he had caught himself, If he had thought before his word choice, he wouldn’t have let that Freudian slip, slip.

Her face does something funny as he helps her arms through the arm holes. 

“What’s it?” His eyebrow cocks. 

“Your girl?” 

He scoffs out a disbelieved laugh. “Oh, that you pick up?” He stands up, unable to look at his jeans in fear of the grass stains he’d see on them. She might have his jacket but he surely doesn’t. “Up, lets get you inside.” 

She doesn’t give him her hands. “Your girl, Rem?” 

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” He gruffs, shaking his hands a little, hoping she’ll catch the memo and use his weight to pull herself up. Except she doesn’t. She grins this big dopey smile, eyes crinkling as she hides her alcohol pink cheeks from Remus. 

“Wanted to be your girl.” 

He feels as if his brain has lagged. “You are my girl, gorgeous.” 

Her chest feels tight with an emotion only he can pull from her. “Am I?” 

“Why’d you think I’ve been calling you every night for months?” 

“Thought you wanted someone to flirt with.” 

“Babe,” he frowns at the admission as he crouches down again, “I’ve been flirting with you because you’re my girl.” 

“Oh.” 

His chest cracks a little. His warm dry hands find their way to her cold cheeks, they’re worn and rough from his bass. “What made you think that?”

“I dunno.” She trails off.

“You didn’t come to that conclusion by yourself.” He shakes his head and she shrugs. “Tell me when you’re sober. Though I fear you’d be more honest with me now.” 

“Mary said something,” she starts, before pausing, letting him use his weight to pull her off the ground. “She said ‘if a boy likes you, you know.’ And I could never tell with you.”

“You couldn’t tell?” 

She huffs a laugh, dramatically putting her body weight on him, hugging his chilly torso. “You’re kinda hard to read, Rem.” 

He stands there as she nuzzles her cheek in his chest. His hands splay on her back and he feels her smile. “We can talk more about this tomorrow.” She nods. She revels in the newness of this level of affection.

“Can I show you a patch of flowers I saw when I fell earlier?” Her head tilts up to look at him.

“You fell?!” 

#Remus lupin #Remus lupin x reader #rockstar!remus #rockstar!remus lupin #Remus lupin x you #remus x you #Remus x reader #remus x y/n #remus lupin x y/n

[underdark-dreams]

[Poll results]

A smut piece for Rolan that became a 7k word fic. I don't know what it is about him--I just need him to be happy. 🖤 For anyone else who feels the same!

In Amber

Rolan can't remember what made him this way. Bitter, insufferable. He only knows he wants things with her to be different. A series of encounters between Rolan and the person who is teaching his black heart how to hope.

Tags: Fem Unnamed Tav, Explicit Sexual Content, Mild Hurt/Comfort | Word Count: 7,033 [Read on AO3]

The beloved hero of the Grove has saved them all from the Shadow Curse, apparently.

Word spreads fast, and it's all Rolan hears the Harpers talking about in their rush to take final leave of Last Light Inn. Nearly all had gone to Moonrise Towers with the Druid, but a small group stayed behind with Isobel in case the fight turned to the worst.

Rolan was the first one packed. With the shadows lifting, all he wants to do is travel the road to Baldur's Gate and finally reach his destiny. Leave this hollow place behind him.

At last they are finally moving in the right direction again--the three of them along with Lakrissa and Alfira, led by the Harper rangers.

He glances at Cal and Lia walking beside him. They're in the middle of chatting about the first things they want to do when they reach the lower city. Rolan can't seem to stop checking that they’re still there–as if he might look to find them gone once more.

He hasn't seen their savior since the night she brought his siblings back to him. That made twice now that she'd saved all three of their lives. Few things bristled against his nature more than owing a debt that couldn't be repaid. Rolan didn't like the feeling of being under anyone's thumb.

She wouldn't even accept a reward for saving his brother and sister's lives, just waved him away with a smile on her lips. The memory frustrated him endlessly. He couldn't understand why she took such an interest in helping him and his family. He was even beginning to consider that goodness of heart might really exist…at least when it came to hers.

Half of his mind felt tormented by her inscrutable kindness. The other half thought he'd very much like to kiss her.

Before he could brush away the alarming idea, the Harpers in front threw up a cheer. Rolan looked around to see the commotion.

She and her companions were covered in more blood than he'd seen on them yet, but they were still standing as they led their small army down the path from Moonrise Towers. 

His eyes light automatically to her face–it shines with a radiant smile, but Rolan recognizes the way her shoulders slump under her armor. He is flooded with relief. At least she's alive. 

Their groups converge on the road outside the tower. Everything is a jumble of cheers and shouts as the Harpers jostle forward to reunite with their comrades; a man he's never met claps Rolan’s shoulder hard enough to make him wince.

"Go on, then," says Lia beside him. She's following his gaze knowingly. "While you've got a chance."

He only manages to throw his sister a scowl before she trots away. Is it that obvious?

He decides to take her advice after all. She was right that this could very well be the final time their paths converged. Baldur's Gate was a large city, and whatever grand adventures their savior would face next, he doubted they would involve spending much time browsing magical emporiums.

She gave him a little wave as he approached, the kind one might give an old friend. It pricked his conscience. He'd thanked her for saving Cal and Lia, true, but his mind tossed up all the countless other times he'd been needlessly unpleasant toward her. 

"Seems we owe you thanks yet again," he said, hoping it came off sincere. 

She shook her head wryly. "I've never done any of it alone, you know that. Every one of these people fought like hells in there." 

Standing close, his nose was hit by the thick tang of blood that coated on her armor. How much of it was hers?

"You should go to see Isobel," Rolan insisted. He'd drag her straight to the cleric himself, if she'd let him.

"Do I look that bad?" She was teasing, but there was a strain to it. "As long as I make it to my bedroll in the next hour, I'll be fine. You're sweet to worry, though."

"Stop saying things like that," Rolan snapped, unable to contain himself. "You're so nice, and I'm just a bastard."

Her eyes widened at him, taken aback. "I don't think you're a bastard."

Rolan looked down at his hands. "That's what makes you so nice," he said. He had to get to the point. "Look…I know I haven't been the easiest person to get along with. I've been rude and awful, ever since the Grove, and you didn't deserve it. So." He straightened up properly. "I'm sorry for that."

It's far less eloquent than he'd rehearsed, but she seems to understand the sentiment.

"Don’t worry about it," she tells him. "You feel responsibility for the people you love. That can make anyone forget themselves for a while." 

"I suppose," is all he can manage to say. How well she seems to speak what's in his mind.

Her Githyanki companion approaches with a clear intention to speak with her, and Rolan turns away, not wanting to intrude on the company of her true friends.

"Rolan, wait–" 

The flutter in his stomach humiliates him. Will he ever get used to her saying his name?

She rummages in the pack at her waist. "Almost forgot. I found something–well, stole, but it doesn't matter now." 

A fist is held out to him, closed around something. 

Uncertain what to expect, Rolan offers his hand. Her fingers graze softly against his as they deposit something small and hard. He looks down at his palm.

"A rock," he says, deadpan.

"Not just any rock, it's a topaz."

Rolan blinks at her. "And…what am I supposed to do with this, exactly?"

"I don't know," she shrugs. "Keep it, or don't. It just made me think of you. Matches your eyes." The admission brought a flush of pink to her cheeks. 

He felt his heart skip at the sight, followed by a jolt of fear–as if she might be able to see the hope blooming inside his chest.

He turns away with a tut. "Absurd."

She gave only a satisfied laugh before taking her leave. Once she'd retreated out of sight, he tucked the gem securely into the folds of his robe.

-

Rolan has long abandoned the fantasy that he is his master's apprentice. 

Whipping boy would be a more accurate job description. Perhaps test subject. He is trapped in an impossible game that he can never win, and his highest purpose is to be the canvas where Lorroakan paints his next magical experiment. 

His mind shudders at the way the red wizard's eyes rest on him during "lessons": casually devoid of all concern or care. No matter how hard Rolan concentrates, no matter what he answers, it won't be good enough. And then the pain will follow. 

The mindless Constructs are worth far more to his master than he is. 

There was a time when someone made Rolan feel like he could deserve more, but that time is gone now. All he can hope is to learn enough, train hard enough, and one day claw his way through to something better.

Today, however, will offer the chance of a reprieve. He's been sent to deliver a message on foot across the lower city. Weeks ago he would've seen the task as an insult. Now he wonders whether it might take all morning, if he's lucky. 

If he often feels like a drowning man, these moments of escape are like a sweet gasp of air. He walks with his face tilted up to soak in the sun's warmth. 

The marks of abuse that paint his features have long stopped troubling him. An occasional passerby might stare at the bruises, but since the Absolute army's march, most Baldurians give Tieflings a wide enough berth not to notice. One wearing fine robes is no different to them.

As he passes the bridge to the Counting House, his eyes land on her figure. He stops short in surprise, earning himself a rude remark about clumsy devils from the woman behind him.

Rolan would recognize her face in any crowd. She stood on the bridge in the middle of some kind of confrontation between two women; one of them a beggar, by the state of her, the other finely dressed.

As he watches he very clearly sees her invite the rich one to "piss off", to the woman's indignation.

An affectionate chuckle escapes him. Then he winces, hand rising to the cracked skin on his lip. He tastes a drop of blood.

Swift panic grips his chest. She can't fucking see him like this, not once–more broken and pathetic than ever. Not after how many times she's already played rescuer to him. He cringes in shame at the thought.

At least she hasn't found him trapped behind his desk, there's a chance he can slip away unnoticed yet–

"Rolan?" 

He missed his moment by a hair. It's unfortunate that hearing her voice after all this time freezes him straight to the cobblestones, or he might consider dashing away like a coward.

"I thought that was you! I'd recognize those horns anywhere." 

Resigned, he turns back toward her. But he keeps his face cast down toward the pavement.

"What do you want?" He asks stiffly.

"Hello to you too," she laughs, and he stifles the impulse to watch her do so. "It's been a while. Cal and Lia, they're good?"

"Thanks to you," he concedes. No thanks to me.

"I'm glad to hear it." He watches her boots step closer, tentative. "Everything okay with you?"

She can never just leave him alone, can she. Why does she insist on caring when so many others don't bother?

"Fine, busy with my studies," Rolan deflects. "I've got to get back to the Sundries."

There's a tight pause, and then her voice grows firm. "Look at me."

He curses himself for being unable to disregard her, and for his eyes wanting to take her in despite everything. Slowly, he raises his head to meet her gaze.

Her face is somehow lovelier than he remembered. As he watches, it shatters in shock. He can see her eyes flit from mark to mark as if taking inventory.

"Who did this to you?" She whispers, aghast.

He turns away, unable to hold her gaze. "Believe me, it's nothing that can be helped."

"Rolan–" Her hand extends toward his jaw.

If the thought of her touch thrills him, the thought of being touched by her with pity is unbearable.

"I don't need your help," he spits, slapping the hand away with his own. "And I certainly don't need your damned sympathy!"

The shock and hurt on her face are the last things Rolan sees before he turns on his heel.

-

The archwizard was not pleased with his late return. That night, Rolan comes home with a large fresh bloom of purple over his left eye.

Lia's already limited patience snaps. She flies into his face with angry tears and threats that she'll march straight into Lorroakan's tower herself with shortsword in hand. Cal stands between them, pleading for peace, eyes wide and sad.

"Enough," Rolan orders them both. "Don't you see we're nothing but hellspawn refugees to these people? My position is the only thing keeping us under this roof, the only thing." 

He doesn't stop Lia as she storms out–she didn’t take her sword with her. The door rattles on its hinges as it slams behind her. He pushes wordlessly past Cal to his room, and collapses in a heap against his bed pillows.

His face aches enough that he knows sleep won’t come easy tonight. One hand reaches into the robe at his chest, and he slowly pulls out the small amber stone. His fingers turn it over and over as he closes his eyes once more to escape into imagining.

In some other world, he could've been the one powerful enough to save and protect her. Even be the person who makes her smile. 

He would not be the pathetic, broken man that he is. He could feel worthy to return her tender touches with his own, drawing her close to him instead of pushing her away. Feel her lips on his own…her hands circling his shoulders… 

Rolan rouses himself to stare down at the topaz shining in his palm. He feels his rotten heart crumple. 

He can't remember what made him this way. Bitter, insufferable. He doesn't like the man he is. He wants to be different–he wants things with her to be different. 

The stone grows warm in his fist as he clenches it. She crept deep into his heart a long, long time ago. He'll probably never get the chance to tell her, so he might as well admit it to himself.

And even if he did see her again–what chance did he have that she might feel the same? None. She single-handedly managed to improve every part of his life that she touched. What could he possibly offer her?

In this world, precious little.

-

Lorroakan of Ramazith lay dead on the ground. 

Rolan felt a numb hatred as he stood over his former master, eyes frozen wide in the final shock of death. Months from now the expression might have given him cause to laugh. Today, Rolan can only stare mutely.

One more sick megalomaniac who possessed more power than Rolan could have dreamed of wielding…brought down by his insane, insatiable lust for more. Always always more. For what? In the end, he was just another corpse.

It was she who dispatched him, of course. Why wouldn't it be? 

After all this time, it was perfectly inevitable that she and her friends would be the ones to fly in and deliver him from yet another tragic end. He felt like he was stuck on a wheel going around and around. He couldn't escape her, either in reality or in his own mind.

Rolan comes to himself and looks down at his robes. Blood splatters his front and soaks up to his elbows; a crust of frost coats his boots, from whose spell he can't remember. All at once an overwhelming tiredness soaks into his bones.

The dream of destiny that had carried him here…had it ever existed, really?

He decides to slip away while she's distracted, speaking urgently to one of her companions. Her plans probably extend far outside this room and beyond, but this is where his path reaches a bloody dead end.

He allows himself one last look at her profile before stepping quietly to the portal. He wants only a bath and the release of sleep.

His feet drag along the streets of the lower city as they carry his body home, ignoring any frightened stares at the state of his clothes. Silent as he can, he slips through the front door and down the hall to his room. Cal and Lia's voices carry from the kitchen. He'll face their questions when he wakes. 

In the end, exhaustion and relief overtake him. There will be no more lessons. He falls to bed in a heap and drifts off, still wearing his master's blood on his hands.

-

In retrospect: letting Lia discover him face-down in his bed covered in dried blood was not the smartest decision Rolan had ever made. 

After he'd groggily yelled himself hoarse enough to stop her screams, a sharp pang of conscience drove through him like ice. During the time he thought the two of them were lost to the Shadowlands, he wanted nothing more than to drink himself to an early death.

He never wanted either of them to feel that emptiness. For once, he let Lia hold him tight without protest.

With a few days' rest, and some of Cal's better efforts in the kitchen to date, Rolan's spirits had rallied sufficiently that he felt well enough to leave the house. Even to attempt a cautious return to his place of employment. 

To his surprise and distinct confusion, no one at Sorcerous Sundries had a thing to say about Lorroakan's disappearance, or about any possible employee involvement. 

If anything, the mood around the shop was noticeably lighter. He even caught Tolna humming a soft little tune to her bookshelves. “The tomes never respected him, you know,” she whispered to Rolan.

And once he got over the bizarre sight of Lorroakan's projection, hovering with a vacant smile behind his former desk, he found a perverse humor in it. Who was the fucking errand boy now?

Most of all, Rolan found himself free to finally do what he came to this place for: study magic. He had no archmage master, but he was intelligent, and he now had free access to all of the tomes in the tower library that Lorroakan had enjoyed dangling under his nose.

These days he preferred to spend his days alone in the upstairs, absorbed in theory and practice. His skills grew, and so did his confidence in himself.

If he also felt drawn to the spot because it was the last place he'd seen her…well, he was far too late on that score. He could've finally confessed the feelings that had long been bursting through his chest. 

Instead he had slunk away in silence, too scared to stand in front of her and admit how misguided he'd been all this time. She must think very little of him. She probably didn't think of him at all.

Who knew if she was even still in Baldur's Gate? He searched every face he encountered on the streets, hoping for an answer. It had become a reflex.

At the end of another day, he trudged alone across the twilight square. His hands ached from practicing the gestures for elemental conjurement over and over. One of the Steel Watchers clomped mindlessly past, looking about like Rolan felt. 

The thought of going home filled him with weariness. Cal and Lia's cheerful bickering always annoyed him, in an affectionate way. But tonight, he truly felt he might not be up to it. 

He felt sad. Lonely.

Glancing up, he found that his legs had carried him to the steps of the Elfsong. A drink…that would soothe his sorrows for an hour or two, at least.

The doors swung open to usher a wave of stimulation over his senses. Warm firelight, the smell of roasting venison, tables packed with conversation and clinking glasses. 

He was grateful that many others seemed to have had the same idea this particular night. It made it easier to slip through the crowded taproom unnoticed, catching meaningless slices of gossip and flirtatious banter on his way to the bar.

The surly bartender didn't look overjoyed to be serving a Tiefling. He took Rolan's gold without comment, however, and left him alone with his wine.

As the alcohol spread a welcome relaxation through his limbs, Rolan passed the time by idly watching the groups around him. 

A halfling sat alone with shoulders slumped, staring down his tankard as if he wished to drown in it. Across the way, a large bearded man was leaning across the table in open pursuit of his female companion. Clearly getting nowhere, from her expression. But he looked far too drunk to notice.

In front of the great hall fireplace, a pale elf sat in conversation with a pretty dark-haired young woman. 

Rolan's brow furrowed; he knew those two. His eyes quickly scanned over the room's faces until he found her.

She was removed a ways from her usual traveling companions, seated at a small table in the far corner. He watched her swirl the cup in her hand idly. Her eyes followed the liquid’s pattern, but the look behind them was leagues away.

For the first time in days, Rolan felt his heavy heart lift. She was exactly the person he wanted to be with tonight. Even if it was just sharing a drink.

This was it, he told himself. He had to speak with her or he'd regret it the rest of his life.

But first–he knocked back a very large mouthful.

His heart pounded in his ears as he drew closer to her. With each step he expected she might look up, piercing him with those eyes that visited most of his dreams. But she remained transfixed by the wine even when he drew up beside her table.

Improvising, he cleared his throat. "Hello."

She glanced up at him in pleasant surprise. "Oh!"

They stared at each other for an awkward silence. Then, somehow, he found himself laughing with her.

"Sorry, it's so strange. I was just thinking about you," she said, her face brightening.

The fact that he occupied any space in her brain would consume him later, but he shoved it aside for the moment.

"Mind if I join you?"

She patted the chair next to her. As he sat, he wondered if the spot had been a tactical choice on her part. Their table had a view of the whole room and both exits, yet the wall behind offered a sense of privacy. 

"You're not drinking with your friends tonight," Rolan observed.

"Just taking a little break. We're celebrating another family reunion," she explained, gesturing her glass toward the group around the blazing hearth. 

Rolan looked back over his shoulder. He recognized the one-eyed young man with curling horns, but not the older one whose hand was clasped on his shoulder. Quite clearly father and son to anyone with eyes.

"I'm glad for them," Rolan said. To his surprise, he found he truly meant it. The Absolute had ripped apart so many families in so many ways, including his, leaving the lower streets flooded with the hopeless and broken and displaced. He counted himself and his siblings incredibly lucky, and it heartened him to see another happy scene among so much misery.

“You know–” She eyed him curiously. "I was hoping I’d see you. You ran off before we could talk that day."

He looked down at his drink. "I know. I've regretted it since then. At the time, it was just…a lot to take in."

Her eyes narrowed, but not at him. "I hope you don't mind me saying, but that man can burn in Avernus for all I care. For what he did to you. For what he tried to do to Aylin."

Rolan recalled the runic circle in Lorroakan's library, the one whose mysterious power had at first awed and enthralled him. And then he'd seen the aasimar with the shining wings, and watched the demented hunger in Lorroakan's eyes, and the horrible realization had run through him like a sickness.

"Lorroakan was a monster," he agreed. "I just wish I'd seen it sooner. Or even found the strength to open my own eyes."

He felt a hand rest on his forearm.

"I saw what you went through to get here,” she said. “It’s natural that you thought you had to see it all through, no matter what.” 

Rolan said nothing for a while, just let her kindness soothe into his chest like a balm.

“On the bright side,” he added suddenly, “He did keep an excellent library. I’ve learned more from one of his books than I ever did from him.”

“That’s because you’re a proper talented wizard,” she laughed. “And he was an idiot.”

“A dead idiot.”

“To that,” she said with a lift of her cup, and they both drank. He noticed she used her free hand, not moving the one that laid on his arm.

When he caught her eye after, she was watching him with a smile. "You look so well, Rolan."

He knew what she meant. The last time she saw him, his face had been dappled in marks and bruises from Lorroakan's brutal instruction, with more that she couldn't see under his robes.

Now, the last mark across his cheekbone had faded almost to nothing. He hoped it would take the memories of the meaningless pain he'd endured along with it.

"Thank you," he said simply. "So do you."

He meant it; he realized now that he'd only ever seen her dressed for combat. Tonight she wore soft hide pants tucked into her hunting boots, a linen shirt half unlaced at her collarbones. It softened her. Close beside him and bathed in firelight, she set his heart racing again.

Perhaps it was her closeness or her touch that gave him the courage, or perhaps it was just the wine. He shifted his arm slightly to capture her hand in his.

"No one else has ever shown me the kindness you have. Not even Cal and Lia, though I do love them." 

She watched him speak in silence, and he gazed back at her, as if the answers to everything might be found in her face. 

"I don't understand you,” he said earnestly. “Why you've kept giving me chances. You've been so much more generous with me than I deserve. I've insulted you, yelled at you, I've been an absolute unbearable prick–"

Before he could think, she leaned in to silence him with her lips.

The kiss lasted forever and only a second all at once. Rolan closed his eyes, breathing in the faint smell of lavender on her skin.

Before he was anywhere near ready, she gently pulled away.

"Because," she murmured, "you're a good man, Rolan. And I like you." Her words, the lingering taste of her on his lips, they made his head spin. He felt like he was watching the door to a new world swing open before his eyes.

Before anything else, Rolan had to kiss her again. He released her hand to smooth the hair back from her face, watching the way she tilted into his touch, and gently guided her toward him.

It was deeper this time; he tasted the heady wine on her mouth, her breath a soft tickle against his cheek. As his fingers tangled her hair, he felt her hand wind sweetly over his shoulder, holding on to him.

A wet stripe flashed across his lips. His mouth gasped open in surprise, allowing her tongue to softly meet his, then draw slowly over his pointed teeth. 

The unexpected sensations brought his mind back to reality, and to the fact that they were in a public place. With effort, he wrenched himself out of the kiss. They breathed against each other for a moment. 

"I've got a room upstairs," she murmured. "If you want to?" Her cheeks were flushed from firelight and wine, and possibly even from him.

Whether or not he wanted to was no question: her words sent a fervent rush of blood to his groin. But first, he mustered enough control to hold her back from him for a moment. Her lips were parted in question.

"I adore you," he said. "I think I have for a long time. It's–very important to me that you know that. Before anything else." Even if the anything else was a dream that had kept him awake more nights than he could count.

Her soft hand cupped his cheek; he thought he might combust if she didn't say something. "Thank Gods," she laughed breathily. "I swore you hated me for a while there."

"I had no idea what to do with my feelings for you, I was a fucking idiot." It was all tumbling out of him now. He opened his mouth to continue, but her fingertips went to his lips.

 "Rolan–" Her voice was full of relief, and he was charmed to see the blush across her face deepen. "I feel the same way. I really, really like you."

His rotten heart could have flipped with joy. 

“Now.” She cocked her head askance, and he felt her fingers twine with his. "Make it up to me?"

Yes. Please, please, yes. He nodded in a daze, reeling like he'd sustained a blow to the head. All he could feel was the elation and anxiety swirling around and around in his stomach as he followed her toward the staircase, let her lead him by the hand like a lovesick idiot.

As they passed her companions he pointedly averted his eyes; he couldn't afford to lose any of the nerve building inside him. He'd need every bit of it in a moment.

The dark staircase seemed to ascend forever. Part of him wanted it to–he was no virgin, but the hand she held tight was shaking with anxiety. He wanted to make this perfect.

Overthinking proved pointless. The moment the heavy door closed behind them, he found himself pinned against it with a thud by the length of her body.

His involuntary groan was lost in their kiss. She was everywhere around him at once: hands pinning his shoulders back against the wood, hips grinding into his thigh with no pretense, her tongue pressing against his lips and slipping past his teeth to taste him. She moaned against his mouth, and the sound reverberated from his head to his feet.

His erection was practically instantaneous. He hooked his thumbs over her hip bones, sharp nails finding purchase in her pants, and rolled himself against the yielding softness between her legs. 

Whatever release the pressure provided multiplied it tenfold. Desire coursed through him, burning in his veins hotter than he thought possible. 

The maneuver brought an approving hum from her throat, however. Encouraged, he ground her into him again, and again, as slowly as his body could be convinced to go.

Her hands released his shoulders to rake upward through his hair, pulling his face toward her.

Pulling him deeper into the room, he realized. He stumbled slightly against something; tasting her lips was infinitely more important than breaking the kiss to look where he was going. He trusted her lead, impatient to reach whatever destination she had in mind so he could freely explore her.

Their connected bodies bumped up against the edge of something soft. She pulled away, and his immediate disappointment rapidly turned around as he felt her fingers fumbling with the clasps of his robe. He guided her hands, struggling at the same time to kick off one boot and then the other. 

As his robes pooled on the floor, her palms pressed him away for a moment.

Rolan stood frozen and panting in his trousers. She licked her kiss-swollen lips as she looked over his bare shoulders, his chest. When her eyes reached the obvious hardness straining in his pants, she let out a delicious sound.

Rolan's hands grabbed for her of their own volition. They slipped under the hem of her shirt, against the bare skin of her waist, and wrenched the garment up over her head in one motion.

To look at her directly was almost too much–he felt love and desire churning together inside of him. "Beautiful," was all he could say.

He buried his face in her shoulder instead, fang-like teeth brushing over her skin as he left a trail of kisses along the curve of her neck. She let out a gasp when his hand gently stroked her breast.

"You're so warm," she murmured into his hair. To him, she was pleasantly cool; he shivered when her fingers traced the small set of ridges that ran from his collarbone to his sternum.

But he needed more of her. He hooked both thumbs over her waistband and tugged ineffectually. She quickly took over, shucking them off with a shimmying motion.

The sight of her bare, for him, was almost enough to make Rolan come then and there. He reached out to her hips to steady himself. She was so much more divine than anything his paltry imagination could have conjured.

Through his blazing arousal, he was barely aware of the hands unlacing his pants until she tugged them down to finally let his cock spring free.

A sigh of relief escaped him. He watched her take him in, her eyes half-lidded with arousal. 

"You're incredible," she whispered. Then her arms slid around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss.

He tried to concentrate on her mouth, but the way his cock brushed and nudged against her skin every time she moved was taking over his brain.

With a motion of her hips, she captured his length between her thighs and rocked forward and back, sliding her dripping wet center over his cock. The revelation of her own state of desire sent his mind spiraling with want.

Rolan let out what could only be called a whimper. He clutched her to him, capturing her bottom lip between his teeth as firmly as he dared, as if she might suddenly disappear and leave him in an aching pile.

She made a pleased sound, then gave his shoulders a push. With his pants still around his thighs, he lost his balance–knees buckled as he fell backwards onto the mattress behind them.

He propped himself up on his elbows just in time to see her kneel on the floor in front of him. Her two hands pushed his knees apart, as far as the straining fabric would allow–

Rolan tried and failed to breathe normally, heart pounding in his ears. It felt like time was slowing to a crawl. Her eyes glanced from his face to the stiff erection between them. A droplet of moisture shone at its tip.

"Can I–?" She was asking him for permission, hands poised on his thighs, her expression heady with arousal.

"Anything," Rolan swore, and he meant it. She could do whatever the fuck she wanted to him right now. Before he could prepare himself, her mouth closed wetly around his tip. 

Truly, nothing could have readied him. He let out a gasp–his head dropped back as his hips rose involuntarily to seek more of her soft, cool mouth. 

He had scarcely adjusted before she took him in further, sliding her tongue down along his length to his very base–then slowly, achingly slowly, back up again.

He heard the rip of fabric as his nails gripped the bedding. He gathered the will to raise his head up to look.

Rolan was mesmerized by the sight of her lips wrapped around taught red skin, his length disappearing into her mouth and returning wet with saliva. She was working him over almost reverently slow, eyes closed as if tasting him.

Tasting herself on him. His cock twitched inside her mouth at the realization. She glanced up at him, releasing him from her lips with a soft, wet pop.

He could have groaned at the loss of her. Instead, he used the moment to work off his constraining pants and toss them away. Before she could reach for him again, Rolan pulled her up and onto his lap.

Her knees sank into the bed on either side as she straddled him, but she kept herself hovering well above him without contact. He pushed aside the ache between his legs to focus on more important things.

He leaned forward to press a soft kiss between her breasts, allowed his mouth to explore. She sighed with pleasure as he alternately licked and kissed across each curve, then drew sharp breath as his teeth sucked at the soft flesh under one breast. 

Her hands, at first resting on his shoulders, flew to grab two fistfuls of his hair. The sensation sent a shiver down his spine.

Rolan pulled away for a moment for admire the purple mark blooming on her breast. He glanced up as though looking for approval. She gave it, tugging his hair to tilt his face into a waiting kiss.

Ever so carefully…mindful of his fingertips, he placed the flat of his palm on the heat between her legs.

“Rolan–” she gasped, breaking away. 

The sound of his own name had never been dearer to him. He was run through with a thrill, and a fervent desire to do whatever it took to make her say it again.

  He massaged gentle circles into her, the base of his palm pressing against her clit in slow rhythm. Her wetness coated him with each stroke. She quaked under his touch, eyelashes fluttering, and his other arm circled her back to support her. He felt her lean against him without a second thought. Trusting completely.

“I can’t believe I have you,” he heard his voice say, perhaps to himself. 

As he spoke he felt the core of her tightening under his hand. Abruptly, her fingers closed around his wrist to still his ministrations. He froze, immediately afraid he had scratched her somehow. But her face shone with nothing but desire for him.

"On your back," she directed.

Rolan nearly pinched his tail under himself in his haste to obey. He swept his legs out from between hers and stretched out as she climbed over to straddle him. 

Now they were finally here, she wasted no time leaving space between them. Her hips rolled down onto him and drew the wet folds of her center across his tip. His entire length throbbed at the blessed return of her touch, the head of his cock burning against her. 

Smoothly, simply, she lowered herself onto him.

The shuddering exhale from his lips met against her moan of relief. Rolan willed himself to keep his eyes on hers, even as her inviting walls gripped him, even as he practically felt his pupils dilate with want. Her features relaxed into a state of pure, unadulterated satisfaction.

Then she started to move her hips.

She pushed her palms against his chest for leverage, riding his cock at a steady pace that felt entirely too slow. Whatever will he had to follow her lead was immediately tested; he was overcome with the need to touch her everywhere at once. 

Care forgotten, he gripped the soft flesh of her back with his fingertips. She cried out softly as his nails dragged from her shoulders to the base of her hips, but he felt her walls clench around him in response. His tail curled up and around her waist of its own volition, holding her as she took him in further with each bounce of her hips.

She gasped and fell over him, hands braced on either side. She was already losing control. He felt his own release closing in, used the new angle of her hips to thrust up into her. 

“Oh, Gods, yes–” Her mouth dropped open. She moved her hips back with each of his thrusts to take him more deeply. 

Rolan thought he might shatter apart. Waves of searing desire swept harder and harder through him. She took him so perfectly, his cock almost painfully gripped by her tightening walls, so wet and lush and sweet and for him–

A hand flew up to the back of her neck to grasp and to pull her down so he could taste her as he came. Lips crashed together frantically as the pace of their bodies started coming apart at the seams. 

In one bright concentrated moment, she shook and trembled violently into him as she grasped for whatever part of him she could reach. He managed one last stuttering thrust before his climax was ripped from him by her own, spilling inside of her clenching center, hurling him outside himself and into the wide Astral plane.

They shuddered against each others' bodies as white-hot waves receded outward farther and farther. Her head dropped to his shoulder as though she'd lost all muscle control. 

He felt her slowing breaths fan out across his chest, and he rested a hand on the back of her head to keep her there.

-

As Rolan stared up at the wood-paneled ceiling above them, something cold dripped down at the base of him. He realized he was still inside of her. He swung his free arm over the side of the bed–still woozy enough from his climax that he nearly slid head-first to the floor–and snatched up his rumpled robes to clean them both.

She rolled off him then and cuddled up on her side to watch him. He mirrored her pose, adjusting against the pillows to make a spot for his horns. One of her fingers found the point of his ear and began tracing.

“How do you feel?” She asked. 

Rolan sighed deeply. “Happy.” He could cast around for another dozen words, but he’d rather take her in. He smoothed a hand up and down along the curve of her side.

“So do I.” She leaned over to spread light kisses along his lips, then his jaw and cheek. His tail brushed against her leg in an idle caress. 

She glanced down. “I didn’t actually know about…that.”

“Am I your first Tiefling?” He teased, though the thought genuinely pleased him.

“First and last,” she replied. The words were instantly locked away in his chest. 

She gave a little shiver then, tucking her body against his warmth. He dug the covers up over themselves and wrapped her up tight with his arms and legs. The simple feeling of holding her brought him a deep sense of calm.

“I love this, Rolan.” Her lips moved against the hollow at the base of his neck. “I wish I could take tonight and carry it with me everywhere.”

Something sparked in him at her words. He opened his eyes and reluctantly released her to feel around the floor at the floor for his stained robe.

"What are you doing over there?" She lifted her head curiously to peer over the bedside. 

"Just need to find something." He rummaged through his layers of discarded clothing before finally, his knuckle grazed something hard.

He slid back up under the covers beside her. She propped herself up against him, resting a palm on his chest with an expectant look.

He held out his thumb and index finger. Between them, an amber stone glinted in the dim light.

Her mouth fell open in recognition. For one second, he was afraid she might cry.

Then she buried her head in the crook of his neck, wrapping both arms tight around him. "I knew you were a darling all along." 

#blowjobs and self esteem #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #rolan x tav #bg3 fic #bg3 spoilers #i can't be trusted with this man apparently

[teasteeper]

ohh i like this…. i got carried away T_T (sorry anon, i had to delete the original ask bc tumblr deleted half of this when i first posted it. i hope u see this <3)

suggestive 18+ mdni

before you started working for them hendery couldn't care less about getting his makeup done, seeing it as a time to scroll through his phone, his eyes burning after waking up only thirty minutes prior. he's truly a man in that he doesn't get makeup, barely noticing a difference between his bare face and his face after sitting in the chair for an hour. he hates those tiny angled brushes near his eyes, the feeling of foundation suffocating. he honestly prefers the days when he's running late, getting pushed into the chair while all the makeup artists band together to make him look flawless in under ten minutes. the less time he has to spend getting his makeup done, the better.

that's until the day you started, brushing glitter onto yangyang's eyelids as hendery stumbled through the door forty five minutes late, a baggy hoodie draped over his shoulders and his hair sticking up in all directions. did he even wake up?, he thinks, frozen awkwardly in place as he deciphers whether his tired eyes were actually staring at the prettiest girl he's ever seen or if he was still dreaming.

the artist hunched over kun subtly rolls her eyes at the sight of hendery, tapping your shoulder and pointing to him with her foundation cushion, "i'll finish yangyang's makeup. you can start on him"

hendery sits in the makeup chair, heart racing as you pick up your bag of supplies and move towards him. it's too early for this, he thinks, the soft smile you give him and your sweet vanilla scent, your fingers gently clipping his hair away from his face. it all goes straight to his dick, his mind still half asleep and morning wood not yet fully soft. yeah, it's too early for this.

from then on he sets his alarms extra early, fixing his hair and putting on a decent outfit before getting to set on time, aiming to make getting his makeup done last as long as possible. the members couldn't care less, just happy that he hasn't been late for weeks. but you notice, looking forward to the early mornings you spend talking and laughing together. there's no use denying your big dumb crush on him, butterflies in your tummy when you tell him to look up at you, instantly following your command and showing you his big pretty eyes so you can do his eyeliner.

he actually starts to take an interest in makeup, purely because it's your job, and he swells with pride when you start to take an interest in wayv, listening to their music on the regular and getting fully invested in the team. to hendery it feels like you're his biggest fan, waiting off stage between performances so you can touch up his makeup and fix his hair.

this week finally comes around, and everyone's on edge, what with kcon and countless other performances wayv's scheduled to do. hendery's happy to see you loading your luggage into one of the black suvs parked outside the company building to take you all to the airport. you're there after every performance, his eyes scanning through the crowd of staff members for you. he gives you a tired lopsided smile as he steps forward, spreading his feet apart to make himself shorter. then you feel his hands on your hips, and you're left staring wide eyed at his closed eyes, waiting for you to powder his face. it feels like you're standing like that for hours, the soft weight of his hands on your hips, his abs tensing with his heavy breaths. who the fuck chose this outfit? his jacket mostly unzipped with no shirt underneath, the elastic of his briefs on full display. the worst part is he knows he looks good, flashing you his smile before running back to the stage for their next song.

you think this might be the best job ever as you pack up your makeup bag, watching the last song of their performance on the monitor backstage. hendery finds you again as soon as they're backstage, "follow me" he whispers, placing a hand on your lower back and looking over his shoulder as he ushers you toward the artists' entrance and through the door outside.

"hendery wh-" you're backed against one of the black suvs parked outside, hendery's hands on your hips like before. they tremble with adrenaline, sweat dripping down his temple with heavy breaths passing through his lips. "can i kiss you?"

you can barely finish your whimpered consent before he's dipping his head down, lips crashing to yours in a heated kiss. he's surprisingly gentle, grounding himself by pressing his fingers into your hips. muscles flex in his jaw and his cheeks hollow, swallowing your dreamy sighs. you're fully pinned to the car behind you, your tshirt riding up and his belt buckle cold as it presses against your tummy.

your hips are pressing up against his, whimpering into his mouth, and his restraint snaps. his arm circles your waist and pulls you into him so he can open the door to the backseat, "get in, baby" he's relieved it isn't locked, watching your shirt ride up your back as you crawl in.

he wastes no time pulling your leg over his hips so you're straddling him, tipping his head back to kiss you. he has to be back inside in a few minutes, hands roaming your body to feel as much of you as possible. his lips trail down your jaw, softly sucking marks onto your neck. he leans back every few seconds to check his work, addicted to the way your skin blotches and shines with his spit.

and you're even better than he dreamed you'd be, impatiently jerking your hips against his, your chest pressed to his and your arms clung around his neck. with the way you just melt in his hands, he figures you'd let him fuck you right here in the back of the luxury car. he nearly considers getting his cock out and making you sit on it, but the bubble around you two bursts, two loud knocks striking the car window. hendery's manager shuffles awkwardly outside, his back turned to you as if he hadn't just seen you two drooling into each others' mouths.

hendery turns back to you with an exasperated expression and feign panic in his voice, "does my makeup look okay?"

"i'll fix it" you smile, wiping your lip gloss from his mouth.

#asks #hendery #wayv #nct #hendery drabbles #hendery smut #hendery x reader #hendery x you #wayv smut #nct smut #wayv hard thoughts #wayv hard hours #nct hard thoughts #nct hard hours #wayv drabbles #nct drabbles